The Gin & Chowder Club, page 13
It was a cool, overcast day, and Asa was glad that he had remembered his jacket. After hitching a ride to the bus station, he ran across the street for a cup of coffee. Back inside, he paid for a round-trip ticket, climbed onto the bus, and found a seat toward the back. There weren’t many travelers leaving Hanover that morning, but Asa figured they would pick up more along the way. He settled into his seat, looked out the window at the changing colors, and thought about the day ahead. He was excited about the game, and he looked forward to seeing some familiar faces. He realized that it wasn’t just Noelle he missed.
Asa arrived at South Station and took the T to Fenway. Although he knew his way around Boston, he felt out of place being away from school on a school day. Asa had given two of the tickets to his father, one to Isaac, and had kept the last for himself. Over the weekend, they had spoken on the phone and confirmed the arrangements to meet at their seats. Asa went in and checked behind the Red Sox dugout to make sure he was the only one to arrive early and went to buy a Coke. Drink in hand, he sat down and watched batting practice. Almost immediately, he spotted the # 9 jersey at the plate and smiled. He didn’t care if the Sox were having their worst season in twenty years; he was just happy to be there with all the other Hub fans cheering for the Splendid Splinter one last time.
Isaac came up behind him and climbed over the seats with two beers in his hands. He was grinning and singing dramatically along with Fenway’s thundering organ.
He glanced at Asa’s soda and asked, “What happened to the I.D. I made for you?”
Asa ignored the question. “You should keep your day job,” he teased.
The two brothers sat together in the bleachers, drinking beer, watching the players warm up, and reveling in the wonderful freedom of the afternoon. They finished their first beer, and Isaac had just left to get a second round when their father and Nate arrived.
Asa stood to shake hands and offered to go get more drinks. Both men smiled at the idea. “Sounds good,” his father answered. He took off his sports coat, rolled up his sleeves, and handed Asa several bills. The two men sat down, and Asa retreated to the refreshment stand to find Isaac. A short time later, the boys returned with four foot-long hot dogs and four overflowing cups.
Isaac smiled. “It doesn’t get any better than this! Thanks, Uncle Nate!”
Asa nodded in agreement, taking a bite of his hot dog.
Samuel and Nate asked the boys how school was going and, after a while, broke off into a conversation of their own. Asa listened halfheartedly until he heard Samuel ask about Noelle. By this time, the ballpark had filled to near capacity, and it was difficult to hear Nate’s answer. Asa strained to listen.
“She’s fine. Did I tell you she took a full-time position at the hospital? Starting next week—” Nate was interrupted by cheering fans as the Red Sox came out onto the field. When the noise finally faded, he continued. “She’s out at the Cape right now. She was hoping the weather would be better.”
Asa’s heart raced. He thought of Noelle alone at the Cape house and could barely wrap his mind around the possibilities. Just then, Isaac elbowed him.
“Hey, Asa! Have you heard anything I just said?”
“Yup, I heard you,” Asa answered, his heart still pounding. “You said you need to use the john and get a refill—whenever you’re ready.” He followed his brother up the steps and tried to remember which classes he would miss.
The cloudy skies over Boston seemed to fit the mood of Red Sox fans that bittersweet afternoon. Their hero was retiring but not without one last hurrah. It was a good game, even though the Sox were trailing. Asa watched in awe as Ted Williams came up to the plate again. Then, there it was, a 1-1 pitch and the legend drove it 450 feet into the right centerfield seats. The crowd was on their feet as he rounded the bases after his 521 home run.
Finally, in the ninth inning, Ted Williams headed out to left field for the last time. He was immediately replaced by Carroll Hardy. At that moment, “MisTer >Wonderful” retired, and the cheering fans were on their feet again. Asa felt tears stinging his eyes. He looked over at his father, smiling and clapping. He watched Nate cheering beside him, and then Nate caught his eye. With a smile, he winked and gave Asa a thumbs-up. Asa smiled, too, and again thought about how, even after the amazing gift of this day, he was capable of betraying Nate. The Sox rallied in the ninth for two more runs and beat the Orioles 5 to 4.
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Samuel and Nate dropped the boys off at South Station. On the way, Samuel asked Asa if he had had a chance to read the book he had given him. Asa replied that he had finished it on the bus ride down. Then Samuel started to tell Nate about “the first book written by a new young talent.” As they pulled up in front of the historic station, Nate slipped each of the boys a folded bill. They thanked him and said they hoped to see him at Thanksgiving. Then they said good-bye to their father and promised to call soon.
Isaac’s bus was due to leave Boston earlier than the bus heading to Manchester. But Asa was eyeing the wooden schedule board for a different destination. He found what he was looking for: “Hyannis—5:45P.”
The boys found seats in the busy terminal while they waited for their buses. Asa was antsy, hoping that Isaac’s bus would be on time. If it wasn’t, he wouldn’t be able to carry out his plan. Finally, when Isaac got up to use the men’s room, Asa bolted to the ticket counter. Uncertain of the outcome, he unfolded the bill Nate had given him and, suppressing any sense of morality, purchased a ticket to Hyannis. When Isaac returned, his bus was boarding. Asa had his hands in his pockets and was standing near the door, looking out at the buses. The parking spot next to the Providence bus was still vacant, and Asa was relieved. He shook hands with his brother and then made a show of sitting back down to wait for the Manchester bus, not scheduled to depart until 6:10.
Soon after Isaac’s departure, a second bus pulled into the vacancy. Hanging in the top of the front window was a sign indicating that its destination was Hyannis. Hanging in the window of the bus beside it was a sign for Manchester. Asa looked at the two buses. He had tickets in his pocket for both of them, and he had only a few minutes to decide. Would she be happy to see me? He pictured the surprise on her face and felt her arms around him, and he thought about lying beside her again....
54
An hour later, Asa looked out at the boats on the canal as the bus crossed over the Bourne Bridge. On any summer Saturday, traffic onto the bridge would be backed up for miles, but on a Wednesday evening in September, there were almost no travelers. The sun was setting behind him, and the light gave a rosy cast to the tops of the trees. As the bus reached the Cape side, Asa’s heart filled with the comfortable warmth of being home. Less than a month ago, he had crossed this bridge with a heavy heart, but now, here he was, looking out again at the world of his childhood. It had not changed in his absence, it had only been faithfully waiting to welcome him back.
Asa stepped off the bus in Hyannis, slung his bag over his shoulder, zipped up his jacket, and started walking backward along Route 28. He had considered calling Noelle for a ride but had decided that that would take away from the surprise. So he put his thumb out, and before long, he was huddled in the back of a pickup truck with a big happy-go-lucky golden retriever. The driver and his two young sons were on their way home to Wellfleet and were willing to take Asa all the way to Orleans. When they arrived, Asa hopped down, gave his hand warmer one last scratch under his chin, thanked the driver, and turned to walk down the winding Beach Road.
More than once along the way, Asa second-guessed the decision he had made in the bus station. But now it was getting late—too late to change his mind—and he picked up his pace. The road was dark and lonely, much like the last time when he had driven down it alone. He pushed the painful memory aside and hoped that tonight would be different. As he walked up the sandy driveway, he could see the outline of the familiar old house and chimney. There were no lights on in the front, and Asa’s heart pounded in his chest and kept time with a throbbing in his temple. He walked around back and was thankful to see the back porch sparkling in the warm glow of Christmas lights. The window in the kitchen was also bright and welcoming.
55
Asa knocked quietly on the screen door—the last thing he wanted to do was frighten her. He waited, feeling foolish, and then knocked again. This time, she heard his knock and opened the kitchen door. She looked out, trying to see into the darkness through the screen.
“Hey,” Asa said softly.
Suddenly, Noelle realized who was standing on her back steps. “Oh, my! Asa, is that you?” She unlatched and pushed open the screen door, and he stepped onto the porch. She looked into his eyes, and a warm, genuine smile spread across her face. “I’m so glad to see you.”
He sank into her arms and closed his eyes in amazed relief.
They didn’t talk. She didn’t ask him how or why; she just held him. He could hear faint music coming from the record player in the living room. The smooth, sad voice of Nat King Cole drifted out to where they stood. She took his hand, and he followed her. There were embers glowing in the stone fireplace, and he watched as she leaned over to give them a stir and add more wood. The fire licked upward, and the amber light danced on the walls. Asa felt a chill in spite of its warmth.
Noelle ran her fingers lightly along his cheek and slowly unzipped his jacket. Asa didn’t move. He just stood there with his arms hanging at his sides. He allowed her to do whatever she wished—he had no will, no control. She knew why he had come. Noelle brushed her lips against his skin and teased him with her tongue as she slowly unbuttoned his shirt and the top button of his jeans. She slipped her hands inside his shirt, and he felt her warm touch and searched her dark eyes. He knew he would follow her anywhere, would do anything she asked. He had lost all sense of self. Nothing mattered, nothing at all, except being here.
The haunting lyrics drifted along, and Noelle put her cheek against his chest. They swayed back and forth. She leaned back and pressed her body against him. With trembling hands, Asa lifted her sweater over her head. He kissed her neck and breathed deeply, drinking in her lovely scent, as if his thirst would never be satisfied. In the soft light of the fire, he watched her slip her jeans down. Her body was still tan from the summer sun, and her hair fell across her face when she leaned over.
She reached for him, and Asa lay beside her, watching the firelight dance on the ceiling. The heat from the flames finally warmed his bare skin, and Noelle ran her fingers lightly along the outline of his fading tan lines. She slipped her leg across his bare thighs, and Asa reached down and gently pulled her on top of him. As she moved slowly back and forth, he still couldn’t believe what was happening. She smiled and teasingly lifted herself slightly above him. Barely able to hold on, Asa slid his hands from her breasts, pulled her hips down, and lifted his head to watch the movement between their bodies.
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As the night stretched toward dawn, the fire was repeatedly rekindled and the energy of their bodies renewed. They were driven by insatiable desire and desperate defiance of the world in which they were trapped. Finally, the flames died down, leaving a bed of glowing embers. Asa lay on his side and watched them burn. Noelle had fallen asleep, and he watched her slow, easy breathing. In the warm glow of the flickering light, his eyes lingered over each shadow cast by the soft curves of her body. Suddenly, a spark from an ember shot upward and was drawn into the rising air. Asa watched it disappear, and then his eyes were drawn to two small hooks that had been tapped into the mantel shelf.
A sudden wave of memories washed over him as he remembered those hooks. He glanced into the adjacent room and saw Annie’s piano standing silently in the darkness, and he wondered how long had it been since someone had lifted its cover and brought its lovely sound to life.
Asa closed his eyes and listened; he could almost hear merry laughter and the sound of his father’s deep baritone voice blending with Nate’s tenor as they sang “We Three Kings of Orient Are,” and then he heard his mother’s and Annie’s soprano voices singing “What Child Is This?”. Asa smiled at the memory. As a boy, he had been mesmerized by Annie’s nimble fingers dancing along the keys. Oh, the beautiful sounds she could make! And then there was her Christmas Eve dinner—Rock Cornish hens, one for each of them; sweet potatoes; apricot stuffing; crisp green beans; and pickles that tasted like summer. And the pies! Pumpkin, apple, and sweet pecan with whipped cream—everyone had a “sliver” of each.
With no children of their own, Nate and Annie had lavished gifts on the two sons of their dearest friends. Isaac and Asa had even hung Christmas stockings that Annie had made for them on the hooks on the mantel. The boys would sit on the braided rug in front of the fireplace and pull gift after gift from the bulging stockings—elegantly wrapped Christmas stars, flashlights, pocket knives, matchbox cars, silver dollars, peppermints, strings of red licorice, and, of course, from the toes of the stockings, sweet juicy oranges.
Asa opened his eyes, and as quickly as they had come, his childhood memories disappeared. It seemed an eternity ago that he had sat in this very spot in front of the fire and opened gifts. As a boy, he had been cloaked in the comforting and unconditional love of family and friends. Now, as a young man, he was naked, vulnerable, and no longer worthy of such forgiving love. His sacred childhood memories were tainted by betrayal, desire, and the image of his body intertwined with another. He stared into the flames and wondered if Annie could see him now. Would she ever forgive me? Asa thought of his old friend and for the first time, felt deeply ashamed.
Noelle stirred beside him. She slipped her hand into his, and he felt its warmth. He wanted to never let it go. He looked down and she opened her eyes and stretched.
“Did you sleep?” she asked.
“No, but you did.”
“Mmmm,” she murmured lazily.
“And you let the fire go out.”
“It’s not out,”she said, reaching for him. “See?”
He smiled sheepishly, pushing aside all thoughts of shame, and pulled her close. “You’re right about that. . . .”
57
As the morning sun peeked over the edge of the ocean, Noelle turned to look at Asa, who had finally fallen asleep. She eased away and gently covered him with the soft afghan that was draped over the back of the sofa. Noelle had never asked Nate about the blanket, but she had always surmised that it was Annie’s handiwork.
Slipping on Asa’s shirt, she went into the kitchen to make coffee. While it brewed, she pulled his collar up and breathed in. She loved the smell of his body and the aftershave he wore. She sighed and poured herself a cup of coffee. Cradling the hot cup in her hands, she looked out the kitchen window at the bird feeder. In recent weeks, Noelle had become obsessed with replenishing the feeder. It had even occurred to her that the birds would not survive the winter without her care, but Nate had assured her that there were plenty of year-round residents who kept their feeders filled. As she watched, a pair of cardinals fluttered back and forth between the feeder and a nearby oak tree. In the early light, she noticed another bird in the thicket that she didn’t recognize. It was light gray with a black and white pattern on its wings. It didn’t come to the feeder but just watched the cardinals’ activity. Through the window, she listened to its occasional song and noticed that it was never the same. First it whistled clearly, and then it made harsh, guttural sounds. After that, it sang something entirely different. Puzzled, she returned to the living room in search of Nate’s bird book. When she did, Asa looked up sleepily and smiled.
“Nice shirt.”
“Thanks,” she replied with a grin. “Hey, how are you at identifying birds?”
“Not very good. Why?”
“Well, there’s one out back that I’ve never seen before.”
Asa stood up and folded the blanket. Noelle glanced up from her search and watched him. He neatly laid the blanket on the end of the sofa and turned to find his boxers. As he did, he noticed that she was watching him. He turned his back to her with a grin. “There’s no peeking!” he said, pulling on his shorts.
“Just admiring,” she replied. “By the way, did you want to take a shower?”
“Do you mean with you?” he asked hopefully.
“Well, I hadn’t thought of that, but you never know,” she teased. “What time do you have to be back?”
He came up behind her and put his arms around her. “I was thinking of never going back.”
“That sounds enticing. . . . However . . .” She didn’t finish.
They went into the kitchen, and Asa poured a cup of coffee and looked out into the yard to where Noelle was pointing. “There it is.” She flipped through the bird book, looking for a matching picture. She paused at Gray Catbird, and Asa peered over her shoulder.
He shook his head. “No, that one’s too gray.” Noelle turned the page, and Asa looked at the picture and back out the window. “That’s it!” he said. “Look at the wings.”
Noelle nodded in agreement. “Hmmm, northern mockingbird. I’ve always wondered what a mockingbird looked like.” She started to read out loud: “ ‘Sings its loud, clear, complicated songs almost year-round, even at night in spring and summer.’ ”
Asa took a sip of his coffee and seemed lost in thought. “That’s funny,” he began. “I just read a book called To Kill a Mockingbird. In the book, one of the characters says it’s a sin to kill a mockingbird, because all they do is sing.” Asa looked around for his shoulder bag. “I have it with me. Maybe you’d like to read it.” He found his bag, pulled out the book, ran his hand over the simple light brown cover, and handed it to Noelle. “It was very good.”
Noelle opened the book and skimmed the front leaf. She paused and looked up at him. “I will read it. Thanks.” Putting it down on the counter, she added, “But now, as much as I would love for you to stay, we really have to think about getting you back to school.” She hesitated. “I was going home today anyway, so I can give you a ride to the station. Do you know the bus schedule?”
