You Make Me Tremble Page 12

  Chapter Thirteen

  Casey read Iris’s poem slowly as they drove back to the ferry landing. Once Iris had maneuvered the pickup on board, Casey read the poem again. Neither of them seemed to have any interest in standing on the observation deck in the cold again for the short trip back to Friday Harbor, so they remained inside the warm cab.

  Iris leaned against the driver’s side door with her head resting on the window and her eyes looking forward, toward home. Casey struggled to find the right words to explain how she felt about Iris’s poem, and she reread it again silently to give herself time to think.

  Iris had listened to her talk about the Turtleback Complex with the indulgent expression people usually offered to children who prattled on about nothing in particular, and she hadn’t seemed to grasp the importance of what Casey was trying to express. But Iris had understood Casey, in a way she hadn’t experienced before. Reading Iris’s poem was like hearing herself talk—inside her head, where the meaning and the words were connected in a way they rarely were when spoken out loud. She felt as if the poem had been written for and about her alone, but she guessed that it was personal for Iris as well.

  “I think I’ve come up with the definition of a truly great poet,” Casey said, speaking quietly in the enclosed space. The sky was already growing dark, as the early winter sunset and the heavy cloud cover teamed up to give Casey the feeling that she and Iris were all alone in the world.

  Iris shifted until her back and shoulders were against the door and she was facing Casey. “What’s your definition?”

  “A great poet somehow hears the conversations you have inside your head, and then writes them down using the exact right words, so you understand perfectly what you were trying to say to yourself. I know how much I love those ancient rocks, and I thought I knew why, but you explained me better than I could ever do myself.”

  Iris smiled. “I’m glad you like the poem. It’s yours if you want it.”

  Casey appreciated how easily Iris was able to give a part of herself away, but she suspected it was as much because Iris didn’t understand the true worth of her creation as it was because she was exceptionally generous. The cab was too cozy, and she was too comfortable being this close to Iris to risk putting distance between them by bringing up publishing again, so Casey held herself back from offering Iris more encouragement to sell her poems. “Thank you. I love it,” she said instead.

  She closed her eyes and rested in the quiet. The truck rocked slightly as waves broke against the side of the ferry. The smell of damp dog—Chert loved to go swimming every chance he got—and sea air filled the cab. Casey hadn’t realized salt water had such a distinctive aroma, but the two scents followed her everywhere these days and had come to mean something to her.

  Home? No. Chert had a home of his own somewhere, and Casey’s was deep within the city. Exhaust fumes and the Indian takeout place just below her apartment smelled like home.

  Now Iris’s fragrance was added to the mix of this new scent. Honey and spices and something floral—lavender?—were permeating the seat where Iris’s hair and skin touched it and floating through the air. How long would Casey be back in the city before the last hints of ocean and dog and Iris disappeared?

  Casey opened her eyes and sat up abruptly, relieved to see the lights of Friday Harbor only a few yards away. She would miss Iris. Damn it, she’d miss the whole island. Maybe she was only feeling this sense of premature nostalgia because she had taken too few vacations over the years. Maybe all she needed was more time away. Then she’d see that other kinds of places had interesting things to do and see. Other cities had beautiful women and animals. She should get out of the lab and go horseback riding in the mountains or dancing with artists in the desert. Whatever it took to prove to herself that San Juan wasn’t the only beautiful vacation spot in the world. Chert wasn’t the only animal. And Iris wasn’t the only woman.

  She was the only woman in the truck, though, and she filled Casey’s senses almost to the point of oversaturation. Casey had been amazed by the sudden influx of scent and taste into her life that now seemed bland in comparison. Iris surprised her in the same way. Every other woman Casey had dated and kissed seemed flat to her now. They didn’t have the taste, smell, or texture that Iris offered.

  Casey’s first reaction, as usual when she felt overwhelmed, was to bolt. Get far away from this tiny and remote island and everything associated with it. But she would be leaving soon, going back to her apartment and her job. Would a few nights of indulgence be disastrous, or would they satisfy her senses enough to let her return to her old world sated and happy?

  She’d start small.

  “My friend Jazz just reopened her pub,” she said. “I’d love to go there and support her. Would you like to come with me and get some dinner before we head back to the shelter? It should be a quiet night there, with so few tourists in town.”

  “I love her cooking,” Iris said. She seemed to be wrestling with the idea of prolonging their day, and Casey gave her time to decide.

  “I’ll call Agatha and Leo. If everything is going well at the shelter, I’d like to get a quick dinner.”

  They switched seats so Casey could drive off the ferry while Iris called home. Casey listened as she asked about the gray cat and the Twins and Chert, pausing in between as Agatha apparently gave her detailed updates on each one. She parked near the pub, figuring Jazz would be long closed by the time Iris asked about each individual animal. Luckily, she grouped some of them together and saved time.

  “All the animals are okay?” Casey asked, just to be polite because she figured Agatha or Leo would have called them earlier if anything had gone wrong. She admired how dedicated Iris was to the shelter, but Casey didn’t have the same attachment to the animals.

  “Yes, they’re doing well,” Iris said. “I’m starving. Lunch was too small.”

  She got out of the truck, and Casey followed. “So Agatha and Leo didn’t have trouble taking care of everything alone today?”

  “No, they’re fine. Jazz sometimes makes an incredible pot roast as one of her weekly specials. I wonder if she’ll have it on the menu tonight?” Iris walked toward the front door of the pub. Casey had been there to see Jazz and share meals with her, but she was used to entering through the back door and eating in the kitchen. She veered back onto the sidewalk and hurried to catch up to Iris.

  “So, how’s Chert?” she finally gave in and asked. She had been hoping Iris would volunteer the information, but she hadn’t, and Casey had to give up her façade of indifference and come right out and ask.

  Iris held the door open for Casey and grinned at her, as if she had known all along how much Casey wanted to hear about him.

  “He’s good, you old softie. Agatha said he’s been following Leo around all day, but he keeps going back to the bungalow and looking for you.”

  “Really?” Casey was at a loss for words. Did he really miss her, or was Iris just making that up? She had loved being alone with Iris, but she hadn’t gone this long without Chert at her side since she found him in the woods. She missed him.

  “Yes, really. He’ll be there waiting for you when we get back home.” Iris patted her on the shoulder, and then walked into the bar and directly over to hug Jazz. Casey followed more slowly, staring in surprise at the crowds of people filling the small space. The pub was decorated in a typical fashion meant to simulate a British pub experience, with mirrored signs on the walls advertising Newcastle and Guinness and dartboards hanging uncomfortably close to tables where diners would sit. Nearly every seat was taken, and the noise level seemed to indicate that everyone knew everyone else and they were all participating in a very loud group conversation.

  Jazz let go of Iris and captured Casey in one of her gripping bear hugs. “Good to see you two,” she yelled over the steady din. She elbowed Casey in the ribs. “Together, that is. Iris, I’ve been meaning to thank you for…well, you know.”

  Iris just shrugged and smile
d. “Any chance you’re serving your pot roast tonight?”

  “Of course! Just the thing for a cold, cloudy day. Same for you, Casey?” She looked behind them. “Didn’t you bring your dog? Chert—have you ever heard such a name?” She aimed the last sentence in Iris’s direction with a shake of her head.

  “He’s back at the shelter with Leo,” Casey said. “And fish and chips for me, please. Is there an open table?”

  “A little one in the back, just the thing. Nice and private.” Jazz waved in the general direction of what looked like a wall of people. Casey didn’t know how any part of the pub could be considered private. “Have a seat and I’ll bring your beer right over.”

  They slowly worked their way through the crowd. Everyone seemed to know Iris, and Casey noticed that most of them gave her a hug and thanked her for something. No one specified exactly what she had done, but she seemed to be a popular fixture in the community, just as Casey would have expected. She had seen Iris working at the shelter and on her cards, and she wondered when she found the time to do more.

  They finally reached a tiny empty table that was wedged between two high bars that patrons were using as resting places for their drinks while they played pool. Obviously most of the people were locals. Casey wondered if they ate in a different place every night, just to help the business owners recoup some of their losses. She wouldn’t be surprised if they had few meals at home until the tourist trade resumed.

  Casey leaned close so she could talk to Iris without shouting. “Why is everyone saying thank you?”

  Iris shrugged and Casey was near enough to feel the movement. She scooched her chair even closer. “It’s just a polite thing to say,” Iris said.

  “Yes, when someone does something for you. What have you been up to?”

  “Nothing much. Probably a lot less than most others are doing. A frozen meal here, a few dollars there. We’ve all had to pull together.”

  Casey nodded, as if Iris’s statement was something she experienced all the time, but it had been a foreign concept to her until she came here. Not that she wouldn’t have stopped to help anyone who needed her after the earthquake—plenty of passengers had needed her in the immediate aftermath of the event, but that was just what everyone did in an emergency. She had never been close enough to neighbors to even know their names, let alone band together with them to survive a crisis.

  Would she be a different person in a town like this? Would she be part of this community like Iris was, or would she keep herself at a distance even here? Iris seemed to be successful with her writing, enough to support herself and her shelter, but Casey doubted she had a fortune hidden away somewhere. She had been hit hard by the earthquake, with all the extra mouths to feed. Still, she had thought about her neighbors and friends, and had apparently been sharing what she had with them. Her humble explanation for the thanks she had been receiving didn’t match up to the effusiveness of the people thanking her.

  Casey leaned over and gave Iris a kiss on the cheek. “You’re amazing,” she said. Iris looked surprised by the gesture, but Jazz—who had just arrived with their mugs of pale gold liquid—was beaming in her usual I told you so way.

  “Here you go. Your food will be out soon, but if you get hungry you can just nibble on each other until I get back.”

  She walked away, laughing loudly at her own joke, before Casey could formulate a response. Iris’s skin blushed to a deep shade of pink, but she stayed close, with her shoulder just touching Casey’s. Casey took a sip of her ale to hide her own embarrassed response.

  “Jazz is just…” Iris started but paused, as if searching for the correct defining word.

  “I know,” Casey said. Indefinable.

  “So, I told you all my childhood secrets today,” she said. “What was yours like? I’m picturing you growing up in a huge house full of dogs and cats and frogs and guinea pigs. With lots of brothers and sisters.”

  Iris visibly winced, and Casey set her mug on the table and covered Iris’s hand with hers. “Oh, I’m sorry. Did I say something wrong?”

  Iris shook her head. “Not at all. I mean, yes, you’re wrong about my childhood, but no, you didn’t say anything hurtful.”

  Casey had obviously struck a nerve, but she stayed silent and let Iris choose how to explain it to her.

  “You were right about the house, though,” Iris said. The loud room forced them to be close, and Casey could smell the crisp hints of apple and hops from the ale on Iris’s breath. She briefly lost the thread of Iris’s words as she imagined kissing her and tasting the ale’s flavors mixed with the honey and vanilla sweetness of Iris herself. She shook herself mentally, like Chert after a swim in the cold sea water, and brought her attention back to Iris’s story.

  “…huge, and full of rooms my parents wanted to fill with children. They were both from enormous families—I have thirty-nine cousins and even I lose track of my own family when I start factoring in more distant relatives. But my parents could only have me.”

  “They must have doted on you,” Casey said, but she was only saying the words because she fervently hoped they were true. Something in Iris’s expression told her otherwise. Her face was smooth, lacking the tiny lines and curves that came when she smiled or laughed or frowned. She looked younger without those lines that came from experience and engagement with the world around her. Vulnerable.

  “They did, in a way.” Iris fiddled with a packet of sugar from the container on the table, folding the edges in toward each other. “They had tried to have children for years before I came along, so they were quite a bit older than my friends’ parents. They were very protective of me, like I was something to be cherished, and I had a lot of rules to follow. At the same time, though, I always knew I wasn’t enough. They tried for more children, and every disappointment seemed to destroy something inside them a little more. I was never enough to make them feel whole.”

  Jazz stopped by and set their food on the table with a wink, and both Casey and Iris thanked her with smiles that didn’t even hint at the serious conversation they were having.

  As soon as she was gone, Casey reached for the bottle of malt vinegar. She was sure Iris was exaggerating about her parents’ disappointment in only having her. She must have heard something out of context when she was too young to understand it fully. How could any parent not be happy with a loving and kind child like Iris must have been? She thought briefly of her own persistent attempts to make her dad and grandparents proud of her, but she pushed her memories away.

  “How could you not be enough for anyone? Just because they wanted more kids doesn’t mean they didn’t love you.” Casey sprinkled vinegar on her fish, and as soon as the drops hit the hot, fried batter they infused the air with an explosion of malt and tang.

  Iris blinked. “Will the one bottle be enough for you? I can get another from the table over there.”

  Casey laughed, glad to see Iris’s humor make an appearance. “I’ll let you know if I need more, thanks. Usually one bottle is enough.”

  “To what, destroy your taste buds?”

  “Ha-ha.” She held the bottle out and tipped it threateningly over Iris’s plate of gravy-covered meat and vegetables. “Want some? It’ll add a nice tartness to your food.”

  “Back off,” Iris said, laughing and brandishing her fork.

  Casey put the bottle back in its place and ate one of Jazz’s homemade fries. She was torn between wanting to hear more of Iris’s life story and wanting to ease off and let Iris enjoy her meal.

  Iris seemed to intuit Casey’s curiosity because she resumed her story. “This wasn’t a one-time conversation I overheard, Casey. This was the theme of my childhood, especially after we spent any time with one of my aunts or uncles and their huge families. Looking back, I can’t remember my parents spending time together or having much of a relationship. They seemed to be together because they both had a desire for more kids. They lived in the past, with the losses and miscarriages, and they hoped for a
future with more children. We didn’t live in the present like my friends did, with vacations and game nights and family time.”

  And now Iris filled the empty bungalow with interns, pregnant cats, and Casey. And she wouldn’t allow herself to hope for things in the future, like published poems. “So, you’ve learned how to live in the present because of them,” Casey said. “That’s a great attitude to have in life. Seize the day, and all that.”

  Iris gave a humorless laugh that didn’t disrupt the smoothness of her forehead and cheeks. “I guess. I’m just not brave enough to do much seizing. I take the easy way out.”

  Casey shook her head. “What’s easy about your life? There’s plenty of good in it, but you’re one of the hardest working and most caring people I’ve ever met. I don’t see how moving to the island, running a shelter, and being part of this community is taking an easy way out.”

  Iris bumped her shoulder. “You’re very nice,” she said in an I don’t really believe what you’re saying, but it’s a nice sentiment kind of way. “Speaking of enjoying the present, you have to try this pot roast.”

  Casey didn’t fight Iris’s attempt to end the conversation about her childhood. She did her part to keep the mood lighter for the rest of their meal, tasting Iris’s dinner and trying to wrestle the plate away from her—partly to keep Iris laughing and playful, but also because the food was melt-in-your-mouth delicious and she wanted more. She settled for trading a piece of fish and a handful of fries for half of Iris’s remaining pot roast.

  After a prolonged battle with Jazz over the bill—she refused to accept money from them, and Iris had to distract her while Casey paid the bartender—they finally made it outside. Iris started toward the truck, but Casey took her hand and held her back.

  “How about a short walk?” she asked. The night was cool, but not windy or rainy. Casey had spent a lot of the day with the thought that she’d be leaving soon in the back of her mind. Probably the last ferry ride until she took it back to Seattle. Probably the last time she’d eat at Jazz’s pub. She wanted to prolong the day she had spent with Iris because she wasn’t ready to leave her just yet.