Strings

Chapter 4 - Leaving the Lakeside #2

“That’s one thing I was looking for. There’s a group in Ely . . . I almost went there. I guess I still could . . . but here seemed so natural . . .”

“I’m sure there’s something here. Your resort owner’ll know. His business depends on the environment.”

*******

Robby looked across the table at Grace as she gazed at the lake thinking her own thoughts.

They had wolfed down Margie’s dinner plus pie, but they had managed to talk too, Grace catching him up on what she knew about the current threats to the BWCA, but then they went on to talk about the beauty and the rare peace of it.

Robby remembered canoe trips from his past he hadn’t thought about in years.

They touched on current politics around the environment, not going into detail because Robby didn’t want indigestion, but he couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a conversation like that, especially with a girl.

The girls he met were only interested in one thing, which was fine with him.

But now, what he was noticing was Grace hadn’t bitten his head off once.

“It’s still light — at least another hour — let’s walk out to the lighthouse. After all this,” he looked at the spread of empty dishes between them, “I need some exercise.”

“Isn’t the way to the lighthouse past that outfitters?”

“Oh, yeah.” He remembered the scene. “But it’ll be closed now.”

“Well . . . I guess I could do with a walk, too. Let’s settle up with Margie and get going before I change my mind.”

The harbor was a semicircle enclosed by two curving breakwaters.

One had cable railings on both sides of a narrow walkway to a small, unmanned lighthouse at the end.

Grace and Robby followed the street past the outfitters, through the empty parking lot, walking in silence.

They came to the path that led to the breakwater.

At the end, there was a sign, NO ENTRANCE. COAST GUARD PERSONNEL ONLY.

“I guess you’ve been out here before too,” Robby said, stepping up onto the breakwater.

Grace stopped at the base. “You didn’t tell me this was illegal, not to mention unsafe. I’m not doing this.”

Robby turned back to her. “It’s not unsafe unless you fall in.” He laughed. “Come on. I’ve been doing this since I was a little kid.” He put his hand out. “Just hold the cable.”

Grace pursed her lips, reached up, put her hand on the metal pole that held the cable, and pulled herself up. Robby smiled and shook his head. They walked side by side, Grace holding the cable on her side. She kept her eyes focused on where she was going.

“So . . . no . . . I haven’t been out here, and I wouldn’t be here now if it were windy or dark.

The lighthouse looks so cute and picturesque from the shore, but I never thought about this being the only way out to it, or that Lake Superior was going to be on both sides of me.

I’m trying not to think about freezing water and dead crewmen from the Edmund Fitzgerald.

” Small lake waves were busily splashing against the concrete below her.

Robbie laughed. “If you go in, I might save you, before some horny, dead sailor drags you under by your foot and has his way with you.”

Grace looked over with a frown. “That’s a horrifying image! I bet I have a nightmare now.” She looked forward again. “You’d rescue me. You talk big, but you know you’d do it.”

“I might, but only ‘cause then you’d owe me.”

“You mean I’d have to be ‘agreeable.’”

“Ohhh, that would definitely mean a rescue. I wouldn’t want to miss that.”

When they reached the lighthouse, the setting sun was right in front of them.

There were no benches, so they sat on the breakwater itself in front of the lighthouse.

Grace sat carefully and hugged her knees.

“I’m glad we came out here. It’s nice, if we don’t get caught.

But I don’t want to be here after dark. We can’t sit for long. ”

“I like being in the middle of all this water.’’ Robby stood, taking in the panorama, then sat down, stretching his legs toward the water.

“Not my favorite, but okay.”

“What’s your favorite?”

They were both looking toward the setting sun.

“Sitting on a big, stable rock, in the sun, next to the water.” She looked over at him.

“I’m probably going to regret saying this, but thank you for helping me out yesterday and today.

You didn’t have to do any of it, and I do feel better. ” She looked back at the lake.

“You remind me of my little sister, Tina, the one my mom called ‘sassy.’ I used to call her Brattina.” Grace turned quickly.

“Don’t get riled.” Robby started laughing.

“One of us might go for a swim. Those dead sailors are just waiting for you . . . To be honest, now that you’re leaving, you were right — I wasn’t being totally altruistic.

Meeting you has been an unusual, not totally unpleasant experience. Not boring, anyway.”

“Oh, really? Well, while I thank you for your help, you need to get over yourself, if this pandemic persists and you have to live in the real world for any length of time.”

He stood up easily and looked down at Grace. “I know it takes guts to do what you’re doing, but you can still get there if you relax a little. We better get going before the sun sets.” He offered her his hand.

She looked up at him. “My dad said, ‘don’t take anything for granted.’ I screwed up one time — big.

He was already gone . . . I may not get another chance like this.

I have been in the real world.” She took his hand, and he pulled her to her feet.

She was less than a foot in front of him, and he was still holding her hand.

He looked down at her, but she turned away.

He let go of her hand, and they started back.

When she opened the door to the cafe, the lights were off, and no one was around. They stepped in, and Grace turned back to Robby. “What now?”

“I lock the door,” he said, turning and flipping the deadbolt, “and we go up. Together.” He looked down at her.

“You scared?” He raised his eyebrows. “Big, bad, Indian rock star?” He smiled, put his hand lightly on the small of her back, and pushed.

“Go on. I already told you, I’m not going to hurt you. ”

Grace’s door was at the top of the stairs. Robby’s room was at the other end. Grace put her hand on the doorknob and turned it. Robby immediately said, “You didn’t lock?”

“Well you gave me such a hard time last night.”

“I want to say something.” Robby leaned his shoulder against the wall.

“I sense strings.”

He smiled. “Maybe . . . but no lasso.”

“Okay . . .”

“First, don’t think I haven’t been in the real world. I have. I’m not white. Second, the conversation we had at dinner tonight — that was the first serious, nonmusical conversation I’ve had in a long time. I enjoyed it. That’s all.” He straightened up and walked away

“I did too,” she said to his back. She couldn’t see Robby’s smile.

*******

Robby was already downstairs when Grace came down for breakfast. He was at one of the window tables, writing in a tattered, yellow spiral notebook, looking up from time to time at the lake, sometimes moving his lips, tapping the pencil on the table.

It was a gray morning. Margie motioned to Grace and put a coffee mug down in front of her usual seat, so Grace went there.

Margie leaned toward her, then backed up, remembering Covid.

She spoke softly. “He got down here early, poured his own coffee, and went over there. I think he’s writing a song.

Every once in a while, I hear him singing. ”

“So?”

“I don’t know. I was hoping you might. I haven’t seen you guys since supper last night. He seemed fine then . . . more than fine, in fact,” she said, with a little smile. “I thought maybe . . .”

“Oh, no, Margie. We had a good conversation at dinner and an unusual walk out to the lighthouse, but nothing more.” Grace picked up her coffee.

“Well, here he comes.” Margie picked up her mug and looked at Robby. “Hungry?”

“I’m thinking pancakes,” he said, sliding onto a seat and laying the notebook off to the side.

“Pancakes and sausage. ‘You think Charlie’s willing?” He looked over at Grace.

“Good morning. Finally got some sleep. My body’s trying to figure out what’s going on.

Regular meals, no noise, sleeping alone. Have we become a monk?”

Grace and Margie laughed

“Charlie’s willing to cook anything you’re willing to pay for. Short stack or tall?”

“You have to ask? Have you looked at me in the last thirty years? Tall,” he said, laughing.

Margie nodded and turned to Grace. “Same? You two seem to have a thing going . . . when it comes to food.”

“I’ll have pancakes, too, but short and bacon.”

“You got it.” Margie turned to go, but Robby was already heading around the counter toward the kitchen.

“I’ll give Charlie the order. I want to visit with him anyway.” He disappeared through the swinging door.

“It’s wonderful what a good night’s sleep will do,” Margie said, looking after him. She turned to Grace. “So, you’re leaving us, for the Northwoods. Have you ever been up there?” Since there were no other customers, Margie put a cushion on her stool and settled in to chat with Grace.

“My parents used to joke I was conceived up there, and we came up every summer from Duluth for a week. Then, I came back several summers after my dad died. So, while I’ve been up there many times, I’ve never stayed more than a week. Probably more than you wanted to know.”

“No, yours is not the usual story. I get why you’ve come, but what are you going to do if this turns into more than a few weeks’ vacation?” Margie got up and got the coffee off the burner. “Warm-up?”