Still Water (5 page)

“Where’s Bryan? I was waiting for him,” he said, sliding a beer across to Jake. You know, things aren’t looking so good.” He leaned in closer and dropped his voice. “If you two don’t do something about Ella, she could win this election. You want that to happen?” He shook his head in exasperation at the thought. “Bryan said he could take care of her. Seems to me as if he was wrong. Looks like he hasn’t taken care of anything.”

Jake simply looked at him as if he hadn’t heard. Howard sometimes wondered if Jake was all there. Talking to him was like trying to get sense out of a goddamned ape. Come to that maybe an ape would be easier. He’d heard they were teaching chimps sign language these days. At least if that was true he could communicate with a chimp. He preferred to deal with

Bryan. Maybe he wasn’t exactly a rocket scientist either, and it’ got on Howard’s nerves the way Bryan thought he was some kind of stud or something. Jesus, he thought every woman on the island creamed her pants when he walked past. But at least he understood what this was all about. Money. The universal language. Where the hell was he?

“He’s gone, “Jake said.

“What?” He waited for Jake to repeat what he’d said, but Jake just looked at him. “Gone where? Who’s gone? You mean Bryan?”

“Haven’t seen him since Monday.”

Howard’s rising irritation got the better of him. “What is it with you two? You know if Ella wins, you can kiss goodbye to any marina. You’ve got as much to lose as I have if that happens, just remember that.” He jabbed a finger across the table. “You were supposed to persuade her to stand down and time’s running out. I suggest you get hold of your brother and remind him of that.”

“Bryan’s dead.”

Howard blinked. “Dead? When? How?”

Jake just stared at him, a light burning in his eyes that made Howard think uncomfortably of the glow from some other-wordly furnace.

The clock on the wall which Matt had inherited with the office, told him that it was a quarter after six. He checked his watch. The clock had gained twenty minutes since the day before. He figured it was time for him to leave anyway and he rose and stretched. Outside he heard footsteps climbing the stairs, and somebody knocked at the door. When he opened it Ella stood outside looking uncertain

“Come on in.” He stood aside, delighted to see her. He’d been contemplating calling her that night, though he didn’t want to appear over eager. Slow down boy, he’d cautioned himself. He’d begun to think a great deal about Ella, but he didn’t want to push things too quickly, for either of them, so having her turn up at the office was a pleasant surprise.

“I didn’t know if you’d still be here at this time.” She looked around with a faintly curious air.

“Swamped with work.”

She looked doubtfully at his desk where a moment ago he’d been doing a crossword puzzle.

“Okay, so I lied. Actually I was just thinking about leaving. How about you and I get a drink someplace?”

She shook her head. “I can do better than that. Why don’t you come to the house for supper later. Unless you had something else planned?”

“Not a thing,” he said. “Just tell me where and when.”

She told him where she lived and said to come by around seven. They walked down the stairs to the street together. He thought she seemed distracted, as if there was something bothering her and he wondered if there had been some other reason for her visit to his office.

“Is everything okay Ella?”

She looked at him and for a second she appeared to hesitate, then she nodded. “Everything’s fine. I’ll see you tonight.”

“You can count on it.”

He arrived a few minutes early, showered and dressed in a clean shirt and jeans, clutching a bottle of white burgundy in one hand. He’d briefly considered wearing a jacket and maybe even a tie, but just imagining the look Henry would give him had changed his mind. The fact he’d even considered it, however, had brought home to him that like it or not, Ella had found her way under his skin. He wasn’t complaining. She was intelligent, good company, and lovely, not to mention that he liked her a lot. He guessed he just hadn’t been expecting to feel this way about anyone. At her door he acknowledged a faint nervousness, like a kid on his first date, and he smiled at his own foolishness. He knocked and when the door opened Ella stood framed by the soft light of a lamp behind her.

“Hi. I’m not too early?”

“No, come on in.” She led the way down the passage to the living room. “I hope you don’t mind but my mom is going to eat with us. I thought it’d be nice for her to meet you. She doesn’t get out much these days.”

“I’d like to meet her too,” Matt said. “Especially if she’s anything like you.”

She smiled at the flattery and took the wine when he offered it. “Make yourself at home.”

There were photographs on the mantel. The room was comfortable, even if the furniture was worn. It had a pleasant lived-in feel, and the cooking smells coming from the kitchen made his mouth water. Ella went to open the wine, and while she was gone he looked at a picture on the wall. A child stood with two adults. The child appeared to be a boy though the image was a little blurry and it was difficult to tell. The man was tall and lean, his eyes shadowed. Ella came back and handed him a glass of wine.

“My parents.”

Matt looked again. “This is your father?”

She sipped from her glass, her eyes on the picture. “Yes. He died last winter.”

“I’m sorry.” There was sadness in her eyes, but something else too, something he couldn’t interpret. “What happened?”

“There was a big storm. His boat was wrecked and he drowned.” He thought she might add something else, then whatever it was, she let it go. “Shall we sit down? I hope you like beef.”

“Beef is great. To be honest I thought we’d be eating lobster. The truth is I’ve never really liked them.”

“Me either,” Ella confessed. “When you make your living catching them, they kind of lose their appeal.”

“I guess so.”

“You know,” she said hesitantly. “I remember you coming here for the summers. Your family had a house on the point. Pointers.”

Matt was surprised that she’d known him. “Pointers?”

“That’s what we called you summer people.”

“We had a name for you too. Lobbies.”

For a second she looked affronted, then she laughed at herself. “Actually that’s good.” She hesitated. “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but the truth is I had a crush on you when I was a kid.”

“You did?” He was frankly amazed. She was maybe thirty-one or two now, which made her four or five years younger than him. The last time he’d been on the island he’d been approaching twenty, so she would have been fifteen or sixteen. He couldn’t believe he wouldn’t have noticed her even then. She laughed at his expression.

“I won’t be offended if you don’t remember me. I looked different then, and when we mixed with you pointers it was usually to fight.”

He looked back at the picture then, at the child he’d mistaken for a boy, and a memory stirred. “That’s you?”

She grinned, obviously enjoying herself. Matt thought maybe he did remember her after all. An image came back to him. A girl around thirteen years old. Short, sun-bleached hair, her fists clenched at her side and her face set angrily. Some kid in the dirt at her feet, wiping blood from his lip with a stunned look on his face, wondering how come a girl had put him on his ass. Other kids had looked on, and suddenly aware of them all, a flash of uncertainty and confusion had leapt in the girl’s expression.

“That was you?” he said. “Short hair, skinny?” She nodded, smiling at the look he wore as he tried to reconcile past and present.

Now he’d placed her he recalled other incidents. Passing her on the street once and as she hurried by Paulie shook his head. Thin in her jeans and looking like a boy with her chopped hair and a smattering of freckles on her nose. Weird kid, he’d said. Mostly, though, Matt remembered seeing her on the dock, helping someone he guessed was her dad as they unloaded a day’s catch from a boat.

“I wouldn’t have known it was you.” He tried to recall if he’d ever had an inkling that she’d had a crush on him, and was certain he hadn’t.

“Ella was a tomboy then,” a voice said.

Matt rose as a woman appeared in the doorway. She walked with a limp, and held her left arm awkwardly in the manner of somebody who’d suffered a stroke. He recognized Ella in her immediately, though their colouring was different. The older woman’s hair was almost entirely grey, but it was streaked with remnants of the black it had once been, visible in the picture on the wall. The most obvious similarity between them was a sense he had of inner strength and he saw where Ella got her spunk. From the slight accent in her speech and her features Matt guessed she was of mid or south European heritage. Greek maybe.

“This is my mother, Helena.” Ella introduced them. “This is the man I told you about Mom. Matt Jones.”

He shook her hand. She was thin, and frail, her skin dry textured, but she gripped his hand firmly, if briefly. Her smile was like her daughter’s. It transformed her.

“I’m very pleased to meet you Mrs. Young.”

“Please, call me Helena.” She looked fondly at Ella. “You know I don’t think she wanted to be a girl when she was young. She didn’t even own her first dress until she was sixteen, and she followed her father around everywhere, right from when she could first walk. Pestered him to take her on his boat. He pretended that she was a nuisance, but secretly he loved it. She could strip an engine by the time she was fourteen and she knew the waters around the island as well as anybody.”

Ella reached over and covered her mother’s hand with her own, and for a second the two women shared something that Matt was excluded from. Some deep bond that existed only for them. He sensed that it went far beyond the normal mother-daughter relationship. The moment passed and Ella rose.

“Let’s eat,” she said.

Over supper they talked about the island. Helena related how she’d come there as a young woman to marry Ella’s father. Briefly they touched on the election, Helena glowing with pride as she contemplated the idea of her daughter becoming the next mayor. At the mention of Howard’s name she waved a hand in dismissal.

“I remember when he came home from college, that was before his father died. Howard always had a look on his face like he’d sucked on a lemon,” she laughed. “He doesn’t care about the island.”

She asked Matt a little about himself and he told her that he was divorced and had a son, that his parents still lived in Boston, and that his father was retired now. Ella knew he’d been married, though he hadn’t told her much beyond the fact that Kirstin had left him and had remarried.

“Ella tells me that you were a prosecutor in Boston?” Helena asked.

“Yes.”

“And so what brings you here to the island? You can tell me I’m a nosy old woman if you like.”

Matt smiled. He wasn’t sure he could have explained all of his reasons easily, so he kept it general. “I just decided I needed a change from the kind of life I was living. I always loved this place when we came here when I was a kid.” He didn’t want to get into the sense of failure his wrecked marriage had engendered, the fact he’d worked so hard that he had a son he barely knew.

“You had a brother didn’t you?” Ella said.

“Yes, Paulie,” Matt said cautiously. “He was a couple of years older than me. He died, when I was still in law school.”

“I’m sorry.” Ella shook her head. “I remember him. He was so full of life.”

“That was Paulie. He did everything at a run. Seemed like he had enough energy to take on the world.” He faltered, unsure whether he wanted to go into what had happened, but it was something he knew he had to get to grips with. He felt like his brother’s death had plagued his life, and he ought to get used to confronting it. It was partly the reason he’d chosen to move to St. George.

“Paulie was just starting out as an architect when he was killed. It was one of those dumb, pointless things that happen. He walked into a grocery store one morning during a robbery. The guy with the gun was high on something and he panicked and Paulie got shot.”

Helena’s eyes widened. “That’s terrible. And your poor parents.”

“It was pretty tough,” Matt admitted. “My folks took it hard.” He picked up his glass, suddenly keen to change the subject. “But it was a long time ago, and it shouldn’t spoil such a terrific meal. To the cook.” He raised his glass, and Ella smiled, though the way she scrutinized him he didn’t think she was fooled by his pretence at being unaffected.

After the meal Matt helped clear away the table, and then Helena made her excuses and went to bed early. “I get so tired these days. I hope we meet again.”

“I hope so too.”

Ella went to see that she was all right, and when she came back she closed the passage door.

“I like her,” Matt said. “How did I do?”

“We don’t make snap judgments in this family. But I guess you did okay.”

Over coffee they talked, discovering a little more about each other. Matt told her about his ex-wife and son. They lived near Salem now.

“Alex is seven now. I’m hoping he’ll come up here in the fall for a visit.”

Matt already knew that Ella had been married once and when he asked her about her ex-husband she seemed to talk about him easily enough, though there seemed little to tell. She’d married young and it had lasted for less than a year.

“I don’t even know where he is any more,” Ella said. “Last I heard he was in Mexico.”

“Kids make things more complicated,” Matt said. He was sure Kirstin would have been happy for him to drop out of her life entirely, but that wouldn’t happen, because of Alex. After a while the conversation came around to Paulie again, though Matt didn’t think he’d raised the subject this time.

“Did you becoming a prosecutor have anything to with what happened to your brother?” Ella asked.

“Why would you think that?”

“I don’t know. Something about the way you sounded earlier. You were close weren’t you?”

“I guess we were. He was your everyday all-round-athlete-cum-academic older brother. You know the type, good at everything. But I never felt as if I lived in his shadow, I looked up to him. I guess I was angry when he died. Becoming a prosecutor seemed like a way to hit back.”