Eagle River

by Isabelle Kane

  “You know how it works.” Ben gestured to the men sitting on both sides of him. Both had pitchers of beer on the bar before them. “A root beer drinker doesn’t have much say here.”

  “Gotcha.” Galen leaned up against the bar.

  “Galen boy, we haven’t seen much of you lately,” Sal commented. “The only way I hear about what you’re doings is by talking to that brother of yours, or to one of his lady friends. What can I get you?” Sal’s ears and bald head were red and glowing from frequent trips to the kitchen and his shirt sleeves were rolled up to reveal his hairy, black forearms.

  Galen’s face eased into the familiar crooked, wide, one dimpled grin that Ben remembered from their childhood but that had been scarce in recent months. “I could really use one of your Sunday specials with the secret sauce.”

  Sal took a step back and bellowed through the swinging door that led to the kitchen: “Another special, Maria.”

  “And another one for me, Sal,” Ben called out.

  “Maria, make that two... Happe, you want the sauce?”

  “Please.”

  While they waited, the two friends sat and watched the baseball game.

  “You heading back to Milwaukee soon?” Galen finally asked.

  “Next Wednesday. Mom and Dad are taking me down.”

  “Here you go, guys.” Sal appeared with two plates filled with his trademark hot beef sandwiches and fries.

  “Thanks, Sal.”

  “So good,” Ben moaned in anticipation before he sunk his teeth into the layers of soft roast beef.

  “Whole game been like this?” Galen muttered between mouthfuls.

  “Yeah. Twins suck this year. Don’t you ever read the paper or watch the news?”

  “It’s baseball,” Galen countered. “Besides, no one is whacked out about stats as you are.” Contemplatively, he toyed with a large batter dipped fry in his ketchup. “Kjersten took off early this morning.”

  “That’s what I heard.” Ben studied his friend’s deliberately blank expression.

  “I stopped by the Solheims. I wanted to talk to her. Wish I knew why she took off so quickly.”

  “Cam probably wanted to get going. He always thought that this town is a hole. He just came back to show us all what a big man he is now. And as far as Kjersten goes, well, what can I say?”

  Galen glared at Ben. “What? What were you going to say?”

  “You won’t want to hear it.”

  “No, go ahead.”

  “You want me to be honest with you?”

  Galen nodded.

  “You never gave Kjersten a chance. After everything, I mean. She’s my friend, too. I don’t like that she’s dating that jerk. But you ended things with her. You shut her out.”

  “You mean after Mom died,” Galen stated flatly, his voice calm and noncommittal. He wouldn’t meet Ben’s gaze.

  “I should have said something then, but you were all clammed up. You didn’t want anyone hanging around you, including me. What did you expect her to do? Sit around and wait until you got your head worked out?”

  Galen said nothing, just fiddled with his straw in his glass of pop. “I was messed up, I know. But I didn’t think that she’d hook up with him. Why couldn’t she just wait?”

  “Wait for what? For you to decide you actually wanted to talk to her. You told her it was over, remember?” Ben observed his friend carefully. “But none of that matters now anyway. That deal is done. You’ve gotta get her out of your mind.”

  “It’s just that Mr. Solheim said that he’d expected her to stay all weekend. I wonder what changed?”

  “It doesn’t matter. Quit thinking about her. It’s too late.”

  Galen stared angrily across the room. He stuffed a fry in his mouth. “Why does everything have to change?” he asked morosely. “Why does everything have to go bad?”

  “Look, I’m your friend and I’m going to be honest with you. This didn’t just happen to you, not like your mom getting sick. That just happened. But this, you did this. You gotta let her go now. It’s over.” For a moment, Ben was silent.

  “I know, it’s just...”

  Suddenly Ben reached across the table and gripped Galen’s arm. “Check it out. This is just what you need.”

  “What?”

  “There are some girls over there at a table a little off to the right. Don’t make it obvious you’re looking.”

  Galen shook his head. “Come on.”

  “Seriously.” Ben kicked him under the table. “They’re cute. The Kjersten thing is done. That ship has sailed. Get over it. Please, for me, look at them.”

  Galen turned his head, as if to get a better angle. He caught sight of a table of three girls who were all bent together, whispering, glancing their way.

  “I met the blonde one at the fair,” Ben continued. “Her name is like Sarah. I don’t know any of the others, but none of them are half bad either.”

  Galen turned back to the TV screen, while Ben continued to glance over at the table with the three girls.

  “Galen,” Ben prodded his friend’s shin with his toe. “They’re looking over here.”’

  “So?”

  Ben kicked him harder now.

  “Ow. Would you quit kicking me. I’m trying to watch the game.”

  “No, I’m serious. They’re checking us out.”

  Galen slowly dragged his eyes away from the screen and to a sweet smile and dimples. Without thinking, because his brain had just totally shut off, he smiled back. The girl giggled and turned away to whisper in her friend’s ear. Her hair was a curly brown mass that bounced and swayed with her every movement. In fact, the whole girl was bouncy. She was petite but well-rounded beneath the cropped top of her sunflower yellow T-shirt. He caught a glimpse of tanned, soft tummy when she leaned over closer to another girl. Suddenly, Ben kicked him again.

  “What the heck are you doing?” He reached down to rub his shin.

  “You’re staring.”

  “They’re staring, too.” Galen turned back around. The brunette was the cutest of the bunch.

  “Let’s go over there,” Ben whispered conspiratorially.

  “No way.”

  “They want us to. Come on.”

  “I’m watching the game.”

  “Look. See how they keep turning our way. They want us, man.”

  “Uh-uh. No way.”

  “You’ve been busted. They know that we were checking them out. Besides, this is the perfect opportunity for you to get over Kjersten. I’m going over there with or without you. Come on, Galen. I’m your best friend and I’ll only be in town for the weekend. I’d do it for you. You just sit there and I’ll do all the talking.”

  “But—”

  “But, bullshit. I‘m going over there with or without you.”

  “It’s the seventh inning. You don’t want to leave now.”

  Ben ignored Galen. His entire focus was on the table of girls. A taller auburn-haired girl grinned and gestured for him to come over. The two others dissolved into giggles.

  “I’m going.”

  “You do that. I’m gonna finish my hot beef.”

  “You’ll come over then, won’t you?”

  “Yeah, sure, Ben. All right.”

  In short order, Ben was on his feet and over at the girls’ table. Galen took a bite and watched as Ben bent to speak to the girls. Then, he was heading back with the cute brunette in tow. Galen hurriedly wiped at his mouth with a bar napkin.

  “Galen, Mallory here has something to say to you.” Ben winked at Galen.

  “Galen Odgers,” she began, putting her hands on her hips. “I have a score to settle with you.”

  Galen took a sip of pop, to wash down the hot beef, which he promptly aspirated on, and blew out his nose. Ben pounded him on the back. Galen coughed, snorted, let out a burp, and then turned scarlet with mortification.

  “You’re all class, Galen,” Ben guffawed.

  “I think you must have me confused wit
h someone else,” he finally managed to respond to the girl. “I don’t think that we’ve ever met.”

  “No, you’re the guy who ruined my homecoming dance last year. You Warriors killed our Knights, remember?”

  Galen nodded.

  “My boyfriend was the captain of our football team, and he was a jerk all night because we lost so badly. So, you see, it was all your fault. You owe me,” she finished with a playful smile.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make problems for you and your boyfriend,” he stammered, the tips of his ears now tomato red.

  “Silly.” Mallory leaned up against the bar right next to him, engulfing him in a cloud of some tangy, floral perfume, her leg almost touching his, the curve of her full breast just at his eye level. “I’m kidding, don’t you get it? Actually, Galen,” her voice grew softer and husky, “I’ve wanted to meet you ever since that game. All the girls in Webster did, want to meet you, that is. Why don’t you come sit with us?” she suggested. “We’ll be here until the end of the game.”

  “Sounds great,” Ben said eagerly.

  “Yeah,” Galen echoed, rising to his feet. He followed Mallory’s hair flipping saunter back over to the table. There they pulled up chairs and made introductions. They sat together for the rest of the game and for a good half hour afterwards. To his great surprise, Galen found that he was enjoying himself. The three girls laughed and smiled at whatever came out of his mouth. Ben was in rare form, telling jokes and stories.

  They were all standing up to leave when Mallory grasped Galen’s hand. She pressed a scrap of paper into his hand. “Call me,” she mouthed as the girls wandered off.

  Galen and Ben were getting up, ready to leave when Sal clapped a meaty hand on both of their shoulders. “Hey boys, have you seen my new football?”

  “No,” Galen answered.

  Sal walked to the bar and returned carrying a football carefully. “Look at this beauty. It’s autographed by all of the Great Lakes University Coyotes. Cam stopped by and left it for me.”

  “Can I have a look?” Ben reached for the ball eagerly. Galen stood looking on. After a moment, he shoved his hands into his pockets.

  “What do you think?” Sal was puffed up with pride. “I just hope Tom stops by tonight. He’ll get a kick out of this.”

  “That’s great, Sal,” Galen murmured, not even looking at the football. “I gotta get going. Say ‘hi’ to coach for me.”

  “Sure, Galen. Glad you came today.”

  Ben was still enthralled by the football, but looked up as Galen began to walk away. “I’ll call you tonight,” he directed at his friend.

  Galen nodded and waved, but kept going.

  “What’s with him?” Sal asked.

  “He’s just got a lot on his mind.” Ben responded.

  Galen made his way out of the bar. The burnt golden, late afternoon sunlight was cleansing after the smoke-filled darkness of the Court’n House. He kicked at a pebble with a battered brown roper boot. The pebble launched a few feet then bounced several times. He stepped forward and kicked it again. He couldn’t predict which way it would bounce. Life’s like that, unpredictable. Sometimes he could forget about Kjersten for a little while, but then something always came up that remind him that she was gone. That she was with Cam and done with him. He leaned down, picked up a rock and whipped it as far as he could down the street. He stared after it, but didn’t see or hear where it landed, then he made his way back to the truck.

  Once inside, he reached over and flipped the radio on. The Nitty Gritty Dirt Band was singing about fishing in the dark. The happy rhythm tripped its way across his battered soul with sharp, puncturing, high-heeled boots. Slowly, he exhaled and rolled his window down the rest of the way. The air tasted cool, crisp, and with a freshness hinting of the coming fall. Galen wasn’t ready to go home yet. The song played on and he was aware of a gradual loosening in his chest, an infinitesimal easing. Would Kjersten be easier to forget in another place, where he wasn’t constantly reminded of her? Reminded that it was his own damn fault. Suddenly, he wanted to be somewhere else, somewhere other than Eagle River, where he could forget and live a life like none of it had ever happened, where he could be someone else, someone he invented. Suddenly, his college path was clear. He was going to turn down the scholarship offer from Milwaukee University. I’m not going to sit on the bench and watch Cam Fawst play even to be near her. Heck, that would probably make things worse. It’s time to get on with my life. I’m going to be an Illinois University Bearcat.

  Chapter Six

  Catching Up

  ~ Tom ~

  The cemetery was peaceful. The plots were well spaced and most of the monuments. The plots, even the older ones, were tidy and well-tended. Wild flowers and arranged flowers moved delicately in a gentle breeze. This soft, rustling was the only sound.

  Tom had always thought it was too quaint, too pretty for a cemetery. But then, he had been used to the relative anonymity of a big city graveyard where there always were a good number of neglected and forgotten plots, where some of the headstones were sunken in, or standing aslant and on some the lettering had been rendered almost unreadable with age or graffiti. He made his way slowly through the headstones that bore messages like “Harriet, Beloved Wife and Mother,” and to “Tommy, You Will Always Be a Part of Us,” and “Ingeborg and Oliver, Together for Eternity. We Love You, Mom and Dad.” These days, he moved with a slight hitch in his step due to a rigidity in his left knee.

  For Tom, the family names on some of the headstones matched with the youthful, vibrant faces of some of the players on his current football team. It was a truism of small town life, some families simply stayed put. In his years in Eagle River, Tom had grown accustomed to this and other aspects of small town life. Now, he was a part of the town, no longer just a stranger or someone simply passing through. Sure, it had its drawbacks, but this little Northern Wisconsin town was the first place where he had ever found peace, a place that felt like home. When he was young and restless or stupid, if he was honest with himself, he had never understood how people could live their whole lives in one place and know all the same people for that whole lifetime. Now, he could see a warmth, a confidence, and a sense of knowing who you are that you could derive from such a life. Tom had finally grown roots.

  He sat down on the stone bench at the foot of the plot. After a moment, he leaned forward with his elbows resting on his thighs. He observed that the flowers around the edge of the grave were delicate, well-tended, and brightly cheerful. Their scent was cloyingly sweet. Tom shook his head. Jessica had never cared for tended, tidy flowers. His girl had always preferred natural, untamed looking flowers, the Golden Rockets that lined the highways throughout the Midwestern summer, the daisies and Queen Anne’s lace that flourished in the prairie. She’d had a special fondness for great smiling sunflowers even though they were domesticated.

  “They seem more alive than the other flowers,” he remembered her saying. “See how they follow the sun.”

  He’d just smiled back at her, unsure of what to say. She often left him at a loss for words, and he didn’t know a damn thing about flowers. He stood there for a few moments, just thinking about her, about them, about what had been. Then, he began to talk softly to her as was his habit.

  “I’m still keeping our secret, though I’m not sure why anymore, except that Galen has already been through so much. I’ve kept it for nearly twenty years now... You know, keeping it is easier now. I’ve gotten used to it. You know if I’d had my way years ago, I would have printed it on every road sign around Eagle River, painted it on the water tower, had it announced on the radio.” But these feelings were just something else that he’d had to bury with her, this woman he’d loved so much, who’d hurt him so much. Even today, he continued to sneak in and out of this cemetery, as he had in and out of her life.

  “Jessica, could I tell him now? Is this the right time?” But the grave maintained its stubborn silence.

  Tom
rubbed at his forehead with a forefinger and a thumb. He ran his clenched fingers back through his still thick, wavy, silvering hair. “I still don’t know if it was the right thing not telling all these years... Jessy.” Her name on his lips was still a plaintive cry. Memories of an unforgettable day years before filled his mind. Overwhelmed, he knelt down by the side of her grave.

  He’d gone out to the farm to see her after lunch on a week day while her two kids were still at school. They’d made a habit of stealing an hour together on many such afternoons. On that particular day, when she met him at the door, he handed her a bouquet of roses.

  She took them and inhaled them with her eyes closed, savoring the scent.

  He pushed the door closed behind him. “They’re beautiful. Just like you.” This time, the words, so corny and trite had been heartfelt. The red of the roses were exquisite against her red gold hair and fair, lightly freckled skin.

  Her eyes opened and met his, and he was jolted again by their caramel warmth. “I can’t stop thinking about you,” he said.

  “I don’t believe you,” she’d said and smiled that siren smile that drove him crazy. “I know you’ve been with more beautiful women. Younger women.”

  And he had. It was true. “But...that was before. Before I met you. And none of them compared to you.” The words were heartfelt. There was an earthy sensuality to Jessica Odgers that intoxicated him. He reached a hand out, brushed back her hair, and caressed the nape of her neck. He stepped closer. “Everything changed when I met you.” He took the roses from her and set them down on the table. Then, he drew her up against him, savoring the feeling of her against him, the warm cinnamon scent that was so uniquely her. Then, they were kissing, her mouth, open beneath his. He pressed her against him. She was a tall woman and his cock pressed right against the juncture of her legs.

  “I want you. Now,” he nearly growled the word, lost in the heat, the passion of this woman who was so right for him.

  She groaned and bit him lightly on the neck. Then, there hadn’t been further need for words. She shoved her panties to the ground and he’d unzipped his fly, and he’d taken her right there, fully dressed, standing up, with her back pressed against the wall behind her and her feet supporting her, flat against the wall on the other side of the narrow hall. He’d fucked her hard, and she’d met him stroke for stroke, grinding up against him and it had been glorious.