Authors: Luanne Rice
“I can’t believe I’m grounded,” he said. “It’s lousy not seeing you after school.”
“You can manage,” she said in that sharp, borderline-mean voice that always shocked T.J.
“Maybe I can sneak out today. Depends on if my mom works late or not.”
“Oh, I can’t today,” she said, lifting her head.
“Why not?” T.J. asked, jealous of whatever could keep Alison from seeing him if he were to risk everything by sneaking out.
“My mom’s making me go shopping.” She stuck out her tongue.
“Oh,” T.J. said, a little confused. Personally, he hated shopping, but he thought all girls loved it. Perfecto and Emma did, and so did his mom, and even Josie.
“Shit,” he said, as the bus air-braked. His stop. “I’ll call you later? When my mom’s busy.”
“We won’t be home from shopping till late,” she whispered, tilting her face up for his kiss.
He was still tasting her strawberry lip gloss when he stepped off the bus. Walking along, watching the bus turn onto Beacon Street, trying for one last glimpse of Alison, he hardly noticed Sean walking
beside him. Belinda, even lugging her schoolbooks, was way ahead.
“Hey, man,” T.J. said. He’d been ignoring Sean for a while, ever since he’d started going out with Alison, and it made him feel kind of guilty. Sean needed a lot of attention; he didn’t have any self-confidence, and he was really porking out, on the way to being as big as Aunt Bonnie.
“Hey, man,” Sean said. “What’d you get grounded for?”
“Driving my old man’s truck.”
“Yeah?” Sean asked, sounding psyched.
When they reached Sean’s corner, T.J. could tell that Sean really wanted to talk to him, because he didn’t say goodbye or turn toward home. He had this twisted expression on his face, like he had to go to the bathroom really bad. T.J. figured that Sean wanted to ask him about buying condoms or something else embarrassing.
“So, how’s Alison?” Sean asked.
“She’s great.”
Sean didn’t say anything for a minute, and T.J. was getting cold, just standing there. “You still into Satan?” T.J. asked, because he couldn’t really think of anything else to say.
“Yeah, I’m thinking of stealing Jesus out of the manger when they put up the Christmas stuff.”
“Sean, don’t do that,” T.J. said. The idea of Sean ripping off Jesus made him feel totally depressed. Ever since they were little kids their mothers had taken them to see the crèche at Our Lady of Mount Hope, and even though T.J. had outgrown it, he wanted it there for other little kids. Like Josie.
“Maybe I won’t,” Sean said. “I haven’t really decided yet. You think I shouldn’t?”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, I probably won’t.”
T.J. nodded. It depressed him even further that just by showing a little disapproval, he’d talked Sean out of his plan. He didn’t like having that kind of influence over someone. He started edging down the street. Maybe Sean would take the hint and go home. “So, see you tomorrow?” T.J. said, walking backward.
“Listen, man,” Sean said, spit flying out of his mouth. He looked all red, like he’d just cut a big fart in public. “It’s probably a lie, I
don’t know, but I heard Emma telling Belinda she heard Alison is kinda going out with a senior. Or she likes him, or something. But they’re, like, seeing each other. I’m only telling you what I heard on account of how much you’re in love, all that shit. But it’s probably a lie.”
“Emma told you that?”
“She told Belinda, and I heard her. It’s probably a lie.”
“It’s a definite fucking lie,” T.J. said. He didn’t know who he wanted to kill more, Emma or Belinda. He tore ass down Coleridge, without even saying goodbye to Sean. He slipped on a grease spot in his driveway, went down on his knees, and pounded up the back steps. Belinda was just taking off her jacket.
She looked up, surprised to see him. She took a step back and held her arm out, as if she could feel his anger and wanted to protect herself.
“Hey!” she said, frowning.
“What’s this big lie Emma’s spreading around?” T.J. asked, stepping forward menacingly.
Belinda dropped her arm. She gave him a long look, like she actually pitied him. That look scared T.J. so much, he couldn’t speak. He ran upstairs, dialed Alison’s number. He looked at his watch: she should be home. If she’d gone straight home, if she wasn’t meeting someone else, she should answer the phone now.
“Hello?” she said.
“Alison,” T.J. said, his relief so great he sat down hard on his bed.
“T.J., I thought you were going to call me later,” she whispered. He wondered if she could hear his heart pounding.
“I just had to tell you … I love you,” he said.
She giggled. “That’s so sweet. Me, too.”
He held the receiver so hard, he could just about feel his fingers denting the plastic. He wanted to tell her what he’d heard, but he couldn’t. She’ll think I don’t trust her, he told himself.
“T.J., I have to get ready to go shopping,” Alison said. “My mom’s waiting.”
“What time’ll you be home?” he asked.
“Oh, late. When the mall closes.”
“Have fun,” T.J. said.
“I will,” she whispered.
But as he hung up, T.J. admitted to himself the real reason for not telling Alison what he’d heard. It wasn’t that he feared she’d think he didn’t trust her; it was that he was afraid she wouldn’t deny she was seeing someone else.
Later, T.J. tried to concentrate on his math homework, but all he could do was doodle “Alison” in his notebook. He lay on his back, listening to Guns ‘n Roses, trying to take a deep breath. There’s no way Alison would do that to you, he said to himself. I’m all she has, she’s all I have.
“Alison,” he said out loud, just before he lifted the receiver. Belinda was on the extension.
“T.J., that you?” Belinda asked. Shit, she was probably going to give him away to their mother.
“Yeah,” he said.
“Go ahead, use the phone,” she said quickly. “Let me know when you’re done.”
“Hi, T.J.,” came Emma’s voice.
“Hi,” T.J. said, amazed when the girls instantly hung up instead of prolonging his agony.
His heart racing, he dialed Alison’s number.
“Hello?” Alison’s mother answered.
“Uh, hi, may I speak with Alison?” T.J. asked.
“She’s not home. She’s out for the evening,” Mrs. McCabe said breezily, seeming not to recognize T.J.’s voice, even though he’d called a hundred times. T.J. heard a man in the background calling her. “Come on, Shirley,” he said.
“Is there a message?” Mrs. McCabe asked, her voice laughing now, soft as a girl’s.
“No message,” T.J. said, hanging up.
“In my opinion, she is the lowest person in school,” Emma said hotly.
“Poor T.J. I know he knows,” Belinda said, sitting at the kitchen
table. She should have been in bed by now, but this was an important call. “He came down for dinner and asked right away if he could be excused. My mom thinks he’s sick.”
“Did he talk to Alison? Not that she’d even admit it. T.J. is so much cuter than Martin. She probably only likes Martin because he’s a senior.”
“Are you positive about Alison?”
“One-hundred percent. I saw them, for one thing. Practically making out near the gym. And, Bel? They weren’t a bit tragic. She was giggling her head off in that sickeningly cute happy-flirtass way she used to have before she and T.J. got together.”
“I can’t believe you saw them,” Belinda said, even though Emma had told her the story sixteen times today.
“I saw them, all right. Plus, Chris Taylor told me she saw them on the bus home from the game. God, Martin Scoleri! He is such a jock!”
“Gross me out royal,” Belinda said.
“You should have seen her letting him tickle her. ‘Oh, Martin,’” Emma said, imitating Alison’s breathless little voice. ‘You’re so big and I’m so teensy. You could just break me in two.’”
“I wish he would,” Belinda said. She had hated that look in T.J.’s eyes when he’d asked to be excused from dinner. She couldn’t believe Alison McCabe had the power to do that to her older brother: squash him like a bug.
“Maybe it’s for the best,” Emma said. “Alison did bring out the down side of T.J.”
“Yeah, but seeing him tonight, I think it’s worse than ever.”
“He’ll get over it. Don’t you know love hurts? God, Belinda! What radio station do you listen to, anyway?”
Belinda heard Emma cover the mouthpiece, some muffled conversation in the background, and then Emma’s voice again. “Bel? My mother wants to talk to your mother. Mother-daughter phone relay. See you tomorrow.”
“See you, Em. Mom! Telephone!”
“Did you get the call?” Bonnie asked.
“What call?”
“From Dad. About the wharf.”
Cass frowned at the phone. “He actually called you? I heard it in person, this morning.”
“Well, thanks for telling me!” Bonnie sounded irate, unlike herself.
“Do you think he’s serious?” Cass asked.
“He sounded serious to me,” Bonnie said. “He had Willis down, and they were figuring out the price per square foot.”
Cass rested her hand on the top of her head. This was news she didn’t want to hear. “Oh, God. Have you called Nora?”
“I tried before, but she wasn’t home.”
“I’ll try now,” Cass said.
After saying goodnight to Bonnie, she dialed Nora’s number. Willis answered.
“Hello, dear,” Willis said in his friendly southern drawl, recognizing her voice right away.
“Hi, Willis,” Cass said, prickling. She wanted to come straight out and accuse him of encouraging her father to sell the wharf. But she started off easy. “I hear you saw my father today.”
“Yes. He told me you were pretty upset about his plan.”
“He has a plan?” Cass asked, her heart falling.
“Well, not exactly. But he’s heard about people selling these old wharves and making a bundle, and he has it in mind to leave you girls with a nice nest egg.”
“I don’t want a nest egg!”
“Cass, I don’t know you very well yet, but that’s basically what I told him you’d say. You and Bonnie. I knew how Nora felt, of course. Completely, one-hundred-percent against it.”
“Is he serious?”
“Hard to say. He’s thought it over, I’ll tell you that. I stopped him a little short, telling him about a complex I’m building just up the bay from here. I paid big money to a guy whose family had owned the land for a hundred years, and now his salt-water farm’s going to be called Salt Marsh Village. Your father got a funny smile on his face, said you’d been teasing him about Keating’s Wharf being called Lobster Way.”
“I wasn’t teasing. I was pissed,” Cass said, frowning. “I still am.”
“He’s a sentimental man. He likes to hide it, though.”
“You see right through him,” Cass said, nodding. “Not many people do. I know Billy and Gavin were pretty intimidated at first.”
“A different situation, Cass,” Willis said. “They were a lot younger than I am. Plus, you have to remember that I deal with guys like your father all the time. People get older, and they think about letting go. They want to leave some money for their kids, or they need to make a change in their lives, so they think about selling the family spread. Sometimes a drastic change is the easiest kind to make. You know when I acquire most of my property? When a person retires or has to face a nursing home.”
“Oh,” Cass said, realizing she liked Willis. Because he had obviously caught on to her difficult father, she felt reassured. A little, anyway.
“You want to talk to Nora?” Willis asked. “She’s right down the hall.”
“No thanks,” Cass said. “Just kiss her goodnight for me.”
“I’ll do that with pleasure,” Willis said.
Still uneasy, she hung up. She turned off the light and walked to the window.
You couldn’t see the harbor from here, but the Minturn Ledge Light beacon traced an arc over Alewives Park. Billy would have passed ten, maybe fifteen lighthouses on his way to the fishing grounds. All the old seaports with their lighthouses, fish piers, cobbled wharves, white steeples, sea captain’s houses. Billy, her sea captain. Cass thought of all the fishermen sailing a hundred miles out, returning time after time to the same old seaport.
Cass watched the beacon pass five more times, and then she turned away from the window. Billy and all the other Mount Hope fishermen. They needed to follow the same lights, set a course by the same markers. Cass had grown up believing that was how the world worked, and it was too late to change things now.
B
illy returned from the first trip on his new boat ready to make a quick turnaround and head straight out again. This four-day voyage had been a tryout, a chance for him to test her in the open sea. She’d proved to be solid and responsive, and Billy felt exhilarated. As often as he’d imagined owning his own boat, he’d never expected to love her this much.
Billy told his crew to report back to the
Cassandra
the next day, in time to catch the 2:30 tide. Usually he’d allow more time between trips, but now that he’d seen what the boat could handle, he couldn’t wait to go fishing. He just had to load up with bait, fresh water, and diesel, and they’d be off.
Arriving at home that afternoon, he found Cass standing in the laundry room, pouring detergent into the washing machine. She didn’t see him right away. Clicking the dial, she moved as if in a daze. She looked straight at him, seeming not to see him. Then, suddenly, she laughed and came toward him.
“I’m so glad you’re home!” she said, kissing him. “How did she run?”
“Great,” he said. “Unbelievably fantastic. Like a dream.”
“Careful, or I’ll get jealous.”
Still high with excitement, Billy pushed Cass backward, against the machine. He gave her a long kiss, feeling the machine hum behind her.
“What were you thinking before, when I first came in?” Billy asked, stroking her back. He felt so happy, so turned on at seeing
her, and she had appeared so distracted, he imagined she’d been thinking about him, lost in her own wild fantasies.
“You won’t believe it,” she said.
“Try me.”
“Dad’s planning to develop the wharf.”
Billy’s hand stopped moving. He forgot about his boat and about making love to Cass. Suddenly he saw the pain in his wife’s eyes.