The Cove (3 page)

He hadn’t seen Kathy Brackett yet, and the more he thought about it, as much as he wanted to see her and knew he couldn’t avoid seeing her eventually, it might be a good idea to put it off for now.

He turned to leave but then drew to a halt.

Kathy was standing across the street under one of the tall maple trees in front of Lester Michael’s house. Sunlight and shadow dappled her face and the large, white bundle she cradled in her arms. A baby stroller was parked next to her.

Now it was impossible to avoid her.

Gotta get it over with,
he thought.

She was looking straight at him as if all the activity down by the launch ramp wasn’t even happening. She looked like an illusion … one of those mirages he’d experienced while on patrol at high noon in the desert sun. She moved dreamily as she hitched her burden from one side to the other and raised a hand to wave. Ben looked left and right, making sure she was waving at him and then waved back. He forced a wide smile that felt frozen on his face as he started across the street toward her.

“I heard you were back in town,” Kathy said. Her voice was as light and airy as always. The mere sound of it sent a dull ache through Ben’s chest.

“So, apparently, has the whole town.”

“Hey. Come on. You’re the war hero, right?”

“Yeah. Right.”

Kathy smiled and tilted her head to one side, then looked down at the bundle in her arms. Even at a distance, Ben caught a whiff of baby powder or shampoo.

“Well … aren’t you?” Kathy asked.

“Hardly.”

The bundle in Kathy’s arms was squirming. She smiled softly as she looked down at the baby and chucked it under the chin while making soft cooing sounds.

“So how’s —
ahh
, how’s married life treating you?” Ben asked. A choking sensation grabbed his throat and started squeezing, blocking off his air supply. The sunlight and shadow gave Kathy’s hair a sense of motion, even though there was no breeze. A cool dampness spread under his armpits.

“It’s good,” Kathy said with the hint of an edge in her voice that gave Ben pause.

“And … your baby … How’s she —
ahh
, doing?”

“Amanda? She’s doing great.”

Kathy shifted to one side, cocking her hip to expose the tiny face wrapped inside the blanket. The baby was asleep, and Ben thought she looked impossibly small and fragile. He never could see family resemblances in babies, but politeness impelled him to smile foolishly and say, “She has your mouth.”

Kathy smiled tenderly at her daughter.

“She’s fine … She’s great.”

“And your husband? How’s
Hor
—” He almost used Dwight Brackett’s nickname, “Horse Lips,” but stopped himself at the last second. No need to be insulting. “How’s Dwight doing?”

“He’s fine,” Kathy said. “Still working at Ames Hardware and — you know,
lobstering
or digging bloodworms whenever he can.”

“No clams?”

“Come on. He’ll never dig clams. Not enough money in it after all those red tide scares. ’
S’tough
enough making ends meet these days. ’Specially now that we have a kid.”

Ben grimaced at her use of the word
we
and nodded.

“Times sure are tough. He’s —
ahh
…” He wasn’t sure he dared say what he intended to say. He was hoping to let it drop, but Kathy caught him up on it.

“He’s what?”

“No. Nothing. I was gonna say I thought he might … you know, be a little old for you.”

Kathy gave him a sly smile that was impossible to read and said, “There’s only seven years between us. We’re doing fine.”

“Good. Great,” Ben said. He wanted desperately to change the subject, so he said, “So did that big box store finally get approval to build on the lot out by Five Corners?”

“Not yet. They’re still pushing the town council something wicked for clearances, but Brian Hatcher’s been fighting them hard.”

“Brian Hatcher? Who the fuck is Brian Hatcher?”

“New guy in town. Moved here a year or two ago from West Virginia. He’s getting all involved with town politics and is on the town council. But there’s a lot more support for the store than you’d think.”

“Umm … Pete was telling me last night how things had gotten pretty heated last fall.”

“
Ahh
.” Kathy waved a hand in front of her face like she was shooing a mosquito. She gazed at her sleeping baby’s face again as she spoke, lowering her voice. “It’s mostly Ray and Jerry Hanson making all the fuss. They stand to make a killing selling the family property to the company that wants to build the store.”

“They never worked an honest day in their lives,” Ben said, his lip curling with disgust. When he was in high school, he had worked with Jerry Hanson as dishwashers at
Augie’s
, a local seafood restaurant. Ben had never seen a worse slacker. “Neither one of them. And now they’re hoping to cash in so they never have to.”

“Yeah — and meanwhile, people ‘from away’ are fighting to keep the town the quaint little fishing village it’s always been even though that new store would mean more jobs.”

Kathy smiled at him, but the truth was Ben was barely engaged in this small talk with her. What he
really
wanted to talk about seemed impossible to bring up. Mercifully, above the murmur of the crowd, someone was calling his name. The bellowing voice echoed from the granite walls that lined the harbor.

Ben looked down toward the water. His brother was perched on the new boat, both hands gripping the gunwales for balance. Wally had backed the trailer down the cement launch ramp until the wheels were in the water.

“I think your brother wants you,” Kathy said with a quick nod in Pete’s direction.

All too anxious to leave her while at the same time not wanting to walk away, Ben started to turn. Before he left, though, he stopped and looked back at her. He had to ask one thing … so he could settle his mind.

“Does he know?” he said.

At first, Kathy looked perplexed by his question, but then her face went white and her eyes narrowed.

“You mean does Dwight know … about the baby?”

Ben swallowed hard. He couldn’t speak as he looked away and nodded. His heart felt too large for his chest, and he found it impossible to catch his breath.

“Of course he doesn’t,” Kathy said. Her voice lost all of its lightness and was suddenly as hard as steel. Without missing a beat, she added, “And as far as I’m concerned, he never will.”

Launch

B
en made his way slowly down to the water’s edge, wending his way through the crowd, smiling and nodding to everyone who greeted him. He took up a position on the rocks, close to where Louise was darting back and forth, trying to find the best angle for taking pictures. Collars of dark brown seaweed floated like wet leather in the water, rising and falling on the gentle swells.

With the boat already all but floating, Wally got out of the truck and walked over to the passenger’s door, where he made a great show of helping the flesh and blood Abby Rose down to the ground. The cement launch ramp was pitched at a steep angle, and she was a little unsteady on her feet. Ben attributed it to nerves, what with her mother hovering at the shoreline, saying over and over at high volume how “goddamned proud” she was of her daughter.

Wally folded his arms across his chest and waited until conversation died to a murmur. He was used to commanding attention.

“I wanna thank you all for coming by today,” he said, his voice loud and confident.

Wally smiled as he surveyed the crowd like they were adoring subjects, come to honor the king. Sunlight washed over his tanned and weather-beaten face, giving him a glow of health. A sparkle lit his eyes. Ben thought the sparkle might be as much from however many shots of rum his father had already downed this morning as anything else.

“It ain’t often we get to launch a boat like this, and never have we launched one named after such a beautiful little girl as my grandniece here.”

He patted Abby Rose on the shoulder as her mother squealed. A scattering of applause made Abby Rose blush and look down at her feet.

“I ain’t a man of many words —”

“’
Cept
when you got a
skinful
!” someone shouted.

“Like now,” someone else yelled.

Wally shaded his eyes to identify whoever was wising off, but he was careful not to lose the moment.

“We’re launching this here boat in the hopes that we’ll all have a good season this year. That the price of fuel will finally start to come down
so’s
honest, hard-working men can —”

“And women!” Carol Stone, who also
lobstered
, shouted.

“Yes … Yes.” Wally said as he rubbed his cheek with the tips of his fingers. “Hard-working
women
can make an honest living, too.”

The crowd cheered and clapped, but Ben lowered his gaze.
More like hard-drinking and doing anything legal or illegal to make a buck,
he thought.

“So today,” Wally continued, “we christen this boat the
Abby Rose
.”

A loud cheer went up from the crowd and echoed from the granite walls of the harbor as Wally reached into the truck and withdrew a bottle of champagne. He wrapped a white towel around it and then gave it to Abby Rose.

With one hand resting on Abby Rose’s thin shoulder, he directed her to the bow of the boat, still helping her keep her balance. He leaned down and whispered something into her ear, and then, holding her hand in his so her tiny fist looked like a ball trapped inside a baseball glove, he brought her arm back and counted.

“One …”

He swung her arm so the bottle clinked lightly against the bow.

“Two …”

Another swing, and a louder
clink
.

“And
three!
”

On the third swing, Abby Rose smacked the bottle against the bow. The towel did a good job of catching most of the shattered green glass, which clicked like tumbling dice on the trailer frame and concrete ramp. A bubbling wave of white foam spewed into the air and splashed across the bow of the boat. It fizzed as it ran in thin, bubbly streams down the ramp and into the water.

Another, even louder cheer went up from the crowd. Close to the water, Louise was kneeling on one knee, rapidly firing her camera, as were several other people.

“You done good, Ab. Real good,” Wally said, clapping her on the shoulder like she was one of his drinking buddies.

She smiled up at him, but, if anything, she looked like she wanted to run away from here as fast and as far as she could so people would stop gawking at her. She shied away when her mother rushed forward and gave her a big hug and kiss on the cheek.

“I’m so proud of you,” Sally said, loud enough for everyone to hear.

Hanging back, Ben watched it all with an amused sense of detachment. He felt like an invisible observer.

Wally climbed up onto the boat and then, leaning down, hoisted Abby Rose up onto the deck to stand beside him. Pete got down from the boat, a little unsteadily, and slid into the cab of the truck behind the steering wheel. Leaning out the driver’s window, he waited for the word from his father.

“You
comin
’, Benny?” his father yelled.

Ben tensed, suddenly aware that numerous pairs of eyes had turned on him. No one had called him “Benny” in years — not since high school. He was sure his father had done it now simply to embarrass him. Payback for not wearing his uniform.

“I’m all set,” Ben said with a quick wave of his hand. He knew, from the look his father shot back at him that he’d hear about it later, that he should have joined the family on the boat if only to show family unity.

“Come on, Ben,” Louise said as she started for the boat. “You gotta.”

But Ben shook his head and didn’t move. To cover the awkward moment, Louise climbed up into the boat and then waved to the crowd with a wide smile on her face. She looked like Queen of the Rose Bowl Parade, but even at this distance, Ben could see the bruise beneath her makeup.

Once it was obvious Ben was going to be stubborn about it, Pete shifted the truck into reverse and backed the trailer deeper into the water until the truck’s rear tires were submerged. When the boat started to lift free of the frame, Wally started up the engine. The deep-throated growl echoed from the harbor walls, and a thin haze of blue exhaust rose into the sky as the
Abby Rose
backed up and then swung around, heading out toward sea.

Before he gassed it, Wally took a bullhorn from the side of the cabin and raised it to his mouth.

“Thank you all for coming! I hope to see you over at
Huckins
’! Free food and drink!” he shouted, his amplified voice echoing inside the stone harbor. He put the bullhorn down and raised a helium horn, giving it a long, steady blast. Several people in the crowd flinched and covered their ears.

Folks were still cheering and waving as the boat headed out to sea for a little trial run. Then,
en masse
, people started back toward the street.

Ben moved with the crowd, but he kept off to one side, staying on the thin strip of grass next to the parking lot. He overheard a few scattered comments about how everything had gone so well and what a beautiful day it was for a party and how everyone was looking forward to the festivities. If past launchings were any guide, the party would last all day for many of them and long into the night for some. The remaining hardcore celebrants — which would no doubt include Wally — would finish up the celebration at Dewey’s Pub, known by everyone simply as “The Local.”

As he worked his way through the crowd, Ben considered heading home so he could be alone with his thoughts. He didn’t belong to this town any more. All too easily, he identified with Abby Rose’s nervousness at being the center of attention, even if it was only for a few seconds. Everyone he bumped into was obligated to say something to him about how good it must feel to be back home. Ben smiled and shook hands and thanked everyone, but a cold pit slowly opened up in his stomach whenever he thought how if only they knew what had happened in Iraq … what he had done — and not done. Then, probably not a damned one of them would bother to look, much less speak to him again.

F
or sure … That’s gotta be him
, Julia Meadows thought as she hunched behind the steering wheel of her Audi. She was parked on the side of the street, about halfway down the hill leading to the boat launch. She watched the dark-haired young man making his way slowly up the slope from the boat launch and head for the street. The crowd surged around him, and several people stopped and spoke with him briefly before getting into their cars and trucks, and pulling out of the parking lot. A curtain of dust rose into the air, choking people like a cloud of noxious smoke. Everyone was vying to be first to get over to
Huckins
Wharf so they could start eating and drinking. But Julia noticed how, even in a crowd, Ben moved as if he were walking all alone … or in another dimension.

She had to admit he was better looking than she had expected from what she’d heard folks around town say about him. The returning native son — the high school star athlete and now war hero — was taller and thinner than she had imagined. He walked with an almost cat-like grace that she found immediately intriguing. Earlier, before the boat launch, she had been sitting in her car, watching the festivities when she noticed him cross the street and talk to Kathy Brackett. Julia told herself she had come down here to watch the event so maybe she would feel like she was at least a little part of the town, but the truth was, she was here today solely to see Ben Brown and meet him, if she got a chance.

He walked past her car without noticing her. When he was about fifty feet past her, she started up the car and edged into the flow of traffic. People around here were courteous, at least. A battered, rusted-out Chevy pickup stopped to let her in. Julia smiled and waved at the driver, a huge man who, when he grinned at her, showed a remarkable lack of front teeth.

But as she drove along in the procession, never going more than ten miles per hour, she began to fear that Ben, on foot, might outpace her. She watched the way he walked and was fascinated by his long strides and the subtle confidence in the way he carried himself. His butt was trim and his legs well-muscled.

When she had caught up with him and was about to lower the window on the passenger’s side and say something to him, he paused, glanced at her car, raised his hand as if to halt her, and stepped out into the street, cutting away from the flow of the pedestrians.

“Dammit,” Julia muttered, and she quickly pressed the button to lower the window on her side and stuck her head out.

“Hey, there. Wanna lift?” she called out, surprising herself with her boldness.

Ben stopped in the middle of the street and looked at her, confusion crinkling his tanned brow as he raised his right hand and touched his chest in a “you mean me?” gesture.

“Yeah,” Julia said, as a flush of warmth spread through her stomach. Up close, he was even better looking than she had thought.

“I’m heading down to the wharf and thought you might like a lift.”

Ben was taken aback as he looked up and down the street. The rusted Chevy behind her was idling with a loud rumble as dark exhaust spewed from the tailpipe in a billowing cloud. After a second or two, the toothless driver tapped on his horn. Only two short honks, but enough to set Julia’s nerves on edge.

“Hold
yer
ass, Dime’s Worth,” Ben shouted, and then he scooted across the street to the passenger’s side of the car. Julia hit the automatic door lock button to unlock the door, and he opened the door and dropped down into the seat. The perplexed look on his face made Julia smile as she took her foot off the brake and moved ahead to cut the distance between her and the car in front of her.

“Who’s Dime’s Worth?” she asked casually.

“Him?” Ben turned and glanced out the rear window at the truck following them. “That’s Henry Martin. ‘Dime’s Worth.’”

“How’d he get a name like that?”

“Long story,” Ben said. He looked at her, frowning. “Do I know you?”

“No.” Julia flashed him a quick grin. “But you should.”

M
aybe it’s a good thing I came down here after all
, Ben was thinking as he studied the driver in silence for a moment. Her thin face was tanned, and she had long, curly dark hair with amber highlights that cascaded down her shoulders. When she had turned to him and smiled, he caught a mischievous gleam in her brown eyes. His first thought was:
This woman is interesting
.

“So,” he said, after clearing his throat and scratching his cheek. “Why should I get to know you?”

“You’re Ben Brown, right?”

Ben nodded.

“I thought so. I’ve heard about you … around town.”

“And you are —?”

“Julia Meadows,” she replied. She held out her right hand for him to shake. Although her hand was small, he noticed how long her fingers were. She had a nice, firm grip that was cool and dry.

“Meadows … Meadows …” Ben frowned and shook his head. “Doesn’t ring a bell. You’re not from around here.”

Julia said, “I am now. I moved to town last fall.”

Ben let out a burst of braying laughter as he stared at her.