Summer of '69(88)
Kate nearly pushed and said, Later when? How about tonight at eight o’clock?, but she couldn’t bear to hear him say that eight o’clock wouldn’t work, that no time would work, because the issue wasn’t that he was busy; he was always busy. It was that he didn’t want to talk to Kate at all.
Her problems, she realizes, are all interconnected. Since she’s not allowed to throw Bill Crimmins out, she might persuade him to believe that he’s staying due to her good graces as long as he continues to pressure his brother-in-law for information about Tiger. Part of Kate clings to the idea that this mission in Cambodia—blocking the flow of supplies to the Vietcong—is less dangerous than combat in Vietnam, but who is she kidding? It’s all dangerous. Once she has a reliable source confirming that Tiger is, at least, safe, Kate can stop numbing herself with alcohol and she will be restored to David’s favor.
Kate catches Bill bright and early on his way out to his pickup truck, which he parks on Plumb Lane, and says, “I’m sorry about my temper the other day, Bill. I was distraught about Tiger…”
Bill softens immediately; she can see forgiveness in his face. He is a good man, and Exalta is right, he has placed himself in service to this house and their family for over three decades. That Kate now harbors some anger and resentment toward Bill Crimmins and, worse, that she feels disillusioned by him is breaking her heart along with everything else in her life.
Bill puts a hand on her shoulder. “I understand, Katie. I’ve lost a child myself.”
Kate nearly says, You have? She wonders if maybe Bill’s wife, who died so long ago that Kate never knew her, lost a baby. But then she realizes he means Lorraine and she nearly growls at him.
Lorraine isn’t lost the way Tiger is lost. Comparing them is nothing short of offensive, but Kate will let it go. She supposes that, regardless of the circumstances, Bill must miss his daughter.
“I’m happy to let you and…Pick stay,” Kate says. The child’s name sticks like a fishbone in her throat. “Stay for as long as you need, of course. It was cruel of me to pull the rug out from under you. But if you would please continue to pursue your brother-in-law for any news he has about Tiger…”
“Of course,” Bill says. His eyes shine. “I miss him too, Katie. I think of him like one of my own.”
There’s a lot of emotional distance between having a child of one’s own and thinking of a child as one’s own, although Bill has known Tiger since he was born and they were always close. They both love the Red Sox and tinkering with cars. Would Tiger trust Bill Crimmins with his life? Probably, Kate has to admit.
“Thank you,” she whispers.
There is one other action she can take to fix the mess she finds herself in. Something previously unthinkable. Once Jessie and Exalta leave for the club, Kate secures a scarf over her hair, puts on her sunglasses, and climbs into the Scout.
Up the cobblestones of Main Street she goes; it feels like being inside a cocktail shaker. Kate rumbles around the Civil War monument and along Upper Main. She passes her two favorite houses. They both back onto the grassy fields that border Quarter Mile Hill. One is rustic and barn-like with crisscross ironwork over the wavy leaded-glass windows; the other is a luscious white confection that features a front portico with Ionic columns and two glassed-in porches. These homes are the best mix of town and country and Kate fantasizes about telling Exalta that she has bought a house on Upper Main, the only address that would qualify in everyone’s mind as superior to Fair. But alas, Kate doesn’t have that kind of money and those houses stay in families for five or six or ten generations.
At the flagpole at Caton Circle, Kate checks her watch—four minutes. Four minutes isn’t so bad. But she’s still quite a distance from her destination.
She drives out Madaket Road. The Chase Barn is on the left, but after that, homes are few and far between. Still, it’s a lovely ride, isn’t it? On the right, Maxcy Pond glitters like a mirror, and then Kate sails up to the top of the hill to overlook the rolling green acres of Sanford Farm. There are twenty-seven curves on Madaket Road; Kate wonders what it would be like to drive them in the dark after a few cocktails.
All the way out at the end of the road is the hamlet of Madaket. Madaket Millie lives in one of the cottages out here on Hither Creek; she’s the closest thing Nantucket has to a folk hero. She served as a coastal-defense specialist in World War II and spent long hours watching for ships in distress and German U-boats. It’s well known that she’s curmudgeonly and will befriend only children, animals, and her Madaket neighbors. Kate considers introducing herself to Madaket Millie and inviting her to lunch at the Field and Oar Club. This feels like a radical idea, but is it? Bitsy Dunscombe will likely never speak to Kate again; Kate could use a new friend to replace her, so why not Madaket Millie?
The island is much bigger than she realized.
Kate turns left at the first unmarked dirt road after the harbor, Massasoit Bridge Road. She cruises over the eponymous bridge and checks her watch—sixteen minutes from town. When Massasoit Bridge Road dead-ends, Kate turns left and immediately spies the structure that originally gave Red Barn Road its name. The barn is faded to a dusty pink and part of the roof is caving in. It’s no longer in use but it retains a certain charm; Andrew Wyeth might have painted this barn, with the flat, windswept acres behind it and the ocean in front.