Joe Burke's Last Stand Part 18

Bunch of guys helped. We had a few brews."

"I'll bet. I like this, Max."

"It'll be cool to see him in winter and then in spring. Deer will come.

Chickadees . . . "

"I'd love to have one of these pictures."

"I have a bunch of them at home. I'll send you one when I get back."

"Been a long time since I've seen Kate's mom," Joe said. "She's married now. I've never met her husband."

"I got here yesterday," Max said. "Lot of people around, but I haven't seen Sally. Jackson's folks rented a house, too. Jackson's cool."

"I'm glad they're getting married," Joe said.

"Me, too. So, want to come out with me?"

Max drove out of town, through open country, and along a dirt road to a house at the top of a heathery field that sloped broadly down to the water. Hedges enclosed a back lawn where a long table was covered with a white cloth. Several chairs were positioned on the gra.s.s by an aluminum keg. Kate was in the kitchen preparing the buffet, directing a small army of friends.

"Dad! Oh, good!" She gave him a hug. "Nice shirt!" She introduced him to Audrey, Jonathan, Monica . . . Names blurred together.

"A great event, Kate." He cut a piece of cheddar and broke off the end of a loaf of French bread. He pointed at a quart mason jar. "What's this?"

"Pear and ginger chutney."

"Yumm." He walked out on the front porch. Jackson was throwing a Frisbee to a border collie--honey colored, white at the throat--scrambling and leaping against a background of blue gray water, boats, and a distant wooded sh.o.r.e. Joe could remember nothing in his life as a.s.sured and as photogenic. He was happy for Kate and Jackson.

This weekend was a parent's reward; he accepted it gratefully. Yet it was hard to relax. He had social duties, and, besides, he was increasingly something other or more than a parent.

Jackson rubbed the dog's head and threw the Frisbee as far as he could.

He came over and shook hands. "Congratulations," Joe said.

"Thank you. How was your trip?"

"Fine, that's some ferry! Fast."

"Did you come on the Clipper?"

"Yes."

"She's a hummer," Jackson said. "We drove to Anacortes and took the car ferry."

"Are your folks here, Jackson?"

"They'll be over later. Have you met . . . " There was more frisbee throwing. Joe wandered around the house to the back lawn. Kate's old boyfriend was standing by the keg.

"Hey, Rolf."

"h.e.l.lo, Joe."

"A great event. Nice to see you. How's the history going?"

"It progresses," Rolf said. "I have written several papers on the early Scandinavian settlers in the northwest. You might be surprised to learn that only twenty years after the first settlement . . . "

"Rolf, you fine driver, you." Audrey, or Monica, came up and put her hand on Rolf's arm. "Cindy and Jake are at the ferry." Rolf nodded.

"And Kate needs a jar of capers."

"A Mediterranean condiment. I'm on my way. Small or large? The capers .

. . The jar, I mean."

"Better get large," Audrey Monica said.

"Well, I shall look forward to hearing about the settlers later," Joe said, drawing a beer. It was delicious, much like the ale at the brew pub. Jackson came by, filled a paper cup, and told him that it was from the brew pub.

"Good stuff, no?"

"Wicked good," Joe said in Maine speak. "Ono," he added in pidgin.

"h.e.l.lo, there." It was Sally, happy and more tired than he remembered.

She swept up and threw her arms around him, then turned and introduced a stout man waiting at her side. "Gino, this is Joe."

"Hi, Gino. You are the second Gino I've known. Congratulations on your marriage, by the way," They shook hands.

"Thank you. It has been, what, six years now?" Gino turned to Sally.

She was rangy and athletic. Gino came only to her ear, but he was solidly built and did not seem smaller. His eyes were dark and rather impenetrable.

"Going for seven," Sally said.

"Can you believe our little girl is getting married?" Joe asked her.

"It's time," she said.

"Maybe you'll be a grandfather, Joe, ha, ha."

"Ha, Gino. I hope so."

"Ha. Come Joe, help me with the wine." He led Joe to his car, and they carried two cases into the house. "One red, one white. Special. I brought them from Denver."

"Kate tells me you have a wine store."

"Small, yes. But we do all right. People in this country are discovering wine."

"Hey Joe, is this one of your father's?" Max was standing in front of an oil painting at the far end of the living room. Gino and Joe went over.

"For sure," Joe said. He hadn't seen it before.

"Wedding present!" Kate called from the kitchen. "We brought it over to make the house seem more like home." It was a Deer Isle scene. An apple tree in full bloom, crowded by woods behind it, leaned over the edge of a field and a stock car that was missing its hood and engine. The car's wheels were twisted strangely in the gra.s.s. A large yellow 90 was painted on a blue door. White blossoms lay scattered on the wreck.

"'Memorial Day' is the name of the painting," Kate said coming closer.

"You like it?"