Hemingway's Girl (38 page)

Mariella folded the letter back into its envelope and put it into her pocket while
she walked up the ramp to her house. She felt better in some ways and worse in others.
It was so frustrating to not be able to finish anything with Gavin. It was frustrating
to have these conversations by mail when they needed talking out. She was still upset
that he’d kept the boat’s location a secret from her, but hated herself for being
angry when Gavin had so much weighing on him.

When she stepped through the door, she saw that John was there. Lulu sat on his lap
while he instructed Estelle on the guitar. Eva was in the kitchen preparing vegetable
stew. Bread baked in
the oven. It struck Mariella as a scene of perfect, domestic tranquillity, until she
looked deeper and saw a poor widow, a legless vet, and fatherless children.

John looked up and smiled at her. She couldn’t help but smile back. Lulu jumped off
his lap and ran to Mariella for a hug. Estelle asked Mariella to listen to her play
the guitar. She walked over to John, put Lulu back on his lap, and sat next to him
on the couch.

The girls had gone to bed, and Eva fell asleep on her chair while they listened to
Cole Porter records on the phonograph. John said he wanted to go home alone—he worried
about Mariella walking back by herself—but Mariella wanted to stretch her legs and
talk to John about Gavin.

The waning moon was overhead as Mariella walked John home. His strength astounded
her. She offered to push the chair, but he insisted he wasn’t tired. She lit a cigarette
and they passed it back and forth, stopping when he wanted a drag. He spoke first.

“I hope you’re not angry at your mom and me,” he said.

“I’m thrilled for my mom and you,” she said.

“I’m sorry if the painting upset you,” he said. “I thought it would be a nice gesture
so you and the girls didn’t think I was trying to replace your father or push out
his memory.”

Mariella was quiet.

“I guess you felt left out,” said John, taking the cigarette. The smoke hung low in
the humid air, blocking John’s face.

“I did,” said Mariella. “I felt like I wasn’t necessary.”

“Everything good in that house—the reason it’s lasted as long as it has—is because
of you,” he said. “You kept everything
going to allow your mom time to grieve. You took care of the girls and your mom and
the house. Now it’s time to take care of you.”

“But I feel like you all have something you’re not telling me, or that you shared
something without me, and I don’t know how to get to it,” she said.

Now John was quiet. He passed the cigarette back to her. The sound of cheering saved
them from the awkward pause in the conversation. They were at the Blue Goose. Mariella
looked into the crowd surrounding the boxers and saw Papa. He was refereeing a fight.

“Gavin said he finally felt like you were his and not Hem’s,” said John. “Is that
true?”

“Yes,” said Mariella, taking a drag of her cigarette. “Papa and I figured out what
we are to each other.”

“What’s that?” asked John.

“Allied forces,” she replied. John laughed and reached for the cigarette.

“Is Gavin part of the alliance now?”

“I don’t know,” said Mariella. “You can’t keep secrets if you’re in this alliance.”
She took the last drag of the cigarette, and stubbed it out on the ground. One of
the boxers knocked the other flat out in the ring, and the crowd cheered. Papa clapped
and jumped around like a child. Mariella and John resumed their journey in silence.

When they got to the house, they sat on the porch and shared a beer from the icebox,
and another cigarette.

“You’ve got to know that he’ll do anything for you,” said John.

“I would for him, too,” she said.

“Then be open to him,” said John. “It’s hard for us to trust people, and we need time
to get it all out. You’ve got to try to understand that.”

“I know,” said Mariella. She did know, and was frustrated with herself for her snap
judgments and impulse to anger.

A sharp gust of wind blew through the yard.

“I have to tell you,” said John, “I’m worried about him up there on Matecumbe.”

“I think he’s worried, too.”

“There’s been a lot of talk about hurricane season up there lately, and how those
guys don’t stand a chance in their camps.”

“But they have an evacuation plan,” she said. “A train’ll come down and take them
up to Miami if a storm comes.”

“That’s what’s supposed to happen,” said John. “But Gavin’s supervisor said certain
men in charge up there aren’t taking the hurricanes seriously enough. Guy named Ed
Sheeran lived through the bad one of 1906, and he’s trying to tell them, but he’s
not getting too far.”

“They’ll get them out,” she said. “Besides, there are enough locals up there to know
the warning signs of a hurricane. If their supervisors don’t know one’s coming, the
natives will.”

“I sure hope so,” said John. “Of course, he’s not worried about himself. He’s worried
about the guys with families who live in his camp.”

Mariella thought of them. Gavin had told her of Lorraine and Henry Morrow, with their
two kids, and several other families. He loved to eat with them when he was at camp
so he could distance himself from the drunks. He loved to take the Morrow boy night
fishing.

“When’s he coming down to Key West?”

“Not till Labor Day weekend. He wants to get out of camp before the guys drink their
paychecks away and get sloppy.”

Mariella drained the beer but offered the last drag to John, which he took.

“On that note,” she said, “I’d better get back. As usual, John, you’re full of cheery
thoughts to give me.”

“I did it again, didn’t I?”

“Yes, you always manage to,” she said. “But I love you anyway.”

Mariella leaned down and kissed John on the cheek.

“Be careful, Mari,” he said. “Thanks for coming back with me.”

Mariella walked home that night looking with new eyes at the trees blowing in the
wind. The sky was clear and she was grateful they hadn’t had any big storms yet that
season. But she also knew that they could come without warning, and often after days
of beautiful weather. She thought she’d write to Gavin that he should come down to
Key West if there were any hurricane warnings, and they could all stay in John’s little
concrete house. It made her feel better just thinking of it on the way home, but that
night in bed, she couldn’t sleep.