28. Nellie
TWENTY-EIGHT
NELLIE
The drive to the middle of nowhere isn’t as uncomfortable as the trip had been yesterday, but we’re still not overly chatty. Telling me probably made Teddy relive some of what he had been through twelve years previously. And I’ve spent the majority of the three-hour drive processing what he said.
When I told him I had missed him, it was the truth, and it felt as close to sorry as I could get. The truth doesn’t stop me from wishing he had reached out at some point in those first couple of weeks, but I also understand more now why he hadn’t. Still, I can’t help wondering where we would be today if he had talked to me. Would we have even met if he’d known the truth? Selfishly, I hope so, because despite the immense amount of hurt I felt, having Teddy even for a little while would have been better than not having him at all.
“What’s on your mind?” Teddy’s voice cuts through my thoughts.
“Hmm?” I glance over.
“You look like you’re ready to storm a building.”
“I’m just thinking. ”
“That’s obvious. What are you thinking about?”
“Nothing,” I say with a wave of my hand.
“So, about what I told you, then.”
“Can you blame me?”
“No, not at all. I’m still thinking about it over a decade later. You’re allowed to dwell for as long as you want.” I just hope you don’t take too long goes unsaid, but I know he’s thinking it.
“I think I’m going through the stages of grief, or I’m beginning to anyway.”
“Skip right to anger?’
“No. My first thought was it can’t be that simple.” I keep my eyes on the road because I don’t think I can look at him right now. “So, denial. Denial that you had a legitimate reason and that the reason wouldn’t destroy me the way I had expected.”
“What had you expected?” he asks quietly.
“That what we had had all been in my head and you just got tired of it. That I was too clingy. That at twenty-two, you weren’t ready to feel…” I can feel the tears burning behind my eyes and stop. I see him move out of the corner of my eye, but I lean away and he drops his hand on the console briefly before returning it to rest on a sleeping Kevin.
“Nellie,” he starts but I shake my head and he stops.
“Fuck,” I mutter, bringing my hand to wipe my leaky left eye. “I don’t want to talk right now okay, at least not about this. I’m still processing.”
“Okay. Do you want to talk about anything?”
“What are your plans for the shelter up here?”
“Honestly, Bennett said ‘Tour the facility.’”
“Is there something special about it?”
“Not that I know of. I was instructed to help out if they needed to transport dogs south. Marley also wants me to check out their adoption process.”
“Does she think it will help you go through with one?” I laugh.
“I think that’s her hope. She just wants Bennett to learn how to let go a bit more, I think. He gets attached easily.”
“Exhibit A: Marley.”
Teddy starts laughing, and the sound makes me smile. “He tried to tell me that he hadn’t dwelled on her coming back.”
“I was there the day she left. I’ve never seen someone look at another person that way before.” The look on Teddy’s face when he realized it was me came close, but it had faded almost as fast. Bennett’s never budged. Not until we were driving away, and heartbreak crackled across his face. “Honestly, I nearly pushed Marley out of the car.”
“I met him mid-pining,” Teddy says, looking out the window. “He kept this list, Things to Tell Marley, but Cass and I would find notes around the barn. Like he randomly thought of something and grabbed the nearest thing to write it down. ‘At therapy today all we did was talk about you.” Stuff like that.”
“Marley told us he had a long list of moments to tell her about. Sometimes I check in with her just to make sure he hasn’t vanished.”
Teddy looks over at me like I’ve lost it. “Oh, he’s not going anywhere without her,” he assures me.
“No, but he may vanish because he’s not actually real.”
“He’s not perfect, Nell…ie.” Teddy tacks the end on my name almost as if it’s an afterthought. “Nell” felt right, but it was also a reminder of where things still stand between us.
“I know that. No one is perfect.”
“Sophie’s boyfriend seems to think he’s pretty damn close.”
“You got that from the one time you met him?” I roll my eyes. Men are so threatened by one another. Sophie Hore, the daughter of Bennett’s neighbors, introduced us all to her boyfriend at Christmas. He’s a few years older than her and quite established, but there’s nothing wrong with that.
“No, I get that from the three times I’ve met Gregory-not-Greg, and because of the things Karl and Cass have said about him. Although Cass tends to bring her brother Foster into every conversation about Sophie and Greg.” I laugh at the way he says “Greg” in such a mocking tone, as if he knows the guy will sense the short form, and Teddy is reveling in it.
“He’s nice, though, right?” I don’t know Sophie that well, but she is one of those people you’d thowdown for in a heartbeat without a history with.
“Foster? I have no idea, I’ve never met the guy. If he’s anything like Cass, he’s probably great. All I know is that he’s a ginger too and he lives abroad, but that’s about it.”
“No, not Foster, Gregory,” I clarify, forcing a terrible British accent.
“He’s just an academic.”
I force my lips to stay shut. I work in a university library and consider myself to be a bit of an academic, not to mention my father is an actual academic.
“Not that that’s a bad thing,” Teddy finally continues. I don’t know if he realized what he said was somewhat offensive or if he just didn’t know how to carry on with his thoughts. “He’s the kind of guy who will stand up on a plane when someone calls for a doctor. Bro, you know damn well what kind of doctor they need, chill.”
“Okay, I guess he did give off those vibes,” I agree. “How is Zoe?” I realize we are doing an excellent job talking about other people in our lives rather than addressing the elephant in the room, but we’re talking and that seems to be more important.
“She’s”—there’s a brief pause—“good. She’s married with a kid and another one on the way.” We can circle back to that pause later.
“And your brother?”
“Married too. Three kids, a white picket fence, and a golden retriever.”
“You sound surprised telling me that.”
“That’s because I am still surprised.” Teddy guffaws. “I think we both expected to be in the other’s shoes.”
“You with the idyllic nuclear family and him the nomad?”
“Well…Maybe just the nomad part.”
It feels like we have circled back to where we start discussing his mom and why he left, so when I see our destination is only five minutes away, I feel a wave of relief wash over me.
“Marmot Point,” Teddy reads the name on the map. “There’s probably some dark reason behind the name.”
“Probably sounded better than Groundhog Point,” I say as I slowly enter the hamlet.
I was told to park at the gas station, which has one very old pump. The building itself appears to serve as the post office, liquor store, and… “Does that say taxidermist?” Teddy asks, squinting at the sign squeezed between the two others. I see him pull Kevin into himself a bit tighter and can’t help the smile that spreads on my face.
“It’s not exactly what you expect to see, but I guess you make do.”
“Well, no, for sure.” Teddy nods. “Every town needs a gas station, liquor store, and good taxidermist. Those are the essentials.”
“Absolutely,” I agree, slipping out of the truck and immediately stretching.
Through the window, I watch Teddy do the same, and I allow my eyes to lock onto the slip of his abdomen that’s revealed when his shirt lifts a few inches above the waistband of his pants. Teddy had been all lean muscle when he was twenty-two, but there is nothing lean about the man in front of me. It’s not that he’s bulging or bulky; it’s more that he now has the body of someone who worked to get it rather than just existing with it. I can feel my cheeks heat when I remember how he caught me staring at the lake. I never thought of myself as a hairy-chest lover, but on Teddy, I have the urge to grab on and never let go.
“Earth to Nellie,” I hear my name, and my vision starts to clear.
Teddy is leaning into the truck looking at me like I’ve lost my mind. “You good? It was like you were in a trance.”
I slap on a smile and shake my head. “Too much driving, I think. I’m good.”
“That who we’re meeting?” He points towards an older woman who seems to have materialized out of nowhere. She’s got an old Toronto Maple Leafs hat pulled low, a long-sleeved shirt, cargo pants, and some pretty heavy-duty-looking boots on. Behind her there are seven children, walking in single file, wearing nearly the same thing.
“I have no idea.” I shrug, unable to look away from the troop as they march towards us.
“It’s like the Von Trapp kids, but a northern Ontario edition,” Teddy murmurs from beside me. I have no idea when he moved, but I am far too enamored with the sight in front of me to care.
“Cornelia?” the woman says as she nears.
“Cornelia?” Teddy chuckles.
I elbow him before stepping forward and holding out my hand. “Margaret?”
“Only my husband called me Margaret, and that old bastard took that name to the grave with him six years ago. It’s Midge.”
“Midge,” I say, shaking her much rougher hand. “Please call me Nellie. Only my parents and people who have access to my government ID call me Cornelia.”
“Nellie.” Midge smiles warmly at me before turning her attention to Teddy. “And who’s the wiener?”
I look up at Teddy, horrified, only to realize he’s holding Kevin. “This is Kevin,” Teddy says easily.
“And you handle the wiener?” Midge asks, completely straight-faced.
“I am the wiener handler, yes,” he replies, equally straight-faced.
“Midge.” She holds her hand out, and Teddy shifts Kevin so he can take it.
“Teddy.”
“Well,” Midge says, relaxing her stance and glancing back at the kids, who have remained in single file. “I guess we should get down to business. These are the majority of the kids in town.” She gestures behind her, and I admit, I’m a bit disappointed when each kid doesn’t step forward and introduce themself in song.
“Just seven?”
“Seven of the twelve permanent minors in town. There are a few more who come up at different times during the year. These happen to be my grandchildren. My sons and their wives work for the mill so the kids spend most of their time with me. I’m grandma as well as their teacher. Taught for thirty-five years down in Windsor before we moved up here to be closer to the kids and grandkids.”
“Wow, that’s dedication,” I say, amazed by someone’s willingness to move from a city to a place with a gas station-liquor store-taxidermist combo .
“That’s love.” Midge smiles up at us, her eyes dancing between Teddy and me. “Grumpy Al’s got the plans all set up in the office.” She starts to walk towards the tiny building, and it takes a second before my feet begin to follow her.
“Should—ah, the kids, Midge?”
“Hmm?” She turns mid-stride and waves us off. “They’ll find something to do. Devon,” she yells, and I watch a blond boy peek around a taller boy. “No roadkill today. If you see something, leave it for the crows.”
“What if—”
“Not even if it’s a saber-tooth tiger young man,” she calls back as she continues her walk. “Boy’s got an unhealthy love of turning dead things into decor,” she mutters, shaking her head. “Not saying there’s no future in it, but there’s no future in any more glass-eyed raccoons in my living room, that’s for certain.”
Teddy slows his stride to match it with hers. “To be fair,” Teddy says, “if he found a saber-tooth tiger, I’d suggest that be an exception to the rule.”
“I bet you would,” Midge replies, her gaze assessing as it goes from the top of his head to his shoes before she pushes into the building. “Al, you in here?”
“Goddamn, Magpie, you don’t gotta shout. I’m not deaf yet. You keep that up, though, and it won’t be long.” A very tall, very gangly man rises from behind the small counter that houses an old cash register, chocolate bars, gum, a stack of pamphlets, bug and bear spray, and a sign that says LIVE BAIT. “Ah.” His brown eyes crinkle with a smile when he sees us. “You must be the book people.”
“Librarians, Al,” Midge says, leaning against the counter and rolling her eyes. “This is Nellie, the wiener is Kevin, and the one holding the wiener is Teddy.”
“George,” Al introduces himself.
I look at Teddy who just shrugs. “Oh, so not Al?” I clarify, reaching out to take his hand.
Al or George laughs softly and looks down at Midge with an expression I can’t quite read. “Only Magpie calls me Al.”
“Okay, George it is.”
“Now I know you had a plan for where they could set up, but I was thinking maybe I should look at it before they do,” Midge says, very business-like.
“Magpie, just because five Marmots agreed you should be their representative in regional disputes does not make you the city planner. I’ve got them setting up shop at the north side of the lot, far enough from the road to keep the kids safe from traffic and a good distance from the woods to keep them safe from ornery mooses.”
“It’s moose, Al, for the three thousandth time. The plural for moose is moose.”
“And for the three thousandth time, I’ve been saying mooses for seventy-two years, and I ain’t changing now.”
“So the setup area?” Teddy interrupts the argument about the moose, and both George and Midge look in our direction.
“I’ll take you over there now, and you can get situated.” George comes around the counter, ducking under the fishing nets hung across a beam.
“Other than my brood, you should be expecting some locals to visit within the next couple of hours. I told everyone they had to be here and gone before five,” Midge prattles on as we all follow George out of the store.
“Oh, they don’t have to be so precise,” I insist.
“Nellie, if you give these Marmotans an inch, they will take it and stretch it into a mile. Best set a hard time and be done with it.”
“She’s not wrong there,” George calls over his shoulder.
“Besides, that will give you two plenty of time to get set up in the bunkie before dinner. ”
“Bunkie? Oh, Teddy has a tent, and there’s a bed…”
“I told the lady from the library…Amaranth?”
Amaranth? “Amelia?” I ask. My boss has a very slight accent, but I can’t imagine her name would have sounded that far off.
“Ah, yes, reception isn’t what we’re known for up here.” Midge laughs off the misunderstanding. “Amelia is much less of a mouthful. Anyhow, I told her you’d have proper accommodations for the time you were here with us.”
“That really isn’t—” I try and continue only to be cut off again.
“The bathroom isn’t the most ideal, but other than a few bugs and the odd porcupine mucking about, it’s private and has a real flushing toilet.”
I look up at Teddy who mouths, “A flushing toilet,” as his eyebrows bounce up and down.
George stops in front of a patch of gravel, outlined in orange paint about fifty meters behind the gas station that is about an equal distance from the road and the forest. “This is it, the literary playground,” he says dramatically.
“It’s ah, well, perfect. Thank you, George,” I say, taking in the area I’ll be parking the Airstream on. There’s enough room to have a couple of portable shelves outside as well as a few folding chairs for those who’d like to read and return within the same day. The gravel isn’t ideal for the outdoor rug, but the rug will still add to the atmosphere. “I’ll just go bring the trailer around, then we can start getting set up.”
Teddy follows me back to the truck and the minute the doors are closed he lets out a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“This entire thing is going to be a blast. I feel like we fell through the looking glass. I’m only slightly disappointed that Midge isn’t a rabbit and George isn’t a moose himself.”