Season of Open Water (eBook)

Bridge Bridge first meets Henry Vonniker at the gathering after her cousin Asa's funeral. She does not see him right away. She does not notice when he comes into the room. She sits on a chair against the wall, a plate of food resting on her knees. She wears a white blouse, a wool skirt, and hard black shoes. The yellow glow of the kerosene light plays across the top edge of her plate, and she slides her knife through a boiled potato, splitting it in half. Steam rises from the flesh.

It is early evening, after candlelight. The room is crowded. The dead man's mother and his sister cry quietly in one corner. Two men, dairy farmers from Blossom Road, stand in front of Bridge, their backs turned toward her. They talk about Asa--how he had made quite a name for himself in the rum-running trade, then double-crossed the wrong man.

'Went all the way to Texas to get out of trouble,' one remarks. 'And trouble followed him all the way out there.' The man speaking is a big man, a gray wool jacket tight across his shoulders.

'Did Asa find work out in Texas?'

'Yeah. Hauling water to the roughnecks at the oil wells. Talk was, someone wanted the job and killed him for it. Hard to believe--the guy slips out of the booze here, slips out by the skin of his teeth, then gets knocked off selling water.'

The other man, black-haired and smaller, in a pinstripe suit, doesn't answer. He digs one hand into his pocket and glances over his shoulder. He notices Bridge sitting behind them. His eye trails down her leg. Then he catches her eye on him. His face flushes and he looks away, ashamed. He draws his handkerchief from his trouser pocket. A folded ten-dollar bill falls to the floor. He does not no- tice it.

Bridge stays with her knife and fork poised, staring at the dropped bill that lies less than six inches from her shoe. The two farmers go on talking about the dead man, one saying how he remembers when Asa was a boy, his uncle took him to the first World Series in 1903, the year the Boston Pilgrims beat the Pittsburgh Pirates. When slugger Buck Freeman popped one high into the crowd, Asa--nine years old--reached up and caught that ball with his bare hands.

'He caught a ball alright--small shiny bullet kind between the eyes. Black luck runs through that whole brood.'

Bridge bites her lip as the smaller, dark-haired man clears his throat and jerks a slight nod over his shoulder at her. The big man turns and takes her in. He smiles. She smiles back and goes on cutting up her food.

'Just saying the way I see it, Leo,' the man says, turning back around. He pauses, then remarks, 'Pete Lowry came in earlier. Did you see that? He's short on brains to show up here.'

Bridge slices off a piece of turkey and spears it with her fork. Without looking down, she slides her right foot across the floor and covers the ten-dollar bill with her shoe.

'Who's the natty dresser over there?'

'Where?'

'In the corner. Standing with Millie.'

'Oh that's Vonniker. Forget the first name. He's Millie's boss at the mill.'

'Never seen him before.'

'Lives down on West Beach. The big house near the causeway. Was a doctor once. War ate him up.'

'War'll do that.'

'To some.'

They fall silent for a moment, looking toward the corner of the room. Without taking her shoe off the bill on the floor, Bridge leans slightly forward in her chair and follows their gaze.

Across the room next to Asa's mother stands a man in a dark suit. Bridge has never seen him before. He wears glasses. The bones of his face are strong, and he is tall, a few inches taller than Bridge's brother, Luce. As Bridge watches, the man...