Provocation Page 6

  Wind batters my car as I drive back to the coast. I crank the heat and my windshield wipers work at full force, but ice still smears across my windshield. I stop twice to scrape the glass free. No other vehicles brave the weather. I drive at a snail’s pace, afraid that if I slide into the ditch I might freeze to death before the storm abates and help arrives.

  The sleet and rain change over to big, puffy flakes that originate from every direction at once. As I roll into Tidbury and feel out the road that will take me home, the driving snow almost completely obscures my vision. At last I pull into our yard.

  Granddad meets me at the door. “Thank God you’re home. What were you doing out there this morning? Didn’t you listen to weather reports?”

  I shake my head. “I got word of four women who were recovered in Diamond Falls.”

  Granddad sighs. “And you hoped one of them might be your sister.”

  I bite my bottom lip.

  He lays a gentle hand on my shoulder and directs me to a kitchen chair. Then he places a cup of coffee in my hand and sits down across from me. “I would admonish you to give up that kind of thinking before it kills you—quite literally, it would seem—but I don’t know that it would do any good.” He frowns and his voice gentles. “Besides, we have a more immediate concern. Athena Wildon called. Jarrod and Billy haven’t made it in with the trawler yet.”

  FIVE

  I clench my hands so tightly around my mug I think it might shatter. “Has she had any contact with them since the storm began?”

  “Yes. The cell towers are out, but they radioed in about two hours ago. It’s the last she’s heard.”

  I stand up and begin putting my coat back on.

  “You can’t go out again in this weather, Opal,” Granddad chides as I pull on hat and gloves. “Athena will call with any news.”

  “If you didn’t want me to make the trip, you shouldn’t have told me they were missing.” I palm my keys.

  Granddad grabs his jacket off its hook. “I’m going with you.”

  The car is still warm. I fire up the engine and we crawl down the road. It takes fifteen minutes for us to cover the mile and a half. I pull into the Wildons’ driveway and help Granddad over the icy sidewalk to the door.

  Athena’s face opens in surprise as she answers our knock. “You shouldn’t have risked the drive,” she chides. Then she hugs us both warmly. “But I’m glad you did.”

  “Have you heard anything?” I ask as she takes our coats and ushers us to the kitchen. Georgina looks up from her place on a barstool and promptly leaves the room. I watch her with mild regret. Georgina was primarily Ruby’s friend, but she and I always got along. I hate not being on comfortable terms with her.

  “No. The authorities are on alert and the lighthouse has been lit,” Athena answers.

  “The lighthouse?” Granddad grunts. “That hasn’t worked in forty years.”

  “Some of the men carried wood up to the top of the tower and lit a bonfire. It was Hank Penner’s idea, but it caught on quickly with the other fishermen. They got a crew in place to bring out additional loads and keep it stoked.”

  I glance out the window in the direction of the waterfront. The storm is too thick to see far, but every so often I catch a glimmer of light from the promontory.

  “Have they given you any reason to hope?” I ask.

  “They wouldn’t light the fire if there was none,” Granddad points out.

  “Hank said if they’re taking on waves, it could have shorted out the circuitry, losing them the use of their radio and navigation equipment. It doesn’t mean their engine failed.”

  Athena sets a plate of cookies on the kitchen island and pours us each a cup of coffee. My stomach is tied tighter than the knot on a bowline, but I nibble a chocolate chipper anyway, just for something to do. Athena has her radio tuned to the frequency the trawlers use, and an app on her tablet has been set to pick up the feed from the local police and rescue squads. Granddad and I sit at the table with her and listen without speaking.

  I can’t stand the tension any longer. I take out my own tablet, download the scanner, and put my coat and hat and gloves back on. Athena lends me a muffler to wind around my face, and I head in the direction of the waterfront with the scanner cranked in my pocket to hear it above the clamor of the storm.

  The waves slam onto shore, rolling halfway to the street before losing energy and slithering back into the bay. Somewhere in the harbor, a Coast Guard vessel prowls, awaiting the possibility of delivering help. I can’t see it in the storm. The marina is empty. The other trawlers are tied on lines just off shore where they can nose into the wind and ride out the gale with less damage. They bob and twist, straining at their tethers in the heavy surf. They look so tiny and fragile. I can scarcely bear to think about Billy battling the waves beyond the shelter of the bay. Or worse, sinking in them. Even with a lifejacket, no one can survive long in water this cold.

  I close my eyes and try to imagine my life without Billy. It’s true I’ve disregarded him of late, but that’s because I thought we had the luxury of years ahead of us. I thought he would be here in town waiting for me when the ache of Ruby’s absence faded and I emerged from my seclusion. How foolish I’ve been. Didn’t I learn my lesson after the loss of my parents? Life is fleeting and unpredictable. A wise person grabs hold with both hands and refuses to let go till their time runs out. Is my future to be ripped away before I ever catch a firm grip?

  The wind cuts through my winter gear. Ice freezes on my eyelashes, making it difficult to see. From here, however, I catch more frequent glimmers of the lighthouse tower. I breathe a prayer of gratitude and safety for the men risking their lives on the wave-swept promontory to give Billy and his father a fighting chance.

  There is no way to measure time in the swirling, stinging whiteness except by the slow freezing of my body parts. First my feet, then my fingers, then my legs. The cold seeps toward my core, but I refuse to go inside. Billy doesn’t have the luxury of warmth. I won’t grant it to myself.

  News of the missing trawler has spread. Townspeople make their way out to the wharf in shifts, staying for a time then disappearing, replaced by others.

  My teeth are chattering violently when the scanner suddenly erupts. “Coast Guard cutter Osprey, this is Tidbury dispatch. Vessel confirmed off north Tidbury promontory. Emergency escort requested. Over.”

  Static parenthesizes the dispatcher’s instructions. Then a new voice answers, “Roger that, dispatch. Making our way toward the promontory now. Is it the missing trawler? Over.”

  “Unconfirmed, Osprey. Over.”

  “Copy, dispatch. Whoever it is will need help. It’s bad out here. Get an ambulance on standby in the harbor. Over.”

  “Ambulance standing by. Over.”

  Hope swells inside me, lifting me onto my toes to catch sight of the ship. Of course I can’t see it through the thick, whirling snow, but I can envision the Wildon trawler in my mind. I pray. I plead. I hope that by wishing hard enough, I just might draw it home safely.

  The harbor is soon alive with sirens and flashing lights. The ambulance takes position at the foot of the wharf. Moments later, Athena and Georgina are at my side, their eyes shining with expectancy. Time seems interminable as we wait for further word. It comes at last.

  “Coast Guard cutter Osprey calling Tidbury dispatch. Do you copy?”

  “I copy, Osprey. Go ahead.”

  “Dispatch, we have made contact with the vessel outside Tidbury Bay. It is the missing trawler. We have evacuated two men in stable condition and we’re towing the vessel to shore now. Over.”

  “Roger that, Osprey. Ambulance ready to receive them. Over.”

  I suck in a sodden gasp as Athena throws her arms around her daughter. Then she squeezes me too. Tears flow freely down all three of our faces, freezing in the bitter wind.

  Within ten minutes, the rescue vessel ties up at the wharf and Billy and his father emerge through the storm, escorted by the Co
ast Guardsmen and wrapped in blankets. I hold back as Athena and Georgina run to meet them, listening to their tearful reunion. But as the entourage nears the waiting ambulance, I step forward, covering my mouth with both frozen mittens.

  Billy is soaked through. I can see him shivering fiercely, even through the driving snow. But when he catches sight of me, he pauses. His mouth forms my name. Then I’m rushing forward, my arms around his sopping figure, my lips pressed to his. They feel icy. Blue with cold. His jaw chatters uncontrollably. His body spasms. But his mouth responds.

  All my thoughts and worries of the past hours—my regrets, my apology, my hopes—I put them all into that kiss. I have been given back my future, and I am grabbing for it desperately. Billy’s arms encircle me, his mouth smiles against mine, and I know he’s understood my every meaning perfectly.

  I am the one who breaks away to shove him toward the waiting ambulance crew. After an initial evaluation, Billy and his father both refuse hospital treatment, as their house is only a block away. But the medical personnel recommend immediate lukewarm baths with escalating heat to return their body temperature to normal. I hear Athena run the water for Jarrod as soon as we get the men home, but Billy refuses. Instead, he pulls on flannel pajamas and a woolen cap and engulfs the two of us in a blanket. “W-w-will you be my furnace?”

  I am more than willing.

  We move to the living room couch where Athena piles us with more blankets. Billy’s teeth still chatter as I press against his frigid body. “I could die now and be happy,” he whispers against my ear. “But there was no way I was letting those waves claim me until I could do this one more time.” And he kisses me so thoroughly that I’m pretty sure his body temp gets a solid jump start.

  We spend the night on that sofa, disregarding the incessant ring of the telephone, the crackle of the radio, and the tread of passing feet. It’s just me and Billy in that room, and we aren’t moving for anyone. Athena makes up Billy’s bed for Granddad, and I fall asleep to the beating of Billy’s heart. By morning the nor’easter has blown itself out.

  ***

  Billy and I marry as soon as he and Jarrod make a full recovery. It’s a small ceremony, with only our closest friends and family. The front of the Episcopal church is decorated with chrysanthemums and gold candles, with clumps of holly and berries on the end of every pew. I wear my mother’s gown, altered and updated by Reverend Dexter’s wife, and the weather cooperates with a beautiful, crisp sunset. None of that matters to me though. A year from now I probably won’t remember the details. But as long as I live, I will never forget the tender smile on Billy’s face when Granddad places my hand in his.

  After the ceremony, we drive to Bedford where we plan to spend three days in a little cottage outside of town, emerging only when we get hungry. Billy carries me over the threshold and deposits me on the bed, sinking beside me to kiss me long and deeply. I close my eyes and let happiness wash over me in waves. This time there really is only me and Billy. No telephone. No radio. No one here to interrupt us as he clicks off the light and tugs a blanket up over our entwined bodies. I smile as heat folds in around me. There will be no danger of hypothermia this night.

  ***

  The months that follow are some of the happiest of my life. Granddad has insisted that we move in with him and promises to give us all the space we need. He’s as good as his word. Now I mark time by long shifts at work, meals taken with Granddad and Billy, Saturday chores, Sunday services, and evenings spent in domestic tranquility. And at night, the bond I share with my best friend broadens and deepens and sweetens.

  We are not ignorant of the events playing out on the national stage, but we don’t feel them keenly, tucked away at the edge of the sea in the northernmost corner of the Republic. The disappearances begin to slow in February, but food shortages have worsened. Crime is rampant in the cities as survivors fight for limited resources, and a general lack of medical care causes the outbreak of scattered epidemics. And President Dempsey’s trial drags on. Here in Tidbury, we’re more concerned with shortages of gasoline reserved for the trawlers and the ice that freezes them into the harbor for days at a time. Local commerce nearly comes to a stop until a Coast Guard cutter finally makes its way up the shore to break them out.

  And the whole town’s getting fed up to the brim with Gilbert Sweeny.

  Billy and I are at his parents’ house for dinner the night Gilbert announces his and Georgina’s upcoming marriage. It’s an awkward affair, with Georgina still doing her best to pretend I don’t exist. I am tempted to just stay home, but I respect Jarrod and Athena too much to discourage their relationship with Billy in any way. And it is clear that they have only invited Gilbert to maintain ties with their daughter.

  The meal starts out comfortably enough. Jarrod and Billy are discussing some of the finer details of maintaining their fishing business during the difficult days of winter, with Gilbert making occasional comments that underscore his ignorance of the subject. Then Jarrod points his fork at the mayor. “What’s this I hear about you tossing Hank Penner in jail yesterday?”

  Gilbert takes a bite of broiled mackerel, quite unconcerned, and asks, “What did you hear?”

  “A lot of rumors and nonsense. That’s why I’m going to the source.”

  Gilbert clears his throat. “Hank did opt for a night in jail.”

  “He opted? Why would he choose imprisonment?”

  Gilbert shrugs. “Because he refused to pay his fine.”

  Jarrod, Athena, Billy, and I exchange glances while Gilbert shovels a mouthful of mashed parsnips into his mouth. Georgina has eyes only for Gilbert. Jarrod asks the question for all of us. “And why was Hank slapped with a fine?”

  “Because he refused to register his business with the Auxiliary Records Command.”

  “I thought that was optional,” Billy says.

  “Not anymore.”

  We pass another look around the table.

  “Is this a new national edict?” Jarrod asks around a bite of bread. There have been plenty lately. We’ve already had to register individually with Records Command. Rationing has been expanded and penalties made stiffer for misdemeanors such as curfew violations or the resale of gasoline rations. Motor-free hours have further restricted movement. Regional Greencoat districts have absorbed the autonomy of local law enforcement. And continuing riots in the cities have prompted a wave of gun control legislation that has confiscated most privately owned weapons, including Daddy’s pistol.

  “It will be soon,” Gilbert answers. “I thought Tidbury could get a jump on things with early compliance.”

  I can tell Jarrod would like to knock the smug look off the mayor’s face. “So this is your edict,” he says flatly.

  Gilbert assumes a look of longsuffering patience. “Mr. Wildon, with the economy in such a distressed state, it’s important that we have an accurate record of the businesses and workers that remain to us.”

  Jarrod’s face hardens. “Yes, we want to make it easy when the government usurps control of the private sector.”

  Gilbert blinks, probably trying to spin Jarrod’s words into some gentler meaning that better suits his personality. But Georgina hasn’t misunderstood her father’s intentions. She stands and throws her napkin on the table in outrage. “Daddy, I demand you apologize to Gilbert this instant.”

  “Sit down, Georgina,” Jarrod says.

  “Not until you apologize. You’ve practically called Gilbert a dictator!”

  Jarrod looks from his daughter to the mayor, who has leaned back in his chair with his expression carefully guarded to watch the confrontation play out. Athena gives her husband a gentle nudge. He sighs. “I apologize, Gilbert. It was not my intention to imply impropriety on your part.”

  Gilbert nods magnanimously, looking just the slightest bit smug. “No offense taken.”

  “But I do worry that the government is a little too eager to assume its new responsibilities,” Jarrod warns.

  Gilbert puff
s up a bit more. “I assure you, the city council, at least, will not overextend its reach here in Tidbury. I will see to its self-control myself. In my opinion, the government exists only to make the world more secure so that domestic scenes such as this one don’t vanish from the Republic.”

  I can see by the closed look on Jarrod’s face that he finds Gilbert as pompous as I always have.

  On the heels of his little speech, Gilbert lays his fork down and reaches for Georgina’s hand. “I have a personal interest in seeing to that responsibility.”

  Georgina smiles shyly and ducks her head. I see Athena’s eyes narrow slightly just before Gilbert makes his grand announcement. “Mr. and Mrs. Wildon, I am very proud to say that your daughter has agreed to become my wife.”

  It’s dead silent around the table. He’s not asking permission; he’s making a declaration. But it’s not like we haven’t seen this coming. I think Jarrod and Athena have just been hoping for Georgina to finish school first—and for enough time that earnest prayer might intervene. A muscle jumps in Jarrod’s jaw. “Congratulations.”

  The rest of us murmur an echo of his sentiment. Neither Gilbert nor Georgina seems to notice our lack of enthusiasm. They’re too busy smiling into each other’s eyes.

  Gilbert tosses his napkin onto his plate. “Oh, what the heck.” He looks around at us with a self-satisfied grin. “I was going to keep it secret awhile longer, but this is as good a time as any, I suppose. Georgina, I have purchased two lots on Main Street. This spring, I am going to build you the biggest, finest house in Tidbury. Two stories, brick, with high ceilings, a pillared portico, and the best view in town.”

  Georgina squeals.

  Beaming, Gilbert stands and tugs at her hand. “I’ve got the blueprints in my car. Come on and I’ll show you.”