The Shipping News by Annie Proulx Page A

Ships. I doubt we can move out to the house, either. The station wagon won’t last a week on that road. How will I get back and forth to work? I suppose we could buy a truck with four-wheel drive and heavy-duty shocks, but it means hours of driving. What about renting something here in Killick-Claw?”
    The aunt drove her needles furiously. Wool twitched through her fingers.
    â€œOf course you can do the job. We face up to awful things because we can’t go around them, or forget them. The sooner you get it over with, the sooner you say ‘Yes, it happened, and there’s nothing I can do about it,’ the sooner you can get on with your own life. You’ve got children to bring up. So you’ve got to get over it. What we have to get over, somehow we do. Even the worst things.”
    Sure, get over it, thought Quoyle. Ten-cent philosophy. She didn’t know what he had been through. Was going through.
    â€œNow, I’ve spent the whole week looking, dragging these kids around Killick-Claw in Tom Rock’s taxicab looking for something—a house, apartment, even a couple of rooms. I’ve got to get my business started up. I’ve mentioned this every night. But your mind is somewhere else.” Wondered how long he would keep wallowingin the dead woman’s grave. “We’ve all got to get a grip here and pull together.”
    â€œYou’re right, Aunt. And I’m sorry you’ve had to do all the looking.” He was here and there was nothing to go back to.
    â€œWell, I haven’t found much, either. There is a dark little room with old Mrs. Speck. The government told her to change the sheets and put out a bed-and-breakfast sign. It is worse than this dump, though cheaper. But there’s only room for one person. Seems to be a housing shortage in Killick-Claw. Place is having a boom.” Her sentences speeding up, tripping out as if to catch time with the clicking needles.
    â€œIt’s like I said, we need a boat. Cross the bay in half an hour. Foolish to waste money renting a house when we have the old family place right over there that only needs fixing up. I talked today to a carpenter. Dennis Buggit, lives in Killick-Claw. He’s not doing much. Says he can work on it right away. His wife is going to take care of the girls tomorrow and I’ll go over to the house with Dennis, work up some estimates, see what’s involved. Beety, that’s the wife. Thinking of starting a day-care in her house. Best news I heard since we got here. These two,” jerking her head, “could be the first and best customers.”
    Bunny kicked the wall. Sniveled.
    The only word Quoyle heard was “boat.” “Aunt, I don’t know anything about boats. They are expensive. They are uncomfortable. They are dangerous. You need a dock or something. I don’t want a boat.”
    â€œAfraid it’s the sensible answer. Unless you want to stay here at a hundred and something a night. That’s two days work for the carpenter.” Barking. Her eyes hot.
    Quoyle pressed the buttons of the television set, forgetting it was dead.
    â€œIt doesn’t work, Daddy,” sobbed Sunshine.
    â€œI hate this place.” Bunny, kicking at the wall with her scuffed shoes. “I want to go in a boat. I want to go fix the green house where the aunt was born and have my own room. I will sweep the floor if we can go, Daddy. I’ll do everything.”
    â€œLet’s go have supper,” muttered Quoyle. “I can’t handle this right now.”
    â€œThe dining room is closed to the public tonight. It’s the curling championship dinner. They fixed us some chowder, but we’ll have to go get it ourselves and eat it here in the room.”
    â€œI want meat,” said Bunny. “I want meat chowder.”
    â€œToo bad,” said the aunt rather savagely, “it’s not on the menu.” To herself she added, eat fish or