Strings

Chapter 23 – Elizabeth

Robby was back from Chicago, the band had twelve new songs, and everyone except John and Robby had left.

Grace had not set a departure date, just when it gets “too hot,” so she called her mom to arrange a visit.

Robby’d suggested they take her out for dinner, maybe on a Tuesday, so the restaurant would be less crowded.

Her mother was surprised by the invitation. “What’s the occasion?”

“My boyfriend wants to meet you.”

“When did you get a boyfriend?”

“He’s the one I was seeing in Minnesota. We’re back together.”

“Are you happy?”

“Yes.”

“Okay. And this is his idea?”

“Yes. He wants to meet you and suggested this. We’ll pick you up, if you want to go.”

“Where’re we going?”

Grace named a casual seafood restaurant that had opened a few months ago at a beach near her mother, the other side of town from Grace. “The reservation’s at 7:00. We’d pick you up before 6:30, so you don’t have to do anything — we can have drinks at the restaurant. Will you go?”

“Yes. I haven’t been there yet. I’ll be ready anytime after 6:00, Tuesday.”

**********

As she went out her front door, Grace wondered how these two would interact, her loner mom and her rocker, Anishinaabe boyfriend.

“Do I look presentable?” Robby closed the door that wouldn’t lock.

“It occurs to me I haven’t done this since high school — met a girl’s parent .

. . Wow. Not going to dwell on that.” He looked at Grace going ahead of him on the stairs, her hair already escaping from the clip, her short print skirt billowing around her legs as she quickly descended the stairs. “You look great.”

“So do you.”

Grace drove across town and into the suburbs. “So this is the house you grew up in?” Grace turned into the semicircular driveway of a solidly middle class, suburban, brick ranch house.

“Yes.”

“I smell marsh. Are we near the ocean or a river?”

“Both. We’re a few miles, as the crow flies, from the ocean, and the house is on a tidal creek, overlooking an expanse of marsh.

Mom loves the marsh, how it changes color with the seasons.

This was a great place to grow up — girls can be Tom Sawyers too.

” Grace turned the car off. “We have time for me to show you the creek. Come on.”

Robby put his hand on her arm. “I’m happy you two are getting along better. You’re almost happy. You know, I guess, what a serious person you are?”

“Yes. Always. Even as a child. Maybe it comes from having the parents I had - one older, the other an introvert — or from being an only child. I’ve often been told to lighten up.”

“Not unless you want to. It’s one of the things that attracted me to you. It’s unusual. Intriguing . . . at least, to me.” His gaze lingered. “Okay. Lead on.”

Grace tried the kitchen door. It was locked, so she knocked. There was barking. “So, your mother locks doors . . .”

Elizabeth Wheeler opened the door. Robby noticed the hand holding the screened door back had neatly polished coral fingernails. He glanced down at her sandaled feet . . . matching toenails.

“Grace.” Mother and daughter exchanged a brief hug, with Elizabeth looking up at Robby. Not much similarity so far. Not even the same brown eyes. Elizabeth’s had a hint of green. She was an attractive woman.

“Mom, this is Robby Song. Robby, my mom, Elizabeth Wheeler.”

Robby extended his hand. “It’s a pleasure, Elizabeth.”

Elizabeth took his hand, then releasing it, said, “That’s an unusual name.” She stepped aside. “Y’all come in.”

Grace went in. Robby followed. “My last name is actually Songetay. Song is a stage name. It’s easier . . . and appropriate. I’m a songwriter.”

Grace looked at Robby strangely. She’d never asked about his name.

Assumed it was Ojibwe, like Wind for Margie and Charlie.

Then she saw Mortie, standing on his hind feet in her dad’s favorite chair.

He had his paws on the back of it and was looking at them over the top, but as soon as Robby came in the door, he jumped down, ran over, and started jumping up and down, pawing Robby’s leg.

“Mortie, no!”

“It’s okay. I like dogs. I have one at home, and I miss him.” He squatted down and rubbed Mortie’s head and ears, then he looked up at Elizabeth. “May I pick him up?”

“Yes. I’ve never seen him so friendly. Maybe you remind him of his previous owner, who died. Maybe he was tall.” Robby stood up with Mortie in his arms, and the little dog joyously licked his face. Robby laughed.

Grace wondered what kind of dog Robby had gotten, but she said to her mom, “I want to show Robby the creek before we have to leave for the restaurant.”

“Of course.” She looked at Robby. “Mortie goes. He likes the dock. We sit out most afternoons and have a cocktail. Well, I do. He watches for anything that moves.”

They walked out to the dock. It had benches on both sides. Across the creek, marsh stretched about a quarter mile to a river with more marsh on the other side. The ocean was beyond that.

Robby had put Mortie down and was standing at the end of the dock, looking very tall to Grace with his long braid hanging down the back of his dark blue linen shirt. “This water is even muddier than the water on the back of your island, Grace. And I hear sounds in the marsh. What is that?”

“The tide flows in and out through the marsh grass. The water has sediment in it, but also all kinds of tiny plants and organisms. And there are little crabs smaller than your thumb, called fiddler crabs, that live in the marsh and make clicking sounds. I think that’s what you’re hearing.”

“Why are they called fiddler crabs? That sound doesn’t remind me of fiddle music.”

“It’s not the sound. It’s that they have one claw that’s way bigger than the other, and they hold it like a fiddle.”

“Robby, where are you from?” Elizabeth was sitting on a bench, her right fingers combing through her side-parted, shoulder length dark hair.

Robby turned. “Fond du Lac Reservation, just west of Duluth. I grew up there. Most of my family is there. I have a house between Duluth and Grand Marais. I have sisters in Grand Marais.” Even though Elizabeth’s hair was nothing like her daughter’s, there was something familiar about what she was doing .

. . the hand gesture, not exactly the same, but close.

“How interesting.”

Grace said, “Okay. We need to get going.”

Grace drove. Elizabeth wanted to sit in the back. “So, Robby, why do you need a stage name?”

Robby had already turned slightly in his seat so his back was not to Elizabeth, now he turned more so they could see each other. “I play lead guitar in a band and write most of the songs.”

“Really.” It wasn’t a question.

Robby didn’t say anything. He waited. He and Elizabeth looked at each other. He had never seen photographs of Grace’s parents. There wasn’t much resemblance between these two women — their mouths, maybe. Definitely not the skin tone. Elizabeth’s was darker. Did Grace look more like her father?

“I like music.”

“I know. Grace has told me you play piano and sing. Maybe sometime we could do that together. I like all kinds of music. I play the piano too, but not as well as you, I think.”

“That would be interesting. I don’t know when I’ve played or sung with anyone . . .” She glanced out the window, then back at Robby. “Not many bands are working yet — I mean performing — right?” Elizabeth tilted her head.

“Yes. Just a few.”

“So, is yours, or are you just on vacation?” She smiled.

“No, our drummer’s still recovering from a bad case of Covid. Not up to performing yet, but we just finished writing songs for a new album we’ll take on tour. That’s why I came here. Our manager rented a beach house to finish the writing.”

“Oh . . . Was that intentional, so you’d be near Grace?”

“No. Absolutely not. No one knew Grace lived here. Not even I knew. It was by chance, just like the first time we met, in the Minneapolis airport before the lockdown.”

Elizabeth raised her eyebrows. “Strange. You must wonder.”

“Yes. We have. In fact, my manager brought that up, when he could get a word in edgewise. When I first noticed Grace on the rocks, I called him and blessed him out. I thought he’d done it on purpose.”

Elizabeth laughed. “Funny story. But why do I feel like I’ve heard your name recently? Are you playing with another band?”

Grace kept her eyes on the road, but Robby saw them widen.

“Some.”

“That’s it, isn’t it! The Wallflowers. I was there! That’s where I heard your name. I remember now. Taller than anyone else. Jakob said you made them all look like Pygmies. You were impressive,” she said, looking directly at him. “He introduced you as his friend.”

“Thank you. Yes, Jakob’s an old friend. I met him in a dive bar in Minneapolis in my early twenties.

Anyway, I’ve just gotten back from Chicago, the final show of this leg of his tour, but that night at the Azalea, Grace was there, backstage.

” Robby looked away from Elizabeth to Grace.

“It was an unusual evening. Jakob had arranged a surprise meeting,” Robby shifted his gaze back to Elizabeth, “between Grace and me. We’d not seen each other for seven months.

He was playing Cupid. Ultimately, it worked .

. . a little rocky at first.” He looked over at Grace and smiled, then back at Elizabeth.

“But I’m sorry the timing wasn’t right for you to meet him.

If you come to Minnesota, we might be able to arrange that.

He and his family spend a fair amount of time there. Grace has told me you like his music.”

“Oh, yes. Grace grew up on that music. I played Wallflower cds in the car endlessly. Had a huge crush on Jakob.” Elizabeth smiled. “Remember Grace?”

“Well, you never mentioned the crush, but I remember the cds. I told Jakob. He groaned — it made him feel old.”

Elizabeth laughed and looked back at Robby. “That’s right. Jakob Dylan’s my age. How old are you?”

“37.”

“Oh. So, he’s a mentor, as well as a friend.”

“Yes.”

“And what’s the name of your band?”

“The Laughing Gulls.”

Elizabeth’s eyes widened. “Oh.” She paused but never broke eye contact with Robby. “That’s quite a famous band . . . You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

Elizabeth sat back. Robby smiled. “Grace, what did you say when you first saw Robby in the airport?”

“Nothing. I didn’t know who he was. I wasn’t listening to much music then, and what I was listening to was jazz. Honestly, I thought he was some older guy trying to pick me up.”

“I was.”

Elizabeth smiled and shook her head. “This is just too much.”

*******

The restaurant wasn’t crowded. One of the bartenders recognized him, but Robby went over, leaned against the bar, and asked the bartender to educate him about bourbon, since that was the bar’s featured liquor.

They laughed repeatedly. Robby ordered cocktails for the table, signed a menu, and left a tip.

Elizabeth watched and commented, “He has a lot of charm and presence. I can see the attraction . . .”

“He supports my work. He’s interested. Happy for me.”

“I’m glad. It won’t be easy. No relationship is, but I’m sure you realize y’all’s may be especially challenging.”

“All of my older friends say longterm relationships are hard. I believe it now.”

Robby sat back down and took Grace’s hand.

“So, when do y’all leave and where are you going?” Elizabeth looked at Grace.

“Soon. When it gets too hot. Sometime later this month.”

Robby had turned to Grace as she was speaking. Now he looked at Elizabeth. “Whenever she says. And we’re going to Duluth. I have a rental house there.”

Elizabeth looked at Grace, then Robby. “What are the chances?” She shook her head and finished her coffee. “I’ve enjoyed this and meeting you. I’m glad you suggested it. Maybe I’ll think more about music. It used to give me a lot of pleasure.” She sat up. “I’m ready to go.”

Grace said, “I’ll get the car,” and got up.

The waiter came with the check and Robby paid.

Elizabeth looked over at him. “I know you did this to understand Grace better. She’s wounded.

We’ve been through a terrible time. No one was there for her.

Her ex-husband wasn’t. Her two best friends had moved away.

I certainly wasn’t. I barely survived. You two will have a hard time between her wounds and your career. I wish you luck.”

“Thank you. I am trying to understand her better. She broke my heart when she left last fall. I’ve never been through something like that. I don’t believe time heals all wounds. They just become scars, and we go on the best we can, looking for love. I’ve found it. I’ll do my best to keep it.”

“Well, she’s a handful, even without the wounds. She’s more patient than I ever was, but she’s determined to a fault, and she’s an only child . . . not good at sharing, including — maybe especially — herself. I know she thinks I have few friends, but she does too.”

Robby pursed his lips and looked at Elizabeth.

“I never thought about that. About that effect of being an only child. But of course. She’s got little experience with relationships, romantic or otherwise.

I’m just the opposite. Brought up in a big family in a communal society.

I’ve spent my adult years so far living with bands .

. . I knew meeting you was a good idea.”

“That’s all true, but don’t underestimate the effect her dad’s death has had on Grace.

He was the most important person in her life.

I worry you’ll leave her too. She’s strong but I’m not sure she’s that strong.

Songwriters talk a good line. Are you going to walk that talk? ” Elizabeth wasn’t smiling.

“You and Grace don’t look much alike, but I hear echoes.

All I can tell you is I love her, I thought hard about getting back together, and I can’t imagine hurting her.

I do think she worries about being left alone.

That might make her leave again. If I sense that’s about to happen, I’m going to stop her.

I think she wants to be stopped, but she won’t risk asking for that.

” Robby looked away. “I wish I’d known that seven months ago. ”

“Being alone is hard.” Elizabeth looked down and closed her eyes.

Robby looked at her. “It is. I hope you find your way out. I don’t know what that is for you, but if Grace or I can help, we’re always willing.” He stood up and offered Elizabeth his hand. She took it and they walked out.