Part 29 (1/2)

”I'll bite,” Tom said. ”Who?”

”The man who invented the wheelbarrow and got the Irish up on their hind legs.”

”Oh, G.o.d,” Deirdre said. ”Not that old wheezer.”

Eddie came back, shut off the engine, and rearranged them in pairs. May with Tom, Deirdre with JB, Elsie with Tran.

It was satisfying, more satisfying than weeding Miss Perry's garden. Deeply satisfying to probe with the crowbar and find the edges of a big rock. Dig under it and then have at it with the bar. If it didn't budge, Tran would get another crowbar and the two of them would pry at it until it tore loose from the earth. All shapes and sizes. Some the size of a loaf of bread, some as big as a car tire. Elsie probed around one that turned out to be long and narrow, a piece of granite shaped like a mummy sleeping bag, the foot end angling up. Eddie dumped a load and came back. He lowered a corner of the front scoop under the lip of rock that Elsie had dug free. He drove forward a half foot, gave a delicate pull on the hydraulic control. The rock tipped up a few inches. Eddie yelled, ”Oh, boy! You found the granddaddy!” Another grunt of the engine, another twitch on the hydraulic, and another and then another, until the rock reared up as tall as a man. They all stood admiring it, admiring Eddie, admiring themselves-looking back and admiring their wake of trampled gra.s.s and empty pockets of dark earth.

Eddie shut off the engine. ”I thought for sure she'd break in two. Let's eat lunch and think what to do with her. Won't fit in the bucket. Maybe put a chain on her and drag her. Make a h.e.l.l of a tombstone.”

They sat in the shade and ate their sandwiches and drank from their thermoses. Elsie was savagely hungry and thirsty. She should've brought two sandwiches.

May said, ”Is Rose going to come?”

”She said she would,” Elsie said. ”She's sleeping in. She had a show last night. Deirdre left her a map.”

”That's good,” May said. ”Thank you, Deirdre.”

Eddie came back from walking around and shaking his legs out. He said to Deirdre, ”I see you got a ball on the back of your jeep. I should've thought of that. You think you could go back to my place and hitch up a wagon? We could put the little rocks in it. Save me going back and forth with the tractor every ten minutes.”

”Sure. I'll pick up Rose on the way.”

”You might see if d.i.c.k's at a stopping point with that skiff he's building,” May said. ”He's over there in Eddie's shed, the big one with the tin roof.”

Elsie lay on her back and pulled her knees to her chest. Three hours of digging, tugging, and lifting had knotted her up some, but as she let her back relax, she felt light and hollow. She heard JB say, ”I'll come along. I'd like to see what a boat looks like half done.” Out of nowhere, out of the sky, out of the ground she lay on, a ferocious desire filled her. It was as unasked for and as real as a dream. She hugged her knees closer to her, she saw d.i.c.k working, she smelled wood shavings, she felt herself coming into the shed, not a word, just the air between them growing so dense they could sense each other through it.

She rolled onto her side, pressed her cheek into the ground to stop her trembling.

Deirdre said to JB, ”You're just trying to get out of work. Never mind. Hop on in.”

Elsie listened to the jeep jounce and rattle away.

”I doubt d.i.c.k's going to come,” May said. ”If he's got to wait on something for his skiff, he'll go over to Wickford, look at a lobster boat might be for sale. He say anything to you about that?”

Tran said, ”Maybe Wickford. Maybe New Bedford. He's looking all over. Lot of things on his mind, but finding a boat is number one.”

Eddie walked around the upright slab of rock, came back, and asked Tran to help him put a chain around it. ”I'll keep her propped up, you get the chain on snug, then you back off and I'll tip her over. Then you come back and fasten the chain to the cable from the winch. Then I'll go over there and snake her in.”

Elsie propped her head up on her elbow. She hoped what they were going to do would be brutal enough to distract her. She said, ”How come you just don't drag it with the tractor?”

”That winch there could move a house. The tractor'd either rear up or spin. You'll see. In fact, come on-I'll let you run it.”

Eddie had Tran twist the chain around so the hook would end up on top. He gave the rock a little shove, and over it went. Elsie had expected more of a seismic thud. Eddie moved the tractor; Tran unreeled the cable and fixed its hook through a link on the tail end of the chain. Eddie climbed down beside Elsie. He pointed to a red plastic k.n.o.b on an upright lever. ”Okay. Give that a pull. Just don't run that rock up onto your toes.” Nothing much at first, just taking up the slack. Then the cable went taut and the chain scratched into the rock. Elsie left her hand on the k.n.o.b, a light buzz in her palm. The reel turned steadily. There was a visible but surprisingly noiseless tension on the cable, no thicker than her little finger. The enormous rock began to move. It wagged a little at first, as if trying not to come, then gave in and swam straight toward her, thick end first, like a whale.

This was wizardry; this was hands-on witchcraft. She'd used a walkie-talkie, seen radar and sonar screens, wondered a little at invisible waves, but now it was her hand pulling a ton of rock across the ground she stood on.

Eddie said, ”Whoa, there. Close enough. Now you want to push that lever the other way, just a touch. Give us a little slack so we can unhook her.”

She thought she ought to feel her own physical strength dwarfed, she ought to feel put in her place. In a whole morning of poking, prying, and lifting, she hadn't moved as much weight as this winch had in the last minute. So what a puny little thing she was ... Didn't feel that way. The morning's work had got her blood up-she'd flushed every muscle in her body with blood and oxygen, and that rush reached every capillary and nerve in her skin. She'd moved rocks; she'd moved a boulder; she could drink a pond dry; she could run all the way through the woods, kick open the door to Eddie's shed, and make d.i.c.k hold on to her furious body.

The hook on the chain was wedged tight in the link. Eddie tapped the next link over with the ball of his ball-peen hammer, and everything popped open. The chain slid down either side of the rock into two puddled heaps. Eddie turned the tractor around, eased the lip of the front scoop under the rock, and lifted it a few inches. Elsie pulled the chain free. Even through her gloves, she could feel the heat in the links.

Eddie said, ”Let's see if we can get another couple of hours out of this crew. This isn't work you can do all day. If we push too long someone'll end up dropping a rock on their foot. I'm kind of worried about that old fellow. Maybe you can get him to talking every so often; that'll give him a rest. Least if that girlfriend of Charlie's doesn't get after him. When they get back, you might let her know to go easy.”

Sweet, mild Eddie. A universal donor. Another kind of man might have sensed the state she was in.

They heard the jeep before they saw it. The rattling was louder with the empty cart in tow. Just the three of them. May said, ”I didn't expect you'd get him. Was he there?”

”Yes,” Rose said, ”but he was just leaving. He said to tell you not to wait supper. He'll get something to eat on his way back, and then he's going to work some more on the skiff. Might be late.”

Elsie wished it wasn't Rose letting her know where he'd be.

chapter eighty-four.

The sea breeze came up while they ate lunch, not so salty as down by the marsh. A bit of pine in the air, a bit of forest mast, but mostly crushed gra.s.s and turned earth. May breathed deep. They'd got the better part of an acre cleared of rocks, and she was grateful for how hard everyone was working. That was part of why she felt so good. Another part was that what with sticking their crowbars and spades in and prying the stones up, they were loosening the soil, letting it breathe. She liked having a commonsense reason for feeling good.

She'd caught herself humming as she'd shoveled. If she went on like this, pretty soon she'd be like Mary Scanlon, bursting into song whenever she felt like it. But then May thought, If that's how Mary feels, let her.

Mary had told her how Mr. Salviatti had gone in to see Mr. Aldrich, taking Mary in tow. ”I don't know why. He talked about fresh peas and then he said, 'Ask Mary,' and I nodded, and he said, 'Fresh corn, a half hour from stalk to kettle. Ask Mary.' I couldn't get a word in, but neither could Jack. Finally Mr. Salviatti leans in and says, 'Look, Jack. We don't want that land for more houses. I'm in the road business, I know what it would cost to put a road in there. And water and sewage. No ocean view from that lot. We might not make our money back. What makes money for Sawtooth? It's our oceanfront, it's our tennis club and yachts. And it's our good food. So this way we have vertical integration. Mrs. Pierce knows how to grow good vegetables; Mary knows how to cook them. And I know how to make sure n.o.body has problems.' ” Mary had laughed. ”People have been wondering for years. He was joking. You know how I know? Going down the stairs from Jack's office, I said, 'So how come you had me along?' And he says, 'You're the muscle.' And we both cracked up. You know what I think? Jack got his way with legal shenanigans and throwing his weight around, but he's cut himself off. He's up in his office with nothing but his maps and files. You've got a gang of friends. It's them-them and your way with your old garden-that got Mr. Salviatti on your side. And he figures he'll have more fun with us raggle-taggle gypsies. I've got to cook at Sawtooth on Sat.u.r.day, but I'm bringing Mr. Salviatti over Sunday afternoon. His car can't make it over that jeep trail, so we'll use my pickup. It's late in the season but time enough for some root vegetables. Turnips, parsnips, celeriac. You could use some of those rocks you pull up to line a root cellar. Eddie could help you make one. In the fall you could have a barn raising, a little red-cedar barn. It'd be grand.”

May had said, ”Plenty to do before that. If we get a second acre cleared, I got to plant some winter rye.” It was just like Mary to run ahead like that, but now May thought she herself needn't have got so tight-lipped.

Eddie started up the tractor. Elsie was the first one on her feet. She said, ”Come on, Rose. Get your hands dirty. JB can drive the jeep.”

May said, ”Rose has got her show tonight. She can drive the jeep. Is that all right with you, Deirdre? Tom's been teaching her to drive.”

”Sure,” Deirdre said.

”I'm sorry, Elsie,” May said. ”I just thought ...”

Elsie waved and picked up her crowbar. ”Come on, JB, get your shovel. You're stuck with me.” Off she went, jab, jab, jabbing until she clinked on a rock, a small, sharp note that cut through the rumble and mutter of the tractor as it inched forward. That note got the rest of them going. May watched Elsie wave to JB to come shovel away some earth so she could stick her crowbar in under the lip of the rock. And there she was heaving on the crook end of the bar, putting her legs and back into it, all coiled up so her work pants pulled tight on her rear end. JB touched her back. Of course he would. All that hum of energy. He pointed the tip of his shovel at the other side of the rock. Elsie nodded, and JB dug out the edge. Elsie jabbed a couple of times, got the bar in deep enough to pry. The rock tilted up, a flat rock, not so big after all, about the size of a boat cus.h.i.+on. Elsie and JB crouched down to lift it, wiggled it a bit, and heaved it into Eddie's front-end scoop.

May poked here and there, dug up a pretty melon-shaped rock with a white stripe around its middle. She walked back to show it to Rose before she dropped it in the cart. Right there between the tractor and the jeep it was too loud to talk, but when she got to digging again the noise wasn't so bad, even a comfort. It put her in mind of a beehive.

She hit a fair-sized rock, waved to Tom to bring his crowbar. When he threw the rock in the scoop, Eddie turned off the motor. Eddie did this from time to time so he could tell a joke, give everyone a couple of minutes to stretch. May looked back down the field. The lay of the land was on her side. It tilted up a bit from the south, just about right to catch the fog when it blew in. A good overnight fog was as good as watering-it came up from the sea but left the salt behind, settled a freshwater dew.

Eddie started the tractor again. May pried up another rock, flipped a bit of sod in the hole, gra.s.s side down, so it'd rot. Another good thing that went on in the dark. She'd be like d.i.c.k when he got to lobstering again, setting his pots so the lobsters would creep in-all that went on in the dark, too. She'd go to bed tired and likely a bit sore tonight, and plenty of nights after, but she'd go to bed satisfied. She knew well enough that whatever got done by way of clearing and tilling and sowing was the least of it. Most of it was what came out of the earth, what came from the fog and rain, from the sun hitting the slight southerly tilt of the field. The work was to put her field in the way of these providences.

That was enough about that. Who'd be set for work tomorrow? She looked around. Elsie was doing more than her share but had something else to do Sunday. Eddie and Tom were on. And Deirdre-when all was said and done, Deirdre would do. Tran was on the payroll-d.i.c.k was paying him some so as not to lose him when d.i.c.k got a boat. She suspected that JB would be aching, but he could drive the jeep. Rose had her Sunday matinee. No Eddie on Monday, but he would leave the tractor for her. They'd use the jeep and wagon to move the compost from her old place, spread it on the little patch where they'd scalped the sod. Plant that patch next week, another patch the week after. Sow the second acre in winter rye, plow it under for next year. Plenty to think about, plenty to do. She wanted nothing better than to set herself to it.

chapter eighty-five.

At the end of the workday Elsie turned down a ride in Deirdre's jeep. She walked past the barberry thicket and through the woods, the trees now heavier with green, the patches of late-afternoon light wavering on the mat of old leaves and roots. It was then she thought, Am I going to? Am I really going to? Before she reached the house she'd decided, and by the time she got there she was floating, drifting in the current.