Elliot was officially gone.
And while Pete had been a little anxious at the thought of being without him, in Passamaquoddy, he had been keeping busy.
Nora was a cheerful taskmaster. She never seemed to be without something to do, and she didn't just make Pete work—she worked beside him and explained the importance of the jobs they did.
He got to break in his work clothes, which were much nicer than the ones he'd been wearing when he first came to town, which had belonged first to the Gogans.
And when he tripped and fell and put a hole in the knee, Nora had been more concerned about him than the nice clothes.
"Have you ever mended holes in clothes, Pete?" she had asked, smiling. "Takes half a minute. I'm not worried about something I can take care of in half a minute. I am worried about you. Are you all right?"
Pete had nodded, Nora had nodded back, and that had been that.
They were whitewashing, today, and Pete had only panicked a little when he got paint on himself. Then he was able to offer the same words of comfort to himself that Nora had used.
'Have you ever done laundry?' he said to himself, smiling. 'Takes half of an hour. Not worth worrying about.'
Nora was in good spirits, though she would rib Lampie good-naturedly in his absence, commenting that he was usually quite the early riser, since she'd taken the night shift with the light.
"Unless he gets distracted," Nora said, which Pete understood now, meant when he took to drinking.
"Did…I mean…is he…distracted today?" Pete asked meekly, stirring a bucket of whitewash with his paintbrush.
"Did he mention he was going to the hardware store?" Nora asked in return, instead of answering Pete's question. "Or to chat with 'the boys?' His drinking friends?"
Pete didn't answer, and Nora didn't seem inclined to let the fact bother her.
"He knows I worry. But I also know he gets anxious when the weather turns. And when he gets anxious he drinks more than he should."
Pete…appreciated this, about Nora. She didn't try to hide grown-up things from him.
After they'd come back from the school yesterday, she had asked him, respectfully, if she might see his back. And even said, if he weren't comfortable showing her, that he was allowed to refuse without fearing she'd turn him out of her home or be punishing toward him; she just mentioned that she would appreciate knowing who he would be comfortable showing. If he preferred a man, or perhaps a doctor.
She…respected him. As a person. Not just as an ill-fortuned child.
And it was nice, in a way that he couldn't explain—how the thought of baring his back to anyone gave him pause, now, but realizing, when she said it, how much worse the idea of doing so for a perfect stranger was, to him. The very thought was repellant, and he'd said so, immediately.
Nora poured more whitewash into Pete's bucket and gently chastised him for stirring it with his brush by simply providing him with a thin stirring stick, which he immediately substituted.
The day was on the cold side, with a thin haze obscuring nearby landmarks, but not, Nora insisted, so much as to label 'fog' or make a fuss at.
"It's just the sort of day that makes fishermen grumpy," Nora said matter-of-factly. "A day where it doesn't even rain, but you'll soon be soaked, anyway."
Pete kept to his whitewashing, dabbing hesitant strokes at the doorframe Nora had asked for assistance with, before she turned back to refill her own whitewash bucket.
"Good morning, Miss Nora!" came a congenial voice from her side of the lighthouse. Pete couldn't place the voice, and Nora didn't seem too excited to engage in conversation; she didn't even halt her work, which Pete's Mama would have said was almost rude.
Her indifference didn't matter in the slightest to the dapper man; he wore a fine silk-lined cloak, white gloves, and a fancy sort of top hat Pete had never seen, except in pictures. He also carried a striped cane, and brought a companion, dressed smartly, but not as…fancy. As the dapper man.
"So, this is where you live, eh?" the man continued, in his pleasant voice, looking up to view the lighthouse in its entirety. Then, "At last we've…seen the light," he said, laughing at his own joke, missing the cross look on Nora's face.
It made Pete uneasy. Nora was a very kind sort of person. If she was being rude to this man…maybe he wasn't a nice person.
The man, conversely, didn't seem at all impeded by Nora's ignoring him. He kept right on, and his companion just smiled amiably. "I tell you, you've got to have a sense of humor these days," he said to no one in particular.
But then the man's gaze…found him. "And you must be Pete!" he said brightly, and Pete put his paintbrush away.
"Yes, sir," he said clearly, politely.
"I'm Dr. Terminus," the man said, evidently pleased to be introducing himself, though by all rights the pleasure should have fallen with Nora. "And this is Hoagy, who's doing his internship with me," he continued, indicating his companion, who offered a wave.
"I heard about the incident at school yesterday," he continued, indicating the direction of the schoolhouse with his thumb.
"I'd rather not discuss it," Nora said then, interrupting. She gave a firm look to the pair, before turning back to her bucket, stirring her whitewash mixture.
"I realize you must be disturbed about it," Dr. Terminus said aimiably, "and—" he brought a hand up to his neck, as if measuring the height of some invisible thing, and Hoagy made the exact same gesture a moment after him— "up to here in dragons," he finished with a short chuckle.
Pete was reminded of people who came to the door of his old home, in Bangor, insistent on selling something to his parents. Salesmen. Dr. Terminus didn't seem like any doctor Pete had ever met. But he sure did seem like a salesman.
"You know, Pete, I have always loved dragons," he said then, and he started walking toward Pete, smiling. "They're such wonderful creatures." He offered another short chuckle. "When they're not busy destroying things, of course."
Pete was put off by the intensity of the man's smile, and his companion, Hoagy, who hadn't said a word, and continued to offer his own smile. He had come forward with Dr. Terminus, step for step, and Pete wasn't sure whether it was meant to feel as intimidating as it did.
Nora had stopped her stirring, again, and was watching them, now, too.
"I've had a dream since I was your age that one day I would have my very own dragon," Dr. Terminus said, continuing what Pete had the feeling was a speech he had rehearsed. "I would consider my life to be fulfilled and would be most grateful if you would sell me your dragon," he concluded, pointing at Pete, whose brow furrowed.
This wasn't the direction he expected the conversation to take at all. And Pete found himself trying to think how he would even go about explaining to Dr. Terminus that you couldn't…own Elliot. Like that.
But, he realized, heart beating quicker…actually…he could. Didn't…didn't Mrs. Gogan own Pete? Didn't she say? How she'd paid for him? Fifty dollars plus fifty cents legal. She had the bill of sale. She kept it on her person, under her clothes, by her bosoms.
"You…wanna buy…Elliot?" Nora said slowly, disbelievingly.
"Sight unseen. As is," Dr. Terminus said in reply, which made no sense to Pete, but seemed to, to Nora, who just…looked baffled.
"We'll give him a good home," said Hoagy, who hadn't spoken, yet. "Bless him," he added, taking off his brown derby hat, for effect.
"I…I couldn't sell him," Pete said honestly.
"Well sure you could!" Dr. Terminus interjected, and he glanced at Hoagy, who put his hat back on. "That's what life is all about! Buying and selling!" He paused, and then lifted a hand, extending three fingers. "I'll give you three dollars." He tapped the hand with the crook of his striped cane.
"Offer him four!" said Hoagy, holding up his own hand with four fingers.
"I'll offer him five, it'll make his head swim," muttered Dr. Terminus, and Pete wasn't sure if he was meant to hear this side conversation. But it didn't matter, because the good doctor was raising his hand, all five fingers extended, tapping it with his cane. "Five dollars."
"I can't sell him," Pete said again. "I…don't own him."
"Well, what did you do, rent him?" Hoagy replied quickly, confusion reigning his features.
"Well, who owns him?" Dr. Terminus asked, a little more sensibly.
"Well, nobody, I guess," Pete admitted. "He just came to me." It was true. Elliot had showed up, one day, while Pete was weeding cucumbers. "He only goes to those who need him," he said, then, and frowned. He hadn't meant to say that. He…he didn't know that. Couldn't know that. He didn't understand Elliot very well at the best of times…and yet the statement felt true. And Pete knew…that it was.
"I need him," Dr. Terminus said, thumping his own chest with his hand, and with the handle of his cane.
"Listen, Doc," Nora interjected, then, stepping firmly between Dr. Terminus and Pete, "I don't know what you're up to, but you'd better forget about this. He's not for sale."
Dr. Terminus' hand darted forward, taking Pete's paintbrush from him. "Nora, go paint your lighthouse," he said, not even looking at her as he thrust it right in her face. Nora took it, more out of shock than anything, and Dr. Terminus' hand darted forward again, this time taking Pete by the elbow.
"Pete, my boy, you're conversant with Elliot," he said wheedlingly. He stepped away from the lighthouse, and his hand gripped Pete's arm, pulling him alongside him. Dr. Terminus had long legs, but he also had a firm grip, and Pete stumbled into step beside him. "Now—now talk to him. Tell him how much I need him," he said firmly—pleadingly.
Pete just listened—he stayed quiet, even as they stepped further away from Nora, even as Hoagy circled around to stand behind him, which he hated—
Dr. Terminus let go of him, then, and they stopped walking. "Look, deliver Elliot to me and the fiver is yours, plus a bottle of my medicine that's guaranteed to bring on puberty two years ahead of time," he said, and his tone turned conspiratorial, as he lifted his hand to show two fingers. "And that's better than a dragon, hmm?" he said then, offering that little chuckle, again.
Nora was there, then, addressing Dr. Terminus, who looked at her. "Doc, maybe you should talk to Elliot yourself," she said brightly, offering a smile for the first time since their guests had arrived, uninvited.
"Hmm? Wh-where is he?" the man said, straightening, looking around, as if Elliot would manifest. "D-does he speak English?"
Lying was wicked. Pete hated to lie. "He's…usually down the beach," he said, which wasn't an outright lie. He pointed toward the cave Elliot played in and around. You couldn't rightly see the cave from here, so Pete walked forward, and Dr. Terminus followed him, this time.
"Where?" Dr. Terminus asked, looking hard, like Elliot would appear because of the man's will to see him.
"Right there, by the water," Pete said, again clearly indicating the cave entrance.
Pete felt the familiar presence of Nora, behind him, now, subtly inserting herself between Pete and the visitors, who both were positively straining their eyes, trying to see Elliot's non-presence on the shore.
"Right," Dr. Terminus said slowly. "I still don't see…"
"That's because he's invisible today," Pete said, looking at Nora, instead of Dr. Terminus—this was the most outright lie he'd told, and he wasn't certain if it would show on his face.
Nora, though, laughed good-naturedly, and pulled him back, away from the rocky outcropping of rocks they'd been standing on, back toward the lighthouse, and the white-washing that still needed doing.
Pete didn't need her to guide him, he trotted after her willingly, feeling only a little bad that they were surely being very rude to the doctor and his companion.
Pete noted that, instead of getting angry at Pete for lying, or tricking him, the Doctor pulled Hoagy in for a hushed private conference, and the two stalked off—away from the overlook, but also away from the lighthouse.
He picked up his paintbrush to continue working, and saw Nora do the same, but she also glanced toward the gentlemen, who had apparently taken their private conference to convene on the other side of the foghorn, if Pete remembered correctly from Nora's grand tour, a few days ago.
"If they're gonna squawk over there like a couple of buzzards, I say we treat them accordingly," Nora said momentarily, leaning in to say it softly, so there wasn't a chance she'd be overheard. "Do you remember where the lever is? To sound the foghorn?"
Pete nodded, and darted inside.
He didn't see the immediate results of his action of sounding the horn.
But he did see how positively radiant Nora looked in that moment, when she saw it. And that was enough for him.