Chapter 22 - The Island #3
“Oh. It sounds like you’ve forgotten the morning you asked me what I was going to do when the weather got too cold for me to stay in the cabin.
I said I would choose the best option for me, which led to your lecturing me at great length, before I’d had coffee, about how we couldn’t progress in our relationship unless I trusted first. ‘Trust first, not doubt,’ you said.
It took me a long while, so I’m being patient with you, but you need to walk your talk, Ojibwe man. ”
Robby smiled again. “I still say you should talk to Bella about a career in law. Touché. You got me.” He looked toward the harbor, then back at Grace.
“You and music are the center of all my plans. I’m hoping .
. . man, this feels risky . . .” He looked off, then back.
“I’m hoping you and I can live together in Duluth — make some trips up the Shore and down here.
We’re so lucky. We both have jobs we love.
We’d have each other. It could be scary good.
” He paused but continued to look at her. “What’re you thinking right now?”
“You really want to know? It may not be the answer you’re looking for.” Robby’s face got serious, but he nodded. “I’m wondering whether . . . all your guitars are going to fit in my car.”
“Ohhh.” His shoulders relaxed. “That’s easy.
They won’t. But after Chicago, Jakob’ll have them shipped with his to his farm outside Minneapolis.
I – we – will just go down and get them.
” He looked off, thinking. “I have three more dates with Jakob — Nashville, St. Louis, and Chicago. And The Gulls need three more songs. Joe says we can have the rental a little longer, and we’ll come up with those.
Then, the guys’ll clear out,” he turned back to Grace, “although, I don’t know about John — he seems pretty serious about Lisa.
He only comes here anymore when I text him to play, and then he comes in her car. What do you think?”
“I think you’re right. He won’t be leaving here anytime soon, but it doesn’t matter where he’s living, does it?”
“No, not really, not anymore. And the band seems to function better when people are happy.” Robby paused. “I’m in no hurry to leave. I like it here, except for the size of your bed and your shower, but as long as you’re in them with me, I can deal with that. Have you got a definite leave date?”
“Not yet . . . mid-June?”
“Whenever you want.” He paused and looked away, then slowly back at Grace. “I’d like to meet your mother while I’m here.”
“Why?”
“Because she’s your mother. And I don’t know when I’ll be back here. Because meeting her might help me understand you better. Just think about it. I’m not going to push it if you really don’t like the idea. Are you not planning to see her before you leave?”
“Yes . . .”
“Have you talked to your therapist about her?”
“Some. She’s seeing a therapist too, finally. It’s helping. And she got a dog. She came over here one day in February to check on me. And I went there after that. She made us sandwiches. She knows about you and me — about why I came back — but not that I’ve seen you again.”
“How do you think she’ll feel about your being with an Indian?”
“Oh. I don’t know. I haven’t mentioned it. But she’s not a racist. She lived with my dad longer than I did . . . I think she’s just a loner, maybe shy. I realize I don’t know her very well.”
“She knows you’re going back to Minnesota?”
“Yes. She’s fine with it.”
“Does she have any friends?”
“She never had many, I think by choice, then, after Dad died, she chased most of them off by being rude and angry when they tried to help. I don’t know about now.”
Robby moved back, so they were touching. “Let’s spend the evening together here but go to my house to sleep — I need a big bed and a tall shower.”
“Can you do that? You and Seth don’t need to write?”
“He’d love a night off, and so would I. I’ll text him now and be sure.
” He got his phone out of his back pocket and texted.
“No matter what he says, we can eat together. What’s your pleasure?
” His phone pinged. He looked at it. “Seth says, ‘Great. Met a female cop. Got handcuffs.’” Robby shook his head.
“How old is Seth?”
“Believe it or not, he’s the oldest. I can’t keep track of all our exact ages anymore, but he’s in his early 40’s. Keith’s the youngest . . . about your age. The rest of us are all pretty close.”
“And no one’s married?”
“Not now. Not me or Keith ever. Seth probably has been. Maybe more than once. Ray? Who knows? But he’s not as clueless as he comes across. John once.”
“Children?”
“John has two. Watching him agonize over not being with them and his jealousy of their stepfather, has made a big impression on the rest of us . . . Let’s decide on supper. I’m hungry.”
“I know! Why haven’t I thought of this before! We’ll place an order with Rodney Scott’s BBQ and go to the drive-through to pick it up. Best BBQ ever and just the lesson you need in the definition of BBQ.”