“Excuse me, Mrs. Carboneau?”
Another reporter, she knew at once. Margaret had become expert at spotting them, though in this case, the camera and television crew was a giveaway. The reporter approached with one hand outstretched and another already thumbing the microphone switch to “on.”
Carl turned away as soon as he'd seen the camera and scaled the ladder. His parents still believed he'd been going to school all week, though Margaret wondered how they could be fooled this long. She secretly hoped the camera caught him on tape. If anything, it would force him to confront the situation before the inevitable revelation caused worse distress than it likely already would.
She took the reporter's hand and led him away from the construction. The cameraman, a lanky, bald-shaven twenty-something, kept moving sideways to allow a shot with the ark as background.
The interview went much like the other two she'd given over the past days. Margaret had to endure them. Seven days into construction and only half a crew. She needed the publicity. Twenty minutes later, with the news van packed up and out of site down Cambridge Street, events took a turn for the worse.
The steady bleat of a car horn, then, “Carl! Hey, Carl!” More beeping.
At the edge of the square, a black, rusted SUV had parked across from the fire station. A young man in a high school varsity baseball uniform stood outside it, leaning in through the driver's door and pressing the horn.
Carl poked his head over the top of the hull and muttered to himself.
The new arrival shielded his eyes from the early afternoon sun and shouted, “What the hell are you doing up there, man?” Without looking at Margaret, Carl climbed down the ladder and headed for the SUV. Margaret busied herself with picking up scattered debris and putting what scraps she thought salvageable in one pile, tossing the rest into one of the large, green plastic trash cans. She did her best to listen to the conversation.
The visitor’s voice rose in volume, then dropped in response to Carl's hushed reply. Obviously, Carl’s call to the coach about not being well enough to play yesterday had worked as well as it could have. His teammate seemed genuinely shocked to see him here.
Carl's voice became louder as the conversation progressed. At length, it ended with the owner of the SUV yelling obscenities and Carl reciprocating with his own.
The car roared away, oblivious to the police station next door. The lone policeman on common duty followed its progress down the road, waiting with one hand on his radio while the car turned onto Cambridge Street. It did so slowly, without the expected squeal of tires.
The policeman took his hand from the radio and looked at Margaret, shrugging his shoulders in a defeatist gesture.
Carl stormed back to the ark and climbed up the ladder without speaking. Margaret didn't push for an explanation. She looked at her watch. Three-thirty. He had time to cool off before heading home and not telling his parents about school.
By four forty-five, Andy had returned with a new pair of pants and people were making end-of-day motions. The sun was curving behind the fire house as Carl climbed down the ladder. He brushed away a thick layer of sawdust from his jeans, being meticulous to get all around himself. Still, the smell of it permeated his clothes, and his tee-shirt clung to his muscular chest. Every other day, he had left an hour early to run his clothes through the laundromat down the road. He'd then take the cleaned clothes, crumple them up and toss them into the hamper at home.
A great plan. Margaret could tell he hated doing it.
“That was Max who came by earlier,” he said. “The dude in the car.” He gestured toward the road.
Margaret nodded.
Carl's half-hearted arm gesture was frozen in place. He continued staring across the grass.
“Carl?” Margaret followed his gaze.
A woman sat in a Honda and stared through the open driver's window. If such a thing were possible, Margaret would swear she saw the air ripple between her and the teenager.
“Oh, no,” Carl said, barely whispering.
The woman in the car looked on the verge of tears. She began to say something, stopped, then pulled from the curb without looking. Fortunately, there hadn’t been another car coming. Margaret watched the Honda’s window slide soundlessly up as it pulled away, and turned on to Cambridge without slowing amid the blare of car horns and the squeal of brakes.
Margaret looked quickly at the policeman, who was talking into his walkie-talkie. He caught Margaret's gaze. She shook her head. The man looked up the road, back at her, then sighed and said something else into his radio.
Carl stared off into space.
“That was your mother, wasn't it?” Margaret said.
“Max. Max must have told her.”
“He has her work number?”
Carl's forehead wrinkled in confusion. “No. Aw, no!” He shouted and turned to grab his stuff. “No,” he said, “but the coach does. “
He stormed across the grass to his car parked at the furthermost corner from the ship. Margaret ran after him.
“Carl, wait!” When he didn’t respond, she grabbed his shoulder and shouted, “Wait!”
Carl stopped. He was breathing hard, panicked. Margaret knew she had only a few seconds to say what she needed to. “Carl, don't talk, just listen; then you can leave.” She lowered her voice, “And leave slowly. The cop back there is itching to give someone a ticket.” She moved between him and his car.
“When you get home, they're going to ask you why you're here. You know that as well as anyone. Before they ask, you need to know what your answer will be.”
He looked at her, disbelief mixed with rage. “You want me to lie?”
“On the contrary. You need to tell them the truth. The question is, do you know what the truth is?”
He started to reply, hesitated, the meaning of her question slowly sinking in. She pressed, “Carl, you've been such a help to me, to everyone. You've come here every day and haven’t complained about anything I’ve asked you to do. The outside of the ark is only a few days from completion, and a lot of that is because of you. But listen!” She raised a hand to stifle any objection he might offer.
“Not since you arrived have you spoken about why you're here. When you face your parents, you know what they'll say. And when they say it, it might be with all the force - and love - they've ever mustered. Do you believe God wants us to build this boat?”
His expression went flat, as if the words had a physical impact against his face. “I.... I mean....”
“I.. I mean... isn’t going to answer your parents' question. I don’t know them, but I have a feeling they're good people. Are you willing to stand before them and explain that there will be a flood in forty-seven days and the Lord does want to save us and that you want them to join us? Or are you going to back down?”
“I don’t understand why - “
“Please, Carl, believe me. You've been avoiding this long enough. Before you get home tonight, even if it means taking the long way and grabbing a Big Mac first, you have to know where you stand. Not where I stand. Not Andy. Not even your friend Max.” The mention of that name sent a new wave of emotion through the boy's face. “What you believe, Carl. God loves you. He loves your parents. He loves the world and wants to save as many people as possible, believers and non-believers alike. Whether He’s causing the flood or not, He is in control and you have to be on the ark when it happens. I haven’t preached to you before and I won't tomorrow, but I will now. Believe or don't! But do it before you face the very people who love you the most, or you'll fall under their faith instead of your own.”