Compass Rose (22 page)

He said good-bye before Mary could say any of the things that occurred to her. When Elsie got back—she’d gone for yet another long walk in the woods—Mary told her, thought she was telling it the way she usually told stories about preposterous Jack. Mary added, “I think I know what’s going on. He’s having a grand dream about his own funeral.”

But Elsie seized on the phrase “might be a little tight for you to get back to the kitchen.” She repeated it twice and then said, “That thick son of a bitch.” When Elsie picked up the phone, Mary said, “Don’t,”
but she saw that Elsie had gone into a zone of rage, a rage she’d been storing up, and why not let her fire it off at Jack?

But Elsie apparently got Sally on the phone. She said, “Tell him to call me. Have him call me before he does anything else.” Then she listened for a long time. She finally said, “Don’t tell me not to get upset. And don’t tell me that he’s trying to spare me. This is more like some gala promotional event for Sawtooth.”

Elsie hung up. Mary waited while Elsie banged around the room. Mary was amazed at Elsie, at how fast she’d turned into an angry little ball. For a day or two she’d been a cloud, her comings and goings so soft Mary had to look to see if Elsie was in or out. Now Mary was wary of Elsie’s filling the room. Mary said, “It’s more his tone than anything else, isn’t it? I mean, I’m happy to do whatever has to be done in the way of cooking. There is going to be a crowd when you come to think of it. If you want to put your hand to things, it wouldn’t be a bad idea. For one thing, it’d be better if you picked the pallbearers.”

Elsie sat down. “Pallbearers. I guess that’s right. How many does it take?”

“Six, I think.”

“All men? Do they have to be men?”

“I don’t know as there’s a rule. I’ve only ever seen men. The casket weighs enough so they have to put some muscle into it.”

“I’m not sure Captain Teixeira’s up to it.”

“It depends on who else.”

“I suppose Dick and Charlie and Tom.”

“They’d make up for Captain Teixeira.”

“I suppose I should ask Jack. He’s a cousin of some kind. How many is that?”

“Five.”

“I could do it myself.” Elsie lifted her head. “But then there I’d be in front of half of South County alongside Dick.”

Mary said, “I don’t know as how people would make much of that. But you may be right that now’s not the time to be trying something different. Why not one of the Tran boys? Or old Mr. Tran himself? Miss Perry took more of an interest in the girls, but Mr. Tran could stand for all of them.”

Elsie nodded. Then she cried a bit, not hard. She sniffed and dabbed her cheeks with her cuff. She said, “You’re right. I should get busy. You’re right. You are …” She made fists with her hands and pressed them hard against each other. “A wonderful friend.”

Mary almost laughed at the effort it took Elsie to get that out. Then she thought, How am I going to tell her I’m leaving?

M
ay had just got off the phone with Elsie when it rang again. May was thinking of how to get in touch with Charlie on the R.V.
Trident
, of whether he could get back for the funeral, so at first she was pleased to hear a woman’s voice say that she was going to give Charlie a ride home. A ride was a help, since May’s car was in the shop. May wondered if Elsie could have radioed the ship to tell Charlie about Miss Perry, but then the woman said, “Charlie’s all right, I’m sure he’s going to be fine.”

May said, “What? What happened? Where is he?”

“Oh. I thought the captain … This is the first you’ve heard? Charlie’s in Boston. They’re running one more test right now, just to make sure. He’s got a broken collarbone and maybe a mild concussion. They’re pretty sure everything’s fine, but you know how they are. They took X-rays and now another MRI or maybe a CAT scan, and they’re waiting for a specialist. She’s on her way. But that’s just an extra precaution. It may sound like … I thought you knew and were waiting to hear that it’s pretty much okay, which it pretty much is. He’s complaining about having to stay on that flat board they strap you on.”

May hadn’t pictured anything clearly until the word
strap
. “Oh my God.”

“No, no, that’s good. It’s good that that’s what he’s complaining about. If it was worse he wouldn’t be complaining. They’re just
keeping him immobilized as a precaution. I’m sure he’s going to be fine. I’ll call again as soon as—”

“Wait. Don’t go. I don’t know what happened.”

“Charlie took us to an island, me and one of the other researchers, and he, the researcher, was climbing a little way up a cliff to look at a bird’s nest and he got stuck. So Charlie started up to help him. I told Charlie I’d go—I’m a mountain climber—but he went. The researcher somehow broke off a piece of rock and it knocked Charlie into the water. There was a little bit of a sea running and he got swept out, but I dove in and got him to shore, and I got the other guy down and set off a flare and they sent another boat from the
Trident
. After a while a helicopter came and took Charlie and me to Portland and then Boston. We’re at Mass General now.”

May was pressing the phone to her ear so hard it began to hurt. She sat down. She said, “Can I talk to a doctor?”

The woman said, “I’ll try to get one, but it might take a while, so I’ll call you back. Okay? So bye for now.”

May felt her body wrapped with what this woman said: Boston, going to be fine, precaution, pretty much okay. Who was this woman? What did she know? May made an effort to block the pictures. Nothing would be true until she touched Charlie. She swept the kitchen floor, concentrating on her hands on the broom handle. She blocked the board and straps, the boat, the sea, but she couldn’t block what it was like to fall. The weightless falling came up from her chest into her head.

She should call the boatyard; someone there could call out to Dick, he’d row in from the mooring. She pictured that, his stamping his boots outside the office before he went in to pick up the phone.

Wait. What if the doctor called while she was calling Dick? She swept the little pile of dirt into the dustpan. She’d got used to waiting for Dick; waiting for Dick wasn’t like this. She put clean sheets on Charlie’s bed.

Nobody called—not a doctor, not the woman.

When Dick came home for supper, May told him. He stood still. He asked her a question she couldn’t answer. He asked another.
When she said, “All I know is what that woman told me. She said she’d get a doctor to call.”

Dick nodded, said, “I’m going,” and was out the door. May heard the motor and then the tires crunching on the gravel.

She was stunned. She was so stunned her deepest feeling didn’t rise to the surface. She thought that maybe it was her job to stay by the phone.

May put away the food without eating. She trusted the woman less and less. She was sure she wouldn’t be able to sleep. When she went to get a book she saw the books Miss Perry had given the boys and she turned away. She put her hand on the phone three or four times and finally called Phoebe Fitzgerald. Phoebe began to talk about how sad she was about Miss Perry and how sorry she was for May, for May and Dick and the boys, for so many people. May said, “I can’t stay on the phone long. I’m waiting for a doctor to call.” And then she had to say Charlie had had an accident.

Phoebe said, “Does Dick know?”

“Yes. He’s gone to Boston.”

“I’m coming over,” Phoebe said. “I’ll be right there.”

So Phoebe was there when the woman finally called. The woman said, “Things may take a little longer. They’re not explaining exactly why. I told one doctor I’m an EMT, but he didn’t seem to … And I haven’t seen the specialist, but they did say she’s here, so maybe I’ll get to talk to her.”

“Who are you?” May said.

“Deirdre O’Malley.”

May repeated the name out loud, then said, “Are you one of the scientists or one of the crew?”

“Sort of a researcher.”

May wrote the name down, had to ask how to spell Deirdre. She didn’t want to talk to Deirdre, but she didn’t want to hang up. She said, “Charlie’s father is on his way. He’ll get there in another hour or so. He’ll likely be the only person wearing big rubber boots. Could you ask him to call home? I forgot to remind him he’s supposed to be a pallbearer tomorrow.”

The woman either coughed or laughed. May was about to hang up when Phoebe took the phone. Phoebe said, “Deirdre O’Malley? Did you used to be an instructor for Women in the Wilderness? We called you Didi? I can’t believe it! Oh—you may not remember me—I’m Phoebe Fitzgerald. It was a long time ago, I’d just got divorced … No, she was the other one, sort of plump. I remember, I remember every minute.”

After Phoebe hung up, she said, “Well, that is just surreal.”

May wished Phoebe could stop being Phoebe, just for a while. She put the kettle on and asked Phoebe if she’d like a cup of tea. Then she thought that if she couldn’t sleep and couldn’t read she might as well let Phoebe talk. It would be like waiting in a doctor’s office, turning the pages of a glossy magazine, watching your fingertips turn page after page of things that didn’t matter.

“Well, that is just amazing,” Phoebe said, and May watched Phoebe’s pretty mouth and hands. “I remember Didi O’Malley; I remember her because she was so young but we had to listen to her every word or we wouldn’t survive. It was actually called that: Women in the Wilderness, a survival program. We made tea from pine needles; we made fire by the bow-drill method. Didi would disappear at night—just leave us, ten women alone in the dark. No blankets, just a pile of leaves you made a nest with. Didi told us later it was a metaphor for how to deal with anything—you just start taking care of little things and pretty soon you’re feeling better about everything. I don’t mean to say that we weren’t glad to get out of the woods. And glad to see the last of Deirdre O’Malley. The first night someone said, ‘So where do we sleep?’ and she said, ‘Remember that squirrel’s nest we saw? Think about it.’ And the woman said, ‘You mean we should climb a tree?’ And Didi just raised one eyebrow in this totally exasperating way.”

May let Phoebe go on. Sometimes May took in the details—Phoebe picked up a wooden spoon to illustrate the bow-drill method of making a fire. But mostly she let Phoebe’s voice drift over her, a haze that soothed her, but then her neck twitched or her knee jumped and she snapped into wide-awake waiting again.

Dick called. He said, “They don’t know.” May waited. Dick said, “I
talked to two of them. I asked when they would know. The woman doctor said she needs a better picture.”

“Did you see him?”

“No.”

“Did they say if he’s in pain?”

There was a pause. May was afraid Dick hadn’t asked. Dick finally said, “They said they’re holding off on the painkillers until they know more. If it was just his broken collarbone they could give him some, but with a head injury they want to hold off.”

May held on to the phone with both hands. She said, “Did you ask …?” and then started over. “Did they say he—”

Dick said, “He’s not going to die.”

He said this fiercely, and May felt all of Dick at once, his years of
doing
things pressing through him. No use. No use for her. She set him aside and hoped her own hope for Charlie.

She said, “I don’t expect you’ll be back for Miss Perry’s funeral. I’d better call Elsie and let her know.” And then in the same tone, as if it was another practical detail, she said, “You should have taken me with you. Call when they know something more. I’ll be awake.”

She hung up the phone. She felt so dragged down she didn’t hear what Phoebe was saying to her. Phoebe took her hand to get her attention. Phoebe said, “May, listen. I’ll drive you.” May stared at her, trying to attach her to what was going on. Then, as if to prove she was the real Phoebe, Phoebe said, “I have an old beau who’s a doctor at Mass General. He’s been there for ages, so if we need any help …” May nodded. Phoebe said, “I’ll just call Eddie while you change.” May was ready to be bustled along but was puzzled. She stood still. Phoebe said, “Oh, you know—something cheerful for Charlie but serious for the doctors. I know—that dress you wear when we go to Sawtooth for lunch.”

Never mind if she’s putting a ribbon on it, she’s taking me to Boston.

T
om called Elsie early in the morning to say Dick and Charlie couldn’t be pallbearers. “Charlie’s in the hospital. Mom’s sorry she didn’t call last night, but she was—”

“What is it?” Elsie said. “Is he going to be all right?”

“They seem to think so. He’s got a hematoma, which is a clot, and it’s in his head, but it’s small, and the neurologist says she thinks it’ll just go away, so they’re not going to start cutting. I was set to go there, but Mom says to go to the funeral first, so I guess she’s not so worried as she was. Anyways, that’s where Charlie and Dad are.”

“Where? At South County?”

“No. Boston. Mass General. The
Trident’s
been down east. Charlie fell off a cliff trying to help some damn bird-watcher. So that’s where Charlie and Dad are, but I’ll be on hand for you. Have you thought of asking Eddie? Eddie and Walt both, you want strong backs. Hold on—I just remembered about Miss Perry and Eddie—”

“Don’t worry, I’ll think of someone.”

“You want me to tell Rose about Charlie? No, I’d better wait till after the funeral in case she’s nervous about her singing. Say, have you ever wondered where she got that voice? Dad can’t carry a tune in a bucket. And Rose tells me you’re not much of a songbird.”

“Have you ever wondered where you got your talking so much? Not from your Mom and Dad.”

Tom laughed. “Okay, you got me. But I got to say one more thing. One time Dad said to Charlie and me that we wouldn’t have turned out so good if it wasn’t for Miss Perry. And there’s you and Miss Perry. I’m thinking about you and her. You’re both good people around here.”

She said, “Thank you, Tom.”

She called Johnny Bienvenue and asked him to be a pallbearer.
She decided she’d be the sixth pallbearer. If people thought that was funny, to hell with them.