That day she had to fix a pending leak in the boat where she lived, fix the hatch, and decide how to make room for a baby and for a dog. She looked at the dog and thought of the words poop deck, and how she would have to train him. She looked about her small room and thought about where the cradle would go, then the crib, then the bed. As it turned out, she didn’t have to wonder where the dog would sleep. The little spotted dog slept with her and she loved the warmth of his body.

Even without Thomas, it became a happy time. Hoist, as she and her father named their little canine assistant, dragged nets in with his teeth as if to help, making them laugh. She would always remember her father’s face as he laughed that first day, red and happy. Hoist also chased his tail. He leaped over waves, biting the top of water. Everyone loved him, even the customers at the NO DOGS, and SORRY WE’RE OPEN café. And the baby was moving, turning like a butterfly growing wings in a cocoon.

It’s salmon season, she wrote Thomas. They are so beautiful. I hate to kill even one. But I only sell what we need to. I almost have to divine what the restaurants will use. Sometimes I throw a few back. I wish you would write me more about what life is like over there. Your letter about how green it is made me curious. I wish I could see it. The baby is growing!

Thomas laughed when he read the letter. But there were two laughs, one about the baby, one about the idea of Ruth seeing the world over there, not worth laughing about, a world taken apart, bodies, fear, and the smell of death. But then, it was the beginning of many lies, how could he tell her the truth of his life there.

Ruth left out some things, as well. She didn’t tell him when her father died and how they’d had a traditional service and his body was taken to the island where once they kept the dead. The mourning songs and the crying would have made a mountain weep. He was left for the vultures, according to tradition which was so rarely kept now. Her mother went into mourning, painting the part in her hair black.

Nor did Ruth write to Thomas about how his own father had attacked her at the corner of the schoolhouse one night. He’d been drinking. She begged him to stop as he pulled her blouse open, then held her arms with one hand. There were some men nearby smoking and laughing. She called to them for help. They didn’t come to help her, even though she knew they heard. They walked away. Worse, they laughed. With her strong arms she had to break his hold herself and leave him bruised, drunk, and angry enough to tell everyone he “got some” from his own daughter-in-law. He was known for his handsome charisma, and some might have believed it if they hadn’t known Ruth. More than one person saw him with a black eye underneath his sunglasses.