Chapter 18 - Options #3
On Thursday, Robby emailed he’d come to the cabin late morning tomorrow after he got the boys settled, and she should be ready to drive down to Duluth that afternoon, so they didn’t have to wake up at the crack of dawn Saturday to drive down there for the first appointment.
*************
“Why do we always end up in bed after you walk through that door?” Grace said, laughing, and trying to get to the edge of the bed.
“Because we’re hot for each other,” Robby replied, reaching out and pulling her back against him with no trouble at all. “I don’t understand it, but I’m not fighting it — I don’t want to fight it,” he said, rising up on his elbow and kissing her neck.
“Ohhh. Stop that. We’ll never get to Duluth.”
“Sure we will. And check-in isn’t till after 3:00.
We just need to get there in time to catch the sunset from our deck.
There won’t be much Friday traffic — the lockdown’s lifted, but there are so many restrictions, and nobody’s going back to offices anytime soon.
” He pulled her closer alongside him and started running his fingers up and down her side.
“‘Our deck’?” She turned onto her back and looked at him. “Where are we staying?”
He adjusted his hand to Grace’s new position. “Minnesota Point, or that’s what it used to be. Now it’s Park Point. I thought it’d be cool to walk on the beach where our grandfathers first met.” He kissed her. “Let’s talk about it later.”
*******
“It’s an Airbnb, or VRBO. I forget which. I told Joe it just had to be a place with a view of the lake, a deck, a big bed, a decent shower — oh, and a coffeemaker.” They were driving down the Trail.
“Oh. You didn’t ask for much. Poor Joe. Trying to keep his boys happy.”
“And alive. I’m the least of Joe’s worries.
The big problem is Seth. He’s always high maintenance and now he’s somewhat confined, like a caged lynx.
We’re just trying to keep him from crashing and burning.
I need him. We may not have the same lifestyle, but we’re in sync musically.
And the band needs him — when he slows down long enough, he’s a great songwriter. ”
“Ohhh. I get it more when you explain. Interesting.”
“We all worry about him. And losing him — for any reason — would be a big blow to the band — maybe a fatal blow, since he’s the only other songwriter.
The Gulls have a sound, but it’s not just my songs.
It’s my songs, Seth’s songs, collaborations between the two of us, then everyone’s input on the music.
That combination is winning. Without Seth, the sound would be too much the same .
. . boring.” They were coming into Grand Marais.
“I called Gene on the way up this morning. He’s got some things ready for us to take to Duluth.
And I called Kevin, so we need to go by there. ”
“Are we cooking?”
“Not really. At least, I didn’t plan for that. What’re you thinking? ‘Cause I want you to be happy.”
“I love not having to come up with food ideas. I’m letting go for the weekend.”
“I like the sound of that. I’m thinking delivery tonight and tomorrow night or maybe outdoor seating. Joe gave me a list. These orders are breakfast stuff and snacks and wine. Sound okay?”
“Sounds like fun.” They pulled around to the back of Johnson’s.
********
“Where are you going?” Grace turned to Robby as he put on the left turn signal and slowed down.
“You’ll see.”
The truck bumped off the pavement onto a narrow dirt road.
Then Grace noticed the sign, WAYSIDE. She looked over at Robby.
He couldn’t look back — the road was rough at that point, and it took both his hands on the steering wheel to keep the truck from veering off, but he smiled.
He drove to exactly the same spot as that first day and put the truck in ‘Park.’ He looked over at Grace just as she began to cry.
He hurried to unbuckle. “I thought you’d like this.
I didn’t mean to make you cry.” He reached for her.
“I do; I do like it. I don’t know why I’m crying,” and she leaned toward him and cried harder.
Robby slid close and held her till she’d cried herself out. “You’re a piece of work. Like the song says, ‘tough as nails, soft as a kiss.’ Maybe I’ll add another verse about waysides.”
When Grace was ready, they got out and walked the same walk, this time holding hands. They were silent. It was sunny but breezy, just like last time. Grace asked, “Can you remember what you were thinking last time we did this? Be honest . . . You probably picked up on the fact I was stressed.”
Robby was looking down at the shore and didn’t look up, but he started smiling. “Yes. You were serious right from the start. No sense of humor.” He looked over at her.
She pursed her lips at him. “It was a scary time for me. Give me a break! What were you thinking?”
“You won’t like it.”
“What? Tell me.”
“I was trying to come up with some way to be with you long enough to get you in bed.”
“Robby Song! See? I knew it. That’s what men are always thinking.”
He laughed. “Probably. Little did I know it was going to take so long and an act of God to get you there.” He laughed again. “That was a record for me — not one I’m anxious to get out there either, Ms. Journalist. Maybe I should have you sign one of those NDA’s the President’s so well-known for.”
**********
Grace had heard about Minnesota Point all her life.
She’d probably been there but was too small to remember.
She’d read a firsthand account by an ancestor about being rowed there as a boy with some of his brothers after coming all the way from Ohio on a steamboat.
There was no Duluth. His first sight of the end of Lake Superior was the smoke rising from Ojibwe campfires along Minnesota Point.
And now, here she was with a descendant of those first people.
She had goosebumps. “What’s the address? ”
“It’s way down. In the 40’s. One of the last houses before the forest — which is really cool — do you know about the red pines and the Ojibwe?
And there’s a famous nature trail. If we like this place, we should come back some weekend and walk all around — in the footsteps of our ancestors — it’s surreal we’re together.
Some of the pines saw our ancestors meet.
Think of that.” Robby looked over. Grace had tears on her cheeks, but she wasn’t crying.
He pulled over and put the truck in Park. “What’s going on?”
“It’s overwhelming we’re together . . . here . . . and both aware of the significance . . . that we have this shared history. Unbelievable.”
“It is. I agree. Let’s find the address, so we can settle in and look around.”
“Okay. I’ll look for house numbers.”
Robby started driving, slowly. “It’s a small house, a ‘cottage’ according to the listing, on the left, I think. Decks on both sides — one facing east, the other west.”
“Is that it?” Grace was pointing just ahead.
Robby looked. “I think so. Do you see a number?” Grace pointed at a mailbox.
“Yes. This is it.” He pulled even with it, stopping in the middle of the street.
There was no traffic. “Yeah, I recognize it from the photos.” The house was gray clapboard with a shake roof, and a new deck off the second floor.
He parked the truck. “Do you want to take our stuff in or check it out first?” He glanced over.
She was looking serious, staring straight ahead. “What’s wrong?”
“What we’re doing. We’re here to look at places for us.
That makes me feel . . . I don’t know . .
. clutched . . . I’m not ready.” She took a deep breath, ran both hands through the sides of her hair till they wouldn’t go any farther, let it all fall back, and turned to Robby. “Let’s take our stuff.”
“Remember, we’re just looking.” He reached over and took her hand.
“We’re just dating this idea, not marrying it.
This is not an ideal situation for anybody.
We’re exploring options, trying to plan for if the pandemic lasts into the winter.
In the meantime, while we’re doing that, let’s enjoy a weekend away .
. . for the first time in months.” He was still holding her hand. He squeezed and let go.
The cottage was just right. Cozy, with all they needed, even a ‘decent’ shower and a soaker tub. It was about 4 p.m. They explored the decks. “Robby!” Grace had gotten onto the sunset deck first. “Did you know about this? You really need to thank Joe.”
“Why? What’s so special?’’ He stepped out.
“Ohhh. Yes. Joe got this just right.” There was a cedar hot tub behind a loosely woven screen in one corner of the deck.
“I told him we need a relaxing weekend. I’ll call him.
But we should decide what we’re going to do about supper.
What do you feel like?” Robby had put his arm around Grace’s waist, and they were looking over the west-facing banister.
“Really?”
“Really. Name it.”
“You’re spoiling me . . . How ‘bout Asian? Sushi?”
“You got it.” He kissed her lightly. “I’ll go figure out how to make this happen. You want to stay out here? Wine? A bath? How ‘bout wine and a bath?”
“Slow down. It’s early. I’ll go back inside and explore. If you still aren’t through, I’ll see if there’s a path to the beach.”
“Okay. I’ll find you.”
*******
“Wow.” Grace came through the door into the cottage Saturday afternoon. “Who knew looking at houses could be so exhausting.”
She plopped down heavily in a chair just inside the door.
“Maybe realtors’ thinking is clients will say, ‘I’ll take it, just don’t make me look at anymore.’” Robby put his keys on the little table next to the door. “Want some wine? I do.”
“Definitely. Then, we need to talk. I didn’t want to make a scene, but you should’ve —”
“Uh-oh. This sounds familiar . . . Didn’t we have a number of these conversations early on?”
“Maybe.”
“Then I came up the Trail to check on you, and we started playing with strings. I’m good at that.” Robby smiled.