“Oh, it’s always dark here. You see there’s no big city lights or even streetlights to hinder God’s natural beauty. Then o’course the trees and mountains cast all kinds of strange shadows. Makes everything seem black as midnight. However, you will find a flashlight under the kitchen sink. No need to buy one.”
“Oh, thanks,” Erika replied gratefully. And then with an involuntary shiver, “Do you think its safe out there at night?” she inquired.
“Well, it depends on who you ask,” Papa replied importantly. “O’course theres always stories, some of them true, most of them not. Fact is, up here I’d be more worried ‘bout you stumbling over a log than bein’ eaten by a bear or something,” he chuckled.
“Oh, my,” Erika exclaimed. “But I have already seen a bear since I’ve been here. Is that very uncommon?”
“A bear?” he asked. “What kind of bear was he?”
“Well, you know, just a bear. He was kind of big and very dark and very, very mean,” Erika emphasized.
“Very mean, you say,” he said somewhat amused. “Did Tim happen to be with you when you saw that bear?”
“Actually, yes, he was with me and he had much the same reaction as you just did. In fact, I believe he called that bear by a name,” she said trying to recall the name.
“Moose?”
“Uh, probably. I don’t exactly remember. I was a little frightened at the time.”
“Well,” Papa said with a deep chuckle, “You don’t have to worry ‘bout Moose. He’s Tim’s pet. As tame as they come. That animal’s lived with Tim since he was a youngster. Played with him like most lads play with a dog. You’ve no fear where he’s concerned. Just always respect ‘um and you’ll be fine.”
A sudden ironic thought struck Erika as she went to retrieve her heavy parka. Papa was, of course, referring to the bear … but he could have just as easily been referring to Tim. It was a thought that would nag her for days to come.
“Oh, Maime, that was the most wonderful meal I think I’ve ever had,” Erika said dabbing her lips with the corner of a paper napkin after completing the scrumptious meal she had been invited to. “I don’t believe I’ve ever had fish like that.”
“Go on with yourself,” Maime exclaimed proudly. “I’m sure you’ve partaken of feasts prepared by the finest chef’s in the world,” she said while rising to check on the huckleberry pie that was bubbling in the oven. If the aroma was any indication, it was done to perfection. A glance into the old cook stove confirmed her suspicions. It was a masterpiece.
“No, really, Maime. I’m not just complimenting you. It really was the best fish I’ve ever had. Was it Salmon?” Erika questioned while bringing her plate into the kitchen.
“No, no, no, you don’t,” Maime said while shooing Erika back to the table. “You are our guest and you will not clean off the table, not in this house, young lady,” she said with a tremendous smile. “Now just sit back down here by the fire, kick up your feet and relax ... the night is still young.”
“As to the fish,” Maime called from her spot in the kitchen. “People who don’t know always think Mackinaw Trout is Salmon. The meaty texture is very similar and so is the color. Mackinaw Trout comes right out of our lake. In fact, Priest is stock full of them,” she commented proudly. “There is an ongoing competition among the locals for who catches the biggest fish. In fact, in ‘64 Russ Herman caught a fifty-four-pound Mackinaw Trout with a simple hook and line, stuffed it and hung it in the dining room at Hill’s Resort for all to see, daring anyone to beat that. And, to our knowledge, no one ever has.”
Erika smiled at the local gossip. So much kinder than what she was used to. Ironically, though cultures and social status varied, people were remarkably the same. Strangely, it was a comfort to Erika as she sat snugly against an oversized pillow with her feet warmed by a crackling fire made from aromatic cedar.
“That should do it for this evening,” Papa said as he stacked the last log in a box fashioned out of stone that sat directly to one side of the immense fireplace. “The air is getting mighty chilly out there. I wouldn’t be surprised to see old Jack Frost make an appearance soon. Oowee it’s gonna be a doosy this winter. I can feel it in me bones,” he said rubbing his coarse hands together.
“Oh, Papa. You say that every winter,” Maime spat as she hustled through the kitchen door as it almost swung off its hinges. “This winter will be much the same as last. Cold.”
“Here you go, Marie, this here’s our famous Huckleberry pie, fresh from the oven. Would you like some hot spiced cider or ice cream to go with that?” Maime questioned.
“Oh, no thank you, Maime. This is wonderful! In fact, I think I’m going to enjoy this too much,” Erika said affably. “If I hang around your kitchen, I will never fit into these jeans again,” Erika lamented as she felt the waistband of those same jeans already fitting snugly. After one scrumptious bite of the still warm pie, Erika stated emphatically, “This is too good! I’ve never eaten a home-baked pie before! It tastes as heavenly as its aroma. Oh, I can tell it now, I am in big trouble! It will be salads for the next year after I return home from this vacation,” Erika teased.
“Oh, you’re slim as a stick,” Maime said waving her fork at Erika. “A little pie never hurt anyone.” Then continuing, “Are you enjoying the lake, dear?” she asked cautiously while running hot water in her old stainless steel sink.
“It’s absolutely wonderful,” Erika replied carrying her half-eaten slice of pie to the kitchen table, which was near the sink where Maime was working so industriously. “Today, Tim took me all over the lake. He showed me Priest Lake Museum! It wasn’t even open but for some reason, he had a key. It was so interesting. I learned all about the lake’s history. And then he showed me different bays and fishing hole’s he frequented as a child. Then we went to Leonard Paul’s market to stock up on some groceries,” she said with a dreamy expression written deep within her velvet colored eyes.
“So … you two are getting along better?” Maime questioned cautiously.
“Well, we have our moments it seems,” responded Erika. “But today and last night … I think the beginning of a friendship, or a truce, was formed. He can be very annoying and high-handed,” Erika said while running a pink nail along the chrome edge of Maime’s white kitchen table.
“You can say that again,” Maime joked while rinsing the sink after her thorough scouring. “Remember, I’ve known that boy since he was knee high to a grasshopper.”
While drying her work-worn hands on a nearby cloth, Maime shook her head softly remembering T.J.’s earliest antics. “There was never a dull moment around that house! I miss them all so much. Timmy was always discovering some new hideaway or a new creature to capture in a canning jar with holes poked in the lid. There wasn’t a boy on the lake that could compete with his energy or his daring exploits. You’ll have to ask him about his late-night voyage one stormy night,” Maime said while rolling her eyes heavenward.
“Does his family not live here anymore?” Erika questioned.
“Not permanently. They come and go. We’re still all very close. It’s just that since the kids have grown up with families of their own, we don’t see them as frequently,” Maime responded sadly.
“So, Marie,” Maime said turning her attention to Erika, “What are your plans while you are at the lake? Have you made any yet?”
“Oh,” she responded casually. “That’s the whole point! No plans. You know,” she continued, “I am really beginning to love your lake. In fact, in some ways I am rediscovering myself all over again. These mountains and the lake, it seems to rejuvenate my spirits,” Erika continued while gazing out the picture-perfect window that allowed a view of their tidy but dimly lit porch and to the inky black lake beyond where only the shoreline was visible.
“Well, I’m glad honey. As I told you before, this place is just as good as an old Doc for healing the insides.” Maime crossed the rather large kitchen to neatly stack her white plates behind a glass-c
overed cupboard. Reaching up to wipe an invisible speck from the glass, Maime continued.
“You know, I always wanted a daughter of my own. Oh, I have always considered the Morgan children like my very own ...”
“Yes, you mentioned that you miss them all,” Erika reminded wanting to turn the conversation back to Tim and his family to learn all she could about the man. “How long have you known his family?”
“Uh, yes,” she said while turning to face Erika. “I have known them since the day they were born, each of ‘em.”
“So, Tim has brothers and sisters?” Erika asked wondrously.
“Yes, in fact he has two brothers and two sisters. He’s smack dab in the center. The middle child, I think you educated people call it,” she said with a crooked smile while moving to collect the sparkling clean wine goblets. And then she continued, seemingly as if Erika wasn’t even in the room.
“Tim was such a brilliant child. Always precocious mind you, but such a sweetheart. He’d tear the place up like the dickens then turn those blue eyes on you, and you’d be finished. Never can even remember a birthday when he didn’t do something to make it a special day for me. Even when he wasn’t here, I would always know a bunch of lilies would be waiting for me on my doorstep when I awoke. Uncanny how he does it,” Maime remarked.
“Lilies?” Erika questioned. “How sweet.”
“Does he live far from here?” Erika asked slowly tracing the lines of an antique soup tureen she had spied across the room. “I mean, I gather he does live here permanently,” she quickly amended.
“Well,” Maime responded distractedly, “the family was never year ‘round residents, but they were here quite often.”
“So, Tim now lives in their summer cottage,” Erika persisted.
“Yeah, something like that,” Maime said then hastening to change the subject to avoid an all-out and direct lie. “Marie, could you please bring me that soup kettle you’re so fond of over there?”
“Oh, yes! I’m sorry. It’s just so beautiful,” she responded while carefully carrying it to the indicated cupboard. “I’ve never seen anything quite like it. The design is so unusual,” Erika breathed. Upon close inspection, she studied the dramatic pattern of intertwining green and earth colored vines, the yellow and pink hollyhocks and intricately woven heirloom English roses in shades of yellow, pink and ivory.
“I am astounded at its beauty,” she continued, almost to herself. And then while carefully turning the piece Erika continued, “It has the look of the eighteenth or nineteenth century. The color and the lines are reminiscent of something quite familiar. I just can’t quite put my finger on it,” she explained. “Have you ever had this appraised?” Erika questioned. “I think this piece is authentic! I mean, not just a copy or a product of mass production.” Then turning to glance at Maime she continued, “I collect eighteenth and nineteenth century china … I am very familiar with it. Are you aware that this is hand painted? Exquisite,” she breathed. “Have you had this appraised?” Erika questioned again … this time giving Maime a chance to answer.
Maime responded with a wave of her work-worn hands. “I’ve never needed someone to tell me how much it’s worth when I never plan on getting rid of it, my dear.”
“Yes, but having something appraised is very important. Then, you see, it’s registered. Why, if someone were to break into your home and steal this beautiful object, you would have no recourse to gain its return. You could use this as collateral for loans if you ever wanted to ... expand your business, or something,” she continued.
“Honey,” Maime responded with hands on hips. “There ain’t no one in this here county who could get away with stealin’ this from me. It’s worth more than its weight in gold to me and ‘ifin someone ever tried to take it, they would have to deal with the like’s of Papa’s shotgun. Not that he would ever do anyone in ... but he sure would scare the livin’ daylights out of ‘em. Besides,” she continued while turning back to the sink to finish drying the last of the ivory handled utensils,” every one ‘round here recognizes that soup kettle.”
“I’m sure they do, Maime,” Erika responded quietly. “I didn’t mean ... It’s just that where I come from, one learns to take possessions very seriously. We work our whole lives to put beautiful objects behind locked glass and in vaults where no one can steal them, let alone enjoy them. I think I like your way best,” she admitted softly.
Still intrigued by the intricate designs manifested by the tureen, Erika continued, “People, like me, students of culture we call ourselves, also have objects appraised for a clue to their historical value. It could mean a lot to our study if porcelains such as this were available for viewing and research.” And then as if drawn to the tureen, Erika returned to the glass-covered cupboard where Maime had gently lifted her most prized possession.
“I mean, this is in such good shape one might think it a reproduction. Yet, if it is a reproduction, it’s one of the best I’ve ever seen. You see,” she said quickly turning to Maime’s wizened eyes, “I search all over the world for beautiful pieces such as this. I work in the ... textile industry. We try to find beautiful designs that are historically significant and then incorporate parts of those designs into our fabrics. It’s been very successful for us. I also do it for myself,” Erika quietly added. “Sometimes I need to surround myself by beautiful things. It calms a part of my soul.”
“Marie,” Maime said quietly after laying down a damp, threadbare kitchen towel. “I think I understand what you are really saying ... I understand your heart,” she said while gently tapping her small bosom. “You are more than you say. I sense that you have known hard times. You have a wanderin’ spirit ... like you was runnin’ from a tragedy or somethin’. I think you’re confused and searching ... and that’s okay,” she quickly amended at Erika’s firm shake of denial. “We all have our times, child. Some of us have had more than our fair share and I think you’re one of ‘um. It’s time to deal with this thing in your heart and let it heal. Then and only then can happiness, real happiness come into your soul,” Maime concluded while roughly embracing the trembling woman standing before her.
Maime quickly moved to gently close the glass cupboard door to give Erika a moment to collect herself. That she was embarrassed by the spontaneous display of affection was evident to Maime. That Erika needed her love and friendship as much as a child depended on their Mother for food was equally evident.
And then without turning, Maime quietly added, “I don’t want to pry into your life, Marie. But I just want you to know that I’m here for you if you ever need an ear. Lots of people carry around secrets that are too heavy a burden to carry by themselves. I know you’ve got your share …” Maime slowly turned to face Erika who face was faintly flushed. “I also want you to know that anything you tell me … won’t go no further. Especially not to Tim,” she concluded, knowing only too well that if she was keeping certain things private, Tim also would be guilty under the same charge.
When Erika physically retreated to the other side of the kitchen, Maime knew she had touched on a sore spot. “Honey, you don’t owe us a thing. Fact is, you don’t even know us enough to trust us yet. I hope that will change. But there is someone to whom you owe a great deal,” Maime continued while gazing into Erika’s grief-stricken eyes that looked as wary as a young doe in hunting season, “You owe yourself something,” she stressed. “You owe it to yourself to spend some time in these mountains to heal.”
After a short chuckle, Maime continued, “It’s somethin’ about the air, it’s like takin’ medicine. It’s like ... God’s medicine. I don’t know,” she said while vigorously shaking her head, “it’s like when you inhale the wondrous beauty of this place, you exhale all the bad stuff. If you do it long enough ... you will get better.
“But seriously,” she said, “you said you are a student of culture ... be a student of this place. Study the mountains, and the waters, and all the living creatures that inhabit this place. Once you be
gin to concentrate on other living things ... you’ll begin to see that in the scope of things ... you and your problems are just a tiny speck in the whole scheme.”
“I oughta know,” Maime responded at Erika’s wry smile, “I’ve lived in these mountains for a long, long time. And when you leave, you’ll know I speak the truth ... and then I’ll get to say ... Maime told you so!”
“Oh ... and lest I forget, my precious child. I also know there are ... emotions ... that are passing between you and Tim. Don’t be afraid of those emotions. It’s only been a short time, but things happen like that sometimes. Just use this time away from your world to figure out who you are and more importantly, what you want out of life. This may be your last chance to truly find happiness for yourself. And after all, ... that is what life is all about. It’s not about riches or power or prestige. It is about living life the way the Good Lord intended. To contribute and to be happy.”
Then gently capturing one of Erika’s hands Maime explained, “You see, it all passes so quickly, Marie. So very, very quickly. And before long, you are old like me. If you haven’t reached out and accepted the things you want, it will all be over. There is happiness out there for you, Marie. Please don’t think me brash,” Maime pleaded, “but I would like to help you. These old ears have listened to many a story in their day. Nothing, absolutely nothing would make me think differently of you. I see you for what you are, a beautiful young woman who has a bright future. And I see a young woman who has a troubled past, one which she would like to share if she could ever feel safe enough to do so. I will be here when that wall you have so carefully built around your tender heart begins to crumble. There is strength in these here mountains and there is strength in me. All you need to do is ask. And my dear, I will continue to call you ‘Marie’ until you say differently,” Maime quietly finished.
Erika felt her eyes blur and then sting. The welling tears felt like a burgeoning dam threatening to burst. Her greatest fear was that once she gave them leave and the internal pressure was too much to bear, there would be no stopping the flow. The humiliation of that weakness was more than Erika could endure. Strength had always been her greatest security. Yet, here was a woman, an old woman who had lived her life, as far as she could tell, sequestered in the wilderness far, far away from civilization. Yet, here was a woman whose wisdom came from another source, perhaps a heavenly source, and someone to whom finally she might confide in and whom just might understand her misery.
Whispers of the Heart Page 11
