Elizabeth Gilbert - Stern Men

“How far have you read?”

“Just the first chapter.”

“Oh. I thought you might like it because of the nice color illustrations. Lots of photographs of lost treasures. Did you see those? Did you see those pictures of the Fabergé eggs? I thought you’d like those.”

“If there are photographs of the objects, Ruth, then they aren’t really lost. Now, are they?”

“Well, Senator, I see what you mean. But the photographs are pictures of lost treasures that regular people already found, on their own. Like that guy who found the Paul Revere goblet. Did you get to that part yet?”

“Ah, not yet,” the Senator said. He was shading his eyes and looking out over the mudflats. “I think it’s going to rain. I hope it doesn’t, because Webster won’t come in when it rains. He’s already got a terrible cold. You should hear his chest rattle.”

Ruth took the book from the Senator. She said, “I saw a part in here-where is it? It says a kid found a marker in California that Sir Francis Drake left. It was made of iron, and it claimed the land as belonging to Queen Elizabeth. It had been there for, like, three centuries.”

“Isn’t that something?”

Ruth offered the Senator a stick of chewing gum. He refused it, so she chewed it herself. “The author says the greatest site of buried treasure anywhere in the world is on Cocos Island.”

“That’s what your book says?”

“It’s your book, Senator. I was thumbing through it when I was coming back from Concord and I saw that thing about Cocos Island. The author says Cocos Island is a real bonanza for people looking for buried treasure. She says Captain James Cook stopped at Cocos Island all the time with loot. The great circumnavigator!

“The great circumnavigator.”

“So did the pirate Benito Bonito. So did Captain Richard Davis and the pirate Jean Lafitte. I thought you’d be interested…”

“Oh, I am interested, Ruth.”

“You know what I thought you’d be interested in? About Cocos Island, I mean? The island is only about as big as Fort Niles. How about that? Wouldn’t that be ironic? Wouldn’t you be right at home there? And with all that buried treasure to find. You and Webster could go there and dig it up together. How about that, Senator?”

It started to rain, big heavy drops.

“I bet the weather’s better on Cocos Island, anyhow,” she said, and laughed.

The Senator said, “Oh, Ruth, we’re not going anywhere, Webster and I. You know that. You shouldn’t say such things, even as a joke.”

Ruth was stung. She recovered and said, “I’m sure you two would come home rich as kings if you ever got to Cocos Island.”

He did not reply.

She wondered why she was pursuing this. Christ, how desperate she sounded. How starved for conversation. It was pathetic, but she missed sitting on the beach with the Senator for hours and hours of uninterrupted drivel, and she wasn’t used to being ignored by him. She was suddenly jealous of Webster Pommeroy for getting all the attention. That’s when she really started to feel pathetic. She stood and pulled up the hood of her jacket and asked, “Are you coming in?”

“It’s up to Webster. I don’t think he’s noticed that it’s raining.”

“You don’t have a waterproof jacket on, do you? Do you want me to get you one?”

“I’m fine.”

“You and Webster should both come in before you get soaked.”

“Sometimes Webster comes in when it rains, but sometimes he stays out there and gets wetter and wetter. It depends on his mood. I guess I’ll stay until he wants to come in. I’ve got sheets on the line at home, Ruth. Would you take them in for me before they get wet?”

The rain was coming down now at a fast, slicing pace.

“I think the sheets are already wet, Senator.”

“You’re probably right. Forget it.”

Ruth ran back to Mrs. Pommeroy’s house through the rain, which was now pounding down. She found Mrs. Pommeroy with her sister Kitty, upstairs in the big bedroom, pulling clothes out of the closet. Kitty, watching her sister, was sitting on the bed. She was drinking coffee, which Ruth knew to be spiked with gin. Ruth rolled her eyes. She was getting fed up with Kitty’s drinking.

“I should just sew something new,” Mrs. Pommeroy was saying. “But I don’t have the time!” Then, “There’s my Ruth. Oh, you’re soaking wet.”

“What are you doing?”

“Looking for a pretty dress.”

“What’s the occasion?”

“I’ve been invited somewhere.”

“Where?” Ruth asked.

Kitty Pommeroy started laughing, followed by Mrs. Pommeroy.

“Ruth,” she said, “you’ll never believe it. We’re going to a wedding on Courne Haven. Tomorrow!”

“Tell her who said so!” Kitty Pommeroy shouted.

“Pastor Wishnell!” Mrs. Pommeroy said. “He’s invited us over.”

“Get out of here.”

“I am getting out of here!”

“You and Kitty are going to Courne Haven?”

“Sure. And you, too.”

“Me?”

“He wants you there. Babe Wishnell’s daughter is getting married, and I’m doing her hair! And you two are my helpers. We’re going to open a little temporary salon.”

“Well, la-di-dah,” Ruth said.

“Exactly,” said Mrs. Pommeroy.

That night, Ruth asked her father whether she could go to Courne Haven for a big Wishnell wedding. He did not answer right away. They were talking less and less lately, the father and daughter.

“Pastor Wishnell invited me,” she said.

“Do whatever you want,” Stan Thomas said. “I don’t care who you spend your time with.”

Pastor Wishnell sent Owney to pick up everyone the next day, which was Saturday. At seven in the morning of Dotty Wishnell and Charlie Burden’s wedding, Mrs. Pommeroy and Kitty Pommeroy and Ruth Thomas walked to the end of the dock and found Owney waiting for them. He rowed Kitty and Mrs. Pommeroy out to the New Hope. Ruth enjoyed watching him. He came back for her, and she climbed down the ladder and hopped into his rowboat. He was looking at the bottom of the boat, not at her, and Ruth could not think of a single thing to say to him. But she did like looking at him. He rowed toward his uncle’s gleaming mission boat, where Mrs. Pommeroy and Kitty, leaning over the rail, were waving like tourists on a cruise. Kitty shouted, “Looking good, kid!”

“How’s everything going?” Ruth asked Owney.

He was so startled by her question that he stopped rowing; he just let the oars sit on the water.

“I’m fine,” he said. He was staring at her. He wasn’t blushing, and he didn’t seem embarrassed.

“Good,” said Ruth.

They bobbed on the water for a moment.

“I’m fine, too,” said Ruth.

“OK,” said Owney.

“You can keep rowing if you want.”

“OK,” said Owney, and he started to row again.

“Are you related to the bride?” Ruth asked, and Owney stopped rowing.

“She’s my cousin,” Owney said. They bobbed on the water.

“You can row and talk to me at the same time,” Ruth said, and now Owney did blush. He took her out to the boat without saying another word.

“He’s cute,” Mrs. Pommeroy whispered to Ruth when she climbed onto the deck of the New Hope.

“Look who’s here!” Kitty Pommeroy shrieked, and Ruth turned around to see Cal Cooley stepping out of the captain’s bridge.

Ruth let out a scream of horror that was only partly a joke. “For God’s sake,” she said. “He’s everywhere.”

Kitty threw her arms around her old lover, and Cal extricated himself. “That’s quite enough.”

“What the hell are you doing here?” Ruth asked.

“Supervising,” Cal said. “And nice to see you, too.”