by Jamie Zerndt
“No, thank you. I ate earlier.” She hesitated, unsure of how to say what needed to be said. “I’m sorry about Seven. It’s my fault he’s dead. I know that doesn’t help you at all, but I want you to know I feel like... like a garbage can because of it.”
Shawna said nothing, only raised the leg of chicken in the air, pointing it at Kay to indicate she’d used the exact right word. Kay kept quiet, watched as the girl tore a hunk off with her teeth and began to chew it fiercely. There were streaks down her face, valleys carved out through the dirt and grime and whatever else she’d done to her face. She looked wounded to Kay. And frightened. Like a stray dog cowering with a scrap of meat it’d just found.
“Is that blood on your hands? Did you kill that chicken yourself?”
“It’s from Snow’s. I think.”
“But is that blood? Honey, are you okay? You can talk to me, you know.”
“I know.” The girl took another bite of chicken, placing what was left back into the plastic bag. She then wiped her hands on her jeans. “It’s not my blood.” She looked up at Kay and, like she was concerned about Kay not understanding, added, “Or the chicken’s.”
“I may be old, honey, but I’m not dim. Not yet, anyway. And last I checked, they don’t sell live chickens down at Snow’s.”
The girl smiled briefly but then shook her head and covered her ears. “She’s okay,” Kay heard the girl whisper through gritted teeth.
“Shawna...?”
“I’m fine.”
“You’re not fine.”
“No. Maybe not.”
Seeing as she wasn’t getting anywhere with the girl, Kay decided to take a different approach. “Come to think of it, I am a little hungry. Could I have some, please?”
Shawna ripped a chunk of meat from the bone. “Could you tell me more about the choice of makeup?” Kay said, trying her best to seem like she was enjoying her meal. “I bet it’s interesting.”
Kay then listened as Shawna told her about Ojibwa death rituals and how when somebody dies they rub charcoal over the faces of children so the deceased won’t recognize them and try to take them with them when they finally leave on their journey. Kay had a lot of questions about this but decided it was best to focus on keeping the girl talking. “But you aren’t a child.”
“I guess I was taking extra precautions. Stupid, I know.”
“But why? Who died?”
“Nobody. I don’t think so anyway.”
“Shawna, tell me what happened.”
The girl spoke about something called a Sun Ceremony and how it was a rite of passage into manhood for boys, how Shawna had always wanted to try it herself, to test herself, how it wasn’t fair that only the boys got to do it. Then there was something about using fishing lures, and one she’d found on the island, which was now hanging from her ear, and that she was surprised how resilient human skin was. But throughout her talking, nowhere was there any actual mention of who had possibly died. When the girl finally stopped, Kay asked her again: “Who maybe died, Shawna?”
“He didn’t die. He better not have.”
“Who didn’t die?”
The girl hesitated, wringing her hands and picking at pieces of dirt, or worse, blood, on her jeans and eyeing the bag of chicken like maybe it was going to run off. Then, just when Kay was about to give up, in a whisper the girl said, “Peyton Crane.”
“That nasty man who had Seven?”
“He killed Seven. He even admitted it.”
Kay looked at the girl and realized she was, in a way, looking at a ghost. If what the girl was saying were true, even if the man was still alive, she’d be going to prison. And after everything that had happened to this poor girl, how could she expect to come out of it unscathed? Or whole? As Kay looked at the girl, an enormous sadness overtook her. This world, she couldn’t help thinking, was enough to crush just about anybody.
“But you’re certain he’s still alive?”
“I had Elmer go over and check on him.”
“And what did Elmer say?”
“That he took care of him, bandaged him up and everything.”
“And the police?”
“Elmer says he took care of that, too.”
“How?”
“He just said he didn’t think Peyton would ever say anything about it to anybody. Partly because it was embarrassing. Me being a girl and all.”
“And what’s the other part?”
“I don’t know. Elmer said he scared him pretty bad. Elmer can be scary when he wants to be.”
“You need a shower. And some clean clothes. Will you come back to the house with me? We can figure out the rest later.”
“I don’t know,” Shawna said, again eyeing the chicken like maybe Kay was trying to trick her out of it.
“And I’ll make you BLTs until you never want to see another piece of bacon again. Deal?”
Shawna smiled, but it wasn’t the same smile Kay had come to know. It was a shadow of the old one, a nervous thing being chased away as soon as it appeared. “We can take the rowboat back, but you’re going to have to do the rowing. My arms are shot.”
Together they gathered Shawna’s things and loaded them into the boat. Kay sat in the back and held onto a rope attached to the kayak, towing it behind them. The lake was empty, just the two of them making their way across the water. Watching the girl work the oars, it seemed to Kay like they were both leaving a place they could never return to. It was just as she was thinking this that the Scamp, stuck there along the edge of the lake, came into view and the idea came to her.
“Do Chippewa believe in funeral pyres?”
Shawna guided the boat in and hooked them to the side of the dock. “Not anymore really. After four days we bury them in a cemetery just like your people do.”
“Norm is still in my living room.”
“Why are you asking me?”
“I don’t know. I just had an idea for something.”
Shawna shrugged. “Do you mind if I take a raincheck on those BLTs. I think I just want to go home and shower and change. Maybe talk some with my naan.”
“You do whatever you need to do. We can talk later.”
With that, Kay watched as Shawna climbed the hill leading up to the house. She’d left the half-eaten chicken sitting there on the dock, so Kay carried it back up to the house and tossed it in the trash. The girl eating like that bothered Kay. She went inside and found the tin of old recipes on the kitchen table and tucked them into her jacket to give to her later. Then she got on the phone and started making calls.
Starting with Marty.
Marty didn’t know exactly why Kay had asked to borrow his truck, only that she needed to use the winch to help say “goodbye to the past.” He’d called Douglas down at the shop immediately afterward and, after getting the okay, made plans to meet him and Jenna at the house.
In the front yard stood Kay, another old woman, and a priest. Which sounded to Marty like the start of a bad joke.
Kay introduced Marty to her friend Alma and Father Jason. While Alma and the Father chatted about the recent Packers game, Kay took Marty aside and pointed down at the Scamp.
“You think you can haul that thing up the hill about halfway?”
“I can try. We’ll need to put some chocks of wood behind my wheels, so I don’t roll down after it. Why only halfway?”
“I want to send it rolling back down into the lake. Then I want to set it on fire.”
“You’re kidding.”
“The Father here is even going to bless it.”
“You do realize that’s totally illegal, right? Not to mention your neighbors will call the cops before it even hits water.”
“But we’re still doing it.”
“And Douglas knows about this?”
“No, not yet. But he wo
n’t mind.”
“Doesn’t he hang out in there and draw and stuff?”
“It’s been overrun by Gypsy moths. And the law says they need to be destroyed. So...”
“You could just spray.”
“No, way too many of them. This is better. Plus, Douglas needs to stop hiding.”
Marty knew from experience that it was pretty much useless to try to change Kay’s mind once she had it set on something. And chances were they’d just give her a fine. Either way, not Marty’s problem. “I’ll have to drag it a little across the lawn so it’ll clear the trees. It might do some collateral damage. That okay?”
“I don’t care about the grass. Just be sure you don’t mess with Douglas’s steps. He spent a lot of time on them.”
“I’ll stay clear of them. Don’t worry about that.”
“Good. And thank you, Marty.”
“We’ll see how happy you are once Mercer’s finest shows up.”
“Oh, they don’t scare me. Besides, I can always blame it on the Alzheimer’s.” She made a funny face at Marty, like someone lost in a big city, and he laughed out loud though he didn’t want to.
“Douglas told me about that. I’m sorry, Mrs. O.”
“Nothing to be sorry about. At least I have a little time to get things in order before I disappear. And you’re helping me, aren’t you? That’s what this is all about. Saying goodbye to things, putting them to rest. Which reminds me, I’ll be needing you to put in more hours down at the shop soon. You’ll be more or less running the place for a bit. Is that something that might interest you?”
“Definitely. I’d be honored, Mrs. O.”
“Good. We can talk more about it later then. Oh, and would you want Norm’s fishing rod? Douglas won’t ever use it, and it’d be nice to know it was getting some use. You could think of it as payment for helping us today.”
Marty was about to mention that Douglas had already offered the rod to him, but he didn’t want to ruin the gesture she was trying to make. “That would be really nice, Mrs. O. Thank you.”
“Good, I’m glad. I’ll be sure to grab it for you later.”
Kay watched as Marty went about getting the truck in position, securing it as best he could with a few stray logs from what was left of their firewood. There was maybe an eighth of a cord left. She’d have to remember to check with Douglas about ordering more before winter set in.
Satisfied things were going according to plan, she went inside to grab the urn from off the top of the TV.
“You sure about that?” Alma said, walking over to her.
“Norm loved the lake.”
“Yeah, but he also loved TV.”
“Honestly, I don’t think it matters much either way. I’m just tired of looking at it.”
“It’s up to you. And I don’t want to sound cruel here, but eventually, you’re not going to know whose ashes those are anyway.”
Kay laughed, mainly because there was nothing else she could do, and placed the urn back on the TV. She thought about the list of secrets she’d made or maybe the recipes as worthy sacrifices, but, instead, she grabbed the Don Quixote statue from off the coffee table. “Okay, Norm can stay. I guess maybe the bottom of a lake isn’t such an ideal resting spot after all.”
Kay went outside to keep the priest company; he was standing there watching Marty work, his toes wriggling about in his sandals happy as could be. “This is going into the Scamp. You want to say goodbye to anything of yours, Father?”
“Hmmm, let me see. Can I put my tinnitus in?”
“I didn’t know you had problems with your ears.”
“Just these past few months. I have to use earplugs during my sermons now when the organ gets going.”
“Or when Lucy Dilmore gets going.”
The priest wagged a finger at Kay. “You’re a funny one, Kay. But I happen to think Lucy is a fine singer.”
“I think that might make you a saint then, Father. Either that or your tinnitus is worse than you think.”
Kay walked down to the Scamp, eased open the door, and slid the statue in. “Nothing personal,” she whispered. “You were the poet he always wanted to be. And I don’t want to be reminded of that anymore.” There had to be hundreds of moths, maybe thousands, in there by now. Had she not known better, she would have thought the Scamp was filled with bats by all the racket they were making in there.
When she climbed back up the steps to the house, she saw Douglas and Jenna pulling in. As she passed by the priest again on her way into the house, Kay decided that if there ever was a time to say something, now was it. “You know, Father, we can throw your sandals in there, too, if you’d like. Don’t you think it might be time to put them to rest?”
Father Jason looked down at his feet. “My sandals? What’s wrong with my sandals?”
“Nothing’s wrong with them. I’ve just heard people talking is all.”
“Fine, I’ll bite. What are people saying?”
“Oh, just that maybe sandals aren’t befitting a man of the cloth.”
“Befitting?”
“Well, they’re not exactly holy-looking, are they?”
“You do realize who else was fond of wearing sandals, right?”
Kay hadn’t considered this before, but, solid as his point was, she wasn’t about to let that distract her from her mission. “Well, maybe he had nicer-looking feet.”
“What’s wrong with my feet now?”
“Nothing at all, Father. I shouldn’t have even brought it up.”
The priest curled his toes under like he was trying to make them disappear. “No, I’m glad you told me. Maybe they are a bit much.”
“We can’t all be Jesus. If it’s any consolation, I know the ladies who count the donation money think you walk on water.”
“Only when necessary.”
“Another joke. Good for you, Father.” Kay, whether she wanted to or not, was starting to like the man. And who was she to tell him what to wear? “I’m going in to fix a drink. Can I get you one?”
“I would like that. Thank you, Catherine.”
She found Douglas inside making Jenna and himself a sandwich. She hadn’t seen him as much as she’d have liked to lately, so it was extra good having him there.
“Have you told him what we’ve been up to yet?”
“Not a word.”
“Good girl.”
Douglas took a bite of his sandwich and, with his mouth full, muttered, “I already don’t like this. Whatever it is.”
“We decided you’re going to art school.” Kay could tell Douglas was about to make a big stink about it, so she skipped right to the selling point. “It’s an online course, so you can do it from home.”
Jenna, without so much as a nod from Kay, took up the baton. “You’ll only go to classes for two weeks out of every semester.”
“And Marty has already agreed to take on more responsibilities at the shop.”
“God help us.”
“You know he’s more than capable, Douglas. Your father made sure of that.”
Jenna slid her arm through Douglas’s, pulled him to her. “It’s a great school. I’d go if I had the money. And it’s a pretty big deal if you get in.”
“He got in.”
“Baby, that’s great!” When Douglas stiffened, Jenna eased away from him a little. “I mean if you decide to go, of course.”
Douglas looked like he was in shock. Either that, or irritated to the point of paralysis. Kay couldn’t decide which it was. “But how did you...?”
“Alma helped. And so did this wonderful lady.”
“And the money for it? Where does that come from?”
“I’ve already spoken with a loan officer. We’ll be able to figure something out.” When Douglas still seemed unsure of what to think, Kay added, “Pl
ease. Do it for your old mother if you aren’t smart enough to do it for yourself.”
“Marty and I have been talking and the Scamp probably won’t make it out too far if we just let it go as is. But don’t worry, we have a plan.”
“Douglas.”
“Fine. So the school sounds good. I don’t know what to say, honestly.”
Jenna nudged him. “Say thank you.”
“Thank you. Everybody. I mean that.”
Kay kissed him on his cheek right there in front of everyone, and Douglas didn’t seem to mind. It was one of the things she loved about him. He had never once acted like he was embarrassed of her no matter what she did.
Douglas, no doubt wanting to take the focus off himself, said, “I was serious about the Scamp, though. Remember those old inner tubes I got a few summers ago for the lake?”
“They’re still taking up half of our shed if I remember correctly.”
“We can tie them to the bottom of the Scamp. That way when it hits the water, it’ll float out a bit more. Well, hopefully. What’s wrong? I thought you’d love that idea.”
“It’s not that. It’s a wonderful idea.”
“So what’s wrong then?”
“There’s something else I need to talk to you about.” She looked over at Alma, and Alma nodded before asking Jenna if she’d like to meet Father Jason. Once they were alone, Kay told Douglas everything she could remember about what Shawna had told her.
“Have you called the police?”
“No.”
“Well, that’s good, I guess. As long as we’re sure he’s okay.”
“Shawna says Elmer thinks he’ll be fine in a week or two. I don’t know, though.”
“What a nightmare. I’ll go check on her in a minute.”
“Is there anything you want to put in the Scamp before it’s time?”
After thinking a minute, Douglas said, “Yeah, maybe. Hold on.”
He went to his room and returned with a sheet of paper. On it was a pencil drawing of his father climbing a flight of stairs, a fishing pole in his hand being used as a cane. The stairs led up into a sky filled with dark, ominous-looking clouds.
