Page 76 of A Change of Location
“Quite right. I can think of a better one.” He infused his kiss with passion and promise. “This is definitely not goodbye.”
***
Hannah and her mother were browsing in the bookshop when her cell display flashed Martin’s number.
“Hannah, it’s Isobel.”
“Yes.” She held her breath.
“My tests confirm that I’ve come out of remission.”
“I’m so sorry. What happens next?”
“Martin booked our seats on a London flight for the day after tomorrow. From Heathrow we’ll transfer to Stansted and fly to La Rochelle. He’ll help me pack up my things for removal to Somerset. My treatments will take place in London, so I’ll stay at the Latimer House flat for the duration. Please tell Gwen and Neil we enjoyed our time at Bear Knoll. Very much, indeed.”
“They were happy to have you there. So was I.”
“I’m putting Martin on.”
She leaned against a bookcase, weak with sorrow.
“Hannah?” His voice was as vibrant as ever, filling her ear.
“Will she be all right?”
“The doctor says so. I’d hoped we might still be in the city when you return, but it isn’t possible. I’ve been thinking of everything you said yesterday. And all that I wanted to and didn’t. We’ll be all right, too. You and me.” In a hushed tone he added, “Promise you won’t visit the Kozee Kabins with anybody else. Ever.”
“You don’t have to worry about that,” she assured him.
Chapter 23
Hannah handed Chase a cedar shake from the stack and held up the can of nails. He’d spent the morning re-shingling the windward side of the weather-beaten fish house at Ballard’s Landing and had recruited her as his helper.
When he pulled off his baseball cap to fan his face, she said, “You should take a break. It’s lunchtime. I’ll get the cooler.”
They sat down at the edge of the dock with their egg salad sandwiches.
Picking up a discarded cigarette butt, Chase shredded the filter. “I wish Pop would stop smoking.”
“I was afraid you might start up again when you were—during your time in Warren. Or Machiasport.”
“And get lung cancer for a souvenir? No thanks.”
“Was prison as awful as it looks in the movies?”
“Nah. A thousand time more boring. Most of the guys were doing time for stupid juvenile shit, drugs and burglary and check-kiting. Soon as they get out, they’ll keep screwing up. I buddied up with the Passamaquoddy and Penobscot inmates. Like me, they kept their heads down and followed the rules. That’s how I knew I could do work release at Indian Island Reservation. They said I’d fit right in with this dark skin and hair.”
“The tribe could’ve adopted you. Like Natty in The Deerslayer. And The Last of the Mohicans.”
“That don’t happen in real life, Han. But my experiences in their community made me think I could mentor other parolees. ’Specially the ones who aren’t lucky enough to have family support, like I do.”
“Can you do it in Falmouth? Mum and Dad are hoping you’ll stay. Grampa, too.”
“That’s the plan. Pop’s worked a helluva long time without reliable help. I put in my application to the Department of Marine Resources to get my license for lobstering and crabbing. A lot’s changed in the trade—it’s not the same as it used to be—and won’t get any better. I’ll need another paying job.”
“Doing what?” Hannah rubbed at a mosquito bite acquired when taking the dogs outside before bedtime.
“Anything I can on the water. I talked to a guy in Falmouth Foreside who’s starting up whale watching tours and needs a pilot. He took me out on his catamaran—sweet and smooth, easier handling than Jenny’s Dream, or any other fishing boat. And I already interviewed to be a janitor at Discount Depot. The manager knows me from high school, we played football together. He still calls me Shrimpy. I was littler than the rest, but couldn’t nobody catch me. Didn’t want to get near me, either. They said I smelled of fish.”
