Recluse Island

Chapter 35

January 2014

               At two o'clock on an overcast Thursday afternoon a knock sounded on the door of Sherman Guemmers cabin. Though ninety-five, the knock did not startle Sherman for he had been expecting the sound. Just as he always did every Thursday when Dr. Preston Laramie came to call on him.

            Gus Rimrick his caretaker went to answer it. Gus had been working for him nearly twenty years now ever since Gus had lost his left eye in a fishing accident. He wore a black patch over the empty socket now, Sherman figured this was more for his comfort than Sherman's. After all, at ninety-five there wasn't much he hadn't seen.

            The cottage in which he had lived for the past thirty years was on the outskirts of Stormy Shore. His rheumatoid arthritis prevented him from performing normal daily tasks like dressing, cooking, and cleaning. That's where Gus came in.

Once Sherman had learned Gus had lost an eye and was let go from Fisherman's Catch, he knew inevitably the man just thirty-five at the time would be sent to the Clinkirk Compound. Despite the insistence from Rafanoli that the deportations were random, Sherman had been around long enough to notice that once a person lost their ability to perform their required duties, it wasn't long after they were conveniently deported. Sherman felt Gus had suffered enough already with his injury so before Rafanoli could send him below, Sherman offered him a job as his caretaker. Gus readily accepted and had been working for him ever since. As for why he'd never been deported Sherman was pretty sure Ellamae Charles (he never could bring himself to say Rafanoli after she had married Ignacio Rafanoli, grandson of Luca Rafanoli) had something to do with it.

            But Ellamae was another story entirely. One though many years had passed he still had trouble letting go of her and furthermore could not seem to forget the woman that still held his heart.

            Sherman was sitting in a grandfather chair, red with dark wood near the fireplace. Gus had just made him a cup of tea with honey when the knock came. The January winds were blowing outside and without the sun to lend its warmth, a dramatic drop in temperature had taken over the island.

The tea sat on a small circular table beside him. Unfortunately, due to the twisted and gnarled state of his hands he couldn't hold the cup on his own. Since it was a bit chilly today, Gus had decided to build a fire. It wasn't often the fireplace was put to good use; Sherman knew it was impractical when he was designing the cabin, but more than anything he liked the ambiance of it. Gus said some storms were expected to pass through. Sherman had been watching through the front room window the dark clouds swirling above. He'd rather be looking at the ocean but because of the barricade it had been many years since he had seen outside of Stormy Shore.

            Gus led Dr. Laramie inside. He had been treating Sherman's arthritis for nearly twenty-five years. Of course, there was no cure, so he really just helped with the pain, but Sherman was grateful regardless. He would have hated having to go to the clinic in town and appreciated Dr. Laramie was kind enough to come to his home.

            The doctor would be turning fifty this year. Though he didn't look, it. His hair was just as brown as his kind eyes. He wasn't a tall man, thin with broad shoulders and a dark tan. He wore tan pants and a green polo shirt with a black medical bag in one hand.

            "How are you doing today, Sherman?" Dr. Laramie asked, setting his bag on the kitchen table.

            "Same as always," Sherman replied.

            "I'll make you some tea," Gus volunteered, "It's still warm."

Gus turned to the two-burner stove and began pouring steaming water into another white china cup with daffodils on the side. Gus was short and round with a thick black beard and shoulder length hair that he kept pulled back in a small ponytail. He wore long beige shorts and an orange T-shirt.