Blackstrap Hawco by Kenneth J. Harvey Read Free Book Online Page A

up the sleeves of his blue and black flannel jacket. Grabs the back of the padded chair. Pulls it out.
    His father looks up.
    â€˜Heard it,’ Blackstrap agrees in a gruff voice. Still standing.
    Karen leans in front of him. Lifts his plate away. The canned carrots and peas. And a few strips of breaded chicken from a box in the freezer. Heated. Warmed. Untouched. Toss it in the trash.
    â€˜No doubting that,’ he says. Catching the lovely smell of shampoo. And perfume off his wife. It makes him want to grab her backside. For the feel of it through cloth.
    Without regarding Blackstrap, Karen turns. A glass and a plate. One in each hand.
    Blackstrap pays no further mind to her. She seems nervous lately. Out of sorts. Worse and worse. What’s to be nervous about? Everything she wants she’s got. He sits across from his father and sets both elbows on the table. He joins his hands in front of his lips. ‘Isaac Tuttle,’ he remarks. No need for anything but a plain expression. Maybe he’s holding back. Maybe not. That is how he looks. No longer certain.
    â€˜â€™E’s da one,’ says the old man. Squinting, his bushy white eyebrows twitch. He points at his son’s face. ‘Ye knows. Ye jus dug dat well fer ’im back ’a Coombs Hill. It be years since I clapped eyes on ’im. Hidin’ away in da woods like he do. Crazy as da loon.’
    â€˜Who?’ asks Karen. She glances up from wiping out the microwave. Then the kitchen sink, around the rim. Scrub and scour. Any hint of bad news never fails to alarm her. Her nerves. They can’t take the thought of it. Any sort of altercation. A plump woman with a soft attractive face. Long, thick, black hair. Her features say gentleness,except for the brown arcs under her eyes. They say: Worry and defeat. New-blue jeans hug wide hips. A pink T-shirt loosely hangs from her shoulders. Concealing large breasts that wobble at the slightest movement. Above a thick mid-section. When she speaks, the tip of her tongue pokes out, between upper and lower teeth. This makes her seem even gentler. Her softness. Her voice.
    â€˜Ye never ’erd tell ’a Isaac Tuttle?’ Jacob gasps playfully. Turning more in his chair to catch a reaction.
    â€˜No,’ she says, flatly.
    Jacob shifts his attention. From Karen back to Blackstrap. Bewilderment in his eyes.
    Blackstrap stares steadily at his father’s face. Gives nothing away.
    â€˜â€™E be da one who says ’e owns da land,’ Jacob laughs. Shuts his eyes to laugh heartily. The humour surges right through him. His entirety. Until practically losing his breath. Breathing and wheezing. Bracing control. Calming with a sound like a sigh. And wiping at his eyes. ‘Sweet…gentle Jaysus…Dis land.’ His laughter quiets. He licks his lips. Gives his head a slow shake. He waits in silence before laughter bucks up again. Again, he shakes his head to rid himself of it. ‘’E sold da land ta da gover’ment fordy year ago, fer a few coppers, ’n ’e still t’inks ’e’s Lard over ever’tin.’
    Blackstrap Hawco regards his wife. One arm over the back of his chair. He thinks on the name: Isaac Tuttle. The man has surely turned crazy. Once a fit man. Once a decent, generous man. A friend to the family. But more a friend to his mother. A man who secured a job for Junior in the mines. On Bell Isle. Back before they were shut down. The mines where Junior perished.
    Blackstrap frowns casually. Catches his sharp reflection in the toaster on the counter. Prematurely grey and white hair. Tinges of blonde still lingering in his bangs. Hard features. Unshaven. Tired but clear eyes. Like his father’s. But his character nothing like his father’s. Or maybe more. But no effortless laughter. No such ease from Blackstrap. What has been removed over the years. He watches his reflection lift the beer bottle. And take a steady drink.