Still Water (3 page)

Matt waited by the steps, nodding to one or two people he recognized as they drifted into the building. Outside, a few groups stood around talking in low voices and smoking. A bunch of guys from the docks from whom the odour of fish wafted fell silent and watched a woman walk across the square, their expressions sullen with resentment. As Ella drew near Matt went to meet her, and she smiled when she saw him.

“Hi there.”

“Hi,” he said.

“I’m glad you could come.”

“Hey, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Their looks lingered, each of them aware he wasn’t referring just to the meeting. Ella possessed a curious feature in that she had different coloured eyes. One was grey, the other green. In a certain light Matt thought they appeared similar, both kind of smoky, but when she smiled or when her passions were aroused the difference was more noticeable, and for some reason it was this feature that, to Matt, made Ella rise above being merely attractive.

They climbed the steps and their arms touched as Ella brushed her pale yellow hair back from her face. She was slim, and maybe five-five or six, but she possessed an air of strength that belied her size. Determination was evident in the jut of her chin, hinting at stubbornness. Though they’d only known each other a short time Matt already admired her. She made a living running her own lobster boat, a tough enough life for anyone, but tougher still for a woman working in what was very much a man’s world. But unlike the men outside, Ella didn’t carry the smell of her work around with her. She was scrubbed clean, her skin almost glowing pink, and on the air in her wake he caught a hint of some scent she used.

The action of sweeping back her hair exposed a band aid at her hair line, and the nasty looking discoloured flesh around it, swollen and dark with a yellowing flush at the edges.

That’s a hell of a knock. What happened?”

Selfconsciously she allowed her hair to fall forward again, largely concealing the bruise. “I slipped. It’s okay.”

“You should have somebody take a look at it, just to be sure.”

“Maybe I will.”

They went inside and squeezed by people in the hall. The meeting chamber itself was almost filled. Many of the seats were occupied and people also stood at the back against the wall.

“Good turnout,” Ella said.

A grizzly looking guy with a shock of white hair approached.

“Ella. Come on over here.” His eye rested on them both, a faint speculative smile creasing his face. “Seems you two are always together these days.” He shook Matt’s hand, and guided them over to a group he’d been talking to. As Ella went to meet them Matt noticed the flush of colour at the back of her neck.

“How’s it looking?” Matt asked, finding himself left with George Gould.

“Oh, it’s hard to tell. But I think it’s going to be close.” George gestured towards the group of fisherman Matt had seen outside who were now standing at the back of the room. “Those fellas over there, they’re all for Howard. Jake Roderick, you know him? He’s the ugly one looks like nobody ever taught him to smile. Him and his brother are kind of the ringleaders of that happy bunch. Can’t see his brother at the moment.” George scanned the room and checked his watch. “Funny, thought he’d be here by now. Anyway, those two own some land where

Howard wants to build this development of his, so there’s no question which way they’ll vote when the time comes. That land will probably triple in value inside a year. Maybe more.”

“Money talks,” Matt observed.

“For some. Jimmy Noon, he’ll vote for Howard too. Jimmy runs the hardware store on Independence and there’s no doubt he’d be happy to see more visitors on the island. But it doesn’t always follow. See Joanna over there, that’s her wearing that blue dress, she owns the cafe just across the square, and she’d probably stand to do well if Howard wins, but she’s on our side.”

George went on pointing out where people’s loyalties lay. At the front of the chamber was a podium and strung across the back wall were two banners. One proclaimed “Prosperity For The Future’, and on it was a picture of a marina berthing lots of gleaming white boats. People walked along promenades past stores and restaurants. The scene created the impression it was designed to impart; one of affluence and a different kind of life, more like Bar Harbor than St. George. Underneath was the legend “Vote For Howard Larson’. Beside it another banner said “Vote For Ella Young And Protect Our Island’. There was no picture, and the contrast between the two couldn’t have been clearer. Howard Larson’s with its promise of wealth and change, and Ella’s with its simple message of appeal.

George excused himself and Matt found himself standing alone. A few people cast curious looks his way. He was still new enough around town to be vaguely interesting. He knew a face here and there, people he remembered from his adolescent summers, and he said ‘hi’ to a couple of them. He looked towards the front of the room, and unwittingly caught Howard Larson’s eye. Howard said something to the person next to him and made his way over.

“Matt. Good to see you.” He clasped Matt’s hand. He wasn’t a tall man but his bulk made him appear larger, more imposing. He had fleshy jowls and small bright eyes that were hidden for a moment by the flash of reflected light on his glasses. His smile stayed in its well practised place. “I guess we’re about to start.”

He looked around the room appraising the crowd, and it seemed he was calculating his support. There was a faint note of strain in his tone and Matt wondered just how much Howard had riding on the outcome of the vote. Though he owned the processing plant out towards the heads, the fishing industry had long been in decline, and rumour had it that Howard was in trouble.

“So, have you made up your mind where you stand?” Howard followed Matt’s automatic glance across the room. “I guess Ella’s had an unfair advantage in getting her view across, huh?” He laughed, but there something mean spirited in the sound.

“To tell the truth I didn’t take much persuading,” Matt said.

Howard’s smile slipped a fraction. “You ought to keep an open mind until you’ve heard all the arguments, Matt. Hell, I don’t need to tell you that, you being a lawyer.”

“I’ve lived in the city most of my life, Howard. I came back here because I wanted to live somewhere peaceful and unspoiled, but you want to change that.”

“Well, people can’t eat pretty scenery, Matt. It isn’t ourselves we have to think of, it’s the young people. Old George over there, now he’d as soon dig up his mother’s grave as have me win this election and see this project go ahead. He’d have things stay just the way they are around here for ever. But people need jobs, a future for themselves if kids aren’t going to up and leave the first chance they get. Old timers like George can’t see that things have changed. It isn’t like the old days, we can’t rely on fishing anymore.”

“I wouldn’t say Ella’s what you’d call old, Howard,” Matt pointed out. “And she makes her living fishing.”

“Well, Ella means well, but the fact is, the way things have been going these past years, she’ll be as glad as anybody else if this marina gets built in the end. We’re talking about bringing more visitors here, Matt. That means money, jobs. People are going to want houses, they’ll tell their friends, and the whole thing snowballs. Everybody’s a winner.”

Especially if you happen to own a lot of the currently worthless land on the south shore, Matt thought.

“You should think about it,” Howard said. “This’ll mean opportunities for smart people. How’s that practice of yours doing anyway?”

“It’s slow, but I guess things’ll pick up.”

You know, this could be good for you. All those people coming here to start businesses and build new homes, I guess they’d need a lawyer to handle all those contracts. They’d probably be more comfortable with someone from the mainland who talks their language, but someone who knows the island as well. I could steer them your way, Matt.”

“Isn’t Doug Keillor a buddy of yours?” Matt asked, mentioning another practising lawyer on the island.

Howard waved a hand in casual dismissal. “Doug doesn’t have your experience. Anyhow, there’d be more than enough for the two of you. Think about it. Maybe you could talk to Ella.” Then with a conspiratorial wink he turned and went back towards the podium.

As Matt watched him go he wondered if Howard was so willing to offer him such an obvious inducement, what would he be like if he was elected as mayor?

Joanna Thompson got the meeting started, and Ella was up first. She spoke with passion for the island where she’d lived her entire life. As she became more animated she radiated a kind of sparky energy that made Matt’s heart thump. She talked about the way of life they enjoyed on the island, the lack of crime, how people still talked to their neighbours and got along, and about how she and many others still made their living from the ocean that surrounded them, and both defined and dominated their lives. He wished he’d met her a long time ago.

A voice spoke up from the audience. “Yeah, I get forty cents a pound for a lobster and then some tourist down state goes out to eat and pays twenty-five bucks for it. I oughta be in the restaurant business.”

The room broke out into good-natured laughing, and on the stage Ella smiled too. You do okay Bill Harris. I saw that new tyre you bought for that truck of yours the other week.”

There was more laughing since everybody knew that Bill Harris’s truck was about fifteen years old and was kept going with huge quantities of oil and the occasional prayer, and his boat wasn’t much better. A lot of people were in the same situation.

“Course if you’ve had enough of fishing I guess you could always go punch in at Howard’s plant,” Ella added with a sly swipe at her opponent. “Or maybe you could get a job in the new gas station Howard wants to build.” She paused, and her tone became more serious. The thing is, don’t we live here because we like it, because we choose this way of life? I guess if I’d wanted to live in a place that gets overrun with tourists every year I would’ve left a long time ago. Sure, it’s not always easy to make a living here. I should know, I fish for lobsters and nobody needs to tell me how hard it is these days. There aren’t as many of them as there used to be. But things will get better again if we all just hang in there and don’t take more than our share.” At this, she fixed her look pointedly at someone at the back of the hall and Matt swivelled around and saw Jake Roderick staring resentfully back at her.

“Maybe Howard’s marina would bring in people and money, and more jobs. But what kind of jobs? Waitressing or bar tending or gardening for people who’d build big houses and drive real estate prices out of our reach? And maybe we’d have new stores for all these people, but they’d be selling stuff we couldn’t afford to buy. And what else would we have? How about drugs? I hear there’s a lot of that kind of thing wherever the yacht crowd go. Is that something you want your kids around?”

Ella paused and looked around the room, and a lot of people appeared thoughtful. Howard scowled unhappily. Then Ella smiled, and spread her arms, hands palm up in a winning gesture that softened a speech that might otherwise have come across as a little strident. “But what do I know? Thanks for listening anyway.”

She went back to her chair, and for a moment there was silence, then somebody clapped once, hesitantly, and Matt took it up and a smattering of appreciation ricocheted around the room. As the noise died down Matt heard a voice mutter behind him.

“Damn bitch.”

He didn’t need to look to know the voice belonged to Jake Roderick.

After the meeting ended Matt walked Ella to where she’d parked. They took the long way round, walking slowly, ending up passing the docks where the moon cast its light on the water. The night air was warm and close.

“You did well,” he said.

She smiled. “Thanks. Howard won them back a little though didn’t he? He’s not stupid, I’ll give him that.”

It was true, Howard had scored a few points for his side. He’d prepared graphs and charts that projected income streams from the increase in visitor numbers the marina would bring. He’d promised that the new stores and restaurants that were part of his plans would be reserved for island people first. “This is about making our lives better. Not somebody else’s. Ours,” he’d said, and a lot of people had nodded in quiet agreement.

“I think you still won the night,” Matt said.

“Maybe.” Ella frowned.

“Something wrong?”

“Just … I don’t know. Things have gotten dirty. I suppose I wasn’t expecting it.”

“Politics will do that.”

“Or money.”

“Usually they’re the same thing. Howard has some unpleasant supporters. Jake Roderick for instance. I got the impression he doesn’t like you.”

“You’re right he doesn’t. Him or his brother.”

“Have they been giving you trouble?”

“You could say that.” She made a gesture dismissing the subject as they reached her truck. “Anyway, thanks for coming. I’m glad you were there tonight.” She hesitated. “I’m glad you’re here, too. On the island I mean.”

Barely pausing to think, he bent towards her and their lips brushed. It was tentative, and slight, and he sensed her uncertainty before she pulled back, gently.

“Matt … I haven’t had a good run with the men in my life.” She tried to make it sound light, and kind of smiled.

“Listen, I don’t want to rush you. I got carried away with the moment. We’ve got all the time in the world. I’m not going anywhere.”

She smiled again, and nodded, though her eyes seemed hooded with doubt or uncertainty, or perhaps just caution.

“Well, goodnight.” She started to get in her truck, then paused. “By the way, nice suit.”

He grinned and closed her door. “Goodnight Ella.”

Dave Baxter had worked for the St. George police department for more than twenty-five years, the last seven of them as chief. He was forty-seven years old and came from a long line of Baxters on the island, of which he was the last. He had a sister who lived in New York State, but they hadn’t seen each other for six years, though they talked occasionally on the phone and exchanged cards at Christmas. Baxter lived alone, as he had done for most of his life. Once, when he was younger, there had been a woman who he’d seen regularly for almost three years but eventually it became apparent to them both that she wanted more than merely the pleasantly amiable relationship they enjoyed. Marriage had been discussed, but when it hadn’t gone any further than that, the woman had given him an ultimatum. She gave him six months to decide what he wanted, and when that time was up and he hadn’t reached a conclusion she made her own decision by upping and leaving the island. Baxter had considered going after her, as he suspected she had wanted him to, but he decided to think it over for a while first, and then the next he heard she had married a grocer from Bangor. Since then he had pretty much been content with his own company, and that of friends. He didn’t understand women, and to be truthful was even a little afraid of them.