to admit I never thought you’d marry Robin. Not even when you were both little. You never thought much of Robin.”
“You probably thought he wouldn’t be able to ask me to marry him. He wouldn’t be able to pronounce it. It’d be like Would you pwease mawwey me, Woof? It would have been embarrassing for everyone.”
Mrs. Pommeroy shook her head and wiped her eyes quickly. Ruth noticed the gesture and stopped laughing.
“What about Webster?” Ruth asked. “That leaves Webster.”
“That’s the thing, Ruth,” Mrs. Pommeroy said, and her voice was sad. “I always thought you’d marry Webster.”
“Oh, Mrs. Pommeroy.” Ruth moved over on the couch and put her arm around her friend.
“What happened to Webster, Ruth?”
“I don’t know.”
“He was the brightest one. He was my brightest son.”
“I know.”
“After his father died . . .”
“I know.”
“He didn’t even grow any more.”
“I know. I know.”
“He’s so timid. He’s like a child.” Mrs. Pommeroy wiped tears off both cheeks with the back of her hand—a fast, smooth motion. “Me and your mom both have a son that didn’t grow, I guess,” she said. “Oh, brother. I’m such a crybaby. How about that?” She wiped her nose on her sleeve and smiled at Ruth. They brought their foreheads together for a moment. Ruth put her hand on the back of Mrs. Pommeroy’s head, and Mrs. Pommeroy closed her eyes. Then she pulled back and said, “I think something was taken from my sons, Ruthie.”
“Yes.”
“A lot was taken from my sons. Their father. Their inheritance. Their boat. Their fishing ground. Their fishing gear.”
“I know,” Ruth said, and she felt a rush of guilt, as she had for years, whenever she thought of her father on his boat with Mr. Pommeroy’s traps.
“I wish I could have another son for you.”
“What? For me?”
“To marry. I wish I could have one more son, and make him normal. A good one.”
“Come on, Mrs. Pommeroy. All your sons are good.”
“You’re sweet, Ruth.”
“Except Chester, of course. He’s no good.”
“In their way, they’re good enough. But not good enough for a bright girl like you. I’ll bet I could get it right, you know, if I had another go at it.” Mrs. Pommeroy’s eyes teared up again. “Now, what a thing for me to say, a woman with seven kids.”
“It’s OK.”
“Besides, I can’t expect you to wait around for a baby to grow up, can I? Listen to me.”
“I am listening.”
“I’m talking crazy now.”
“A little crazy,” Ruth admitted.
“Oh, things don’t always work out, I guess.”
“Not always. I think they must work out sometimes.”
“I guess. Don’t you think you should go live with your mother, Ruth?”
“No.”
“There’s nothing out here for you.”
“That’s not true.”
“Truth is, I like having you around, but that’s not fair. There’s nothing here for you. It’s like a prison. It’s your little San Quentin. I always thought, ‘Oh, Ruth will marry Webster,’ and I always thought, ‘Oh, Webster will take over his dad’s lobster boat.’ I thought I had it all figured out. But there’s no boat.”
And there’s barely a Webster, Ruth thought.
“Don’t you ever think you should live out there?” Mrs. Pommeroy stretched out her arm and pointed. She had clearly intended to point west, toward the coast and the country that lay beyond it, but she was pointing in the dead-wrong direction. She was pointing toward the open sea. Ruth knew what she was trying to say, though. Mrs. Pommeroy, famously, did not have a great sense of direction.
“I don’t need to marry one of your sons to stay here with you, you know,” Ruth said.
“Oh, Ruth.”
“I wish you wouldn’t tell me I should go. I get that enough from my mom and Lanford Ellis. I belong on this island as much as anyone. Forget about my mother.”
“Oh, Ruth. Don’t say that.”
“All right, I don’t mean forget about her. But it doesn’t matter where she lives or who she lives with. It doesn’t matter to me. I’ll stay here with you; I’ll go where you go.” Ruth was smiling as she said this, and nudging Mrs. Pommeroy the way Mrs. Pommeroy often nudged her. A teasing little poke, a loving one.
“But I’m not going anywhere,” Mrs. Pommeroy said.
“Fine. Me neither. It’s decided. I’m not budging. This is where I stay from now on. No more trips to Concord. No more bullshit about college.”
“You can’t make a promise like that.”
“I can do whatever I want. I can make even bigger promises.”
“Lanford Ellis would kill you if he heard you talking like that.”