The Salt House

She waved her hand at me, brushing the question away. “Of course not.”

“I do love Jack. I hope you know that. I am trying to get back on track with my marriage.” I heard the strain in my voice, and my face colored.

Peggy stopped and grabbed my arm. “Oh shit, Hope. Of course I know that.” She sighed, dropped her face in her hands. When she looked up, she was a deep shade of red.

“God, I’m an idiot. I should have never said anything. Look, it’s just me trying to get a handle on this new Ryland that’s appeared since he started drinking. And last month . . . when I asked him to come to your dinner party with me, he, um.” She paused. “Sort of said some things.”

“Things?”

“Well, it’s nothing, just . . . it’s been bothering me.” She made a groaning noise and looked away.

“Peggy, please!”

“Oh! It’s stupid! I shouldn’t have brought it up, but I don’t know Jack at all, and we’ve become so close that I felt strange not telling you . . .” She rambled until I put my hand on her shoulder.

“Tell me.”

Peggy took a deep breath. “The gist of it was that Jack was not, well, not such a nice guy . . .” Her voice faded.

I thought of the fight I’d had with Jack that night; his comment about Ryland flirting with me.

“Look, Peg, if it’s worth anything, Jack had a similar sentiment about Ryland. They both grew up in this town. Maybe they didn’t like each other in high school. Who knows?” I gave her a jab with my elbow. “We don’t have to be couple friends.”

She breathed in again, and breathed out slowly.

“I told Ryland to move out,” she said.

“Oh, Peg. I’m sorry.” I put my hand on her arm.

Peggy shook her head. “He’s been coming home late, or not at all. He came in after midnight the other night with some story about fixing a pipe. He’s been doing some plumbing to make ends meet. I was actually going to let it go until I noticed his toolbox in the corner, right where it’d been sitting all day. It was obvious he was drunk—his eyes were glassy and he was slurring his words. I asked him what was wrong with the pipe, and he looked at me like I was nuts and told me not to worry about it. But in the nastiest tone of voice, you know? I could’ve dropped it, but it just made me furious. ‘No, really,’ I said to him, ‘How’d you fix it? With your bare hands?’ He just stared at me and then turned and looked over at the toolbox. Like he could feel it watching him.”

“What did he say?” I asked, holding my breath.

“Nothing. I just sat down in the chair and said, ‘Leave.’ And he did. Up and left. Just like that.” She snapped her fingers. Then turned and started walking again. I jogged to catch up to her.

“Are you sure he was lying?” I asked, thinking that her reaction sounded a little extreme.

“It’s not about the pipe. You know, he used to tell me he was a different person when he was drinking. And it’s not that I didn’t believe him. I did. I just never imagined how different. I know this year has been hard for him. Not finding work and then knowing we’re all unhappy about where we live. We were only supposed to rent that house for a month, two at the most, until we found something we wanted to buy. It’s been over a year now. The walls are basically falling down around us, it’s in such poor condition. I know he feels bad about that. About all of it. Which is probably why the drinking started in the first place. I know he was counting on getting his fishing business off the ground here. And that obviously hasn’t happened. He was successful in North Carolina. . . . And now, well. I know he’s struggling. But I can’t allow him to be around the boys like this.”

I didn’t want to say it, but fishing around here wasn’t the same as fishing in North Carolina. I’d lived with a lobsterman for more than twenty years. I knew how protective they were of their territory. And if Ryland thought being an Alden native meant anything, he was wrong. It wasn’t like once you were a Mainer, you were always a Mainer. Once you moved away, you were an outsider. And that applied to everyone. Local fishermen had even stricter rules. And all of them involved being born here, staying here, and working here, every day.

“If Ryland grew up here, he knows how territorial it is,” I said. “He must have known getting back into it was going to be hard.”

“Well, I think there’s more to it. After the party at your house, he was talking in circles about how Jack had traps where he used to fish. On and on about how that territory was his from the beginning. I didn’t mention it because I was too embarrassed.”

I put my hand on her arm, stopping her.

“Did he say that to Jack at the party?”

“I don’t know. He passed out that night, and when I brought it up the next day, he brushed it off as guys being guys.”

My mind went back to that night, to Jack telling me I don’t want him here again. I felt my pulse quicken. He’d seemed off the entire night, now that I looked back on it. The people we’d had over were old friends we’d met in a birthing class when I was pregnant with Jess. They all lived in Alden, and Jack watched football with the husbands most Sundays in the fall. He liked everyone that was there, and yet, he’d been on edge.

Now I wondered if Ryland had said something to him at the party.

“I hope Ryland understands that’s serious around here,” I said, trying to mask the concern in my voice. Her expression told me I hadn’t.

“Believe me, I know. Seems like every time I turn on the TV, there’s something on the news about someone getting hurt, or a boat being destroyed, all over someone’s territory. Crazy,” she said, shaking her head.

“Not so crazy if you see how hard these guys work,” I told her. “The news highlights the bad stuff, but mostly everyone is just like Jack . . . hardworking people trying to make a living.”

There was a protectiveness in my voice, and my words hung in the air. We were quiet then as we walked. I heard a beep, and Peggy held up her wrist, pointed to her watch. We turned, walking back in the direction of the cars.

I looked over at her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to overreact,” I said. “I don’t always like the hours that Jack works, or that he refuses to work with anyone, but I love him for it all the same. He doesn’t treat it like a job. It’s his living. I knew that when I married him.”

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