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Sea Room
Brief Excerpt
 The next morning, Jordi woke early and went downstairs
into the kitchen before any of the others were up. He couldn’t wait to
go into the barn, milk Delores, then begin his half-model. As he reached
the last step, the first stream of sunlight poured into the east window,
setting dust specks to shivering. It smeared the black surfaces of the
cast iron stove with a buttery light. Jordi hooked one of the round
stove plates with an iron lifter and raised it to see if any fire was
left. He saw enough of a hunkering red glow deep in the heap of coals to
revive the fire with a little prodding and some fresh coal. He adjusted
the air vents and opened a small door through which he could prod the
coal. After stirring and poking new life into the embers, he closed the
small door, poured fresh coal in through the top, and slipped the plate
back in place.
It was only then that something new about the kitchen
caught his eye. There, up on the shelf above the stove, next to the jar of
stove polish, the statue of Saint Francis of Assisi, and the fading
picture of Emily, was the picture of his father in uniform. It was in a
new frame.
He stared at the picture, his stomach churning like
the slush-filled water that still rimmed Eggemoggin Reach. How could she? Didn’t she know that was the wrong place? He
snatched the picture from the shelf. He glared at the picture of Emily.
Then he went into the living room and placed his father’s picture on the
doily on the lamp table, vaguely wondering if it was already too late.
Moments later, Jordi was in the kitchen drinking a
glass of milk when Nana came downstairs. “You’re up early, Jordi,”
she said. “Aw Jeez, an’ you fixed the stove.” She lifted a stove
plate, examined the coal, and shook the grate vigorously, the flesh on the
back of her arm jiggling. She pressed her fingertips to her lips and
touched the picture of Emily. “Good morning, Em,” she whispered. Then
she started to make coffee.
Lydie appeared, yawning. She kissed Jordi on the
forehead then looked up to the shelf above the stove. “What happened to
Gil’s picture?” she cried.
Nana, who was now stirring a pot of oatmeal, paused,
looked up at the shelf. “I don’t know,” she said, her voice rising
in bemusement. “I forgot you put it there.”
“I moved
it, Ma,” said Jordi.
“You moved it? Where?”
“Into the living room.”
“But why? I want his picture in the kitchen where I
can see it first thing in the morning.”
“You can see it in the living room.” His voice was pleading.
“But I spend more time here. This is where I want it.” Lydie frowned.
“What is the matter with you?”
At that moment, Pip appeared. “What’s going on?”
“Jordi moved Gil’s picture into the living room. Last night I put it
up there over the stove.” She turned back to Jordi. “Why?”
“I just don’t want his picture … I just don’t want …”
“You don’t want his picture … what?”
“I don’t want his picture in the same place as Emily’s.”
Lydie gave a surprised expression. “But why?”
“Because.”
“Because why?”
“Because … because she’s dead, Ma. She’s dead!”
Everyone froze. Pip glanced at Nana. She was staring at Jordi with a
stunned expression, like someone who has just come to understand a deep
truth. She had no idea that what brought her some comfort would have such
a profound effect on Jordi.
Nana looked at Lydie, her eyes sad and knowing.
Lydie brought a hand to her mouth. “I’m … I’m
sorry, Jordi. I wasn’t thinking,” she said. “Of course Dad’s
picture can stay in the living room.”
But Nana shook her head. She looked at Pip who placed
his arm around her and squeezed her shoulder. Then she took Emily’s
picture in her hand, gazed at it a moment, and started toward her and
Pip’s bedroom.
“No, Nana,” cried Lydie. “Gil’s picture can
stay in the living room. Emily’s should stay here.”
“No,” replied Nana. “Gil belongs with us here in
the kitchen. This is where we spend most of the time, this is … the real
living room.” She disappeared
into the bedroom.
-Chapter 6
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