Free Western Wind by Paula Fox Page A

heft it and dump it from deck to dock.
    Jake looked much older than Gran. A black watch cap covered his head. His dark blue sweatshirt was spotted with paint stains. Elizabeth noted the much-knotted laundry string that threaded the eyelets of his old-fashioned sneakers. An unlit cigarette hung from the corner of his mouth.
    â€œI don’t see my eggplant,” complained Mrs. Herkimer.
    â€œI couldn’t find none,” Jake said, the cigarette bobbing as he spoke. “Eggplant shortage all over the state of Maine.” Mrs. Herkimer looked offended.
    Aaron darted to Elizabeth’s side. “Come and get me as soon as you can,” he said. “We’ll go to the cemetery.”
    â€œWhen I’m able to,” she said with a touch of irritation. He would gobble up all her time if she let him. He was watching her face closely.
    â€œPlease,” he asked mournfully.
    â€œOkay. In a while,” she said.
    The Herkimers were trailing across the meadow with their supplies. Jake Holborn came over to Gran. “This is your grandchild?” he asked, staring at Elizabeth.
    â€œIndeed she is,” Gran replied.
    â€œLooks like you in a way,” he said. “Greeley, help these folks take their stuff to the cottage.”
    â€œWould you like a cup of tea, Jake?” Gran asked.
    â€œNo time today, Cora. I’ve got two more islands. Some new people over at Staghead with what looks to be about twenty kids.”
    â€œI’ve nearly finished the drawing of El Sueño ,” Gran told him. “I’ll have it for you next trip.”
    The old man’s face lit up with his smile, and the cigarette fell out of his mouth. He caught it with his spotty, gnarled hand. “That’ll be nice,” he said. “A comfort when winter comes.”
    Later, after he and the silent Greeley had chugged out of the cove, and Gran was putting away groceries, Elizabeth asked to see the drawing. Gran went to look among her canvasses and sketchbooks. She found what she was searching for and handed it to Elizabeth.
    Taped to a pasteboard was a drawing of El Sueño, Jake in his watch cap standing on the deck.
    â€œSomeone in Molytown actually owns the launch,” Gran explained. “But Jake can’t help but feel it’s his. He’s been running the service to the islands for thirty years. I know he’s scared about how much longer he can manage. He asked me to take a few snapshots of the launch. I decided to do a drawing, too.”
    â€œDoes he have children?”
    â€œNone. He’s alone.”
    â€œAaron asked me to go with him to the cemetery again.”
    â€œDo you want to? You’re not obliged, you know.”
    â€œI like him all right, but not feeling I have to spend time with him.”
    â€œIt’s up to you, Elizabeth. Maybe you can be a substitute sister. One of these days, Deirdre might stop being horrible. I’m going to work now. You can have a big lunch today. Fresh eggs, tomatoes, Swiss cheese, among other good things.”
    Gran went across the room into her work territory. It was as if she had left the cottage.
    Elizabeth went to her room and opened To Kill a Mockingbird. But she couldn’t concentrate. Her glance strayed to the windows. She caught sight of the sparkle of water, the dark vigorous green of pine boughs. She didn’t see how she was going to get through two novels before school began. She used to read all the time. This last year, something had changed. Every book was a heavy weight. She was struck by an idea. She could read one of them to Aaron.
    After looking at the first chapters, she decided the Hemingway story might hold Aaron’s attention. Short sentences for short boys, she told herself.
    After she’d made a sandwich and eaten it, she left the cottage. Gran didn’t look up as Elizabeth went out the door.
    The island looked washed clean, as if the tide had risen to cover it briefly, then left