Hemingway's Girl (21 page)

“Can I do it?” he asked.

“Sure, Gig,” said Mariella.

She crouched down and helped the small boy hold the heavy watering can.

“I can do it,” he said. “I’m a big boy.”

Mariella smiled at him and allowed him to tip the watering can. He sneezed and ended
up spilling it all over the patio. Ada stood from the nearby patio chair and slapped
Greg on the hand, and he started crying.

“It’s okay,” said Mariella, feeling bad that she let him spill the water and got Ada
in a huff. “I’ll get it.”

“Just put the marbles away and stop making a mess,” said Ada to the child. Greg whimpered
a little while he put the marbles in the bag.

The phone rang.

Pauline lifted Patrick off her lap and gave Ada a look that sent her indoors with
both boys. Mariella followed with the watering can and to get a towel, but was back
in time to listen to Pauline’s conversation.

“Sara,” she said. It was quiet for a moment before Pauline began crying. “Oh, no,
I’m so sorry. Oh, God, I’m so sorry.”

Papa came outside looking pale, rubbing his hand across Mariella’s shoulders as he
stepped onto the porch. He ran his hands through his hair and sat on a nearby chair.
When Pauline got off the phone, she went over to him and climbed into his lap. He
rubbed her hair and stared over her shoulder, his tired eyes meeting Mariella’s. She
looked at him a moment, then turned and left him and Pauline alone, touched by his
care of her.

When she got back to the kitchen, she emptied what was left
in the watering can into the herbs in the windowsill and placed it under the sink.
Her chest felt heavy at the thought of the Murphys’ loss, though she barely knew them.
All loss fed into the ache still left from Hal’s death, and she felt tears burning
in her eyes. She looked up at the ceiling, willing them away. She had no use for tears.

As she took off her apron and hung it in the closet, Mariella felt as if there were
signs all around her that losing what you loved was worse than never having it to
begin with.

Lower Matecumbe Key

Gavin turned the boy’s face and pointed at the shadowed shallow waters on the starboard
side of the rowboat. The boy gasped when he saw the lobster slip under a nearby rock
in the water, the moonlight reflecting off its shell.

“Can I try?” asked Teddy Morrow, the six-year-old son of a vet who’d moved his family
down to the Keys. His dad was home helping his mom with the new baby, so Gavin had
offered to take Teddy out to catch Florida lobsters in the night.

“Sure, Ted,” said Gavin. “Do you want to hold the net or the spear?”

“Spear,” said Teddy.

“That’s fine,” said Gavin, “but make sure you don’t kill it. We want to steam that
thing alive. Just coax it out from under the rock and guide it into the net.”

Teddy nodded and stood. The boat rocked with the boy’s sudden movement, so he waited
until she settled before putting the spear in the water.

Gavin enjoyed these fishing excursions at the north end of the key, where the mosquitoes
weren’t as bad, and the sweet coolness of the night almost made you forget about the
day. He found himself
thinking of Mariella and how he’d like to bring her fishing at night here sometime.
He had replayed their kiss on the beach in his head a thousand times, and hated how
they’d parted ways the night of the Hemingway party.

“Now?” asked Teddy.

“Whenever you’re ready.”

The boy nodded, and Gavin lowered the net to the seafloor. Teddy slipped the spear
into the water and slowly slid it under the rock.

“I can feel him,” said Teddy. “He doesn’t want to come out.”

“Of course he doesn’t,” said Gavin. “He knows we’re gonna eat him.”

Teddy pulled a bit and the legs of the lobster poked out from under the rock, then
its head. Gavin waited with the net until its body was mostly out.

“Okay, give him a hard nudge,” said Gavin.

Teddy pulled at the lobster with one final motion, and as it scurried out from under
the rock, Gavin scooped it up and pulled it out of the water. It twisted and squirmed
in the net.

“We got it!” said Teddy.

“I’ll be damned,” said Gavin. “You’re a natural. This guy must weigh ten pounds.”

He could see the boy beaming in the moonlight.

Gavin shook the lobster out of the net and into the pot of water where the other lobster
they’d caught waited for its death.

“Come on,” said Gavin. “These things are huge. Let’s get back so we can steam them
up for your family before bedtime.”

When Gavin opened the door, Teddy’s father, Henry, was dozing on the couch with the
baby sleeping on his chest. His eyes snapped open when they walked in.

“Catch any good ones?” he whispered.

“Yeah, Pop,” said Teddy. “A ten-pounder!”

“I’m proud of you. You’re like the man of the house, providing food for us.”

Teddy smiled, and Henry reached out to ruffle the boy’s hair as his mom, Lorraine,
walked out from the bedroom, yawning. Her brown hair was tousled, and she had stains
on the front of her dress, but Gavin thought she’d be pretty if she didn’t have to
live in squalor.

“What time is it?” she asked, rubbing the sleep out of her eyes.

“It’s about eight o’clock,” said Henry.

“I’m sorry we woke you,” said Gavin.

“Oh, no, don’t worry. I have to feed Janie soon, anyway,” said Lorraine.

Gavin carried the plate over to the table and pulled off a towel to reveal two perfectly
steamed lobsters, cracked open and ready to eat. Lorraine gasped.

“Those are beautiful,” she said.

“Teddy caught ’em,” said Henry.

Lorraine gave Teddy a squeeze and turned to Gavin.

“Thank you so much for taking Teddy out,” she said. “I’ve been so busy with Janie,
poor Teddy hasn’t gotten a lot of attention. Will you stay and eat with us?”

Gavin considered the question. He enjoyed being around the Morrows. They were a nice
family and a welcome change from the others in his camp, and he would have loved to
stay. But he also knew that Lorraine would need privacy to feed Janie, it was almost
bedtime for the boy, and they could use the nutrition without having to share it.

“No, thank you, ma’am,” said Gavin. “I’m just the delivery boy. I told Bonefish I’d
meet him at the canteen for a drink.”

“Well, thanks again,” said Lorraine.

Gavin nodded at Lorraine and Henry, and saluted Teddy. Teddy returned the salute.

“Next week?” asked Gavin. “Same time, same coast?”

“Yes, sir,” said Teddy.

Gavin turned and left, careful not to slam the door and wake the baby.

Gavin surveyed the completed lines of wood cabins, the sports fields, and the tidy
landscaping through the morning rain. After numerous complaints about the living conditions
and poor vet behavior, FERA had sent in an engineer to reorganize the camps. Gavin
believed that treating the vets more like human beings and giving them decent food
and shelter would elicit better behavior and morale. He hoped he was right.

He didn’t know whether anything was going to help Fred, however.

It seemed the man retreated more and more into himself these days. His eyes were shadowed,
and his hands shook worse than ever. He lashed out at the others or ignored them.
He was easily confused and didn’t complete assigned tasks. Gavin had been trying to
cover for him, but didn’t know whether it would work much longer.

Gavin walked to Fred’s cabin and gave the door a hard knock. Fred had never shown
up to work that morning, and Gavin wanted to fetch him before Sheeran noticed.

He thought of the night before, after fishing, when he had sat smoking by the water
and saw Fred walk out into the gulf and start swimming. He thought the man must be
crazy to swim in shark- and barracuda-infested water at night, but had no mind to
get nibbled himself, so he just watched and prayed he wouldn’t have to go on any lifesaving
missions.

In truth, Gavin was starting to resent Fred for his detachment and lack of gratitude.
Gavin didn’t want a handwritten thank-you, but at least Fred could acknowledge his
efforts at keeping him afloat on the job.

Gavin knew he was just brooding because of what had happened with Mariella the last
time he saw her, and it was making his mood sour. He wiped the rain off his face and
knocked again, harder this time, and Fred pulled the door open. He reeked of stale
beer and cigarettes and his eyes were bloodshot. His hair was a mess, and his trousers
hung loose on his emaciated frame. Gavin tried to ignore his irritation at the man
and attempted humor.

“Morning,” said Gavin. “Would you like some coffee and the paper with your wake-up
call?”

Fred muttered something, said he’d be along in a minute, and disappeared into the
dark cabin. Gavin waited on the porch while Fred readied himself and then started
walking with him to the work site.

“I can’t keep covering for you,” said Gavin. “I think you’re a good guy and I know
you still have war demons, but it’s about the bottom line to them.”

Fred looked ahead and didn’t respond.

“We’re getting enough shit from up north about being a bunch of lazy good-for-nothings.
We shouldn’t do anything to reinforce that image.”

Fred coughed and kept walking without speaking.

“Hey, man,” said Gavin. “You can start by responding to me.”

“You don’t need to make me your project,” said Fred.

Gavin felt anger rise inside him. He’d been breaking his neck covering for Fred, clearing
the guy’s mangroves, giving him personal wake-up calls, and he had the nerve to give
him some flip response.

“Why don’t you try that again,” said Gavin, putting his hand on Fred’s arm and stopping
him. “How about a thank-you for covering
for your ass all the time? How about a little gratitude for fighting off the guys
who pick on you?”

“Gee, thanks, Murray,” said Fred. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gavin clenched his jaw. He’d never wanted someone in a boxing ring so bad. He’d have
loved to lay Fred out for his bad attitude and sarcasm. He fought the urge to cuss
the guy out, shook his head, and left Fred standing by the side of the road.