Chapter 15 - Covid
*********
Grace walked into the lodge around lunchtime.
Kirsten was at the desk. “Thanks again for last night. I enjoyed it. It was surprising. I wasn’t expecting Robby to be that well-spoken and wide-ranging in his musical tastes — not like some people have said.
I had fun singing too. I’d forgotten that — how fun it is to sing with people who know what they’re doing. Billy, too.”
“Yes, y’all sounded really good . . . and it makes a difference when you talk face to face with someone and spend time with them.”
“Has he left?” Grace nodded. “Maybe we’ll do it again. He’s for sure a great guitar player, and he knows how to sing.”
Grace smiled and took her laptop to her usual cubicle and opened her email.
Nothing from Robby yet, but one from the newspaper at home and another from Ely, from Brad.
The editor from home was writing to say there were only two others left besides herself and Grace.
She would try to keep Grace on as long as possible.
In fact, she figured if it got bad enough to let Grace go, she would have to suspend publication.
Grace wrote back that she was grateful and sorry, and she would like to craft an editorial to the effect that with the lockdown, newspapers were one of the few ways to know what was going on locally.
That resource would disappear if people did not subscribe.
She got the okay back immediately. That would be part of this afternoon’s work.
Then, she opened Brad’s email. He started off complimenting Grace for her excellent work.
He was sorry he hadn’t been able to fulfill his invitation for her to come to Ely, but soon.
He was sure. In August, there was an annual journalism festival in Minneapolis with state and national speakers sponsored by a progressive newspaper.
The Ely office had already reserved a block of rooms in the hotel where the event was to take place.
She should think about going. He had gone a couple of times and enjoyed it.
Grace decided she was too tired to come up with a diplomatic response.
When she closed Brad’s email, she saw Robby had sent one.
He was home and was going to spend the afternoon in the basement and tomorrow go to the studio at Fond du Lac, because the date for the show had been set and it was soon, 19 July.
He would let her know about rehearsals. He missed her.
That made her smile, but she wondered what she had gotten herself into.
Still, she would trust and go forward. As Robby had said after that first kiss, “You can always cut strings.”
*******
It was about 6 p.m. when Robby came up from the basement. He heard the shower turn off, then he heard Marie coughing. Maybe they had gone camping, and she had caught a cold, or maybe it was something else. Whatever, he didn’t like it.
He threw out the leftover coffee and made a fresh pot. Then he went to the bathroom door. “Marie, what do you want for breakfast?”
“I’m not hungry. Just some coffee.” She coughed.
“Marie, I don’t like that coughing. Are you short of breath?” He prayed for a no.
“Yes. I’ll leave as soon as possible. Put the coffee in a go-cup, and I’ll take it with me.
” More coughing. “I’ll mask and glove up in here, but I’m going to the hospital — I know they have testing kits.
You go to your room and take disinfectant spray with you.
When you hear me leave, come out and spray as you walk through the house.
” She paused and coughed. Robby hadn’t said anything. “Robby? Are you there?”
“Yes.”
“You’ll do what I said?”
“Yes.” Deep breath. “What if you test positive?”
“I’ve talked to Russell. I didn’t go camping.
I worked.” She stopped speaking but Robby could hear her trying to catch her breath.
“If it’s positive, I’ll ride it out here.
You’ll have to go back up the Trail, or stay with Mom and Dad, or Russell and the boys, or anywhere else.
I’ll let you know as soon as I know.” Coughing.
“If I don’t find out right away, I’m not staying in Grand Marais.
I’m coming back here, so you have to make plans, pack, and get out now. ”
“But who will take care of you?”
Coughing. “Robby, that’s what husbands and wives sign on for. Russell can leave food at the door. We can communicate by phone. If I get too sick to take care of myself, Russell or I will call 911. Go fix my coffee.” Coughing.
“Okay.”
She was right, of course, plus it was pointless to argue with Marie.
So, where to go? He would love to go back up the Trail, but he had to work, and he couldn’t do it there.
And he couldn’t barge in on Grace like that, anyway.
She had to work. He’d call Russell. That way he could help out with the boys.
He fixed her coffee and went to his room to call Russell and pack, but he stopped at the bathroom door. “I’m going to see if I can stay at your house and be of some help, okay?”
“Thank you. I was hoping you’d do that.”
“Marie, I love you. You have to get over whatever this is.”
Coughing. “I love you too, and I will. How was your weekend?”
“The best.”
“You need to have someone, Robby. It’s time.” Coughing, followed by short breaths he could hear, gasps really. “Robby, there’s more to life than rock ‘n’ roll. ‘Don’t wait till it’s too late.”
“I feel like I’m eighteen when you talk to me like this. First, you give me a list of orders. Then, you tell me to grow up.”
“Robby, you are a dear, sweet, talented man, but you are acting like you’re eighteen.
” Cough. “I’m not saying quit music. Your music is a positive force.
You’re making a real contribution, not to mention jobs.
I’m saying, add someone to share life with and do whatever it takes to keep her.
” He could hear her short breaths. “So we don’t have to have this conversation again. ”
“I’m trying.”
“You know that Yoda quote Dad always told us, ‘Try not. Do. Or do not. There is no try.’”
“Oh, God Marie,” said Robby, horrified. “I’m getting old! I just gave Grace that lecture!”
“Well, practice what you preach, Little Brother. Now go. You’re wearing me out.”
“Okay.”
*******
The editorial piece was written. She’d let it sit, read it over, and send it in the morning.
She’d also written the note to Brad. After lunch and a nap, she’d decided not to burn any bridges, professional or personal, and thanked him for his support.
Personally, she thought most everybody around her was way too optimistic about the pandemic, but they didn’t read as many reports as she did.
She would listen to the science experts over politicians, any day, like Fauci and Minnesota’s own Osterholm.
So, she told Brad that though the festival sounded interesting, she’d wait and see whether it was held in person or virtually.
She’d started on the blogpost. It would definitely need editing.
True, it was a blog, but she didn’t want to rant. She’d tone down her attitude.
She felt like she’d done a good day’s work in just the afternoon.
She boiled some eggs to make tuna salad for supper, put them in a bowl in the refrigerator, tugged a sweater over her head, and took a glass of wine to the point.
Progress felt good, and she would stop to enjoy it.
She hoped a loon called before the mosquitoes chased her inside.
*******
Tuesday morning when she checked her emails, Grace was shocked.
Robby said Marie had Covid and was in ICU at the Grand Marais hospital.
He was at her home, helping her husband, Russell, with their sons.
Russell always had his hands full when Marie was on a 12-hour shift — single-parenting plus working.
Now he was worried too, and Covid patients were not allowed visitors, just phone updates from the nursing staff and sometimes a few minutes conversation with the patient.
The boys were just out of school for the summer, and childcare was not organized yet.
So at the moment, Robby was the childcare, cook, and housekeeper.
He hoped the family network would kick in soon, because he needed to get in the studio fast.
She wrote back, saying she would gladly do anything.
She knew Marie was his rock. Should she call Margie but tell her not to tell anyone but Charlie?
She sent her editorial piece and the note to Brad.
Then there was another email from Robby.
He’d gotten his nephews fed, dressed, and into the backyard.
He’d cleaned the kitchen and was wondering what else he could do to help — his brain was like Russell’s — preoccupied.
Could Grace think of anything? She wrote back that he should check on groceries — make a list — staples and supper.
And laundry. Thank goodness Robby had not been raised the way most of the men she grew up with were.
As for Margie, Robby said wait. Russell was calling his in-laws, probably right now, and they and Russell would decide who to tell.
He’d keep in touch. The studio was out of the question.
He asked her to check her email as often as she could. And pray for Marie.