Chapter 7 - Visitor #2
“Well, in the meantime, I’m hungry. Do you mind if I make a peanut butter sandwich?
I saw some when I loaded your boxes at Olsson’s.
Which reminds me . . . been meaning to ask .
. . I noticed multiple packages of bakery molasses cookies.
You ‘bout bought out the store. What’s that about?
You got an eating disorder . . . ‘cause you don’t look like you eat a lot of cookies? ”
Grace laughed. “No. You can help yourself to the cookies, and there’s local raspberry jam for your PB&J.
I don’t have an eating disorder, exactly.
I have a habit.” Robby tilted his head. “Nothing to worry about. When you open the refrigerator for the jam, you’ll see the cookies.
They’re stacked, all open, so the cookies get stale, so they’re dunkable.
I like them with my coffee, and I figured working, l’d be drinking a lot of coffee, so I laid in a supply. ”
Robby smiled. “The things you learn about people loading their groceries. There may be a song in there somewhere.” He looked across at her as she typed, then got up, found the bread, the peanut butter, the jam — saw the tower of cookies, and started making his sandwich.
“Just so you know, Billy’s hoping to come back, and I said I’d help him.
I asked him to bring a sharpening stone — your axe is dull. ”
Grace looked up. “You know how to do that? Sharpen an axe?” She raised her eyebrows.
“Yeah. I do. You go through a lot of firewood in a Minnesota winter. I learned young. I can hunt and fish, too. Trapped a little during winter holiday breaks from school. There’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“Okay. Maybe you can teach me how to use the stone, but when do you have to go? Are we going to get Margie’s visit? Sit down and drink a beer? I was going to try to wind this up early, in your honor.”
“Sure,” he said, walking over with his sandwich. “After Billy and I get through — if he comes — I’ll go take a shower and change clothes. Then, I’ll come back, and we can visit.”
“Wait.” Grace looked confused. “You’re going all the way down the Trail, then to your house, and come back? That’s crazy!”
Robby laughed. “That would be crazy. No. It’s more synchronicity.
Margie had food, and Jim called with a Covid cancellation.
He’s rented me a cabin, one over from you.
I asked him at the meeting to call me if anything came open.
It’s Memorial Day Weekend, and I’m bored.
It’s been over a week, you know . . . my usual limit.
” He took a bite of sandwich and looked at Grace.
She was dumbfounded. “So you’re staying . . . here? For how long?”
“I don’t know. I’m in charge of my own schedule, remember? I’m in no hurry, and I don’t have anything better to do. At least here I can get on the water and try to distract you.” He took another bite.
“Oh, great. I’m in a bigger fog than I thought. I’d totally forgotten the holiday . . . Wait. When is the lockdown?”
“Relax. Not for another week.”
“Good. Jim and I need to talk about this place. It’s working out well and the price is right.
” She took a breath. “Okay. Well, I still need to finish. Make yourself at home.” She went back to work.
Robby finished eating, explored outside, then put wood in the stove, laid back in one of the recliners, and went to sleep.
Billy did come back, and Grace overheard him tell Robby, “I brought the stone and another pair of work gloves. Your hands’ll get all torn up doing this.
” The next time she looked out the window, they were down on the point, making a big pile of rocks.
She thought it was a little odd. Were they clearing a place to pull up a canoe till a dock could be installed?
She went back to writing the next piece.
Several hours and another pot of coffee later, Robby came in the side door, coat in hand, red shirt unbuttoned. “All done, and so am I. Are you finished yet?”
Grace looked up. “I’ve gotten one done and the other outlined. ‘Still have to prepare for an online interview Tuesday, but that can wait. I’m feeling good about it all. Want a beer? We can finally sit on the porch and visit.” She stood up and stretched.
“It’s good seeing you more relaxed. You seem more at ease up here, and you’ve only bitten my head off once in practically a whole day. How ‘bout we split a beer? I need to get over to my cabin and clean up. Then, I’ll come back, and we can have a real visit.”
“Sounds good. I’ll go down and see what you and Billy accomplished while you do that.” She closed her laptop and stepped over to the fridge to get a beer.
“I’d rather you wait till I get back to go down to the point. I’d like to be there when you see it.”
“Okay, sure. You want a glass for your half?” She held up the beer.
“Not if you don’t mind sharing.”
“Wait — should I worry? You know, the wild lives of rock stars . . .”
“No wild life lately, and there’s no Covid anywhere I’ve been that I’ve heard of.”
“Okay. I guess I’m safe. You know this is Schell’s, right?” Grace looked at him as she pried the cap off with an opener. “Will you drink that?”
“I’m not picky about beer. As a Native American male, I’m conscious of alcohol consumption.
In college and at times on the road, I’ve had to rein myself in.
But between what I’ve seen — whether Native growing up or anyone else on the road — and what I’ve been through to get where I am, I’m not interested in throwing it away on substance abuse.
My parents worried, I’m sure. Alcohol and drugs weren’t allowed in our house — Dad’s a recovering alcoholic.
They preached moderation. They knew about the weed.
They just kept us busy and goal-oriented.
They put a lot of stock in role-modeling .
. . I never really thought about it till now, but Bella had the most pressure, being the oldest, setting the example for the rest of us. I should tell her.”
“You should thank her.”
“That might be more than I can muster.” Robby followed her through the door, ducking slightly.
“I think it needs more furniture, but this is a start.” He and Billy had placed the long, weathered picnic table to the left, but there was still an empty space beyond that.
To the right, were two thick birch rockers with a matching table in between.
“The best thing about these rockers is the high backs. You can put your head back.”
“You know, now that you say it, I’ve seen you do that, a lot . . . lean your head back and close your eyes.”
“Hmmm. Must be something you learn when you work a job where you have to catch sleep whenever and wherever you can. Let’s sit at the picnic table.
That way I won’t be tempted to put my head back.
” He laughed and motioned Grace to go ahead, then navigated his long legs under the table and sat down next to her. “What a view.”
Grace looked out at the lake. “Yes. This is heaven for me. I could stay here forever.” She took a sip of the beer and pushed it towards him.
“I agree with you about the furniture, but this cabin is not meant for more than two.” She thought for a moment.
“I don’t know about up here, but in the South, there are ‘sleeping porches.’ That might solve the problem.
Maybe a big hammock, catty-corner, at that end. ” She pointed left.
Robby leaned back, beer in hand, to look past Grace. “Great idea. For naps?”
“The original idea was for all night. People slept on their porches because their houses were too hot. But I think we could make an allowance for aging rockers. Hammocks are great for naps, especially the hammocks I’m thinking of.
There’s a hammock maker about an hour north of where I’m from.
Up the coast. I have one of theirs on my porch.
I love to nap in it, and I’m not nearly as old as you are. ”
“There you go again. Not to change the subject, but to change the subject, let’s talk about supper. When I come back, can we eat here? Something easy, have that visit . . .”
“Are you asking me for a date?”
“No way,” Robby said immediately, “that might have strings — you don’t like strings — I’m not going anywhere near strings, not those kind anyway .
. . and rock stars don’t ask girls for dates.
This is totally different. This is . . .
completing a mission. So I have a full report to take back to Margie and Charlie.
No strings on reports, and no risk of being turned down if I’m not asking. ”
“Ohhh. And that’s the only reason you came. Strictly out of duty . . . altruism . . . and to get time on the water.”
“I knew that altruism remark was a mistake the minute I said it. Honesty is not always the best policy.” Robby took another sip of the beer, then put it back on the table closer to Grace.
He leaned forward, putting his forearms on the table, and looked over at her.
When he spoke, his voice was quieter. “This is getting to be a dicey conversation, a minefield. I don’t want you to say no. ”
Grace picked up the beer, looking out at the lake as she sipped. Then, she turned to Robby. “Do come back. I’d like to visit. I hadn’t realized till now I’ve missed having someone to talk to.” She turned away.
“I have too,” he said, looking at her profile. “I’m not sure why, but I miss our conversations. You make me think and not just about sex.” He went in and came out, his coat in one hand over his shoulder. “I’m going now, before you change your mind. See you later.”
Grace watched the scarlet coat disappear in the trees and finished the beer. Then she went in, laid on the bed to think about supper, and promptly fell asleep.
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