Still Water (15 page)

“You shouldn’t worry so much,” Angela murmured absently, already losing interest in their conversation. She placed her hand on his cheek and her eyes drifted towards his desk and the plans for the marina that were spread out across it.

“Come and look at this,” Howard said. “I want to show you where the yacht club is going to be. And see here, what do you think of that?” He showed her the drawings he’d commissioned. An artist’s impression of a supermarket and a parking lot, and then a gas station. “Know where that is? It’s that block of land where the old man wanted to plant pine trees, only he never got around to it. See here, this is all waterfront. I’ve sectioned it for housing. Twenty-five one acre plots. They should be worth a hundred thousand each the day I win the election. A year from now maybe twice that.”

Howard beamed at the drawings, envisioning them made real, and as he conjured images of buildings and development he saw himself controlling it all, negotiating deals with contractors, building mansions for the wealthy clients who would come to St. George for the summer, berthing their yachts and cruisers in the marina.

“You’re right, Angela, I never wanted to live here. I mean, look around, what the hell is there here for us? A town that’s dying a little more every year. Fishing’s all gone to hell. I tell you, without my plans this whole island will be a ghost town one of these days. But you know what? Once things start to change it might not be so bad. Course it’ll take a couple of years, but soon as people hear about what we’re doing we’ll start to attract investors, then it’ll really take off. We could build a new house, on the hill looking down on the marina. I’ve already got the site picked out. The best on the island. There’ll be new people to mix with. A whole new crowd hanging out at the yacht club I’ve got planned. Maybe we’ll meet people we could go and visit in the winter.”

Howard paused, the excitement for his vision of the life they would have running away from him. He grinned a little self consciously, and then he noticed the expression Angela wore. Her smile masked vague boredom, but worse than that she looked pitying.

“It all sounds wonderful,” she said. “Well, I think I’ll go up to bed. I’m kind of tired.” She leaned towards him, brushing his cheek with her lips.

Howard put his hand against her hip, resting it there briefly. The feel of her body, the scent she wore, made his flesh cower. A spasm of intense irritation leapt through him. He knew that Angela had long ago lost her faith in his ability to make his plans real.

“Goodnight,” he said.

“Don’t be long.”

“I won’t.”

He watched her go, and knew that in five minutes she would be reading some novel, lost in another world, other people’s lives, and fifteen minutes after that she would turn out the light. Howard rarely went to bed these days until she was sleeping. He sometimes wondered what she thought of him, of their marriage of eighteen years, of what her life had become. She was from old Massachusetts money, though her family had fallen on hard times when he met her. He’d always felt as if he didn’t deserve her, as if he wasn’t good enough. She was still beautiful, even after all these years, whereas he had grown fat. He didn’t kid himself. He looked in the goddamned mirror sometimes and he hated himself for what he’d become, though he blamed the lousy island for being at least partly to blame.

He’d looked like a good prospect once. Nobody knew then that fishing was a dying industry, that soon the fish would all be gone. He thought she had always liked him, and that in the beginning she’d imagined she could grow to love him one day, but instead, as the money had run out and his aspirations and plans had turned to dust, her feelings for him had become clogged somewhere between like and affection. He didn’t move her. In the end she merely felt sorry for him.

Howard had come to realize this gradually, the truth finally taking full shape and settling like a weight over him more than a year ago. Since then he’d been unable to make love to her. She’d always been reserved when it came to the physical side of things, strait-laced even. In the early days when they were in bed together he felt as if she indulged him, remaining largely unaffected herself. She’d never once commented on the fact that they no longer had sex. It was as if she hadn’t noticed. Or if she had, she welcomed it enough not to risk upsetting things by drawing attention to the fact.

As she left the room, Howard experienced a familiar hollow absence of feeling in his groin. He turned disconsolately back to his plans. If he failed to make them happen it would be the end of him, he knew. The plant would eventually bankrupt him, and another failure would sap his spirit beyond redemption. He would never be able to make Angela proud. There would be no dinners with wealthy friends who would build houses on the waterfront on land they had bought from him, people she would feel comfortable with. They would never stand together on the terrace of their new home, looking down on the lights below, on everything he had made happen. They would never go inside together, Angela taking his hand as she led him with a smile towards their bedroom.

Howard poured himself another drink and thought about Ella. She aroused conflicting feelings in him. On the one hand he admired her. She was attractive. More than attractive, she was stunning in a way, and she had balls, he’d give her that. He’d even mused, once or twice, that had he been married to somebody like her, perhaps his life would have been different. She would have supported him, encouraged him, rooted for him all the way, unlike Angela who merely smiled without conviction at his ideas. Wasn’t that a fucking hoot?

But Ella could be his downfall. She’d made people scared about letting in the big bad outside world if the marina went ahead. Howard couldn’t understand why people were afraid of change. That was the whole point. Nothing stayed the same for ever. All of Ella’s talk about the islanders themselves ending up as second class citizens in their own back yard, delivering pizza and pumping gas for rich people had hit a sensitive spot.

St. Georgians were touchy about such things. She had them thinking that the newcomers would take over and start running things. She was probably right, but so what if the islanders mostly ended up doing some service job, what was wrong with that anyway? At least it was regular work.

Howard reached into a drawer and took out some sheets of paper that were clipped together. Each sheet had two columns of names. Those who he knew would vote for him, and those who would vote for Ella. The names were a cross section he’d canvassed, enough to give him a feel for the way the election would go. On Ella’s side some names had been crossed out and written in on his own side. People were switching horses. Small towns were a funny thing, and Ella’s support had always been tenuous. The people who backed her were the young and the old, and the old resented change, but they resented women fishermen almost as much. Ella had lived here all her life, long enough to counter that prejudice, but now with all the talk going around, people were starting to turn against her. His little trick with the posters had helped, set tongues wagging. If the election had been tomorrow he guessed he’d have won. But the vote wasn’t for another ten days, and even in Sanctuary that was a long time in politics. Maybe by then people would give her the benefit of the doubt, or they’d simply begin to forget about Bryan. Enough of them anyway. The bottom line, Howard concluded, was that there were a hell of a lot of ifs and maybes; way too many for him to feel comfortable. And there was too much riding on this vote for him to take any chances.

For a while he pondered this fact, and then he looked at his watch and emptied his glass. As he left the house he paused, struck by the notion that he was about to step over a line. It caused him to hesitate. He wavered, and then he thought about what would happen to his life if he lost the vote, and he decided that sometimes the stakes were simply too high to flinch from a little unpleasantness.

Jake was sitting in front of the TV when someone came to the front door. His wife answered it, and when she came back she said it was Howard Larson. Jake got up, wondering what had brought Howard here.

“I felt like I should come and see how you’re doing,” Howard said. “I heard about Carl Johnson.”

“What about him?”

Howard blinked uncertainly. “I mean I heard what he saw. It’s a terrible thing.”

Jake didn’t say anything. He didn’t like Howard, never had. It had been Bryan’s idea to buy the land on the shore where Howard wanted to build his marina. Jake hadn’t been so sure. Making a fat profit on the deal was fine, but the downside was it meant getting into bed with the likes of Howard.

“I just wanted you to know I’m right behind you,” Howard said, filling the silence. He looked as if he was waiting to be asked in, and reluctantly Jake showed him through to the kitchen. He opened a beer and threw a questioning look at Howard.

“Want one of these?”

“Thanks.”

“Sit down if you want.”

Howard sat on one of the old chairs by the table. Jake gave him a beer and leaned against the counter and drank from his bottle. He waited.

Howard took a sip from his beer. “Like I said, I’m with you on this. Ella ought to be in jail if you ask me.”

Jake took a mouthful of beer, and wondered what the fuck Howard wanted. He was starting to get a headache. Lately he’d been having them a lot. He massaged the back of his neck absently.

“I guess there’s no point in relying on the law around here.”

What? “Jake headaches had been getting worse. Sometimes his vision started to blur a little, everything going a little dull and grainy. Howard was talking but he hadn’t heard everything he said. “Come again,” he said.

Howard blinked, and a flash of irritation marked his expression, but then it was gone. “I was just saying I don’t know if anyone could blame you if you took things into your own hands.”

Jake was struck by an odd note, and Howard looked kind of nervous. What the hell was he talking about? The pain in Jake’s head had become a dull throb. It affected his hearing, so that Howard’s voice sounded strange, unnatural. He wished Howard would leave. He needed to lie down somewhere dark.

“If it wasn’t for that lawyer friend of hers she’d probably be in jail.”

“What lawyer?”

“Matt Jones. They’re pretty friendly those two. You know how these lawyers are, show them a smoking gun and they’ll try and convince you it’s a cigarette lighter.”

Jake drank some more beer. He had no idea what Howard was talking about.

“It’s come to a fine thing when a man’s brother is murdered and nothing gets done about it, that’s all. Like I said, I doubt anybody could blame you for wanting to fix things yourself.”

Howard’s voice sounded husky, as if his throat was dry. He took a drink and licked his lips.

“What the hell did you come here for?” Jake said at last, his patience exhausted. “Is there something you’re trying to say to me, because if there is why don’t you just come the fuck out with it.”

Howard looked startled. He didn’t say anything, then he got up. “Maybe I should leave.”

Jake wasn’t about to argue and he showed Howard to the door. When he’d gone he slammed it shut. In the kitchen he saw that Howard had barely touched his beer. He went upstairs, and lay down in the dark. Downstairs he could hear the drone of the TV. His headache pulsed. He thought of something Howard had said. Nobody would blame him if he took things into his own hands.

Howard drove back towards his house, unnerved by his meeting with Jake. The man wasn’t right in the head in his opinion. He doubted Jake had heard more than a fraction of what he’d said. Howard frowned. Maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing anyway. He experienced a vague relief. Perhaps there were better ways of fixing Ella.

Ella signed the receipt that Art Turner handed to her. He watched her, his thin face looking more pinched than normal, and when she handed back his pad and pencil he tore her off a copy and grinned, showing yellowed teeth.

“Can I get a cheque now?” Ella asked.

“Right now? I don’t know Ella.”

“I’d appreciate it, Art.”

He hesitated, then shrugged. “What the hell. Sure you can.” He opened a drawer in his battered old desk and took out a cheque book.

While he wrote out the amount Ella looked out the window of his office to the dock beyond. Art was one of four lobster dealers on the island. He acted as a middleman, buying the fishermen’s catches, which he then packed up and sent off to the mainland wholesalers who again sold on to the stores and restaurants. Normally Art paid out at the end of each week, but Ella had been dealing with him long enough now that he was willing to make exceptions. He tore off her cheque and handed it over.

“There you go.”

Thanks.”

Ella looked at the amount on the cheque, and thought she would at least be able to pay Gordon, and settle her account at the store, but that was about it. She had already missed a payment on the Santorini and her credit was stretched at the bank.

“Everything okay?” Art asked.

“Sure. It’s fine. I was just thinking about something.”

The market’s good right now. That’s top dollar you know.”

“I know that Art.” She smiled. Never in all the time she’d dealt with Art had he tried to cheat her out of a cent. “I guess I could always use more, that’s all,” she added ruefully.

“I can take everything you can bring me,” Art said.

“Yeah,” Ella said frowning.

“I heard about your trouble with Jake. There’s talk he’s been messing with your traps.”

“Well, somebody has.”

Art looked at his feet. He shifted uncomfortably and when he spoke again he did so without meeting her eye. “Don’t you worry about the talk that’s going around. That’s just people who don’t know any better. I did business with your dad for a long time. I remember when you were just a little girl.” He broke off, his face colouring. “If there’s anything I can do, Ella. I mean, I could maybe see my way to an advance or something like that.”

“Thanks, Art. I appreciate it. But I’ll get by,” Ella said, surprised and touched by his offer.