Spartina (6 page)

The next thing he knew she was back in South County after college—
two
colleges. Brown and Yale Forestry School. In uniform. She was good-looking—not pretty all the time but often enough to throw you. And she was law. It was the combination that was shifty. And her being one of the rich kids. But she worked hard—she was like Joxer that way—you could see she put in a day’s work.

Joxer said to him, “There’s some more guests coming. If it’s okay with you, here’s the plan. I’ll stay here with this bunch, and you get the next bunch. Schuyler and Marie are giving them a drink at the Wedding Cake and then sending them down to the wharf. You give them a lift. Then Schuyler’ll wait for the late arrivals and bring them.”

Dick said, “Okay. I’ll just see the boys on their way.”

“Right-o,” Joxer said and went back to his guests at the top of the beach.

Dick called the boys. They gathered up their things and then argued over who got to row.

“Let Tom row,” Dick said. When they were settled, Dick gave the boat a shove. “Don’t run off tomorrow morning,” he called after them. “I got some plans for you.”

Elsie stood up in the water and waded ashore. “Aye, aye, Daddy,” she said. She saluted and laughed.

Dick said, “You know a better way to raise kids?”

“Don’t mind me. You might even be right. They still think you’re pretty neat. After Ed Wormsley gave his talk on trees Charlie asked me if you could take the class on a tour of the salt ponds, up into the marsh.”

“Jesus.”

“It’s a good idea. You know the marsh. In fact, I think you and I are the only two people left who know where the old causeway is. The one that runs into the bird sanctuary.”

Dick was startled. He didn’t say a word.

“Don’t ever pull that again,” Elsie said. “Once was funny. Twice would be a big fat fine.”

Dick fixed his eyes on the breachway.

Elsie said, “There are two other Resources officers who have you in mind, but they can’t prove it. They’re puzzled because they know you don’t own a tractor. That doesn’t puzzle me. I know your pal Ed Wormsley. I’d hate to see Eddie in trouble again.”

Dick rose to the bait, but didn’t take it. He said, “Ah.” Then said carefully, “I don’t think Eddie had anything to do with it. If what you’re talking about is whoever it was dug up the sanctuary beach. I thought I heard something that night. Could have been a tractor. Didn’t sound like a tractor, but it could have been. But Eddie doesn’t go in for clams. He doesn’t like them, wouldn’t know where to sell them. I got to go pick up some more guests. Now I guess you’re going to put your uniform on.”

Elsie laughed. “Nope. I’m out of uniform. Mind if I ride along?”

It wasn’t worth starting the motor just to go a quarter-mile round the point to the Wedding Cake wharf.

Elsie said, “Don’t mind me, don’t mind me. Look. If you and Eddie don’t do anything terrible, I’m on your side. Did Eddie tell you about the swan? Don’t answer that. I’ll tell you. I let him keep a swan he shot with his crossbow. I know you know about his crossbow. So long as you don’t do anything worse than that. And so long as nobody finds out. I just want to keep this place from going to hell. Sometimes I think I should quit and go work for Save-the-Bay or the Clamshell Alliance. Lie down in front of the bulldozers when they start a nuclear-power plant.”

“I heard that was all over with. They can’t build it in Wickford and they can’t build it in Charlestown.”

“Yeah. That one’s stopped. I don’t know what I’m complaining about. And even the cottages my brother-in-law is putting up here aren’t so bad. Have they showed you the architect’s model?”

“What cottages?”

“I thought you knew. Here on Sawtooth Point.”

“God Almighty.” Dick stopped rowing.

Elsie said, “I’m surprised they didn’t … I thought that was why they invited you.”

Dick laughed once. “No. Who’s this
they
?”

“Joxer, and Schuyler. And then there’s my brother-in-law and Mr. Salviatti. I thought they invited all the neighbors. And then some of these people are ones they want to sell to. Maybe they’re going to tell you later. Don’t say I told you, okay? Look, it’s not so bad. I hate to be the one.… I’ve seen the plans and it won’t change much.”

“How much do they figure to make?”

“Oh God, I don’t know. Millions, zillions. You know what it’s like around here.”

The skiff turned a little as it drifted. Dick could see Elsie’s face now that the sun wasn’t in his eyes.

Someone yelled from the dock. Elsie waved and shouted, “We’re coming!”

She leaned forward and touched his knee. “Look, Dick. I really am sympathetic. I was as horrified as you are. But everything west of Pierce Creek is still sanctuary. It’s just a few more houses.” She sat back and said, “Shit. Why am I saying this? I sound like them.”

Dick felt bitterness about Sawtooth Point that he knew he could postpone. What he couldn’t figure out now was Elsie. For a minute there, she’d been talking to him, and he’d been interested in how she opened up about her job, how she thrashed about. He’d always wondered about her and her job. Then, of course, he’d been stunned by this news, but even after that he’d felt she was telling it to him straight enough. When she said she was sympathetic he thought that was so too.

The change wasn’t so much that she got sentimental about the bird sanctuary, whereas he was feeling the old barb of his father’s hospital bill and the loss of Sawtooth Point. He could go her way—he had a soft spot for the sanctuary himself. Was it that she couldn’t go his way and
think
about money? Not just that. There was her sudden change, her correcting herself, swearing, trying to get her feelings just right—pulling it all back to how
she
felt.

He began to row again. Her head swung back into the sun. Her face became dark. She said, “I’ve got to …” She leaned back. “Fortunately, I have my month’s leave now. I shouldn’t have told Schuyler I’d help him with his movie. Did you know that’s what he does? Makes short documentaries. He wanted to know if you could take us around some. You have any spare time?”

“Not these days. I got to make some money. And if I do make some money, I got to work on my boat.”

“Well, maybe we could just come along when you pull your pots. I think Schuyler’s got some money to pay.”

“What’s his movie about?”

“He’s got a couple of them going. But one is about South County. He has an educational-TV contract, and he’s got another one for the state tourism people. And part of his investment in the cottage project here is to make a film strip about what a great place it is.”

“Busy fellow.”

Elsie said, “He’s pretty good at it. He’s not just a pretty face.” Elsie laughed at that.

Dick recognized one of the reasons Schuyler rubbed him the wrong way. He was a pretty boy all right. And he looked amused all the time. He looked at this, he looked at that, and was amused. Dick didn’t mind Joxer’s being hearty nearly so much as he minded Schuyler’s looking amused. It figured Schuyler would look at a fishing village and a salt marsh and take pictures. Of what was amusing.

Dick pulled up to the dock, and guests clambered in. Dick got up and helped Miss Perry to the stern seat. As the boat filled up Elsie gave up her seat beside Miss Perry, sat down beside Dick, and took the starboard oar. Elsie’s sister took Elsie’s place and her husband handed her a baby.

“Sally, you remember Dick Pierce? And this is baby Jack—John Dudley Aldrich the third. Can you believe that little eggplant has all those names?”

Dick remembered Elsie at fourteen and fifteen. Sally was the beauty then, Elsie the loudmouth.

Sally ignored the part about her baby. “Yes, of course, Dick Pierce. You haven’t changed at all.”

Dick saw that Sally had. Not for the worse. Before, she could have been any pretty girl. Now, she was softer, she looked a little tired, but her face was her own.

Elsie shoved off and slid her oar out through the oarlock. She said, “All set? And a-one and a-two.”

“This is a rowboat,” Sally said, “not a dance band.”

Dick and Elsie rowed with mild strokes, the boat sluggish with nine people aboard, too much weight forward. Elsie chattered away with Sally and Miss Perry. Old home week. The other guests, most of them newcomers, exclaimed to each other about the view: the Wedding Cake, the island, the pond, how nice, how very nice.

Dick and Elsie backed the skiff in to the little island beach. Joxer helped Miss Perry and Sally and the baby. The other guests took off their shoes and went over the sides, calling heartily to Joxer and Joxer’s wife. They were as cheerful as Joxer. Amused too. Polite as Sally and Miss Perry, they called back, “Thanks for the ride,” and, turning to each other, turning away from each other, they waded through the clear water, stirring the bright sand, a little school of nice-looking people in bright clothes and bare legs. How nice, how very nice. Was it as easy for them as it looked? To move so lightly, to begin sentences by saying with a smile, “Tell me. How was—” To smile back and say, “It was marvelous” or “It was ghastly,” smiles and words as quick and simultaneous as a school of minnows.

Money. It wasn’t just money. “Tell me about—” “Yes, I know all about it” or “You know, I don’t know the first thing about it.” It didn’t seem to matter which. Either one was an amusing answer. The whole conversation was a school of minnows, zig, zag, zig. Up to break the surface, down and away.

Dick had come up to a tennis court once to tell a fellow his boat was ready. The fellow said to the other players, “Ah. Just a sec.” Turned to Dick and said, “We’ll just finish the game. You don’t mind.” Dick stood by. One lady cracked one, really pounded it past the guy’s feet. She looked as good as a tennis player on TV. They all laughed. They were amused. Next time it bounced between the two of them on the same team. They both reared back but hung fire. They both said, “Yours!” All four of them laughed. Joxer and
Barbara Goode were playing on opposite teams. Maybe that was part of the fun. Dick waited and waited.

“Sorry, just wanted to finish the set.”

Joxer sang out, “Hello there, Dick!”

Dick said, “Mr. Goode. Mr. White. Bill sent me, said you wanted to know the minute your boat was going in. Said you wanted to be there. It’s going in now.”

“Ah yes. You’re from the boatyard.” Dick had seen this guy every day for the last week. Mr. White added, “Tell Bill I’ll be along.”

Dismissed.

But Dick said, “It’s up to you. If you want to see the splash, it’ll be when I get back there.” Mr. White’s ketch was forty-five feet l.o.a., drew eight feet. She couldn’t go in at low tide. The hoist, the marine railway didn’t run themselves. It was the size of the boat, the size of the job that got to Dick. Even if you owned it for fun, you ought to know the difference between playing tennis and a forty-five-foot boat. Mr. White and Bill knew there was another size involved. It wasn’t just money, but money was the length of it.

Time to check the clams. Dick tossed the bow anchor out, snubbed it, and waded in to set the stern anchor in the beach.

Schuyler and his wife, and Sally’s husband and little girl came out in a canoe. An old canvas job, painted deep royal blue. The ribs and thwarts were dark with age but shiny with new varnish.

Sally and Elsie ran down to it. It turned out it was their family’s old canoe. Mr. Aldrich had found her under the old Buttrick house. Fixed it up as a surprise. Had it hidden under a tarp at Schuyler’s.

Everyone came down to it.

“That’s your mum’s old canoe, Jenny. I was just your age …”

The little girl didn’t get it, but she was excited by the fuss.

Dick looked closer and saw some of the ribs were new. Stained to match the old ones. Someone had gone to an awful lot of trouble.

“Oh, Jack! This is wonderful!”

The new canvas looked tight as a drum. Dick saw the seats had been recaned too—old-style, row on row of little hexes.

Marie Van der Hoevel came over to him as he was fumbling under the edge of the tarp for a clam.

“May I help?”

He shooed her back with his gloved hand. “Careful. That steam’ll burn you.” He found a good-sized quahog. Open. He pulled off the tarp and stood back. “There she is!” Dick took a deep breath as the steam rose and blew slowly by him. Smelled right. He dug out a potato, dipped it in the water, and took a bite. “Good enough to eat,” he said to Mrs. Van der Hoevel. “You want to try one?” Dick was pleased at how good it turned out. He dug out a potato and a small steamer, dipped them in the edge of the water, and held them out to her. “I’ll put all this stuff in the washtubs,” he said, “and you use that camp stove to melt butter. Smells pretty good. If this was August we’d have corn too, but this ain’t too bad.”

She touched the steamer and pulled her hand back. “Oh dear!” Dick put his glove between his knees and pulled the clam meat out for her with his finger, holding it by the tough neck. Schuyler and Elsie arrived in time to see her lean over and nibble on the clam. Dick pulled away the tough part of the neck. Mrs. Van der Hoevel reached for it. Schuyler said, “You don’t eat the foreskin, dear.” Mrs. Van der Hoevel blushed. She kept on chewing. She said “Good” out of the corner of her mouth. She reminded Dick of his wife again, though she was prettier. She was thin and jumpy—Dick could see Schuyler had her licked. But she kept herself together. Her white shorts had sharply creased pleats and a neat cuff, each leg a miniskirt flared around each narrow thigh—in the same way her hair flared out around her face made it seem even longer and narrower. At least Schuyler kept her in pretty clothes. Dick felt a pang of guilt about May.

Elsie got a pair of long vinyl gloves and high rubber boots and shuffled into the seaweed to help fill the tubs. She was about the same height as Mrs. Van der Hoevel, but a good bit sturdier and harder. The big black boots and gloves flippering around in the seaweed while she crouched down in her red swimsuit made her look like an agitated ladybug. Every so often Dick and Elsie had to take a few steps into the water to cool off the soles of the boots. Then back into the pile, digging for the potatoes and stray clams, flipping them so quick they were making the washtubs clank and ping like a dieseling engine. It was decent of Elsie to help out. He looked over at her as she bent over the hot seaweed. Her thighs between the boot tops and bathing suit were steamed pink, but had good hard lines. He could see what Charlie’d been looking at.