Chapter 48 - WAITING

Liz didn't know what to think. She felt like a helpless pawn in someone's game, and she'd struggled most of her life not to be cast as the helpless little woman. She'd fought for her intellectual independence and proven herself at Radcliffe. Then she'd chosen an equal partnership with another independent spirit, and stepped off the professional highroad of her class to work in the trenches of public education. Teaching in a rural high school put callouses on most of her soft and squishy places, and the hand-to-mouth economics of Smithport had toughened her, taught her how to be a survivor. But the past 24 hours made her doubt herself, and she didn't like it.

That a man like Walker could stomp in in his fancy boots and kick holes in her world was a shock. Now she was terrified to think what those gangsters might do to her little boy. When Dunk's warning had come down the wind she and Caldwell fled into the fog, but not before she caught a glimpse of Marianne in Sum's boat, and she feared the worst for her cousin and Jesse. Being shot at had chilled her.

Caldwell throttled down the whaler as soon as they realized nobody was chasing them. They listened intently for sounds of pursuit, but all they could hear was the mewling of gulls and the beating of waves on the outside of Little Spruce. Caldwell obviously didn't know what to do next, and Liz was even more convinced he was a weak reed.

She'd had plenty of time to size him up. Liz had seen Caldwell at his worst under Walker's sway, and he'd somewhat redeemed himself by helping in her escape, but she questioned how far he would have gone if Dunk hadn't been there. Sitting together in the fog waiting for Sumner to come, they'd shared stories. Liz realized how far she'd come from the sheltered world of Andover and the comfortable middle class.

Caldwell had made a lot of the same choices she and Sum had. He'd left the Main Line for a life in Maine, stepped off the ladder and the treadmill, given up on "success" and "advancement." But Caldwell's leap had been cushioned by family money, where Liz and Sum had had to scrabble for subsistence.

Sum's father had taken a calculated risk when Sum proved to be a star student in his local school. As manager of the fish plant in Prospect Harbor, Sumner's father knew the advantages of class connections, and he'd encouraged his son's intellectual aspirations with an eye to giving Sum a leg up onto the class ladder. When Sum aced the prep school qualifying exams, and it was apparent he could go anywhere he chose, Sum's father had taken out a mortgage on the family property, and paid full tuition for his son at Andover. Although he didn't know how the games were played there, he, rightly, suspected that scholarships came with a certain taint. But he never said a word to his son about the money.

Sumner had made his own mistakes. One of which was valuing relationships over personal success, which was why Liz had fallen for him over all his aspiring classmates. But he'd blown his chance at the golden ring by getting thrown out of Andover, and compounded it by turning his back on the whole game. His father's disappointment had grown into a wall between them, and Sumner had had to make his own way ever since he left prep school.

Caldwell had lived a golden life, by comparison. For all his air of being downhome, Caldwell still enjoyed all the trappings of affluence.. although Liz gathered that he'd pissed away a good bit of his inheritance. Where Sum had tried all the drugs in the 60's, he'd never acquired the habits of dependence, as much because he couldn't afford to as because of his temperament. Besides which, even marijuana wasn't readily accessible in Smithport. Caldwell, Liz understood, had gotten into the coke lifestyle pretty heavy, and his girlfriend was a serious user. Caldwell talked a good line against toot this week, but she had her doubts.

When he shut off the motor in the mist outside Bunker's Hole, Liz understood that Caldwell had been drifting in the fog for a long time, and she couldn't rely on him to find their way.

"If Sum is coming, rushing out to find him could only slow him down," she reasoned to herself.

"Could you find the way to town?" Liz asked.

Caldwell shook his head. "I'm not sure," he replied. "I left my compass on BALI. I'd guess I could find the shore over there," he nodded toward the mainland, "and we could follow it around."

"But you couldn't cut any corners?" she asked. Caldwell shook his head sadly.

"So we couldn't intercept anyone headed this way," she reasoned aloud. They couldn't just go back into the Hole and try to find out what was happening. Out here they could hear any comings and goings, at least. Much as she wanted to rush and do something.. she shrugged.

"I think we should stay put, until something happens," she announced. "But we should get out of the road. Let's go find a place to hide along the island," she decided.

Caldwell started the motor, and they went searching for a hideout. It wasn't as easy as it sounded. The outer shores of Rogue and Little Spruce were both steep-to walls of granite, but they eventually found a guzzle between two high ledges off Rogue, near the side door. While Caldwell held the whaler in place by tying the bow line to some rockweed, Liz slipped and struggled up the ledges, trying to get a sense of the geography. Sitting still while Jesse was in danger was mortifying, but it was what she had to do. Liz set her jaw and waited. Fifteen minutes stretched into a half hour.
Caldwell had said how the fog reminded him of zen poetry, and she tried to remember some haiku she'd read in college. Liz gritted her teeth. "I'll never be a Buddhist," she declared.

Caldwell noticed the shift in wind and light before Liz did. The fog was streaming over them at a different angle now. When the brightness went out of the mist he expected the worst. He'd been caught out in clearing squalls on too many summer afternoons not to recognize the signs.

"Liz," he called, "maybe you better get down here. I think we've got a blow comin."

Liz started down the rocks, slipped, landed on a patch of weed, soaking her butt, then slid and scrambled down into the whaler. Caldwell's instincts were right. A roll of thunder came grumbling through the fog from upwind. Along with it came the rising sound of a big fishboat coming at them full throttle. Faint at first, the blast of the big diesel soon filled the air.

"Could be Sonny's boat," Liz said. "Let's get out in the channel and hail it. Caldwell cast off the rockweed, reversed the whaler out into the deeper water, and they were just coming out from between the ledges when the SUZY-Q roared into clarity out the darkening murk. A flash of lightening lit the sky behind her.