Murder Is Always Evil, Why Drinkwater?

Deanes Island came straight from my imagination. Casco Bay, where it lies (supposedly) among the cluster of islands that comprise the Casco Bay Islands off the coast of Maine, is a beautiful spot year round. When I lived in Yarmouth, Maine and drove to my place of work in Portland, I very seldom lost sight of the water. I used to love that drive.

Noah Drinkwater and his family lived on Deanes Island for many years. He and his sister were born there, probably at home, since they would have been born a few years after my mother was born in 1920. My mother was also born at home. Noah is two years younger than Annie, who always looked after her little brother.

My mother's father was a Drinkwater, the son of a Portland, Maine sea captain, who sailed all over the world. I wish I had stories of his to relate, but I don't remember hearing any. I think a disconnect of some sort must have occurred between my grandfather and his father to cause the silence between them. My mother grew up poor, and my grandfather spent most of his working life in local mills. He managed to support his family, but just barely. When his father died, he left his Portland house to my grandfather and my Uncle Edgar. We spent many Sunday afternoons visiting my Baba and Maimie Drinkwater. We Davis kids loved his house and managed most of the time to stay out of trouble. Once every other visit or so, we ventured into the formal living room where the good furnishings were. When that happened, we were soon confronted by our grandfather who told us to go outside and play. Sometimes we would visit on Saturday evenings and watch the TV show"The Creaking Door, that is, our parents and grandparents watched while we played outside on the porch.

When my grandfather got too old to stay in his home, my father converted a shed next to the kitchen into a bedroom and sitting area for him. He stayed with us for several years during which time he would visit his other children who lived in different parts of the country. He eventually needed more care than my mother could provide and he moved into a Yarmouth nursing home. He didn't stay there long because he wanted to move back with his family. One day my mother got a call from the nursing home telling her my grandfather had become unruly, and could no longer stay there. It seems he had talked his roommate into escaping with him and they were on their way to the door when a nurse spotted them. I laugh every time I think of my 90+ grandfather and his confederate plotting their escape and almost succeeding.