High Tide at Noon (40 page)

Joanna, standing up against the mast in her trench coat and red beret, smiled and didn't answer. She knew she couldn't ever tell her mother the little fear that nagged her constantly, even when she was happiest with Alec. Those nights when he went to play poker frightened her, though they were few and far between. And when she had been going through his corduroys before she washed them, she'd found a pack of cards, and remembered with a little chill around her heart what Margaret had said. “In love with cards, he was . . .”

Most of the time she could shrug off these little pricks. Margaret had talked of gambling fever as if it were a disease, but you couldn't call Alec a gambler. He played solitaire a lot, at home, and sometimes he and Owen and Sigurd matched pennies, just for fun; and she knew Hugo carried dice in his pockets. But Alec was all right. She repeated it stubbornly to herself now.
Alec is all right
.

She looked up at the gulls circling above the tawny cliffs of Tenpound, against a sky of purest turquoise, and the crystal cold of early November flowed against her face. One thought followed the first; there was something else she would rather die than admit to any one of the Bennetts. She and Alec had been married for two years, the times were prosperous, and yet there was nothing put by. But whose business was it but hers and Alec's? She tilted her chin at the world. There was plenty of time to build new boats and have babies.

She and her mother didn't go back to the Island the next boat day, after all. A storm blew up—one of the worst in the year—and it was two weeks before there was a fair chance over on the
Aurora B
. Stephen called up the rooming house where most of the Islanders stayed when they were ashore, and told Donna not to try to come back; she had plenty of money, she wasn't to be afraid to spend it. Alec told Joanna the same. He sounded very cheerful, despite the fact that the gale was probably tearing his traps to pieces.

When they finally went home, the weather was soft and gray, like a day in early spring. The sky had the lustrous color of pearls, the water was silvery, breaking lightly against the bow in little curls of white. Joanna, watching the dim blue shape of Brigport rise on the horizon, felt her heart beat faster. She was going back to Alec, and the thought of being alone with him again, of feeling his arms around her, was unutterably lovely and exciting.

Charles was at Brigport to sell his lobsters when the mailboat put in there, and they went home with him in the
Sea-Gypsy
, leaving the
Aurora B
. to follow along in her staid fashion. Charles stowed their bags and packages in the cabin, spread his oilclothes over a box for his mother to sit on, and told Joanna to take the wheel. She felt like singing at the top of her voice as she headed the
Gypsy
out of the harbor. This was heaven, flying toward home and Alec in a big white boat that might have been winged, so lightly did she skim over the silvery water. The gulls were gray and silvery and white, too.

Charles stayed in the lee of the cabin, talking with his mother, until Tenpound loomed before them. He came to the wheel. “Tide's going, Jo. Take her around the other side of Tenpound.”

“So you can wave at the Cove!” she said laughing. “Well, Cap'n Charles, what have you boys been doing in all this stormy weather?”

Charles grinned down at her. “Playing poker,” he said candidly. “Longest poker game in the history of the Island—we played every god dam night for almost two weeks.”

Alec, too?
The words came to her lips, but she didn't say them. Instead she said lightly, “What does Mateel say about it?”

“Nothing. She knows better. Besides, I get out when it goes too high. Wife and kids to support.”

“Kids?” She stared at him, and his black eyes danced. “You mean—when is it?”

“March.” They were passing the Cove now, and he waved at the houses above the bank, on the chance that Mateel or young Charles might be looking out. “Maybe it'll be a girl this time, huh?”

Joanna looked straight ahead at the
Gypsy
's fore peak against the line of gray sea and sky. She didn't know why she felt so cold and empty inside. So Charles could afford to have babies and play poker too—because he got out when the stakes went too high. And she knew, with a sudden wave of bitterness, that she needn't ask him about Alec. Alec would stay in till the last card was played.

Charles said mischievously, “I'd almost think you and Alec would be about ready to start a family. Been married two years now, haven't ye?”

She looked squarely into his dark merry eyes. “Tell me something. Alec's been playing, hasn't he? How much has he lost?”

“The son of a gun just about won the pants off the rest of 'em!
Lost!
Maybe a little at first, but then he got a winning streak, I never saw anything like it, Jo!”

“You sound as if you admired him.”

“Well, we've always played a little poker on the Island, but I've never seen a guy yet who could charm those cards like Alec did. Of course it was luck—pure luck—but it was something to see, just the same. He cleaned out Owen and Hugo and Sig. Maurice was like me—he got out while he could.”

“Charles,” she said levelly. “Do you think Alec is a gambler?”

Charles said slowly, “He's got it in him to be one, Joanna. But I'll tell you—it'll be a good while before we have a spell of poker like this one again. It was just the goddam weather, nothing to do, nowhere to go, and Alec missed you like hell, too.”

She wondered what Charles would say if she told him Alec's family had sent him to the Island to get rid of him. She wondered what she would say to Alec when she reached the house. And she wished with an aching intensity that she hadn't left the Island at all.

Almost everybody at Bennett's Island was out to haul, on the first good day after two weeks of wind, but Stephen was in, and so was Alec. Joanna reached the top of the ladder and was in his arms, her face was against his neck, but she felt none of the happiness she had expected to feel. Rather it was a sadness, a weariness.

When they reached the house and came into the kitchen, his arms went suddenly and tightly around her again, holding her close against him. His face was taut and stern, his voice harsh. “My God, I've missed you, Jo. Don't ever go away like that again.”

She felt tenderness flow over her in an infinitely sweet wave. Oh God, he needed her so. She shouldn't have left him, without her he was a ship without a rudder. “No, I'll never go away from you again,” she promised with passionate honesty. “Never. As long as I live.”

Alec didn't want to go out to haul that afternoon, but Joanna hardened her heart and told him he must. “When was the last time you went out?” she demanded.

“You think I've been out in this williewaw we've been having?”

“That just proves you can't afford to miss today,” she said triumphantly, and he tried to pull her down to his knee. But she wouldn't be pulled.

“Time for you to be going to the shore,” she said.

“You're a bossy little devil,” he muttered, as she set his boots down by his chair. “But I'm crazy about you. And I'll be back.”

“And I'll be waiting,” she promised, standing just out of his reach. Her eyes glinted and shone, her mouth teased him.

“I'm not going out there this afternoon,” he said between his teeth.

“Yes, you are, my little man!”

For an instant he stared hard at her, his eyes narrowing. Then he burst into laughter. “So you're getting tough with me! Gunnar's going to do a little prodding, is he? Well, maybe I need it.” He chuckled as he pulled on his boots, and Joanna felt slightly annoyed. It was going to be hard to handle things if he only laughed at her.

When he had gone whistling down the path, she tidied the kitchen and went down cellar for a soul-satisfying look at her shelves of canned stuff. It meant plenty to eat this winter, anyway. But they needed heavy clothing and shoes, right away. Frowning, she went upstairs again and into the sitting room. No use to take the money from Alec's hauls; and she didn't want to charge the things, when they'd just got the other big bill paid up. There was nothing for it but to make up an order and pay for it in one fell swoop from the money box. There wouldn't be any new boat this winter, anyway.

She felt tired and dispirited as she took the box from the desk. This was no way to live, forever worrying about money, knowing that if you spent it on winter clothes, there'd probably be an emergency—some new part for the engine, new trap stuff after a storm, a sudden sickness.

Well, she had made up her mind. She would talk to Alec about his card-playing when he came home, she thought, as she opened the money box. She looked with some pride at the receipted bills, and lifted them out.

There was nothing else in the box. There was not even a handful of change.

When Alec came home, she faced him. She forgot to be gentle or tactful. Her voice was chill.

“Alec, where's the money that should be in the box? Where's the money you won playing poker while I was gone?”

His cheekbones glowed scarlet, and his lips were stiff. “I squared up some bills, and I got some new trap stuff. I lost almost a dozen traps in the storm.”

“And how much money did you lose, before you started winning? Plenty, wasn't it? You gave me all you had in your pockets before I went away, so you took the boat money to play poker with, and lost every cent of it, didn't you?” She walked up and down the kitchen. She had never been so furious with Alec before. She felt as though she hated him, as if he had caught himself in a trap and pulled her into it too, and then smashed her every effort to get them out of it.

He stood by the stove watching her, rigid and straight, his eyes like green-brown stone. Yes, he was furious too, because she'd saved up those things to say to him. And maybe if she'd said them before, they'd be a little better off. She stopped in front of him.

“Alec, it's coming winter and we haven't a cent. All you got today was enough to pay for your gas—you couldn't even get around the Island to haul because your engine broke down off Sou-west Point and you had to be towed in. And she's going to break down all winter, isn't she?”

“All I need is a new connecting rod—”

“You're always needing new connecting rods, because you need a new engine. And how long does it take to put in a new connecting rod? It means you lose a day, doesn't it?” She began to pace again, too enraged to stand still. “And how are you going to send off for a new connecting rod when we haven't got any money? I suppose you can go out and win another poker game!”

“My God, Jo, what makes you take on like this?” He followed her, trying to turn her toward him. “I've never seen you like this before!”

“But I've felt like this, lots of times!” She faced him, shoulders rigid under his hands, head flung back. “Alec, you're not slow­witted—you're supposed to be smart! Don't you see that we can't live forever from hand to mouth? I've struggled and saved, and got those bills paid off, and the minute I turn my back you throw away enough money to dress us for the winter and buy new connecting rods and anything else we need in a hurry—Alec, can't I
trust
you?”

Her eyes searched his face, the face she had loved from the very beginning; her lips had traced every line and bone in it, her hands had lain against his cheeks, had pushed his hair from his forehead; but yet, as he looked at her, it was the face of a stranger. And she knew, with the terrible clarity her anger had given her, that she had read into that face something which wasn't there and would never be there:
strength
.

“Joanna,” he said quickly, and she knew he was holding his mouth steady only by an effort. He was unhappy, but it was no good. He couldn't be anything else but what he was. And suddenly she was terribly tired.

She turned away from him and his hands fell from her shoulders. “We're broke, Alec. We've got food in the cellar, and the clothes we stand in, but you need new rubber boots, don't you? And woolen socks, and heavy work pants, and flannel shirts, and all the rest of it.” Her voice went back to him wearily, where he stood behind her. “You need a lot of new stuff for winter hauling, but even if you had it, it wouldn't do you any good, because after a couple of weeks of rough water
The Basketll
start her caulking and leak like a sieve, and you'll have her on the beach for a week, fixing her up again. Then there'll be a storm, and you can't haul anyway. Then you'll go out, and break a connecting rod. And lobsters are going down, Alec. Did you know that? How much were they today?”

He answered reluctantly, “Twenty-three cents. Jo, listen. I can't stand having you like this! What do you want me to do, honey? What can I do? You know this lobstering business—there's times when everything goes to hell. But we've always got along, Jo.”

That made her mad again. “Got along! Yes, we've always got along, Alec, and that's about all! If you broke a leg tomorrow, we'd have to go up to our necks in debt. If
The Basket
sank in the harbor next week, we'd go to hell fast enough!”

“What do you want me to do?” He asked her steadily, and once more they faced each other, white-lipped and stony-eyed.

“You can't afford to play poker,” she told him. “Not ever. Not every night for two weeks, not one night in two months. You can't afford to even touch a pack of cards, Alec Douglass, and you'd better burn the pack you've in your pocket right now!”

“It happens that I cleaned out Owen and the rest last week. They're looking for their chance to win back.”

“Let them keep on looking.”

“I've got to do it, Joanna. Good God, your own brothers—I've got to keep straight with them.”

“They can afford to throw their money away, but you can't.” Her chin went up. “They can afford to do a lot of things we can't do. Charles can have children. Owen can build himself a decent boat—”