Free A Shoot on Martha's Vineyard by Philip R. Craig

along.”
    Joshua and Zee went into the house.
    â€œThanks a lot for the tour,” said Mondry to me.
    â€œThere’s more you haven’t seen. The Vineyard doesn’t look very big on maps, but not many people, including me, have seen all of it.”
    â€œWill you show more of it to me?”
    â€œSure.”
    â€œAnd you’ll find a helicopter?” “Sure.”
    â€œGreat.” He hesitated. “And there’s one thing more.” “What’s that?”
    He hesitated again, then said, “I want your permission to take your wife out to lunch. I want to talk to her about—”
    He stopped as I held up a hand.
    â€œYou don’t need my permission to talk to Zee. She’s my wife, not my property. If you want to ask her to lunch, ask her, not me.”
    He opened his mouth, then closed it. Then he opened it again. “I just want to do this right. I don’t want to go behind your back.”
    I wondered what my face was showing him. “I appreciate that,” I said, “but Zee is her own boss and decides what she’ll do or won’t do. I don’t own slaves.”
    â€œBut she’s your wife. Don’t you care what she does?”
    I cared. “I want her to be happy. If having lunch withyou makes her happy, I want her to have lunch with you. But she decides, not me.”
    He stared at me. “Are you sure about this?”
    â€œI’m sure.”
    â€œWell, then, I’ll give her a call. Is this going to prevent you from showing me the island? I don’t want you to feel that—”
    â€œThe one thing has nothing to do with the other.” He took a deep breath and nodded. “Tomorrow morning, then?” “I’ll be here.”
    He drove away, and I went into the house. One of my demons was the desire to keep Zee only to myself. There were other devils in me, but none were stronger than that one. Had I believed in God, I would have prayed daily to keep the imp in check; sometimes I prayed anyway.

— 8 —
    Joshua was nodding on my lap and I was sitting on the balcony with Zee. Across Sengekontacket Pond, car lights were moving back and forth along the road on the barrier beach between Edgartown and Oak Bluffs. Beyond them, on the far side of Nantucket Sound, the lights on Cape Cod gleamed at us, and to the southeast we could see Cape Pogue light. Above us, the summer stars glittered and the Milky Way arched from horizon to horizon. There was a soft wind that made the trees sigh and brought us the sounds of night birds and other nocturnal creatures.
    Zee’s hand found my knee. “How’s the heir?”
    â€œThe heir is almost asleep. He’s a sweetheart, just like his old man. Never gives anybody any trouble.”
    â€œThat’s odd. I thought you were his father.” Zee’s fingers gave me a sharp squeeze. “What happened up there in Gay Head?”
    I told her.
    She sighed. “Men!”
    â€œLet’s have no sexist remarks,” I said. “Remember Zenobia and Boadicea and Morgan le Fey and those other killer women. All I did was dunk Loathsome Lawrence in the drink.”
    â€œMorgan le Fey was fiction.”
    â€œHow about Ma Barker, then? Or Belle Starr? Don’t give me this ’men are violent, but women are sugar and spice’ stuff.”
    She snuggled nearer. “But I’m a woman and I’m sugarand spice. I know you can’t see them, but I’m fluttering my eyelashes even as I speak.”
    I got one arm loose from now snoozing Joshua and put it around her. “Any woman with fluttering eyelashes can wrap me around her finger.”
    We looked at the stars for a while, and I felt good, with Joshua in one arm and Zee in the other. After a while, we went downstairs and put the lad in bed.
    Zee beamed down at him. “It’s hard to believe that he’ll ever be a terrible two.”
    â€œI was never a terrible