by Lyn Gardner
All too familiar with love at first sight, Robin bobbed her head in acknowledgment.
“She said they spent every minute they could together and when he graduated, he proposed, and she accepted. Adele told me she was going to quit college because being his wife was the only thing she wanted to be, but he wouldn’t hear of it. Instead of returning to his home in Detroit like he had planned, Stanley stayed in Lansing so they could continue to be together until she finished school. Unfortunately, a few months before Adele was set to graduate, Stanley got drafted, and the big wedding they had planned in the spring got pushed up. They went to a Justice of the Peace, said their vows, and a few weeks later he was in boot camp. They saw each other only one more time before he was shipped off to Vietnam, and he never came back.”
“God, that’s sad.”
“I know. Adele said she couldn’t bear to think of ever being with another man. She always felt as if Stanley was going to walk through the door one night, and they’d be together again.”
“Jesus.”
“So, you see, your aunt was the one who had found her soul mate. Your mom, on the other hand, had more than one beau on this island.”
“There were others?” Robin said, the tone of her voice climbing the scale with each syllable.
“Oh yeah,” Rita said, grinning. “There was a maître d at the Grand named Ronnie she dated for a couple of years, and there was...oh, what was his name?” Rita paused and tapped her finger against her chin. “John, no wait...Joseph, Joseph Eastburn. He worked as a bartender over at the Mustang for a few seasons.”
“Do you know if they’re still on the island?”
“Why? It’s a little late to make sure their intentions were pure.”
Robin forced a smile. “No. I’m just a little curious to see the kind of men my mother dated, especially since she didn’t see the need to tell me about them.”
“Well, it wasn’t because they were ugly. I can tell you that,” Rita said with a laugh. “But as for meeting them, I’m afraid they were both just seasonal workers. They stayed for a few years and then headed back to civilization.”
“Oh. Okay.”
Rita looked at her watch. “Damn it all to hell. Look at the time,” she said, quickly moving her cup from the counter to the sink. “I told Judy I’d get her to the ferry by one, which gives me fifteen minutes to get my sorry ass to her house.”
“The ferry?” Robin said, trotting to catch up to Rita as she made her way to the front door. “But she’s not leaving until tomorrow.”
“She’s getting on the road tomorrow,” Rita said, grabbing her coat. “But she likes to leave at the crack of dawn’s ass, and the ferries don’t run that early. She’s staying at a motel in St. Ignace tonight so she can leave first thing in the morning.”
“Oh, I didn’t know that,” Robin said, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I thought...I thought I’d see her today.”
Rita frowned. She hadn’t missed Robin’s inflection, or rather the lack thereof, and it gave her pause. As she buttoned her jacket, she kept her eyes on Robin, secure in the fact the woman would never know she was staring since Robin seemed intent on looking at the floor. By the time Rita reached the last button, her frown had disappeared. “You know, if there’s something you need while she’s gone, I’m always around or...or did you want to tell her something? I can give her a message, or you can come along. Up to you.”
The last time Robin had experienced the sensation washing over her, she was a child. A mere toddler, she had been confused and saddened by the loss of her father, and swirling amidst her grief and anger was the feeling of being abandoned. Deserted by someone she had loved so much, even though she still had her mother by her side, it had taken a long time before Robin got over the hurt of being left behind.
Robin had heard Rita speak, but it took several seconds before she managed to raise her eyes. “No. That’s okay.”
“You sure? It’s a short ride, and I’m sure she’d like to see you.”
“Actually, I have a lot of things to do,” Robin said, placing her hand on the door. “Just tell her I’ll…I’ll call her in a few days. Okay?”
“All right,” Rita said, opening the door. “I’ll catch you later, and I’ll be sure to let Judy know to expect your call.”
“Yeah, you do that.”
Robin watched as Rita made her way down the steps of the porch, but as she was about to close the front door, another feeling washed over Robin. It was one she’d had for over twenty-five years, and rushing onto the porch, Robin called out, “And please tell her to drive carefully!”
***
“I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Judy looked at her watch. “You’re not.”
“I’m not? Well, I’ll be damned. I guess this old broad’s legs still got some life left in them.”
“And I’m sure Hank is thrilled to know that.”
It wasn’t often Judy could turn the tables on Rita, but when the woman’s cheeks flamed, Judy clapped her hands together like a gleeful child. “What’s wrong, honey? Don’t like it when the shoe’s on the other foot?”
Rita tried to conceal her smile by pressing her lips together, but she could do nothing to hide the merriment in her eyes. Pointing to the suitcases Judy had stacked near the house, Rita said, “Shut up and help me with your luggage.”
Judy continued to giggle as they loaded the cargo hauler attached to Rita’s tandem bike. “So, at the risk of opening myself up to yet another one of your sexual innuendos, I hope the reason you were almost late didn’t have anything to do with Hank.”
“No, I was talking to Robin, and I lost track of time.”
“Robin? Where’d you see her?”
“At Safe Harbor,” Rita said, standing straight after pulling the last bungee cord tight. “The ladies at church put together a bag of munchies, and I took it over this morning, along with a tray of my lasagna.”
“Well, shit,” Judy said, stomping her foot. “Now I really don’t want to take this trip. I love your lasagna.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll make you some when you get back. How’s that?”
Judy sighed. “That’ll work, I guess.”
Rita rocked back in her stance. “Is it me, or aren’t you feeling this whole return to Indiana thing...again?”
Judy ran her fingers through her hair, exhaling what seemed to be an endless breath as she picked up the bottle of water she had set aside. “To tell you the truth,” she said as she unscrewed the cap. “It’s getting old.”
“That’s because you’ve never had the balls to tell your brothers to shut the hell up.”
“Have you ever tried talking to a wall? Because that’s what it’s like when I try to say anything to them,” Judy said, bringing the bottle to her lips. “It’s just easier to do what’s expected and then get the hell out as soon as I can. Creating waves has never been my thing.”
Everyone has a breaking point. An invisible line, crossed when stress or situations become extreme, it can cause suspects to admit guilt, the introverted to pull back into their shells, or the extroverted to explode like volcanoes, finally letting loose their lava in the form of opinions they had kept to themselves, and Rita had kept this opinion to herself for far too long. Believing her best friend now had a future filled with everything she deserved, Rita’s name became Vesuvius.
“Well, it may not have been your thing when you were twelve, but you’re not a child anymore, woman!” Rita said, widening her stance as jammed her hands on her hips. “Grow some big brass ones and tell them to stick it where the sun don’t shine. Start living your goddamned life and the hell with anyone who thinks differently! I know they’re your family, and I know you love them, and I know, God help me, you think this is some sort of family responsibility, but there’s a difference between responsibility and constant guilt trips. If you ask me, it’s time you start living your life and if those two morons can’t handle it, then fuck ‘em!”
Judy’s eyebrows disappeared into
her hairline. She had just taken a swig of water, and even though she knew she looked like a squirrel storing nuts for the winter, she couldn’t make herself swallow. She was accustomed to Rita speaking her mind, but she wasn’t used to an expletive-laced outburst like the one she had just heard. When she could swallow, Judy’s gulp was audible. “What crawled up your butt and died?”
“What the hell are you talking about?” Rita snapped.
“Even for you, that was a little over the top. Don’t you think?”
“No. I don’t think it was at all. Every year you bitch and moan about this trip and every year, you end up going,” Rita said, and walking over, she placed her hands on Judy’s shoulders. “Judy, I love you. You’re my best friend, and you deserve to be happy, and the kind of happy I’m talking about, you’re not going to find in Indiana.”
Judy jerked back her head. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”
Rita took a step backward, her expression growing pensive as she looked at her friend. “It just means that you love Mackinac and...and if you ever left, you’d be miserable. That’s all.”
“I have no intention of leaving the island, at least not for good. You know that.”
“I know that’s what you’ve always said, but I also know that you were on the fence about taking the job at Safe Harbor, and I figured if you and Robin weren’t hitting it off or...or if you were uncomfortable for any reason that you might...you might—”
“Run away?”
Rita’s shoulders sagged. “The thought did cross my mind.”
“But why? Wait,” Judy said, and a second later, her face fell. “Don’t you like her?”
“Who?”
“Robin?”
“No, I like her a lot,” Rita said, her expression softened by a grin. “Of course, I only just met her, but she seems really nice.”
“Oh. Okay. Good...” Judy said, her voice sinking to a whisper as she glanced at her watch.
“And what if I didn’t like her? Are you saying you’d quit the job?”
“What? No, of course not. Well, maybe...I don’t know.”
“Judy, honey, we’re best friends, and we’re best friends because we have the same taste when it comes to people. If they’re good, we like them, and if they’re bad, we don’t, and you wouldn’t have taken the job if you thought Robin was a bad person, or am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong.”
“Imagine that.”
Waving off Rita’s comment with a flick of her wrist, Judy walked to the bike. “We really should be going,” she said, taking her place on the rear seat. “You coming?”
“Well, you’re too short to reach my pedals, so I guess I’ll have to,” Rita said, taking her place at the front. “Oh, and by the way, Robin wanted me to tell you to drive carefully, and she’ll call you in a few days.”
Rita climbed on, and the two women started pedaling into town, one enjoying the scenery while the other was enjoying the moment.
***
Having taped off everything the day before, every piece of trim in the apartment was now outlined in strips of blue tape, and while the painter’s masking guaranteed nothing would leak through, Robin saw no need to test its promise. A perfectionist by nature, she sat on her living room floor, inching her way along as she painstakingly cut in the paint above the baseboard. Her spirits had been dampened knowing she wouldn’t see Judy for a few weeks, but as soon as Robin opened the first can of paint, they lifted. To turn old into new, to change dingy into vivid, and to freshen what had once been forgotten had always put a smile on her face, and it did again.
Robin put the handle of the brush in her mouth long enough for her to scooch another few feet, but as she went to reload the brush, she stopped. She had kept the heating system in the apartment on low, warm enough to remove any chill, but cool enough to warrant the sweatshirt she was wearing, yet all of a sudden, the fleece-lined pullover wasn’t enough. Robin glanced at the fireplace. She wasn’t close enough for the draft from the chimney to find its way to her, and there were no windows or doors open to allow in the crisp autumn air, which left her with only one other possibility.
Robin swallowed hard and looked over her shoulder to the emptiness behind her. “Good afternoon, Isobel.” She wasn’t expecting a response, but that didn’t stop Robin from continuing. “I hope you like blue,” she said, dipping her brush in the paint can. “It’s my favorite color.”
She turned her attention to the wall, but as Robin moved the brush closer to the plaster, she noticed her hand was shaking. “Damn it,” she said under her breath. Balancing the brush on the edge of the can, Robin crossed her legs under her and pivoted to face the room. “So, here’s the thing. I-I don’t...I don’t mind you watching or being around. Okay? I really don’t. It’s just going to take some time to get used to, but I can get used to it. I will get used to it. I have actually gotten used to it because I’m here talking to you right now even though I feel a little foolish. All right?”
Robin paused, slowly scanning the room for any sign of Isobel’s aura. Coming up empty, she let out the breath she’d been holding. “So, this is what I’m going to do,” Robin said, picking up her paintbrush. “I’m going to talk to you when you’re around. I don’t expect you to answer. I don’t even know if you can answer, but I figure this is the best way for you to get to know me a little better.”
With her brush fully loaded, Robin got back to work, admiring the shade of paint she had chosen as it concealed the orange. “So...like I was saying, blue’s my favorite color, so I’ve picked a few different shades for the apartment. This one’s called Dolphin, which makes perfect sense given the color, though I guess it’s as much gray as it is blue, but I like it. What about you?”
Robin scooched until she was directly under the bay window, and dipping her brush in the paint, she was about to continue when she noticed the small, brass keyway mortised into the trim just under the window seat. “Hey?” she said over her shoulder. “You wouldn’t happen to know where the keys for these locks are, would you? The one in the bedroom won’t open either.”
Her hand had remained steady all the while Robin was rambling, but suddenly it was trembling again. Robin scowled and then she stiffened. She wasn’t nervous. She was cold. Very, very cold.
“Shit,” she whispered, her breath steaming in the air. “Here we go again.”
Robin hunched her shoulders, and gripping the brush in hopes it wouldn’t fly out of her hand, she waited for the hurricane named Isobel. One minute passed and then another, but it wasn’t until Robin’s legs began to cramp when she finally uncrossed them and dared to look behind her.
The room was empty...and growing warmer by the second.
Chapter Nineteen
Two days after Judy had left the island, there wasn’t a muscle in Robin’s body that didn’t ache, and there wasn’t one ache she didn’t welcome.
With only the bathroom and spare bedroom left in the innkeeper’s suite to paint, Robin was far ahead of her own schedule, so that morning she decided to do what she hadn’t done in almost a year. She went for a run.
In her younger years, Robin had always used running to burn off excess energy, and as she grew older, it had become her form of meditation. Others would jog through parks or over trails with earbuds pumping in their favorite tunes, but the cadence of her steps was the only melody Robin had ever needed. Focused on the rhythm she created, she had written many a chapter in her head during those times, but this run wasn’t about conjuring up characters or dialogue. Robin already had those. This run was about pummeling her self-doubt into submission and allowing her confidence as a writer to rise again. Somewhere in the wasteland of what another had created, R. C. Novak did exist, and Robin was going to find her, come hell or high water.
On the front porch, Robin stretched and flexed like she always did, and wearing her favorite pair of running shoes, she left the house and headed north up M-185. She started out slow, breathing in the cold, clean
air as she admired the scenery as it crept by, and when she came upon a small plaque at the road’s edge, Robin stopped. Reading the sign, she quickly made a mental note to Google Devil’s Kitchen when she got home. Between the name and the fact it had been formed three hundred fifty million years ago, there had to be at least one story behind it, or maybe even two.
She continued on, and as she relaxed into a comfortable jog, Robin turned her thoughts to the reason she was running. On her laptop were two unpublished novels awaiting her return and no amount of painting, wallpapering, cleaning, renovating, or running would make them disappear. She had opened each manuscript more than once over the past year, praying they didn’t contain what she knew they would, but Robin had never made it past a few pages, before she slammed her laptop closed and walked away. The author’s voice was unrecognizable as her own. The words had been written by a woman who had been teetering on the edge, a woman careless of tense and grammar, she had just puked out the words taking up space in her head, all the while lying to herself that they actually made sense.
Her annoyance became her fuel, and Robin picked up the pace. Oblivious to the glorious autumn colors painting the forest in yellows, reds, and oranges, she sprinted up the road. The leaves littering the path crunched beneath her feet, disintegrating into dust as she pounded over them, but she didn’t hear their demise. She had become single-minded, and the more Robin thought, the faster she ran.
***
“Hey, you,” Robin said, placing the phone against her ear.
“I do have a name, you know?”
“Yes, I know. It’s Declan Fitzgerald Kennedy,” Robin said in the poshest accent she could muster. “But to me, you’ll always be you.”
Declan’s old friend had returned, and his grin reached the state of Texas. “You sound good, Robbie. Really good.”
“That’s because I feel good,” Robin said, stretching out her legs. “A little sore, but it’s a good kind of sore.”
