Back to Madeline Island

by Jay Gilbertson

  “Which?”

  “Neither, of course. Isn’t this the Christmas Tree Stud Fellow?” She taps a frosted pink nail onto a poster stapled to a pole next to the duck.

  “It is, he’s playing guitar with some hot jazz band and look who’s their star singer! It’s Connie Evingson. Hmmm, it’ll be during the weekend of Helen’s wedding and just maybe…”

  “Oh dear, you have that look in your eyes.”

  “I want that girl’s wedding to be something special.”

  “I wonder.” Ruby pauses as we head over to the duck.

  “What are you thinking?”

  “I wonder…does Helen know what she’s in for? Having the lot of us assist in her plans?” We slump down into our seats.

  “If she did”—I rev the motor for emphasis—“she’d elope!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  “This has got to be”—Helen turns on top of the footstool—“the most stunning dress I’ve ever seen—ouch!”

  “Sorry dear,” Lilly says through her mouthful of pins. “There, that should do it, you can change now.”

  I can’t help but stare; how can I describe how she looks in her pastel lavender wedding dress (her favorite color). I’ll try. It’s a very old-fashioned, off-the-shoulder design, and since her girls are a more sensible size, I’m pretty sure her dress will not head south should she sneeze. There’s lace around the very top, where it meets her creamy skin, tightly fitted through the waist, flaring down to many, many folds that trail behind her. The entire dress shimmers with light every time she moves. I’ve tried a couple of up-dos, and we finally decided on this one: kind of loose and soft, with some curls spilling out down onto her bare shoulders. God, she’s a sight, and I’m so happy she’s letting her hair be curly.

  Helen heads down the hallway to the library in order to change. Billie Holiday softly croons “Them There Eyes” on my boom box in the corner. The crew is all focusing on getting Helen’s dress done, since the wedding’s going to be in a couple of weeks and April is always so cranky when it comes to the weather. Howard and Charlie are down in the speakeasy, doing some minor repairs and giving it a good going over. We’re wanting to have it ready, in case of rain, and the way things have been going, we may just have the entire event down there. But that would be fine as it’s turning out to be such a beautiful room. Besides, I’m a woman with a plan.

  “Let’s break for lunch,” Ruby says, peeking her head into my cottage salon. Rocky is slunk over her arm and he meows a hello. “Helen modeled her dress for Rocky and me. What a lovely bodice, Lilly. What makes it so jolly sparkly?”

  “I had an enormous collection of Swarovski crystals and, well”—Lilly fidgets a bit—“since I never seemed to miss them before, what better use could they have?”

  “I can’t get over how heavy that gown is,” Johnny adds from my chair. “She’s gunna be real purdy—speaking of, just how many foils are you putting in my hair anyway?”

  I slant my newly shaped brows at him in my mirror.

  “You told me that you wanted me to add some coffee cream colors in order to blend this gray. Well, honey, you’ve got yourself quite a head of gray going on here so I’ve got my work cut out. Now sit tight and let me finish so we can all get lunch—nothing worse than working a miracle on a hairstylist.” I mutter this last part and everyone giggles.

  “Well, come along then,” Ruby urges us on. “I’ve rung down to the speakeasy and Howard and Charlie are on their way up to the kitchen as well. I thought we could have lunch on the porch. I love your new look, Sam. You look so feminine without those braids of yours. You should tell that Whoopi Goldberg to try this. That woman should at least wear lip color.” She dashes out the door.

  “Lord,” Sam chuckles, “that lady does not mince her words.” She comes over and studies her image. “I don’t know that I’ve had my hair this long and straight—ever. I look sooooooo good.” She flings a waft of hair over her shoulder and smiles at her reflection. “Such a shame, we all’s gunna look better than the bride.”

  Helen breezes in, re-dressed in creased jeans and a tan sweater set. “Ex-cuse me! I heard that.” She carefully hands Lilly her gown. “I love this dress so much, how can I ever thank you—all of you?”

  “Get your bums in the kitchen this minute!” Ruby yells, and boy, can she project.

  Sam puts her arm around Helen’s shoulder and we follow them out.

  The stump table is loaded with lunch goodies. A tossed salad with mustard–maple syrup dressing (Sam’s specialty), garlic focaccia bread and an olive oil dipping sauce (Howard’s secret recipe), and a big pan of spinach and ricotta vegetarian lasagna. Ruby made it without meat, just for Helen. There’s also a pot of Lilly’s three-bean casserole and Sam is trying out a whipped sweet potato item that looks delicious. We file along, filling our plates; everyone makes room for a gooey bar (or two). Ruby’s always got something sweet to keep our energy up. Very important.

  “So lovely to have the porch opened up again,” Ruby comments, pulling up to a wicker table. “I do love the sound of the lake, and oh look—Howard and Charlie have just finished putting the dock back in, how divine.”

  “This here porch of yours,” Sam plops down in a love seat, “sure is a fine place to enjoy all this sun—you make all these throw pillows, Ruby?”

  “Heavens no,” she answers through a mouthful of salad. “Some of them are antiques, I should think—unlike myself, of course.”

  “You two men out there,” I yell out toward the dock and two heads turn my way. “Get your butts up here or there won’t be anything left!”

  We hear a “yes ma’am,” and in several minutes Howard and Charlie are in the kitchen.

  “What have you done to my Johnny?” Howard asks, thumping down next to him.

  “You don’t like this look?” Johnny turns his foiled head this way and that.

  “Have you ever had color?” I ask Howard and he shakes his head “no.” “’Course, it’s only you men that look all handsome and dashing with silver locks. When’s the last time you had a trim, Charlie?”

  He sets his plate down on his lap and reaches back for his long braid. “Must be ’round ten years since I’ve been anywhere’s near a shears.”

  Sam, Helen, and Lilly are near by deep in a discussion about a veil for her and, if so, just how long, what color and so forth. I can’t quite get over the fact that she’s here and going through all this planning and not doing it with her mom. But Helen assured me that her mom is the last person on earth that she could turn to with stuff like this. Apparently she’s far too busy with all her social events and fund-raisers to be bothered. Can you imagine?

  I lean over to the three men and ask in a quiet tone, “How’s the speakeasy looking—did the lights over the stage come to life or—”

  “It’s looking fantastic.” Howard’s deep voice carries over to Sam, who turns from their conversation for a brief moment and sends us a look that says she knows just what I’m up to. Thank goodness she grins, then goes back to the veil huddle. I want Helen to have a few surprises on her special day. She will.

  “Okay—now this is living,” I say and we clink our goblets. “There is absolutely nothing more wonderful than being back out here on the dock; the sun is setting and the world is so right.”

  “So true, so true, darling,” Ruby sighs. “Sometimes—don’t you wish it would all just stand still…that you could have everything as it is…only stretch it all out a bit? I’d like to savor moments more.”

  “Me, too. Even sunsets should have an extension button on them. So you just reach up into the air and push pause. But you know, there’s a reason that things that are so precious aren’t around all the time and I suppose it’s the same reason things like—oh—tulips, don’t last that long. It’s part of their beauty—you know?”

  “That simply sounds so darn dodgy, all pat and…so very true.”

  “Sam’s cool with my plan and so much for keeping anything from her; not that I
was trying and besides—I really think it would be best if she called Connie herself.”

  “You’re putting so much effort into Helen’s wedding, darling. It’s going to be such a lovely occasion—we must plan an outing—we’ve got to find fancy frocks! Not that I want to out-shine the bride, mind you, but with this new color job, and I must say, Johnny has certainly made yours look divine.”

  “It’s amazing what getting your roots fixed can do for a gal, and leave it to Johnny to foil in all these shades of red. And good grief—my family roots sure have taken some bizarre turns.”

  “Perhaps, darling, it’s all exactly according to plan.”

  “I’d sure like to think so.” I fluff up the pillows we hauled out here and lay back into the cushiness. “So I’ll finally get to meet the mother, but not until her wedding day, and I suppose that’s fine with me.” I’m a little nervous, to be honest.

  “After this wedding insanity and summer is full steam ahead, don’t forget, darling, we’ve all those rubber ducks on order and I believe we’ll be in need of certain permits and—”

  “I’ve got it all under control.” I hold up my freshly manicured hand. “I realize it was a little tight there in the beginning, but between Alice Anne handling the upgrades to the house and the fact that our website donation area is turning out some serious bucks, well, we can at least keep the lights on at Toad Hollow.” I sigh. “Hey—isn’t Helen’s mom loaded?”

  “I have reason to believe she may be quite solvent,” Ruby sips and ponders. “But this may be a bit too close to her heart. Let’s just focus on the Ducky Derby and—”

  “Maybe we could give a belly-dancing recital in Bayfield, a fish boil over at Greunke’s, raffle off aprons—”

  “Look, over there, by the boathouse,” Ruby points. “The cardinals are here, how lovely.”

  I sigh and realize, no matter how far away from the world you think you are, the world is right there inside of you.

  With the wedding only days away, the cottage, the barn, the boathouse, plus the secret speakeasy are all busy with someone doing something. Like cleaning or putting out tables or just plain thinking about what needs to be done next. Bonnie and Marsha are making all the food, as well as the hors d’oeuvres. I’m so glad that this is a small gathering of maybe thirty, at the most, forty. They’ve still not heard back from a bunch of Ryan’s old college buddies, so we’re planning for fifty, just to be safe.

  Ruby and I found the coolest dress shop over in Duluth called Petite Sophisticate—can you stand it? Anyway, we’ve got some hot-looking dresses, too bad both Helen and Ryan were in classes; otherwise we wanted to do lunch with them. It’s funny, Ryan was in a class and Helen was teaching one.

  “Lilly and I”—Sam huffs onto a stool in the kitchen—“are all done setting up the chairs down next to the boathouse, and the tent we all made—under that Lilly’s fussy eye—why, that thing couldn’t blow away if there was a tornado down there!” Her huge hoop earrings sway this way and that for emphasis. “This is going to be a humdinger, yes ma’am.”

  “Have a sip of this, darling.” Ruby hands her a glass of ice water. “There’s never been a wedding here before—that I know of—how divine it all looks.”

  “Howard and Johnny have headed home,” I add, sipping the remains of some cold coffee. “I’ve not seen that Charlie; is he still here or—”

  “Headed over to Al’s Place,” Sam says with a chuckle. “That man is in such demand up here, all them skills of fixing things. Anything made of wood and he can come up with something.”

  “What are you talking about?” I ask. “I don’t know of anyone who can lift up the hood of, well, even the duck, and know not only what the hell’s in there, but which thingie to fiddle with in order to make it work, not to mention your blowtorch skills.”

  “We all’s got gifts, I suppose—’cept—I sure wish I could turn this one a’ mine off sometimes.”

  “Oh no,” Ruby and I say at the same time.

  “There’s something gunna go down at this here party and all I know is it can’t be stopped. Things just got to run their course is all.” She waits a beat. “I am just pullin’ your chain. Good Lord, if you could see the look on you-all’s faces. Things are gunna be just fine—you’ll see.” Sam chuckles as she walks away.

  I’m up in my bedroom, I’ve just enjoyed a long, hot shower, and now I’m selecting something way comfy to wear next door. The boys have invited us over for “drinks and dishy dishes.” I have no idea what that could mean, but knowing those guys, it’s gunna be yummy and the wine’s gunna flow and I need to relax.

  It’s the night before, and boy, are we bushed. I can’t think of another detail that needs attention, but I’m sure something will come up. For the first ten or so years I had my salon down in Eau Claire, I did weddings. I mean, I went to the church or the park or wherever the service was being held and did the bride’s hair, usually her makeup, too. I always ended up doing the entire wedding party. Someone’s up-do didn’t turn out right from having it done poorly somewhere else. After they see my fancy work on the bride, you could set your clock on at least one gal stepping forward with that pouty look of “Could you fix this?” I always did, too.

  But over time it just was too much, all that tension. I mean, you never know how the hair is going to turn out, and let’s face it, if your hair is all goofed up on your wedding day, you better just file for divorce the next day. Well, that’s the pressure I would feel anyways. But there never was a bad one, not once—and never, ever have I seen an ugly bride. And I’ve seen a lot of brides, let me tell you.

  There’s just something magical that happens that day and it’s genuine and maybe that’s why I’m enjoying this whole process so much. That and the fact that Helen asked me—who could say no to those eyes; my mom’s eyes is what I saw/see. Not all the time, but when she tilts her head a certain way, and yesterday she lifted her hand up to explain something and I got this feeling in the pit of my stomach, like when you walk in a place and you just know you’ve been there before—but you couldn’t have. I saw my mom. Now how the hell can that be?

  “Are you ready, darling? What’s wrong, are you crying?”

  “I hadn’t realized, damn, now I have to do my eyes all over again and I’m not even out of my bedroom. Lately I’m so emotional.” I slump down onto my bed, just missing Rocky, who lets me know with a few “meows.”

  Ruby sits next to me. “When was your last period? Or do I have to spell it out for you?”

  “Oh double shit. No wonder I got all sobby when Johnny said I have more gray than Howard has silver…and I suppose it might be the reason I have three unopened boxes of tampons under the sink. Is denial a disease? Does this mean I can stop the birth control pills and look forward to a dried-out—”

  “Eve Moss! Your vagina doesn’t simply become a dusty old thing—good heavens. I’ve read in that O magazine that women have a normal sex life well after menopause—what’s so jolly funny?”

  “Ruby—do you see any men around here? Normal sex life, I would settle for a sex life, let alone a normal one. Is there really such a thing?”

  “We could ask the boys,” Ruby offers and I smile. “‘Course there’s absolutely nothing normal about those two now, is there.”

  “Thank God.”

  “Now—as far as the sex thing goes, darling…” Ruby stands to leave. “If you’ve any questions, just ask me.”

  While walking out the back door, we take jackets from off the basement door; I managed to repair my makeup and then redid my hair so I feel better. It’s down and curly and I’m loving all the layers, even though it’s well over my shoulders. Johnny did some fancy stuff to make it move more, so I’m tossing my head around and feeling very sassy. Speaking of tossing, I also tossed the tampons out; I had several more boxes than I realized. Talk about lacking good coping skills. One more thing I would have liked to call my mom up and talked about. Oh well, how can you top the “dry vagina” chat with Ruby?


  “Shall we go?” Ruby asks.

  Then we hear a loud crash upstairs and seconds later Rocky zooms down the stairs, flies over the sofa, leaps onto the coffee table—and then pauses. He’s got something furry and squirming in his mouth. He looks over our way and then leaps off the table and dashes down the hallway toward the library.

  “Do you care to investigate, darling?” Ruby asks cool as a goblet of chablis.

  “Are you nuts? Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Knock knock,” I say as I open the side door of a hallway that eventually leads into the boys’ designer kitchen. “There are two hungry broads come a calling!”

  “Get on in here, ladies,” Howard booms. He is dressed in jeans, a soft denim button-up and bare feet. “Look what the cat dragged in.”

  We get hugs, even though we parted only hours ago. I love that.

  “Speaking of cats,” Ruby offers. “Our Rocky was just about to offer us a delicious snack, but we declined as yours are far superior.”

  “You two look great,” Johnny gushes, all sexy in flannel and faded jeans. He’s tossing a salad in an enormous wooden bowl. “Pour them some wine, would you, dear?”

  “Please do,” I say and thump down on a love seat facing the kitchen area. “I am so keyed up about tomorrow, but Sam has this feeling.”

  Johnny stops tossing midair. “No ghosts or anything popping in to ruin the cake—right?”

  “She wouldn’t say.” Ruby reaches for a goblet from Howard. “Thank you, darling. I don’t think it’s anything we need to worry over—what did she say again?” She sends me a wink.

  I get up and join the others around the island. “Things just gotta run their course is all,” I say in my perfect Sam voice and everyone laughs.

  “To things running their course, then,” Ruby offers and we all clink.