High Tide at Noon (32 page)

“Is that a promise?”

“Promise.” They looked gravely at each other, and then Alec laughed suddenly, and kissed her hard. He went upstairs, whistling.

Joanna washed and put away the dishes, rinsed out the percolator, and set the table for breakfast. She hummed a little under her breath. Queer, how much better she felt, all at once. Of course it was some foolish, generous thing Alec had done. Letting the bills go was foolish, too. But not criminal. They'd talk it over, and straighten it out.

The lamp still burned on the bedside stand when she came into their room, and Alec was asleep. Deeply and soundly asleep, his face buried in the pillow, just his sandy cowlick showing. Joanna leaned on the foot of the bed, her new-found peace of mind ebbing away. She couldn't wake him now and talk to him, and she was still nagged by that maddening uncertainty.

She undressed and slipped into bed beside Alec. Something—she didn't know what—kept her from snuggling up to his back. For a long time she lay awake in the darkness, not moving, not touching Alec. Wondering.

I
N THE MORNING
A
LEC HAD GONE
before she woke up. He didn't come in from hauling till midafternoon—he shifted one of his strings out toward the Rock—and when he did come in, Donna had come down to spend the afternoon with Joanna. Alec ate his dinner and went back to the shore again. He brought Mark home to have supper with them, because Joanna had baked beans, which Mark would eat, cheerfully, seven days a week. Mark stayed late, and again Alec fell asleep as soon as his head touched the pillow.

Tomorrow, Joanna thought. Tomorrow we can talk. But the next day brought a northeast wind and a battering rainstorm, and Owen and Hugo spent almost the whole day in Joanna's kitchen, yarning and spinning cuffers as they'd always done. At length they went, but Alec went with them, down to the shore to see to his boat, thence into Karl Sorensen's fish house to yarn some more around the pot-bellied stove. In the evening he wanted to go up to the big house, and Joanna couldn't refuse.

I've got to talk to him, she thought desperately, when the right time comes, the exact moment. But what if it never comes?

Until now she had always awakened in the morning with an eagerness to live this new day. Now she awoke with a shadow across her mind, and she knew it would be there until she sent it away. On the third day—boat day again—when she was brushing her hair in front of the mirror, she could see faint shadows under her eyes. She hadn't slept well the night before, she woke up every hour, it seemed, and her sleep had been full of vague, troubling dreams. Not enough to frighten her, but enough to leave her heavy-footed and tired in the morning.

It was calm and clear again, as warm and mild as a spring day; the sea outside the little cove was the soft, pale blue of forget-me-nots, and it made hardly a sound as it washed against the rocks. Alec left early to see how his traps had fared in the storm, but not before Joanna had made him promise to take a walk with her toward Sou-west Point in the afternoon. It would be easier to talk out of doors, she thought.

Before he went out he had given her money for the bill, and she took it without a word of reference to all those others. She went down to the post office early and sent a money order; then, relieved by the certainty that they could talk over their finances, she went home and decided to do a washing. Activity was better than just waiting.

She was sorting the wash in piles around the kitchen floor, and the boiler was steaming on the stove—Alec had promised her a washing machine for next year—when she heard Mark's voice outside the house. Joanna remained where she was, sitting cross-legged on the floor as she separated Alec's dark socks from his white woolen ones. She wished Mark didn't have a genius for dropping in when she didn't want to talk to anyone. It had been enough strain to make Alec think there were nothing on her mind. Yesterday, with the boys under foot, had been a dreadful day. Now Mark was coming in, to sit around and talk.

She sighed, and bit her lower lip, just as Mark came through the front door and sang out, “Company, Jo!”

A terrible knowledge assailed her, even as she kicked the soiled socks under the table and got quickly to her feet. Alec's sister had come. Margaret was here.

*
*
*

Mrs. Jim Coombs, born Margaret Douglass, was a tall spare woman with eyes and hair the color of Alec's, but without his rather shy and good-natured charm. She looked as if life had not been easy for her, as if she had learned early to tighten her lips at it and not allow it an inch of leeway.

Though the sea was quite calm, she had been seasick. And here was her sister-in-law looking at her with startled, almost unfriendly eyes, apparently not expecting her. It was a white and taut-lipped woman who stood in Joanna Douglass' sitting room, where Mark had put down her suitcase and left her.

It was true, Joanna was startled. But only briefly. Then she went forward smiling, her hand out. “You're Margaret, and I'm Joanna. I'm awfully glad you've come. Come out in the kitchen where it's warm, and I'll make you some good hot tea!”

She had the older woman's coat and hat almost before Alec's sister realized it, and the rich, warm charm of the Bennetts, that seemed to glow out with extra power under just such circumstances, flowed around Margaret in Joanna's voice, her manner, her gestures. When a guest arrived looking as wretched and unfriendly as Margaret did, a true Bennett always rose magnificently to the occasion. It was necessary to make the guest forget that she'd been cold and seasick, that neither her brother nor her brother's wife had met her at the wharf, that she wished she'd never left home.

At length, when she was established in the rocker beside the stove, with the added warmth of sunshine streaming across her, a cup of tea in her hands, her pale mouth unclamped and she said unexpectedly, “This is a very pleasant room.”

“Yes, we think so.” Joanna gathered up the soiled clothes again, smiled at Margaret. “I was going to wash, but now I shan't. I'd rather wait a few days, anyway. Alec ought to be in from hauling pretty soon.”

“He works hard, does he?” Margaret's voice was pale and dry, like herself. Joanna thought her eyes were like chips of green-brown stone. No wonder Alec hadn't been happy with her.

“Oh, he works like a Trojan,” she said. “He's never been lazy.”

“You don't say.” Margaret stared into her teacup, and the conversation waned. What'll we have for dinner, Joanna thought frantically. She'd planned on leftover fish hash, but not for company. She could put on potatoes, anyway. She took them out of the bin and began to scrub them.

“Do you have to lug your water?” Margaret asked.

“From the well in the village. But Alec's promised to build a cistern.”

“Promises,” said Mrs. Coombs grimly, “butter no parsnips.”

Joanna conquered an impulse to say she didn't like parsnips, especially with butter, and wished Alec would come soon. “How are Mr. Coombs and the children?” she asked pleasantly.

“They're all good.” For a moment the dry, harsh voice hesitated. “Yes—good.” She went on rocking. Joanna put the potatoes on the stove and began to set the table. Before her stretched a long weekend of Margaret. It was a weary thought. And she wouldn't be able to talk to Alec this afternoon.

Alec himself was coming up through the gate. “Here comes Alec now!” she exclaimed thankfully.

“Is that so?” said Margaret dryly. No joyous start, no flash of light across her face, no eagerness in her voice. For a moment Joanna seemed to feel a cold wind blowing. Then Alec was standing in the doorway, saying happily:

“Hello, Meggie! So you got here at last—after a year!” He bent over the rocker and kissed her, but even then there was no softening of her austere face.

“Alec, maybe you'll carry my bag up to my room for me,” she said abruptly.

“You bet. Wait'll I kiss my wife.” He cupped Joanna's face in his hands, winked at her, and kissed her mouth. Then, talking eagerly, he escorted his sister upstairs. After a few moments he came running down again.

This time his kiss was more thorough. “Love me, honey?” he asked. “Did you miss me today?”

“Yes, dear, only what are we going to have for dinner? Look, run down and see if Pete got any meat today.”

Alec twinkled. “And get it for my sweet smile? I didn't haul this morning, Jo. And I cleaned out my pockets before I left the house.”

“All that went to Montgomery's.” She stepped back from him. “If you didn't haul, where have you been all morning?”

“Don't look at me as if you suspected me of murder,” said Alec merrily. “I got down to the shore and Marcus Yetton was having a hell of a time with his engine—hadn't been to haul for a couple days—”

“So you spent the morning working on it.”

“Yep. She purrs like a pussycat now. He's going to haul this afternoon.”

“Well, if you fixed it up for him, then you got paid,” said Joanna confidently. “You've got enough for some meat for you sister's dinner, anyway.” She turned back to the table, but Alec didn't move.

“How could the man pay me when he didn't have any money?” he asked simply. “Besides, I told him to forget it. He's got a big family there.”

“And you've got a wife and a sister who are hungry.” Joanna tilted her chin. “It's dinner time. There's nothing but potatoes and last summer's greens. What are you going to do about it, Alec?”

She realized all at once that she was furious. All the accumulated strain and worry of the last few days were rising to a climax now, as she stood looking at him. She felt her lips stiffen, and heat climb into her cheeks. Alec seemed totally unaware. He lit a cigarette, flipped the match neatly toward the stove, and said, “We'll have harbor pollack for dinner. They're good, and Meggie likes fish.”

“Well, don't tell her it's the same kind you use for bait sometimes.” Joanna clattered the frying pan.

“Nothing I like better than a good mess of pollack,” Alec said, and departed, whistling “The Road to the Isles.”

The little harbor pollack were crisp and brown, the potatoes mealy, the greens tasted fresh and good. The apple pie and coffee were just about perfection, Alec assured Joanna. Margaret ate with a good appetite, and Alec was always hungry. Joanna was glad the food tasted good to them; it was so much sawdust to her. But she ate and talked and laughed, and wondered if Alec's sister disliked her as much as she seemed to.

Margaret offered to help with the dishes, but Alec wouldn't let her. “You go up and have a nice nap, Meggie,” he urged her. “I'll help Jo.”

“I don't need any help,” said Joanna, but Alec ignored her. He walked to the foot of the stairs with Margaret, and came back to the kitchen to take Joanna into his arms.

“What are you thinking?” he whispered to her dark, locked face. “Thinking
damn?
Thinking
goddam?
Meggie's not so tough as she looks, honey. Wait till she thaws out.”

“It's not Margaret.” She leaned back in his arms and looked steadily into his eyes. “Alec, I don't like it, not having any money in the house when we've got company, and your family at that.”

“Didn't you like my little fish?”

“We can't eat pollack every day.”

“I'm going out to haul this afternoon, and we'll get a chicken from Uncle Nate tomorrow.”

“You'll stop on the beach and overhaul somebody's engine.”

Alec's eyes danced. “Walk down with me then, and row me out to the mooring. Then you'll be sure.”

She twisted in his arms, trying to hold her anger, but her laughter spilled through, and for a blessed moment as they clung together, there was no cloud of doubt between them.

Margaret napped for the greater part of the afternoon. Joanna went outdoors and walked down to the little cove to see if she'd missed any cranberries. When she came back to the house she gathered the last of the dahlias and took them into the house. As she clipped the stems at the sink, she heard Margaret coming downstairs. When her sister­in-law came into the room there was no trace in Joanna's manner of anything but a happy young wife who was at peace with the world.

“Did you have a good nap?” she asked.

“Yes, a very good one.” Margaret looked better; there was color in her face and in her voice. She sat down by the sunny window that looked out at the harbor. “You have a lovely view.”

“One of the best in the world,” Joanna said. “I wouldn't swap it for anything. Would you like to go for a walk before the sun goes down?”

“After a while.” Margaret seemed uneasy. Joanna felt the older woman's glance touch her and then move away, then come back.

“Joanna,” the older woman said unexpectedly. “I might's well admit it. I came here in an awful frame of mind. A downright ugly frame of mind.”

Amazement made Joanna forget for an instant her own frame of mind. She looked at Margaret with widening eyes, and Margaret nodded her sandy head vehemently.

“I didn't know what Alec had gone and married, I didn't know what condition I'd find him in, or what kind of place this was. I guess I just about expected the worst, and I told my husband so.”

Joanna laughed. “Well, every sister feels that way when her brothers get married. They always think that the girl isn't good enough—I've got brothers, you know.”

“It wasn't that,” said Margaret. “It was—well, after I'd got rested up in that pretty spare room of yours—I began thinking I owed you an apology for coming in here looking like the Great Stone Face. That's what Alec used to call me when I was on the warpath.” Her fleeting smile softened the angular frame of her face. “You see, it wasn't that I thought you weren't good enough. But Alec was always an awful problem to me. I guess you know he lived with me from the time he was sixteen.”