“Don’t you know Renys? On the road to Camden. It’s like—it’s sort of like a department store. They sell everything under the sun, at great prices too.” She points. “Thataway.”
“Oh,” says Kristie. “Camden. Thank you. But that’s too far. I don’t have a car. I can only work at places I can walk to or maybe bike.”
“Bus goes right by there.” The manager shrugs. “Up to you, of course. But if you go, ask for Diana, and tell her Mary sent you.”
“Mary,” she said. “Diana. Renys. Got it. Thanks.” She needs to get to Renys before some other fired server gets there, so she treats herself to an Uber. Twenty-five minutes after she walks in, she walks out with a job. “Okay,” she tells her belly. “Okay, little guy or girl. This is something. It won’t be what we were making at the restaurant, but it’s something.”
She calls another Uber and puts her address in the app. After this, no more Ubers.
“Linden Street?” says the driver.
“Yes.” Kristie roots around in her backpack; all of this excitement has made her thirsty. She imagines her little pomegranate seed is thirsty too. She drinks until all of the water in the bottle is gone, and then she unzips the small front pocket and sees the small pad of paper and pen she keeps there for emergencies.
“You know what?” she tells the Uber driver. “Change in plans. Can you take me out to Owls Head, please? I’m going to give you an address, but I’d like you to drop me before you turn off the main road.”
“Put the new address in the app,” says the driver.
Kristie puts the new address in the app. She starts writing.
After she walks down the dirt road and approaches the house her eyes fall on the flower garden where Danny once showed her the peonies. Their bloom time has come and gone, but now there’s a crowd of other colors: oranges and yellows, some reds. Daises are the only ones she recognizes. In the middle of it all is an old man in a hat. Every so often a handful of something—weeds, Kristie supposes, or hopes—flies out of the garden and lands on or near a large sheet spread out on the grass. Well, there he is. The man himself. Your Honor. His honor. Kristie’s honor. She’s gripping the note in her right hand; she worries that the sweat from her hands will make the ink run, so she puts it in the back pocket of her interview pants.
Just as she gets close to the garden: “Hey!” A woman comes marching down the steps that lead from the long back porch to the grass. “Excuse me there. What do you think you’re doing?” The woman has a long, half-gray braid and a wicked scowl. This must be Pauline, who Kristie knows from Danny cooks for the family.“Chief, you don’t know this person, do you?” She has a deep crater in the center of her forehead, and frown lines around her mouth.
“I do,” he says. “Yes, I believe I do.” He looks wonderingly backand forth from Kristie to Pauline. “It’s Louisa, isn’t it?” He’s wearing sunglasses along with the hat, so it’s hard to read his expression, or even see much of his face.
“No,” says Pauline gently, her face relaxing and softening. “No, Louisa is inside with the children. I don’t think you know this woman. I think she might be bothering you.” She looks sternly at Kristie. “I don’t know what it is you’re selling, the Good Book or the Good News or whatever it is—”
“Oh, not that,” says Kristie. This woman thinks she’s a Jehovah’s Witness! They used to get them going door to door in Pennsylvania. “No, I’m not here to—I just wanted to...” Words elude her, and she shoves her hand in her pocket, reaching for the note. She has to leave the note.
“Whatever you’re selling, we’re not buying it. And this man has Alzheimer’s. He is innocondition to talk to strangers.”
Time slows down. Kristie looks out at the water. A speck of a sailboat glides by. Closer, a kayak. She can see the breakwater and the lighthouse and the buildings of Rockland. She can almost see the deck at Archer’s with the pier reaching out like a finger. It’s low tide; the expanse of rocks between the yard and the water is covered with seaweed. Far, far off is a stately white vessel that Kristie knows now is the ferry to Vinalhaven.
She looks back at the man in the garden. She’s too late. All the time, all the effort it took to get here, and she’s too late. Her heart is a stone, sinking, sinking to the bottom of her body. She has come too late.
Then she feels a touch on her shoulder. And then: “How’d you know I’d be here?”Danny. Her palms are sweating even more now. Danny isn’t at the house in Rockport with the red horse chestnuts. Danny is right here. “How’d you know I’d be done with the trees?”
“The trees!” Kristie pivots, and feigns frustration with herself. “I forgot all about the trees. I figured you’d be here—because you’re always here.”
Danny smiles. “Pauline, this here’s my beloved, Kristie. Kristie, Pauline.” He puts his arm around Kristie. He smells like sweat and freshly mown grass. “We were done with the trees early, and Mrs. Fitzgerald let me know that there were a few jobs here at the house if I wanted. So here I am!”
“Here you are!” says Kristie. “I wanted to tell you my good news right away. I got a job, at Renys.”
The way Danny reacts to this Kristie might have told him she’d won an all-expenses-paid cruise around the Greek Islands and she’s chosenhimto be her plus-one. He picks her up—picks herup!—and swings her around once before setting her back down. She worries he might do a handstand or a heel click. “Look away if you don’t want to see me kiss my beloved, Pauline,” says Danny, and he gives Kristie a kiss so deep and searching that, when they pull apart, Kristie knows she is blushing.
“I should introduce you to the Chief, while you’re here,” says Danny. “Chief, Kristie. Kristie, the Honorable Martin Fitzgerald.” To Kristie he says, “The Chief likes to help me out with some weeding every now and then.”
“Keeps him busy,” says Pauline. “Out of trouble.” To the judge she says, “Barbara’ll be here at two o’clock, okay, Chief?”
“Okay.” The Chief looks up and meets Kristie’s gaze. His expression is vacant and pleasant. “Thank you for coming,” he says.
“If you can wait twenty minutes,” says Danny. “I’ll drive you home.”
“You never said it wasAlzheimer’sthat Judge Fitzgerald has,” says Kristie later. “You just said he was sick.” She’s trying to keep the accusation out of her voice but she knows a jagged edge of it is breaking through.
Danny shrugs. “Honestly I’m not sure I even knew for certain. It’s not like they keep me in the loop. I’m just the help.” He grins. “All I know is that they need alotof help and I am here for it.”
19.
