Up North

By Anne W. Smallidge

This is a story about love of place. Of challenges as that place changes. Maines lumber business is dying. The environmentalists are calling for legislation which will make clear cutting illegal. People from away are moving in. Paula, from away is hated by Howard, the assistant sheriff. Rose, a grandmother travels to Belize, frequently. Her daughter, Shirley works and runs the only restaurant, The Hole, in the town of Jackson, in northern Maine. John is the local sheriff, and ex-husband to Shirley. They still secretly still love each other. And, finally, their eighteen-year-old daughter, who also works at The Hole, is prostituting herself in order to get enough money to escape Jackson and move to Florida. One of these women will die at the end of the story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 10, 2010
• ISBN: 9781453507827

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Copyright © 2010 by Anne W. Smallidge.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 03/16/2017

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CONTENTS

Acknowledgement

Chapter 1 Pauline

Chapter 2 Ellie October 9, 1996

Chapter 3 Shirley Johnson October 9,1996

Chapter 4 Josh Wells October 9, 1996

Chapter 5 Howard Lane October 9, 1996

Chapter 6 Roger Haynes October 11, 1996

Chapter 7 Rose Lablanc October 12, 1996

Chapter 8 John Johnson October 13, 1996

Chapter 9 Belize And Rose October 12, 1996

Chapter 10 Homecoming October 13, 1996

Chapter 11 The Hole October 14, 1996

Chapter 12 Pauline And Roger October 16, 1996

Chapter 13 The Town Meeting October 19, 1996

Chapter 14 Roger At Home October 20, 1996

Chapter 15 The Phone Call October 20, 1996

Chapter 16 The Cabin October 24, 1996

Chapter 17 Rose And Howard October 14, 1996

Chapter 18 John The Sheriff October 26, 1996

Chapter 19 Lila And Rose October 26, 1996

Chapter 20 New York And Marcy October 28, 1996

Chapter 21 The Meeting October 29, 1996

Chapter 22 Ellie & Her Savings October 27, 1996

Chapter 23 The Party October 28, 1996

Chapter 24 Josh And Ellie Two Nights Later

Chapter 25 Molly And John

Chapter 26 Molly/John Continued October 30, 1996

Chapter 27 The Night Watch

Chapter 28 The Next Day

Chapter 29 Shirley’s Call

Chapter 30 Marcy

Chapter 31 Lost November 12, 1996

Chapter 32 Lila November 12, 1996

Chapter 33 The Intruders November 12, 1996

DEDICATION

To all the Pauline’s in the world.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENT

I ACKNOWLEDGE EVERY person who has helped me through this amazing journey called life.

CHAPTER 1

PAULINE

Who would imagine that she would die as violently and alone in a place she loved so dearly? In a green forest full of still life. Or a place where stark, white grizzled things stand, frozen. Where animals sleep for months, tucked into black holes of frozen bubbles. Crunching sounds that crackle. Breaking the silence only when one of them crawls out of its black, crusty hole to check the time of year.

Who would ever imagine such a thing?

*     *     *

P AULINE TOSSED THE last stick of kindling wood onto a pile next to the porch. It was late afternoon and she’d been splitting wood since just after lunch. Her breath hit the cold air causing great puffs of vapor to come between her and the wood chopping. The temperature must be zero, she thought. A navy blue knit cap framed her narrow face, fiery red cheeks and slender nose. Steely blue eyes teared as she wiped them with the sleeve of her red and black plaid, woolen jacket.

I wish Roger would come home! She yelled at the silent earth. She slammed the ax into the chopping block and walked toward the back porch of their log house. The back yard was covered with an inch of packed snow. It was a barren yard.

Each fall Pauline bought five cords of wood from the Somes family down the road toward town. She would have it delivered by the middle of September, cut in twelve inch length and then she’d split what was needed for kindling. Stacking it in neat rows. A thick forest of evergreens surrounded the small back yard. It marched right up to the clearing, protecting the half acre where the house and yard stood.

They had purchased a hundred acres of mountainside twenty years ago. At the same time the big paper companies were buying as much timberland as they could get their corporate hands on. Pauline and Roger didn’t realize this until they settled into Jackson and witnessed the impact these huge companies had on northern Maine. Pauline and Roger had built their split log house with their own hands shortly after they had discovered Maine. Pauline actually fell in love with northern Maine earlier and more permanently than Roger did. But, he still came home as often as he could between his globetrotting photography assignments.

In the mud room she pulled off her L.L.Bean boots, two pair of woolen socks, a navy blue knit cap and her heavy green work gloves. When they built their home Pauline insisted on a mud room. It’s as mandatory as a shaded patio is in Florida, she maintained.

Today, Pauline had been in town to get the mail, pick up some groceries and a bottle of whiskey. She never intended to run out of whiskey on these short winter days, and long dark, lonely nights. She had spent the remainder of the day fixing a quick lunch and then chopping kindling. It was now four thirty.

Darkness falls on Jackson like a black curtain falls on the last scene of a play. It slams down hard and fast. First, twilight comes and teases the residents with a few minutes of peach, purple, and aqua streaks skimming across the hilly horizon. It twinkles and splays. Then, in the blink of an eye, darkness slams shut.

Pauline reached into the refrigerator for the post of bean soup she’d made yesterday. The kitchen and living room were one large space separated by a long bar, wide enough to cook and serve meals. She placed the soup on the counter-top range and turned the switch to on. Shaking her head she tried to loosen her hair which had been jammed under the knit cap all day. Her thick, chestnut colored hair fell loose across her shoulders. ‘Her only redeeming feature’, she remembers hearing her mother say once when Pauline was eight years old, ‘is that hair.’ Pauline never could convince herself she ever had another redeeming feature after that. Her five foot five inch frame was straight and narrow. She looked like a wiry teen age boy more than a skinny woman. She was tough and stringy. Now, at the age of forty, she still looked more like a wiry boy than a middle aged woman. Although, she had gained suppleness around the edges of herself; warm and loose. She moved quickly and with purpose.

The folks who lived in Jackson had never really accepted Pauline and Roger. They were outlanders who came to Maine twenty years ago. They had had no children, therefore were not privy to the school, church and scout activities. Pauline hung out at The Hole, it being the only restaurant in town, at times having a late afternoon beer, especially when Roger was away. It made the days and nights less long and dreary. But, other than that she and Roger had not become part of the community.

Lately Pauline was not going into The Hole as often as she had been during the early fall. She’d been waking in her bed, not remembering how she got there, or at what time she’d left the bar. This had scared her, so she tried to limit the amount of times she went there.

Stoking the fire in both the kitchen and living room stoves she checked the soup, testing for warmth. Nonchalantly, she pulled the bottle of Jack Daniels toward her from across the counter. She’d have one drink while the soup and bread warmed. Then, perhaps have a second while watching the news.

Just as she sat on the stool by the counter to read the mail and have her drink the phone rang. Pauline reached the phone without looking up from the Victoria’s Secret catalogue. Why they still send me this stupid, sexist, piece of garbage is beyond me, she thought. Not much else to do when Roger was away. For the past month he’d been on a photo assignment in South Africa at a game reserve. He had called two days ago saying he’d arrived in New York and would be home in a few days. He had to finish up there with his agents.

Pauline picked up the receiver as she leafed through the magazine.

Hello Pauline murmured into the phone.

Hey, Butch-doll, the same husky voice wheezed from the other end.

Pauline slammed the phone onto the receiver. This was the third call she’d received from the same male voice in the past three nights. And, at the same time each day. She felt completely unnerved. Jumping from the stool, she gazed around the house. Her eyes darted from the center of the room to the corners. Everything looked warm and serene. Steam weaved its way up from the simmering pot of soup. Lamps from the living room glowed in an orange haze. The huge windows which looked out over the valley were covered with a mist like a foggy, coastal scene. The serenity around her quieted her thumping heart.

She sat again on the stool.

Taking a long drink from the glass she stood, and moved toward the stove. Walking past it, she went to the back door and locked it for the first time in many months. No one locked their doors in this part of the world. But, people don’t get this kind of calls either, she thought.

CHAPTER 2

ELLIE

OCTOBER 9, 1996

E LLIE SWIPED TOAST crumbs from the counter with a soggy, gray sponge. Cracks stretched across the black and site linoleum counter top like rivers running through a stormy tundra. Her sponge lumbered across the counter leaving streaks of brown dampness. At each end of the counter stainless steel napkin holder and two huge, glass jars full of homemade donuts stood, like sentinels. She stepped back, running her hands down the side of her grimy apron. Stretching from side to side she eased her aching back. ‘No eighteen year old should have such an aching back,’ she thought as she leaned back and forth.

God, I’ll be glad when you all get out of here so I can have a cigarette, she said to the men as she rang up two breakfasts of fried eggs, bacon, toast, donuts and coffee. The old cash register sat at the end of the counter next to the door. Its numbers flipped up, showing through a glass window at the top.

Brown, stringy hair hung over Elli’s eyes. She needed a shampoo and a shower, already. Eyes sliced up at her in varying stages of amusement and disinterest. The same eyes attached to the same men who came for breakfast every day of every week of every year for as long as Ellie could remember. Ten stools were still full of the early morning coffee crew. It was six a.m. and the logging trucks needed to be in the woods by seven thirty, ready for loading.

The huge sixteen wheelers drove through the narrow tote roads. According to the weather, roads were frozen and slippery, or muddy and slippery. Now instead of logs being dumped into the river for delivery to the mills downstream, trucks came to the lumber camps and loaded the logs to be delivered to the same pulp mills in Winthrop, a hundred miles south of Jackson. Even after the snow came the trucks continued to run through the tote roads. Jackson, the northern most town in the state of Maine, sat on the Canadian border. Except for two or three months each year the tiny town of Jackson was cold. Cold, with temperatures ranging from below zero to freezing, day in and day out. During some stretches the thermometer would read ten, twelve, twenty degrees below zero. When the ground was bare it would crunch under ones feet, like rice crispies.

Ellie poured coffee into the empty cups being held in an even row by bearded, grinning men. She chewed bubble gum, blowing a bubble every few minutes. It helped quench her awful desire for a cigarette. At least she could chew gum while waiting on these boring, same as yesterday guys. God, would she every get out of this dump? She stuck her tongue into the center of the wad of gum, drew in some air through her nose, puffed out her cheeks and blew into the gum. An enormous bubble grew, and burst when it reached the size of a Macintosh apple. The bubble burst when she reached the last customer at the end of the counter. Gum covered the lower half of her face. Ellie pulled the gum back into her mouth with her tongue and lips. All five men watched, shaking their heads simultaneously.

Got lots of class, that girl

I’d call it a god given talent.

I’d call it disgusting, myself.

Whatever it is, I’ll take it. Josh Wells mumbled.

Ole Josh’s got it bad, I’d say. Dick stirred sugar into his final cup of coffee. His ruddy complexion, thick orange hair and beard gave him the appearance of a fuzzy peach. His chuckle was soundless. Shoulders bouncing.

Bullshit, Josh didn’t change his expression. Glaring into the coffee, he shrugged.

The others smirked at each other, glancing at Ellie, standing down by the cash register at the other end of the counter, chewing gum and tapping one foot at an incredible speed. Tap, tap, tap.

If they’d just get up and go I’d be every so grateful! Why can’t they just get out of here, so I can sneak outside for a few puffs? Jesus, I’m so sick of them! All they do is sit around staring at me and drinking their god damned coffee. Later, they’ll sit around staring at me and drink their god damned beer. When do I get to have my fun? All I want is a cigarette. It that asking too much? This was Ellie’s mantra. This was Ellie trying to escape.

From the corner of her eye she watched the men as they drained their cups. She washed dishes in the sink beside the cash register. Everyone had left for the woods except these last five. They were always the last five to leave. They were the five who teased and flirted with her most often. All of them were pains in the butt, but these five really got under her skin. They fed on each other. They really hassled her after their day’s work, when they came in for beer. She much preferred to work the morning shift when she didn’t have to put up with their animal ways. Beer made them act worse than animals, even. She didn’t like to think of what shit she took from them during that time. What the hell. They gave better tips when she played the game they wanted her to play while serving them their beer. And that helped her save toward getting out of Jackson. Darkness and cold. Her friend Jeannie left last year for Florida and loved it. Jeannie had a room she’d share with Ellie and promised to hold it until Ellie could save enough money in order to get there. Jeannie was waiting on tables in Key West at a little bar where men and women treated her as if she didn’t exist, but at least they didn’t feel her up. Yes, Ellie thought, only one more winter here in this shit hole and I’m on my way to sunshine.

As they left, Josh hung back taking time to pocket his change and get his cap placed firmly onto his head, over long thick, black hair. He lit a cigarette, and drew deeply, spinning smoke through his puckered lips. Up and over his head. Ellie watched from the other end of the counter. Wiping the counter as slowly as she possibly could, knowing Josh was delaying his exit, in hopes she’d return to the cash register. Ellie swiped slowly. She looked intently at the spot where she swiped, like she was cleaning a spot for the queen to sit when she came in for coffee.

Josh coughed, shuffled his big, leather work boots, looked at his green wool work pants and reached down to brush at his left knee. He coughed again, and stood erect squinting toward the end of the counter where Ellie remained, wiping the spot for the queen.

She sighed and ambled toward the counter where Josh and the cash register stood. "Shit, I may as well get it over with, she thought. I know what the fool wants. If I want to get out of this hell hole, I have to do it. No other way. Damn! I hate this whole thing!"

She tossed the sponge into the sink. Muddy water splashed over the sides. Crossing her arms over her chest the commenced to tap her left foot.

What, she said.

Josh buttoned his red plaid jacket with ham sized hands. They stuck out of frayed cuffs, exposing several inches of enormous, hairy, bare wrist. He’d been working on his rig the night before installing a new fan belt. His fingernail and knuckles were black with grease. He towered above the cash register waiting for his change.

Here’s a little something for your service, he said in a near whisper as he passed a quarter to Ellie. Thick, black eye lashes rested on his cheeks as she stared down at the quarter in his bear sized hand. A ragged, black beard covered most of his big, round innocent face.

Ellie rolled her eyes heavenward as she plucked the quarter from his dirty paw. Her little finger curled, like she was picking a maggot from a wound.

Last of the big spenders, eh Josh? I may fucking pass out from the generosity!

What you doing later tonight? he asked, head bowed, looking up through his thick eyelashes and shaggy hair.

Probably whatever you want me to be doing? her face was as blank as a sleepwalkers.

See you at your place, at ten, then? His voice was so low she could hardly hear him. Your mom works late tonight, right?

Yes, sir. She blew a bubble, batting her blond eyelashes and smirking at him. Her brown eyes were unusually large for her long, thin face.

Josh turned slowly and lumbered out of the door.

CHAPTER 3

SHIRLEY JOHNSON

OCTOBER 9,1996

S HIRLEY ROLLED OFF the cot which stood beside the pot bellied stove. She stood, half asleep. On one side of her head her short hair bristled as stiff as porcupine quills. On the other side, where she’d been lying, it was pasted, all swirls and sticky. Not moving, arms hanging to her sides, her pink satin robe looking as if it had been slept in for