Mary and Alvin Ch. 32

She went into the bedroom and stood in front of the full length mirror on her closet door. Not too bad, she told herself as she turned and looked at her reflection from different angles. She pulled her shirt over her head and dropped it on the bed, then removed her jeans and her underwear.

I'm glad I have kept up my bike riding, she thought as she studied her naked reflection. Her tummy was not quite as flat as it had once been, and was marked with a few faint stretch marks. Her breasts were less perky than they had been, but she didn't think they looked too bad. She turned and looked over her shoulder at her ass.

"Damn, that still looks pretty good," she said to her reflection. She slapped herself on both cheeks and giggled. Alvin must think so as well, she thought, he still can't keep his eyes off of it. And with that thought, she knew exactly how to get out of her melancholy mood.

***

Alvin put his phone down on the picnic table and picked up his empanada. He had been leery about hiring Rafael to run the diner when Audrey retired, but he had to admit that it had turned out to be a good decision. They still sold plenty of lobster rolls and burgers, but the burritos were a big seller as well. And the chicken empanadas had become his favorite.

Two of the yard hands came up the slope. The Quigley boys, Alvin told himself. He'd had all summer to learn the kids names, but there were more of them than there used to be, and he didn't interact with them much, he left that to Bonita.

The boys went to the window and ordered their lunch. They sat at the table next to Alvin to wait for it.

"Hey, fellas," he called to them.

"Yes, Mister Faulkner?" the bigger one, Ben? responded.

Jeezum crow, Alvin thought, when did they start calling me Mister Faulkner? "Listen, when you go back down, see if you can find Bonita and tell her to come here, I want to talk to her."

"Will do, Mister Faulkner."

Alvin shook his head and finished his empanada. The Quigleys gathered their food and went back down to the boathouse. A few minutes later, he saw Bonita emerge and walk toward him. She was wearing a white tank top, and Alvin thought, look at the arms on her. She could knock me right out if she ever took a mind to.

"What's up, Papa?" Bonita asked as she sat down across from him.

"How you feeling?" he asked, "You know, what with Hannah leaving and all."

Bonita shrugged. "I'm happy for her, but I can't say it doesn't suck. I mean, you know, Papa, we have been pretty much inseparable our whole lives."

Alvin nodded. "I know. But it's part of life, what can you do?"

"I suppose," Bonita said, and sighed.

"Well listen, here's what I really wanted to talk to you about. I just got off the phone with Diana."

"How's everything down in Carolina? Hot as hell?"

"Didn't call her to talk about the weather. Called her to talk about the business."

Bonita frowned. "Alright. Is something the matter?"

"Nope, near as I can tell, things are going pretty damn good."

"Yeah, I think they are. So what's up?"

"The season's almost over, so we talked about making some changes before next year."

"Changes, like what?"

"Changes in management. Bonita, you know the story of how I come home to run the wharf when my dad died, right?"

"Sure I do."

"That was fifty years ago." He chuckled. "Kind of hard for me to wrap my noggin around that. It was pretty much just me and Di trying to take care of everything. Tim helped some, but he was still in school and well, you know what Tim's like. Then Laura come on to help out. Now Di up and fled to warmer climes and Laura retired. Anyway, I think fifty years is enough."

"So, what are you going to do?"

"Well, I ain't retiring, never believed in that. But as of next season, I am stepping back from any regular duties. Sort of be, like a senior executive, or something like that, you might say."

Bonita stared at him. "So, what are you telling me, Papa?"

"I'm saying, as of the time we lock up for the winter, you're in charge around here. I mean, if you want to be."

"Papa, I'm only eighteen."

Alvin grinned. "You'll be nineteen next month, and that's the age I was when I had it dropped in my lap. And let me tell you something, Nita. You are far more prepared for it than I was."

"Jeezum crow."

"Like I said, I ain't going nowhere, just stepping back from daily duties. And you know Mary is going to keep an eye on the finance side."

Bonita stared at him, speechless.

"You got to tell me you accept the position," he said, "I mean, we will work out your pay and all that."

Bonita leaned forward, her shoulders hunched. "Yeah, of course I do."

"So, what's the matter? You look like you're going to cry."

Bonita sat in silence for a minute before answering.

"Papa, as long as I can remember I wanted to work with you here on the wharf. And I always imagined that some day I'd be the one who was in charge." She sniffled and wiped her nose with a napkin. "But I always felt so guilty when I did."

"Guilty? Why?"

"Because...because, Papa, I thought that would only happen when you die."

"Well, we both got lucky I guess. I ain't dead and you are taking over."

Bonita wiped her eyes and smiled. "So I get to tell you what to do?"

"You can tell me. Ain't no assurances I'm going to listen."

"So, just reversing how things are now," Bonita laughed.

"Pretty much," Alvin said as he rose from the table. Bonita stood and hugged him. Alvin patted her on the back. "Jeezum," he whispered, "I wish my dad could have known you."

They walked together down the slope into the yard. As they neared the boathouse, Alvin stopped.

"Nita, you got everything pretty much set for the day?"

"Yeah, Papa, everything's fine."

"Well, I think I might take SeaJay out for a little trip around the harbor. If you don't need me for anything, that is."

"I'll always need you, Papa," she said as she stepped into the doorway, "But you can go ahead and have a sail."

Alvin chuckled as he turned away. She was already the boss.

He boarded SeaJay and steered her out into the harbor. His mind was on a day eight or nine years earlier. Mary had gone down to Portland for some business deal, and he had Hannah for the day. She spent the morning playing with Buster in the yard while he worked.

At lunchtime Laura brought a basket of clams and french fries down from the diner for their lunch. He'd sat side by side on the wharf with Hannah, dangling their feet over the side and sharing their clams.

As they were finishing, Hannah looked over at her father's sailboat and, her mouth filled with the last handful of fries, told him, "It's not fair."

"What's not fair, baby?" he asked.

"You boat should be named SeaJayAitch."

"Huh." He nodded, reflectively. "I suppose you have a point. Ain't fair, is it?"

"Nope, I don't have a boat named for me."

"Still, SeaJayAitch sounds like a kind of a silly name for a boat, don't it?"

"Silly is better than not fair."

"Well, that's a point, too." He stood up, took her hand and pulled her to her feet. "I'll tell you what. You run this basket back up to the diner, then come right back here. I think maybe we can make amends."

Hannah did as she was told. Before she got back, Alvin had SeaJay's engine humming and was ready to cast off. He lifted Hannah and Buster down from the wharf to the deck and went to the wheel. Hannah climbed up and sat on the forecastle in front of him, her arms wrapped around her dog. He watched her as he steered through the crowded harbor. With the wind rippled through her hair, she reminded him of her mother.

When they reached the outer harbor, he turned toward the north and rounded Turner's Point. Just beyond it, a rocky headland jutted a quarter mile or so into the bay. It petered out into a series of small rocky islands, the last of which was the largest. It was not much more than a pile of granite, perhaps a hundred feet long and half as wide, worn smooth over time by wind and wave. A small stand of tall, mostly bare pines stood in the center of the island.

Alvin slowed SeaJay and crept to within twenty yards of the shore. He stopped the engines, dropped anchor and went below deck. When he came out, he was carrying an inflatable dinghy.

"What are you doing, Papa?"

"We are going ashore," Alvin said. Hannah asked him another question, but it was drowned out by the hum of the air pump as he filled the dinghy. When he finished, he retrieved a small paddle from the cabin, then lifted the dinghy over the side and set it in the water.

"Climb in there, Pumpkin," he told Hannah.

She cautiously got into the dinghy. Alvin lowered Buster in beside her, then climbed in himself. It only took a few strokes of the paddle to bring them to the granite edge of the island. Buster scrambled over the side and landed in the water with a splash.

"Oh no! Buster!" Hannah cried, but he was already skittering over the rocks.

Alvin stepped out, then helped her on to shore. He pulled the dinghy clear of the water, then took her hand and, still gripping the paddle, led her up the slope.

"Step carefully, honey, it's wet and slippery," he told her.

"And there's lots of bird poop," she replied, crinkling her nose.

When they reached the highest point, just under the ancient pines, he turned her to face him.

"Now, you know I been sailing this bay since, well, hell since I was your age," he said. "And in all that time, I have never heard that this island here had a name. Some call it Seal Head, but that refers to the whole point of land, not just the island."

He lowered himself to one knee. "Here, do like I do," he told Hannah. She knelt before him. He set the paddle on end between them, firmly gripping it's handle in both hands. Hannah put her hands beneath his.

In a stern, officious voice, Alvin announced, "By the power invested in me as the captain of the good ship SeaJay, I do hereby decree that this island shall be known forevermore, as Hannah's Island."

He stood up and gave Hannah his hand, pulling her to her feet.

"Now, sweetie, I want you to stand up as straight as you can."

Hannah obeyed, standing at attention, despite Buster nuzzling at her hands. Alvin raised the paddle by it's handle, then slowly lowered it, touching the blade gently to Hannah's shoulder.

"In the name of King Neptune," he intoned, raising the paddle and touching it to her other shoulder, "And of Davy Jones, Moby Dick and Popeye the Sailorman, I proclaim thee Queen Hannah of Hannah's Island, the first of her name."

Even now, a decade later, the image of Hannah in that moment was clear and sharp in Alvin's mind as he approached the little island once again. She'd held her mouth in a tight line, but her eyes were wide with excited delight. It was her mother's face, but it was at the same time uniquely Hannah.

SeaJay drifted in the water off Hannah's Island. Alvin considered going ashore, standing again on that spot where he had coronated that bright, happy little girl. But he shook his head and turned the boat toward home. The island was not her realm anymore. She was off on her life's journey. She was queen of the whole world.

***

Hannah Jean Faulkner waved goodbye to her parents and turned on to Puddledock Road. She looked in her rear view mirror. The farmhouse where she had lived her whole life was no longer in view, screened by the trees that lined the roadside. When she reached the corner, she sat for a moment, although there was no oncoming traffic. She felt stuck in place, half gone, half still where she'd always been. Part of her could not wait to get on to the highway and start her journey, but another part of her wanted to turn around, if not to stay, at least to feel one more of her father's hugs, another of her mother's kisses, before she departed. It was only the realization that her father and Bonita would soon be coming up behind her on their way to work that spurred her to make her turn.

She drove through town, and barely allowed herself a glance as she passed the wharf. Halfway up Main Street she pulled to the curb, got out and went into Jessica's bakery. She walked to the counter and bought a half dozen of her favorite sugar molasses cookies. As she was paying, Jessica came out from the back room.

Hannah looked up and smiled. "You know I wasn't leaving town without some cookies for the road."

"Of course you can't," Jessica said, hugging her. "You must be so excited."

"I am," Hannah nodded, "But pretty nervous, too."

"Oh yeah, I bet." Jessica sighed. "I am so happy for you. Sometimes I think about what it would have been like if I had gone to college. But, you know what, things turned out pretty good. Hey, let me get you an iced coffee to take with you. On the house."

"Thanks, Jess."

Jessica fixed the coffee and gave it to Hannah. "It must have been tough saying goodbye this morning, huh?"

"Yeah, somewhat. Everybody kept telling me to please come back. I have always planned to."

"Well, plans don't always work out, honey."

"Yeah, I know..."

"Hannah, can I just say, well, um, please come back."

They both laughed. "No, seriously," Jessica said, "A lot of the kids I grew up with around here didn't make it. The kids who didn't leave, didn't go to college.They ended up poor, with no ambitions or aspirations. They live in trailers in the woods off of food stamps and seasonal jobs. Honey, I barely made it myself. One good teacher can change a lot of lives in a place like this."

Hannah nodded thoughtfully. "I'll come back."

"Good, because I expect you to teach my grandchildren someday."

They said their goodbyes and Hannah returned to her car. As she reached the top of Main Street Hill, she glanced at the gate of the cemetery and impulsively drove through the arched iron gate. She stopped alongside the statues of the two angels. Charlotte had brought her here when she was thirteen and explained to her about Elizabeth Knight, and how she had installed an angel for each of her two husbands. You can't have too many angels, Charlotte had told her, and she was right. Her life had been full of them. She drove slowly through the cemetery. Her Faulkner ancestors were in here someplace, she did not remember where. Passing by the hundreds of graves, some new, some centuries old, did not give her a feeling of grief, but a sense of the history of her home.

She turned back on to Main Street. A moment later, she pulled over again, into the parking lot in front of Londonderry Elementary School. I just can't make myself get out of here, she thought ruefully as she got out of the car in front of the main entrance and approached the building. In another week, the empty building would be filled with children beginning a new school year. But now, it sat empty. Hannah walked along the wall, gazing through the windows at the blackboards and the rows of desks. In one classroom, colorful paper letters were taped to the inside of the windows. HAVE A WONDE FUL SUMMER. She imagined that the stray R must be somewhere on the floor.

At the corner of the building, she stopped and ran her hand over the red brick wall. She saw the bike rack and remembered seeing her mother there, waiting for her and Bonita to come out, so they could all ride home together. She thought about her mother as she crossed the schoolyard toward the playground. She's a hard act to follow, Charlotte had once told her, and it was true. As she grew into her teens, the comparisons became more annoying, particularly as so many people told her how much they looked alike. She recognized that it was a compliment, but it also made her self-conscious about her looks and more awkward around boys.

The playground seemed so much smaller than she remembered. When she sat on one of the swings, she was surprised that her feet remained firmly on the ground, where once they had dangled freely. She stepped back, raised her legs and began to swing. As she rose higher with each arc, she began to feel exhilarated, almost giddy. She felt like a little girl again, swinging alongside her friends, Amy McGrath and Nora Lemieux and Allison Flood, and Bonita. Always Bonita.

She folded her legs under her seat and began to slow down. Without thought she had begun to hum. It was a half remembered tune, one her mother had sung to her when she was a little girl. She had the melody, but could only remember one snippet of the lyrics. So welcome to our little corner of the world .

She dragged her toes in the dirt and came to a stop. Londonderry had been her little corner of the world her whole life, and the time had come to make her way in the wider world. In the storied land of Pittsburgh, she thought with a grin.

She stood up and brushed the dust of the playground off her jeans. She stepped on to the merry go round, making one spin before hopping back off. She remembered when she had jumped from it and ruptured her achilles tendon. The school called an ambulance, and they had called her father. Of course, he had gotten there before the paramedics did.

Good thing I didn't do it again just now, she thought, I'd feel like a real numbie explaining why I was messing around on my elementary school playground when I'm supposed to be on my way to college. She figured she had better get going.

As she walked back to her car, Hannah saw a small object on the sidewalk in front of her. She stooped and picked it up. It was a tiny pine cone, little more than an inch long and closed up tight. She'd seen thousands of them. They littered the grove and the path to the beaver pond. A memory came to her. she was seven or eight years old, playing with Bonita in the grove. From some reason that could only make sense to children, they had decided to gather pine cones. They made a sizable stack of them, but after a while, they grew bored and wandered off to do something else. Before they left, she had picked up one tiny cone from the pine. For a few weeks, she carried it with her everywhere she went, thinking of it as some sort of good luck charm. Eventually, she lost track of it. Funny that she should remember that now.

She slipped the pine cone into the front pocket of her jeans and got in her car. She turned back on to Main Street and drove past the bank where her mother had worked. She drove past the Dairy Queen and the McDonalds and the Shop'N'Save, past ancient farmhouses and brand new doublewide trailers, cornfields and stands of maple, pine and birch. She drove past the sign that read Leaving Londonderry. Come Back Soon and she smiled and pressed on the accelerator.

***

Mary heard the front door opening and put down her book.

"Honey?" Alvin called.

"I'm upstairs sweetheart."

As she listened to his work boots clumping on the stairs, she flipped back the sheet, leaned back again the stack of pillows and spread her legs.

Alvin stopped in the doorway and stared at his naked wife. He watched as she ran her hand across her abdomen and into the space between her thighs.

"Hello, baby," she whispered.

"Well, ain't this a nice surprise," Alvin said. He sat on the edge of the bed and kicked off his boots.

Mary slipped her fingers between her labia and slowly caressed herself.

"We have the house all to ourselves again," she said, "I think we ought to take advantage of that."

"Well, you've got a point there." As he unbuttoned his shirt, Mary lifted her leg and slid her foot across his thigh and into his crotch. Alvin dropped the shirt on the floor and, taking hold of her ankle, lifted Mary's leg. He kissed her calf, the bend of her knee, the inside of her thigh. Turning and leaning forward, he lowered his face between her legs. She gently held his head and pulled him closer. His tongue spread her lips and found her clitoris.

Mary dropped her head back and closed her eyes. "Ah, baby," she sighed, "I still remember the first time you did that to me."