Fortune's rocks_ a novel - Anita Shreve [187]
“You are the woman Mr. Philbrick has come to visit,” the boy says. Awkwardly, and perhaps cold after all, he stuffs his hands into the pockets of his trousers.
“Yes.”
“Is this yours?” he asks, gesturing with his elbow to the telescope.
“Yes, it is.”
His English, though accented, is not poor. He has had some schooling somewhere, she thinks.
“Do you go to school?” she asks.
“I used to,” he says.
Olympia nods.
“Mr. Philbrick is taking me to Boston with him in June,” the boy says. “We shall see the science museum and the Public Garden.”
“I used to live at the edge of the Public Garden,” she says.
“Did you?” he asks with keen interest. “Is it true that in the spring the children have races with miniature boats in the pond?”
“Yes. If you are there on the right day.”
“Last year we went into Portsmouth.”
“And what did you think of that city?”
“I liked the place where they build the ships.”
“The shipyard.”
“Yes. Can you see France?” he asks, gesturing again toward the telescope.
“No.”
“Can you see the stars?”
“Yes.”
“How is it that one can see the stars, which are so far away, and cannot see France, which is closer?”
“That is an interesting question,” she says. “I think it has something to do with the curvature of the Earth. And also the stars are brighter.”
“Could we see Ely Falls if we pointed the telescope in the right direction?” he asks.
“I am not sure. Perhaps if we got onto the roof, we would be able to see the steeple of Saint Andre’s.”
“I should like to do that,” he says.
“Then you shall come back to visit and we will do that.”
“Well, surely you would not go onto the roof,” he says, seemingly alarmed at the thought of a grown woman on a rooftop.
“No, probably not. But my husband would.”
“Is your husband here now?”
“No, he will be back this evening.”
“Oh,” says the boy with evident disappointment.
“Well, you shall definitely come back to visit in the daytime when he is here,” Olympia says.
“I have been to this beach,” he says.
“Have you? When was this?”
“I came for the Fourth of July.”
“And did you have fun?”
“Oh, yes. My mother made a picnic, and she went into the water with me.”
The boy’s face tightens suddenly.
“There is a man in that fishing boat out there,” Olympia says quickly, pointing out to sea.
The boy stoops to the telescope. “I can see him,” he says. “He must be a lobster fisherman. Here. Would you like to see?”
The boy takes a step backward to make room for Olympia. She, too, bends to look. In his excitement, the boy stands so close to her that she can feel his elbow and his upper arm.
She can see the lawn, too close, the chapel that will shortly be made over into a dormitory. The rocky ledge. The sea. She turns the knobs, focusing. There is the fishing boat, a man in oilskins pulling in a pot. In the distance, hardly visible, she sees another boat and behind that the Isles of Shoals, merely a hazy suggestion. Beyond the islands, there is France. And then there are the stars. And farther still, there are the lost years and a history written upon the bones.
But here there is a boy, and his name is Pierre.
Acknowledgments
The court opinions cited in italics in this work of fiction are, in fact, true ones, and portions of the final judgment are taken from the court transcript of the Pennsylvania case of d’Hauteville v. Sears, Sears and d’Hauteville. I am grateful to John Martland for reading and editing the trial section of my novel and to the following works for providing me with information regarding child custody law in the late nineteenth century: A Judgment for Solomon by Michael Grossberg; From Father’s Property to Children’s Rights by Mary Ann Mason; and Governing the Hearth by Michael Grossberg.
I also found inspiration or bits of history in these works: Gleanings from the Sea by Joseph W. Smith; The Cities on the Saco by Jacques Downs; La Foi, La Langue, La Culture by Dr. Michael Guignard; Biddeford in Old Photographs, compiled by Loretta M. Turner; The Images of America series for Saco, Hampton, and Rye;