Brunonia Barry - The Map of True Places

She watched as people came in to get their coffee, then left again. She wondered about their lives. Mothers walking kids to school, people rushing to work, life as usual, as if nothing alarming were happening, had happened. She wondered about the unfulfilled dreams of the young mother who sat across from her, then realized she hadn’t wondered about anyone for a while. She thought about Finch, and a twinge of something went through her. It took a moment for her to realize what the feeling was. Longing, she thought. It was longing.

When she finished her coffee, Zee went back inside and asked if she could use the phone to make a collect call. She dialed Mattei’s office number and left a message. Then she bought Melville a pumpkin latte and Bowditch a coffee-flavored scone and walked back to the inn.

Bowditch was in Melville’s room.

“Our boy was worried about you,” he said. Both Melville and Bowditch looked relieved to see her.

“Sorry,” she said. Then, hoping to make it better, “I brought coffee.” She handed the latte to Melville and put the scone in Bowditch’s bowl.

Bowditch did as much of a dance as a thirteen-year-old basset hound can manage.

She could see Melville watching her. Something had definitely changed.

“How are you doing?” he asked.

“Okay,” she said.

They sat sipping their coffee and watching the sunlight play off the water in the harbor. From here you could see Melville’s boat, still at the mooring where they’d left it.

“It’s almost Halloween,” she said.

“That it is,” he said. “Salem is the place to be on Halloween,” she said. “Very true,” he said.

They sat silently for a few more minutes. “Let’s go home,” she said.

If one knows the latitude of home port and can locate the North Star and keep it at a constant angle, it is possible simply to sail down the latitudes to find the way home.

THE HOUSE ON BAKER’S Island had just been opened for the season. Zee had packed away her mother’s chenille bedspread in the old cedar trunk. She would want to see it again one day, but not now. Today she was having a party on the island.

She’d spent most of the year in Boston, back working again, but only part-time. On weekends she’d been volunteering on Yellow Dog Island, counseling some of the women and children who had been so badly abused. She was good at it. She’d just received an offer of full-time employment from May Whitney, who ran the shelter out there, and she was seriously considering it.

Zee made herself a list of things she’d forgotten to pick up for the party and headed into town, leaving the door open for any guests who arrived early and a welcoming note on the table.

She and Melville were going to see Finch. There was a Memorial Day party at the nursing home today, an event that was doubling as a going-away party for Finch, who would be coming home next week. He didn’t know her name anymore. Didn’t know Melville either. He thought that Melville was someone who worked at the nursing home, someone who came to read to him every afternoon, almost always from Hawthorne, though lately he’d begun to favor Emerson and the other Transcendentalists, who seemed more cheerful to Finch than Hawthorne and seemed to make him happier.

When Melville suggested to them both, as he was visiting one afternoon, that Finch could probably go home if Zee would hire Melville as a full-time caregiver, Finch jumped at the chance. He wasn’t sure where home was, not anymore, but he was certain it was somewhere he’d like to go, and especially if his caregiver was coming along. He remembered something about a big house with a gabled roof and a cat named Dusty. And he seemed to remember a rooster as well.

That he clearly loved his new caregiver was apparent to anyone who watched him light up in Melville’s presence. The staff at the nursing home had been happily surprised by Finch’s improvement under Melville’s care. Though they knew it wasn’t the best practical decision, there had been no one who disagreed with the decision to take him home as long as he would be cared for by such an attentive home health aide.

The plan was for Melville to move back into the house, pretending he was a hired caregiver, with Jessina as daytime help so that Melville could keep his job, which he did only at Zee’s insistence.

Finch hadn’t been able to use his walker again; he was in a wheel-chair permanently now. Zee knew only too well what a toll the role of full-time caregiver could take, and she wasn’t about to let Melville do it alone. That was the deal, take it or leave it, she said. “You’re as much a father to me as Finch is,” she said. “I need you to be around.”

Melville took the deal.

Today they said prayers for the veterans of World War II, many of whom were residents of the nursing home, and for Vietnam and Gulf War vets as well as for the soldiers now fighting in Iraq and Afghanistan. They sang “God Bless America” and drank ginger ale and ate cake that was decorated with red, white, and blue sugar. Zee drank the ginger ale but passed on the cake.

When Finch fell asleep, they wheeled him back to his room and helped him into bed. They kissed his forehead and walked out together. He opened his eyes and smiled at Melville.

Zee picked up a few last things for the party. Since Mickey’s boat was too small for more than two people, Melville had loaned him the lobster boat. This way Mickey could transport most of the guests out to Zee’s party on Baker’s Island. Zee and Melville planned to take the water shuttle out to the island when Finch’s event was over.

They waited for the water shuttle for almost an hour. When she couldn’t stand it any longer, Zee turned to Melville. “Come on,” she said.

She drove back to Derby Wharf and parked in Mickey’s space. Then she went to the slip where the dory was kept.

“Please tell me we’re not taking the dory,” Melville said.

“Why not?” Zee said. She’d taken the dory many times.

“Because it’s a heap of junk, to say nothing of Mickey’s elaborate security system.” Melville pointed to the wires and ropes and padlocks.

“Piece of cake,” Zee said.

She had the boat unlocked in less than a minute. Then she shorted the wires to start the engine.

“Get in,” she said to Melville.

“I don’t believe this,” he said. “You’re back to stealing boats.” But he was smiling.

MELVILLE WATCHED ZEE AT THE controls, guiding the dory out over calm waters. About two-thirds of the way out, the motor coughed and died.

She choked the engine, tried several times to restart it, but it was dead.

“Damn,” he said. “He never did take decent care of this thing.”

He was looking around for someone to flag down when Zee started to row.

“You don’t need to do that,” he said.

“It’s okay,” she said, liking the idea. “It’ll be fun.”

He started to protest, but she was so into the idea that he just let it go. “Let me know when you want me to spell you,” he said.

It took her more than an hour and a half, but she never asked him to take over. Melville put his head back and closed his eyes, enjoying the sun.

When they finally got to the wharf, Mickey and Ann were waiting.

“You stole my goddamned boat!” Mickey said. “I didn’t tell you that you could take my boat.”

“Why were you rowing?” Ann asked.

“Your goddamned boat’s engine broke down,” Melville said.

“No way,” Mickey said, climbing in to see for himself.

“The water taxi didn’t show up,” Zee said to Ann. “So we borrowed Mickey’s dory.”

Ann nodded, amused.

“Where is he?” Zee asked, looking up at the house.