by E A Lake
Yes, we did. At least that’s how Violet felt. But I was beginning to wonder what difference any of this was making.
Day 1,158
Twelve miles east and north of Silver City was Ontonagon, Michigan. More importantly, it was home to the Ontonagon Fish Camp. Even if we didn’t find Daisy there, Violet’s mother would still be around.
“Are you excited to see your mom?” I asked, during the middle of our daily hike.
A genuine smile pulled at the corners of her mouth. “I actually am,” she replied. “It’s been three or four months since I last saw her.” The young woman beside me was the same one I knew, had always known, but her voice sounded happier than I could ever remember.
“Well, let’s see what’s changed in that time,” I said, picking up on her upbeat mood. “Your hair’s another three inches longer I bet. Hope has rolled over and is smiling now.” I peeked at her grinning face. “What else?”
“My milk’s been better,” she replied. “So my boobs are bigger.”
I stopped abruptly, grabbing her arm. “Violet, you’re still a teen, right?” She nodded, her face looked confused. “So you understand the term TMI, right?”
She jerked her arm from my hand and laughed, marching forward. “You can be such a prude, Bob Reiniger. Such a prude.”
About a mile out, we stopped on a bluff overlooking the Ontonagon Fish Camp. While it certainly was nowhere near as large and expansive as Ironwood’s, it dwarfed the last few we had visited.
“Somewhere inside of that camp stands Marge Luke,” I stated with a grin. “And boy, is she ever in for a big surprise.”
Violet took my outstretched hand. “And perhaps somewhere in that camp, we’ll find Daisy. What a bigger surprise that would be for her.”
Squeezing her hand, I stared at Violet. “Ready?”
She smiled, a real, all-out, toothy grin. “Come on, let’s go surprise my mom and see if we can’t find Daisy while we’re at it.”
As with Ironwood, we had to check our guns at the door at Ontonagon. They were nice enough about it, even commented on what good shape they were in. As I watched the pair of old men lay our weapons in a box, I turned to Violet.
“A little more formal than the last few places we’ve been at, huh?” I asked aloud, hoping that the men would overhear us. While they were polite enough, they seemed like a humorless pair. Maybe that was what I’d be like if I lived to 70 or 80 or however old they were.
Violet looked nervous. She hadn’t heard my half-sarcastic comment. Her eyes wandered past me, past the old men and into the camp, and she nervously bit at a nail.
Taking her hand, I pulled her forward. “Come on, they said that the roster master’s tent is this way.” I looked at the scared young girl beside me, almost not recognizing her.
“Quit being so nervous,” I quipped. “It’s your mom, not some damned important person.” Still, she didn’t smile or quicken her pace. “What’s the problem?”
Biting fervently at the nail now, her eyes floated around the camp. “I don’t know if this is a good idea. Maybe we should just ask about Daisy. I don’t think my mom would even want to see me.” Finally, her timid eyes rose to mine.
I placed a hand on each of her shoulders. “Are you kidding me? Do you have any idea what a great person you are? How much you’ve matured and grown since she left? All the things you’ve done for Daisy since she was taken?”
I saw the hint of a smile, so I continued. “She’s going to be beaming with pride when she hears how you rose to the occasion, Violet. We may have to spend an extra day or two here while she shows you off and brags about you to all of her campmates.
“You’re the real deal, Violet Luke. You are one in a million. Your mom already knows that. But when she hears of how you risked your life to beg the Weston’s to take you instead of Daisy…well, she may just burst with pride.”
I could see her apprehension slowly melt away, replaced with a tentative grin. “You really think so?” she asked in a cute whisper.
I took her hand, pulling her along. “I know so, Violet. I know so.”
Day 1,158 - continued
Violet leaned against me as if her bones turned to mush. With my arm wrapped around her, I didn’t dare peek at her face. I knew what was there, what I’d find. Nothing I could have said would have made the slightest difference.
The woman, second in command in the roster tent, lit up when we mentioned Marge’s name. Violet’s did the same…initially.
“Oh my God, Marge Luke’s daughter!” Mrs. Cowlings exclaimed as I introduced Violet to her. “Marge is the most wonderful person I think I’ve ever met. Such a competent nurse, a help anywhere she’s needed. A true angel from above.”
Good, I thought. Maybe this place would feed us something besides fish and root vegetables. With Marge’s exalted status we might even get pork, or chicken, or — God willing — beef.
“And where can we find her?” I asked, noticing Violet’s nervous look. I almost had to remind her to breathe, she was so excited. I’d never seen her face so bright, so hopeful, so expectant.
Mrs. Cowlings continued to smile at her. “Buffalo,” she answered.
I wasn’t sure about Violet, but my heart skipped a beat or two. “Buffalo?” I repeated. “Is that the name of a tent here?”
The older woman kept that goofy smile plastered on her lips. “Buffalo, as in the city Buffalo, New York.”
I didn’t have to look at Violet. Her collapsed soul, leaning against me, said it all.
“Can we just leave?” Violet begged. “I need to go. We need to go. There’s nothing here for us.”
I glanced at her, my arm still wrapped tightly around her waist. “Just another minute or two. She’s just checking another list.”
Pulling at my shirt, Violet’s eyes finally met mine. My God, her disappointment was almost unbearable for me to look at.
“There’s nothing here for us. She already said Daisy’s not here.” She wasn’t crying, but it wasn’t far off. “I’d really like to leave. Please, Bob? Please?”
Fortunately, Mrs. Cowlings returned, this time with a sad look. “I’m sorry, but there’s no record of a Daisy Vaughn ever being here. Not in the last six months at least.”
I thanked the woman as Violet jerked away, tugging me with her. I’d practically dragged her to the fateful meeting, and now she nearly sprinted away from the harsh reality we discovered inside Ontonagon’s fish camp.
We walked for quite a while in silence. At first, the smell of the camp lingered, then the sweet smell of the pine forests took over. When I finally turned to look back, no evidence remained that we were even anywhere near civilization.
When she finally stopped and let go of my hand, she stood motionless. Staring through the trees at the lake, I wrapped an arm around her waist, trying to comfort her.
It was then that her shoulders started shaking as she whimpered, trying to hold back sobs. I should say something, I thought. But I didn’t know what.
“I’m sorry, Violet,” I whispered into her ear, rubbing her shoulders. “I know you’re disappointed. I’m just…I’m just…I’m sorry.”
Yeah, lame me at my best.
“What did I expect from her,” she said dejectedly before turning to face me. Her red, swollen eyes were the first thing I noticed. That, and the little dribble of snot trying to slip from her tiny nose.
“She had her reasons,” I said as reassuringly as I could, fearing she might collapse. Her wavering body made me nervous; there were rocks nearby.
“I don’t want to talk about it,” she stated, not looking at me. “It’s over and done with. We can’t change it. We just need to move on.”
That wasn’t a very healthy way to deal with things, I thought. But I figured she’d let it out in the next day or two.
I took hold of her hand and we came to a walk-stroll pace. We’d gone about 10 paces when she jerked her hand away and punched me in the shoulder.
“What kind of a moth
er abandons her children not once, but twice?!” she shrieked. I guess a day or two had arrived. “I mean, she has a grandchild. A son, a daughter. She has me. I need her around. And what does she do? She goes traipsing off to Buffalo with some ship captain.”
That was the story we’d heard. At least she was listening when the women spoke to us. I wasn’t sure if her brain had shut down when she found out her mother left after only a month in Ontonagon. “And is she a whore or what?” Violet’s rampage was just getting started. “Some strange man buys your debt and tells you he loves you. I mean what is she, a third grader? And then, even though she knows we’re waiting for her back home, she gallivants away to some foreign place I bet she’s never even heard of.”
“Violet, Buffalo is still in the U.S. It’s not foreign lands.”
She charged at me, her narrow pointed finger jabbing me in the chest. “I’m talking here, you shut up for now,” she seethed.
I raised my hands in surrender. She needed to get it out, and I needed her to stop abusing me.
“This is so Marge Luke, so her,” Violet continued her rant. “Dad died. Well, we let Dad die. And what does she do? Takes up with Dizzy right away. Dizzy dies and I watch her make goo-goo eyes at Mr. Wilson. When he didn’t show the adequate amount of interest, she flees to a fish camp where she knew damned well she’d find another man.”
I’d never thought of Marge in the way Violet described, but it did make a certain amount of sense. Still, I wanted her to feel better about it.
“She’s just one of those women who needs a man’s company, I suppose.” Violet spun to meet me face to face. Had I said something wrong?
“She just doesn’t need a man,” she countered. “She has to be with one. That’s why she hates me so bad.”
I dared a step or two towards the steaming woman. “I thought you said the problem between you two was because you got pregnant?” That was the oft-repeated story, after all. Straight from Violet’s lips.
She stepped closer and I covered my chest. Better safe than sorry. “She was upset because I told her I didn’t need a man’s help raising my child. I didn’t have any feelings for Jimmy Wilson. She claimed it was unnatural. Said she couldn’t believe I could be so cold. That’s when I told her how I felt about you.”
Oh shit, the scene turned and I was in the crosshairs again.
“She told me,” Violet said in a softer tone, “that only a whore would be in love with another woman’s man. That she could never have a daughter that acted so horribly. She told me, to my face, that she wished I was dead. Just so she’d never have to experience the shame I brought upon her.
“She quit loving me, she told me so.” Violet paused, stifling a sob. “No one loves me. Do you have any idea how alone I feel? How absolutely isolated I am?”
I placed my hands on her forearms, rubbing them lightly. “I love you, Violet. You know that. I’ve told you that.”
I didn’t see the slap coming and it stung like a bitch.
“You only say that because I begged you to,” she shouted through tears. “You only say that because I’m such a pathetic sight that you feel sorry for me. I know that the minute we find Daisy, you’re going to dump me along the roadside somewhere.”
“That’s not true, Violet. I’d never do that to you.” Another slap, this one fiercer than the previous. I grabbed her hands, shaking her.
“Let me go, you bastard!” she shrieked. “Leave me alone. Just go on, leave me here to die.”
Her hands tore loose and she shoved me, over and over and over again. I reached for her, trying to get ahold of her and squeeze out her demons any way I could.
She shoved me, once then twice. “Violet,” I shouted. “Stop. I’m not the bad guy here. You don’t want to hurt me.”
The next charge came at full speed and she tackled me to the ground. Sitting on my chest, her slaps and fist pounding rained down on me like a fallen boxer.
“Why doesn’t anyone love me?” she screamed. “What is wrong with me? Why am I so bad?”
I grabbed her wrists, ending the blows. She fell on top of me and I could feel her sobs on my chest as I hugged her tightly. “It’s going to be okay,” I whispered. “Everything’s going to be okay.”
Her head raised a little, her eyes staring into mine. I think she believed me.
And then, well…
Day 1,158 - continued
When I awoke several hours later, I felt the blanket covering my unclothed body. Some clouds had moved in and hid the sun. I couldn’t tell what time of day it was. Not that it mattered.
Steeling myself, I dared to rotate my head to the left and found her, leaning on an elbow, staring at me. Shit, it had happened.
“Well that was interesting,” Violet said, pulling some stray hairs that had stuck to her lips.
Yeah, interesting pretty much summed it up. Along with words like humiliating, humbling and perhaps the most appropriate: wrong.
“Now, I don’t have a lot of experience to base this on,” Violet whispered, creeping closer, “but that was pretty amazing. I mean, compared to my first time, that was not the same thing. Not even close.”
Oh goody, I made a better lover than a pimple-faced boy who preferred to rut like an animal. How proud I was.
“I’m sorry,” I got out. “I don’t know what came over me. I’m, ah, sorry,” I managed, grinning sheepishly.
Violet kept her gaze fixated on me, her lips puckering a little. “I’m not. Not even sort of. I didn’t think two people could kiss with that much passion. I mean, you made me feel so special.”
I grinned as I tried to think of something clever. Thank you came to mind. Maybe “you’re welcome” was better. Or even a smile followed by, “What the hell did we just do?!” shouted nice and loud for all the animals around us to hear.
“Good,” I replied. I peeked at her again. She didn’t seem overly happy, but she wasn’t mad or sad either. She looked satisfied. Yeah, that described Violet’s naked expression. Satisfied.
“So,” she said, running her finger down my chest. “What was that all about? Because I know it wasn’t just my natural charm overtaking you. There was something else.”
She poked my chest and looked at me with a knowing expression. “Come on, share.”
If I told her the truth, she was likely to get upset again. But after what we’d just shared, the truth was the only logical choke to tell her.
“I’m sorry, but I need to tell you the truth,” I began. “All of it.”
She nodded, still lying close to me. Her hand still resting on my chest.
“I don’t understand why she never said it. Why couldn’t she see that I needed to hear it from her? Why couldn’t she just say those three simple words? It makes me so mad, and so sad at the same time.”
Violet snuggled next to me. “I’m sorry.”
“Did she ever talk about it? Did she ever admit it to you? Did she ever say she loved me, too?”
I noticed her head move from side to side, damn it. “I’m sorry, Bob. I know I should lie to you right now and tell you what you want to hear, what you need to hear. But I can’t because she never did.”
Violet sprung up, placing her head in a crooked hand. “I know she cared about you. I know she felt closer to you than any other man she’d ever met. That means something, doesn’t it?”
Yeah, it was fun while it lasted. And the empty void left in my soul would take years to fill again. That’s what it meant.
“Maybe we should just call this wild goose chase off and go home,” I said, I’m sure my voice carried half of the defeat I felt inside. “We have each other. We’re lucky compared to so many others.”
Again her head shook and she pulled my chin so I faced her directly.
“We can’t do that,” she said. “I can’t do that. If we give up now, I get to spend the rest of my days watching the road, wondering when the moment will come and she’ll reappear. And then I get stuffed on the back shelf while you and her work this
out. I can’t do that, Bob. You can’t expect me to live like that.”
What she said made sense. Her words were far beyond her age. And they rang true.
“I’d never intentionally hurt you, Violet. I can’t promise that some unintentional act won’t cause you pain. But I’d never hurt you.”
She nodded. “I know that. So let’s get dressed and back on the road. We need to move forward, always. Whether it’s us, or you and her, or just me. We have to keep going.”
I kissed her in that moment. She didn’t meet my lips; she didn’t initiate the act. I kissed her. And together, we rose to continue our search. Whatever that meant.
Day 1,160
A day and a half later, we came to the dreary place known as Sleeping Bay. While the physical location was nothing short of some of the greatest beauty I’d ever seen in nature, the fish camp was the complete opposite.
We came upon the camp after passing the Fourteen Mile Point Lighthouse. And much to our surprise, there were people manning the old lighthouse, which Violet said was damned near creepy in her mind. The ghosts of Superior, I told her, lived on.
The friendly people at the lighthouse told us we were a mere mile from the fish camp. They even said we’d probably smell it before we got to it. Like this was our first foray into one of the stinky places.
Breaking through a thick band of hardwoods, Violet pointed ahead. There, some 200 yards away, the white canvas tents blew in the strong breeze coming off the lake. Instantly I knew this wasn’t the spot.
Sleeping Bay Fish Camp showed no life. Sure, we noticed people milling about. But the camp was as dark as the overcast day. And it was by far the smallest, filthiest place Violet and I had visited.
I sighed loudly as we took it all in. “She can’t be here,” I murmured. “This place would be 10 times brighter just by her presence.”
