by Lyn Gardner
On an afternoon with rain misting through the trees, they stood under a canopy of branches, and as their breath steamed in the air, they shared a kiss like they had done so many times. They hadn’t noticed the man walking the path until he was almost upon them, and while they managed to separate in time, the terror Isobel saw in Julia’s eyes said it all. Never again would they hold each other close. Never again would their lips meet. Never again would they love in earnest, and when the first snow of the season blanketed the island in white, Julia stepped into the water of the Straits to forever quiet her mind of feelings and thoughts unstoppable.
A year later, Isobel had made the same choice, but the tranquility she sought wasn’t to be. A rift, unexplainable and random, had settled her soul into a house. She had wanted sleep, deep and endless sleep where dreams and memories wouldn’t exist, but instead each day they haunted her. Her era was a time when women were quiet. Refrained and refined, they dared not speak their minds, but in death, Isobel quickly found her voice. Despising the families that came and went, their existence continually reminding her of all she could never have and of all who would have condemned her, she ensured their visits would be short. Slamming doors, dislodging ceramics from shelves, and creating wind when no window gaped, she forced them all to leave until one afternoon, a woman tall and pretty walked into the house. Her jaw was square, and her eyes dark and piercing, but there was something else. She held her shoulders high and walked and talked with confidence and determination, and unlike all the others, this woman didn’t answer to a man.
It wasn’t long before Isobel discovered why and that knowledge brought with it a modicum of tranquility, but it wasn’t until a niece who wasn’t a niece moved into the house when Isobel finally and forever found her peace.
This one had no shame, no guilt attached to her lot in life for she viewed it not as a burden. Isobel had listened while she had spoken freely about it, with no concern for condemnation or banishment in the timbre of her voice and in an instant, serenity was Isobel’s. And that was the reason for this gift.
Their love would not be hidden high on a wall, lost amongst hundreds of sketches, old and new. Their love would not be viewed as unworthy or unwelcome by any who walked into this house for Isobel would protect them until the day they joined her beloved Julia.
Isobel ran her finger down a line slightly darker than she wanted, adding definition to the intertwined bodies on her paper as she went. She found their embrace while sleeping gloriously honest. Even in slumber, they melded unconsciously, craving the other’s touch, the other’s warmth, and the other’s existence for without it, they were not whole.
Her cheeks heated when she realized she had left a hint of a bosom exposed, but adjusting the drape of the sheet with a smudge of her finger, its beauty was concealed. Taking a step backward, she viewed the drawing with a critical eye, tilting her head this way and that until she slipped the charcoal back into the cup. Their future would hold more sketches for her mind was no longer filled with what she had lost, but rather what she had gained.
Isobel silently glided through the room, and as she reached the doorway, she looked over her shoulder and tittered at the clown she had placed on the coffee table. She had forgotten how much she loved to laugh.
Epilogue
“Maybe it’s time we start considering turning around.”
“Why?” Robin said, looking over at Judy for a second before returning her eyes to the road.
“Because it’s called a snowstorm.”
“It’s not too bad, and we’ve been planning this trip for weeks. Besides, we’re over halfway there. It would be kind of silly to turn back now. Don’t you think?”
“Yeah, I guess you’re right. Just be careful.”
“Yes, dear.”
Judy grinned. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” Robin said, glancing at Judy. “Where did that come from?”
“From nowhere in particular. I just do.”
“Well, I do, too.”
“Good to know.”
A few moments of silence passed between them before Robin said, “By the way, I think I’ve figured out what we can do with Isobel’s sketches.”
“That’s great,” Judy said, turning slightly in her seat. “Because the one she left for us this morning is gorgeous.”
“I agree, so I thought maybe we could get some of them framed and put them in the bedrooms.”
“The guest rooms?” Judy said, her voice traveling up the scale. “Robin, I have no problem being out, but I think that’s a little too out for me.”
Robin’s mouth dropped open as she shot Judy a look. “I’m not talking about the ones where we’re sleeping in bed, you goof. I was thinking about the others, like the one this morning where we’re just snuggling on the window seat.”
“Oh. Whew.”
“Did you honestly think I’d want drawings of you and I sleeping in bed displayed all over the house?”
“Well, since some of them are only bordering on sleep, I was praying you wouldn’t.”
“Give me some credit, darling.”
“Sorry.”
“Apology accepted.”
“Thanks, and I like your idea, but I don’t want to lose Adele’s landscapes. They belong in those rooms.”
“Actually, I was thinking about replacing them.”
“What? Why?” Judy said, turning further in her seat. “Robin, those pictures are meant for those rooms. They’re all named after the places Adele and your mother stayed, and they loved each other so much. It wouldn’t be right to take them down. Please, please don’t do that.”
Robin smiled. “God, I love your passion.”
“Does that mean we’re not going to change them?”
“No, that means we are.”
“But Robin—”
“To the ones that actually have Mom and Adele in them.”
“Really?” Judy squeaked.
“Why not?” Robin said, shrugging. “Like you said, those pictures belong in those rooms, and so do the women in them.”
“Gosh, I wish I could kiss you right now.”
Robin was tempted to lean over and grant Judy’s wish, but the wind had changed direction, and the snow was now flying straight at the windshield. “Sorry, sweetheart. That’s going to have to wait for a couple more miles.”
Judy looked between the swipes of the wiper at the swilling, near whiteout conditions. “How can you tell where we are?”
“Positive thinking.”
A second later, Judy felt the rear end of the SUV swerve just a hair, and white-knuckling the grab handle above the dash, she glanced over at Robin. “Then how about letting me drive? I’m used to driving in the snow.”
“Sweetheart, I grew up in Indiana and driving in the snow is like riding a bike. You never forget how.”
No sooner did the words slip from her lips when the rear end of the SUV began to slide. Overcorrecting, Robin ended up driving on the wrong side of the road for almost a minute before she guided them back to safety. “Sorry about that.”
“I cannot tell you how much confidence that little bit of stunt driving just instilled in me.”
“All right,” Robin said with a laugh. “Let me just find a place to pull over, and you can drive.”
“No need,” Judy said, pointing in front of them. “That’s our turn up ahead.”
“Are you sure?”
“About the turn or your snow skills?”
“Both.”
Judy glanced at her phone. “According to the GPS, that should take us to the parking lot, and as for you driving in the snow, we’ll switch on the way back. All right?”
“Okay.”
Before too long, Robin was carefully driving down a dark, two-lane road lined with trees, the headlights of the SUV providing the only illumination along the way. “Now where?”
“Um...up ahead on the left. There,” Judy said, pointing at a break in the trees.
Robin slowed
the SUV to a crawl as she made the turn and a few seconds later, the darkness of night morphed into a sunlit day. In front of them, brightened by high-intensity lighting, was a substantial parking lot and the only spaces taken were those filled by four pickup trucks covered in snow.
“Crap. They’re supposed to be closed this time of the year.”
Judy peered through the window. “I think they’re workers.”
“What?”
“Like on Mackinac. The people who own this place probably do all the repairs or renovations on the cabins during the winter. That way, it doesn’t get in the way of the guests.”
“Well, shit.”
“Maybe we need to rethink this?”
Robin sighed and looked around. “No,” she said, pointing to the furthest corner of the lot. “I’ll park over there. It’s far enough from the lights, no one should see us.”
“Robin, seriously, maybe we should go back to the hotel and call them in the morning. Just ask if they’d mind—”
“Hello?” Robin said, splaying her fingers into an invisible phone. “Yes, my name’s Robin Novak. What? You’ve heard of me? Yeah, that’s right, the mystery writer. You enjoy my books? That’s great! So, the reason I’m calling is to ask if you’d mind if I spread the ashes of my mother and her lesbian lover around one of your cabins. You wouldn’t? You think it’s a great idea? That’s awesome. See you in the morning.”
Judy’s face creased into a smile. “Nice try, but they wouldn’t know you’re R. C. Novak.”
“They would if they were a big fan and had all my books. It’s mentioned in a few of the earlier ones.”
“Fine. Okay, I’ll admit you have a point, but what if someone sees us and calls the cops? I don’t know anything about the laws in Canada, and any way you cut it, we’re at the very least trespassing. They could deport us.”
Robin parked the SUV in the shadows and glancing at Judy, she grinned. “For trespassing? Really?”
“Yeah, it sounded pretty lame to me, too,” Judy said with a snort.
“But if you’re worried, stay in the car. It won’t take me long.”
Judy looked over her shoulder. With the lights reflecting off the snow, she had a clear line of sight to the trucks and to the snow plowed around the edge, but beyond that, there was a curtain of blackness. A second later, Judy’s eyes began to sparkle. “I don’t see any ominous sewers, but what if a scary clown is lurking in the bushes?”
Robin dropped her chin to her chest, and trying to ignore the sound of Judy’s giggles, she shot Judy a look. “You just had to go there. Didn’t you?”
“Sorry,” Judy said as she tried to stifle her amusement. “I couldn’t help myself.”
“After what happened this morning, I wouldn’t think you’d find my fear of clowns funny anymore. I dropped a whole bottle of orange juice because of Isobel’s antics.”
“I remember. I helped clean it up.”
“And how in the hell did she get that stupid thing in the pantry?”
Judy snickered. “I think we’ll need to chalk that up to ingenuity.”
“Well, she needs to stop being so clever. I’ve lost count of how many times she’s moved that flipping doll, and if she doesn’t knock it off, I’m going to need a freaking pacemaker.”
A fit of laughter overtook Judy, and several seconds passed before she could speak. “And when you started jumping around and screaming like a little girl with uncontrollable jazz hands, I swear, I almost peed myself.”
“It really wasn’t that funny.”
“Trust me. It was,” Judy said, sniffling back the rest of her amusement. “But I don’t think she’s trying to be mean. We’ve both heard her laughing, so I think she’s just having some fun.”
“Yeah, at my expense.”
Judy placed her hand on Robin’s leg. “Okay. When we get home, we’ll ask her to stop. How’s that?”
“See, that’s the thing. I can’t bring myself to ask her to stop. Like you said, I think she’s just having fun, and her sketches are...well, they’re wonderful. So much detail, so much...love. Maybe it’s me, but I think Isobel’s happy.”
“Then I guess that makes three of us—huh?”
Robin leaned over and gave Judy a kiss. “Definitely, but keep your eyes open for a good deal on a defibrillator.”
“I’ll do that,” Judy said, unbuckling her seat belt. “And now what say we go do what we’re here to do?”
“You sure? After all, if we’re caught, we could be deported. Who knows? They could just toss us in the slammer and throw away the key. Bread and water for the rest of our days. A metal cup to rattle against the bars when we want attention.”
“Drama queen,” Judy said with a laugh. “And I told you I would never leave you again, so I guess I’m just going to have to take my chances.”
Whatever heat existed in the car was sucked out by the frigid wind as soon as they opened the doors, and hunching their shoulders against the chill, Robin and Judy quickly zipped up their jackets. Gloves and knit caps followed, and after grabbing the backpack and a couple of flashlights, they made their way across the lot through the newly fallen snow.
As soon as they scaled the snow piled along the perimeter, Judy and Robin froze in their tracks. Not too far in the distance were cabins, easily seen in the pitch of night because there were lights in the windows.
“Shit,” Judy whispered. “That must be where the workers are staying.”
“That’s okay,” Robin said, quickly scanning the area. “From the map on their website, it should be right around here. It was really close to the parking lot.”
“All right,” Judy said, and turning on her flashlight, she aimed it at the ground. “Should we split up?”
“No. We’ll just walk along the edge and check the ones we find.”
“Okay. Lead the way.”
Fox Point Resort had been around for almost a hundred years and nestled in and around trees dotting the acreage were endless cabins and cottages. Some were tucked away, their secluded locations affording honeymooners privacy, while others stood in the open, their porches facing the nearby lake and their size accommodating even the largest of family gatherings.
Carefully making their way through the trees and snow-covered brush, Judy and Robin took turns climbing the stairs leading to the tiny homes, raising their flashlights only long enough to read the signs above the doors until they found Firefly.
“Are you still sure you want to do this?” Judy said as she came down the stairs.
Robin shined her flashlight on the cabin. It was smaller than she imagined, barely the size of her own bedroom, but then she remembered Adele and her mother had been in college at the time. Young, vital, and falling in love, the accommodations no doubt hadn’t mattered to either.
“Yeah,” Robin whispered. “This is where they first…where they first came together. This is where it all started, and they’ll be safe here. The wind can carry them away if it likes, but they won’t be trampled on.” Using her foot, Robin cleared away some drifting snow before holding out her hand. “You did leave some in the urns—right?”
Judy couldn’t help but smile. “Of course. I did exactly as you asked, sweetheart,” she said, placing two plastic bags in Robin’s hand.
“I can’t thank you enough for doing that by the way. For the life of me, I just couldn’t…I couldn’t—”
“Robin, it’s okay. You already thanked me, and I totally understood your reluctance. It’s one thing to scatter ashes and allow the souls of your loved ones to go free, but…but dividing them up? I can see how that would bother you.”
“I love you so much,” Robin said, her breath steaming in the air. “I hope you know that.”
“I do,” Judy said, hunching her shoulders against a sudden breeze. “Do you want me to go with you?”
“No. I got this. Be back in a few.”
A moment later, Judy watched as Robin crawled under a cabin built atop piers of masonry and concrete.
/> Dried leaves and twigs littered Robin’s path, and brushing them away, she army-crawled under the tiny house. Laying her flashlight off to the side, Robin opened one bag and then the next, scattering the ashes together in a row far enough from the edges of the cabin, so they’d be safe until time and wind swept them away.
Tears stung at Robin’s eyes. Silent and motionless, she was unaware of the minutes that came and went as she got her thoughts in order. “I love you, Mom,” she whispered. “I always have and I always will. You were always my strength. You were always my hero…and you still are. You were fair when you had to be and strict when I was being a pain in your backside, and the woman I’ve become is all because of you. You taught me to stand tall, but not too tall as to ever look down on other people. You showed me that grace and kindness takes a person further than ugliness and hatred ever could, and it’s okay to stand up for myself, as long as I don’t trample others along the way.”
Robin paused and cleared her throat. “You also taught me to admit when I was wrong, and I was wrong, Mom. I was wrong to get angry when I found out about you and Adele. I was wrong to feel slighted because you didn’t share that part of your life with me, and I was wrong, so very wrong to ever judge you, to ever condemn you for the decisions you made, and I know that now because I…well, I started reading your letters.”
Robin stopped to sniffle back her emotions. “Now, before you get all pissy, yes, I know I’m prying and yes, I know I’m intruding on your most private thoughts and feelings, but your letters to Adele made me realize that everything I always wanted for you, you had. I wanted you to be happy, and you were. I wanted you to find love, and there’s no doubt in my mind, you did. I saw it in every stroke of your pen, Mom. In every syllable you wrote, your love for Adele lifted off the page…and so did you.
