by Robert Elmer
Will paused as the waitress arrived to refill his coffee cup. Michael took another cup too. When had he started drinking coffee?
“It’s not a crisis,” Will said when the waitress left, “unless you count the ongoing crisis at my office. But look, for the past three weeks we’ve had this offer on the place, way low. It’s contingent on us selling the house, but that should be no problem in this market.”
“Mm-hmm.” Michael nodded, his eyes glassing over slightly. “Let me guess: a fixer-upper.”
“Well, it needs a little work, is all. It’ll give me a chance to work with my hands.”
“Dad.” Michael gave Will a look, a little sideways glance. “Are you kidding?”
“What? I’ve always liked to do stuff like that. I just haven’t had the chance.”
“One word, Dad: birdhouse.”
“Okay, rub it in, Mr. Fix-It Professional. Just because that project didn’t turn out so well—”
Michael cupped a hand in front of his mouth so he wouldn’t spray coffee all over the table by laughing. Will should have known it would go like this.
“Look, don’t get me wrong,” said Michael, after he’d caught his breath. “I think it’s cool you want to try something new. But do you think maybe you ought to start out slow? take a class or something?”
“I’ve been checking out home improvement books from the library. You’d be impressed.”
“Right.” Michael nodded. He didn’t look convinced.
“Anyway, the owners were in Costa Rica, and we thought they were ignoring us, but it turns out they were working at rebuilding this clinic way out in the sticks where there wasn’t a phone. It just took them longer to get back to us than we thought it would.”
“Speaking of the sticks, this place is really out there, isn’t it?”
“There’s a little store in Kokanee Cove. A post office. And there’s that Navy research station on the lake.”
“Oh yeah, I remember that now.”
“But here’s the deal. The resort has its own little floating store—at least, it used to be a store. And there’s the docks, a workshop, and a couple of cottages. Like I said, it needs a little work, but, you know…”
“Guess I don’t know.” Michael took a sip of his coffee before adding another packet of sugar. “Did you really talk Mom into leaving her house? her job?”
“It’s going to happen, as soon as we can get the place sold and everything packed up.” Will paused. “But the other part is that, well, the owner before us did some outboard motor repair, and they ran a fuel dock by the store.” He checked to make sure his son was still following. “I’m gearing up for the handiwork—painting, basic carpentry, that kind of thing. And your mom will help with what she can, maybe run the store and handle the books. But obviously neither of us are mechanics, and.
“Oh.” Michael closed his eyes. He got it.
“And that’s why I want you to consider coming up and working with us. I couldn’t pay you much, but we could work out some kind of part-ownership deal. You know, sweat equity.”
“Sweat equity, huh?”
For a long moment Michael looked as if he might be considering the offer. But then his nod turned into a slow shaking of his head.
Will gave it one more shot. “I’m sure we could figure out something fair.”
“Yeah, no. I mean, it’s really nice of you to offer, Dad. I just don’t think I can do it.”
“Oh, come on. A good mechanic like you? You can figure out those outboards in a second. Didn’t you fix all kinds of vehicles over there?”
“That’s not it, Dad.”
“Oh, this isn’t about Jessica, is it, because—”
“It is not about Jessica.” Michael’s eyes flashed, and Will leaned back. “She’s got other…I mean, we’re not…” Michael sighed.
“I didn’t mean to pry,” Will said.
“You’re not prying. Jessicas just…we’re still friends, but…I don’t know. I guess she just wasn’t into waiting around for years. You know how it is.”
“I’m sorry.”
“It’s all right. But I don’t really want to talk about it.”
Another awkward silence fell, and Will stared into his coffee cup and tried to regroup.
“Okay, so if it’s not Jessica, then what’s holding you back?” He didn’t mean to sound pushy, but he knew he did.
“You really want to know?” Michael set down his coffee cup. “Me working for you would be a disaster. We always argue.”
“Argue? What are you talking about? Give me an example.”
“How about right now? And when I was sixteen, you didn’t want me to get a motorcycle, so I went out and bought the biggest, baddest Kawasaki I could find. Which if I still owned it, by the way, I wouldn’t have to borrow your van so much.”
“Your mom doesn’t mind.”
“Yeah, I know, but I’m trying to tell you that I always look for a way to contradict you. You wanted me to go to college, so I joined the Air Force. You wanted me to stay in the States, so I volunteered for duty in the Middle East. You voted Republican, so I voted Democrat.”
“You voted Democrat? You’re kidding. I didn’t know that.”
“Yeah. Absentee.” Michael shook his head. “We just don’t see things the same way. It’s like we’re this classic case of opposites they talk about on radio shows. And you really want me to work for you?”
“I don’t think we’re that opposite. In fact, I think maybe the problem is that we’re too much alike.”
Michael rubbed a hand across his chin and groaned.
“In fact,” Will went on, “my dad and I were just like this. We were great buddies when I was young. He was my scoutmaster, coached my Little League team, the whole bit. I thought he was perfect, until I went off to school. Suddenly he couldn’t do anything right.”
“You thought that about Grandpa?” Michael asked, sitting up a little straighten “What happened?”
“I turned twenty-one, twenty-two. Got out of college and into the real world. Suddenly he got smarter again.”
Michael didn’t answer, just stirred his coffee and added more sugar. Pretty soon the spoon would be able to stand on its own.
“I wish you could have known him better before he died,” Will added.
“Yeah.”
Well, that was something they could agree on. Will was right about them being alike, and his son had to know it.
“So what about my proposition?” he asked.
Michael’s expression clouded over. Maybe Will should have stuck to the grandpa stories.
“I’m sorry, Dad. I don’t want to hurt your feelings, but you asked.”
“You’re not hurting my feelings,” Will lied. “But you didn’t even think about it. Maybe you could—”
“No, Dad. Thanks, really. But no. I have a good job now and—”
“You call that a good job? After everything you learned in the service, you’re going to fix tires? I call it a giant step backward.”
“Well, I call moving to Nowhere, Idaho, an even bigger giant step backward.”
Will chewed on his coffee mug to keep from saying something more he’d regret.
His son went on. “The point is, I still have lots of friends here in Walnut Creek, and I don’t think I could take living out in Idaho, anyway. What do people do there on the weekends?”
It was a rhetorical question. Will just fingered the check and nodded. What an absolutely, totally stupid idea. Why had he thought Michael would say anything different? And why had he wanted him to?
That’s when Will realized he couldn’t buy back the past from a real estate agent. That had been his mistake, thinking he could.
“Like I said,” Michael finished, “its totally cool for you and Mom, but…”
“Yeah,” Will said, “we’re gonna go sit in our trailer, drink beer, and listen to country music. That’s what people do in north Idaho.”
“You don’t have to get sarcastic o
n me.”
“Sarcastic? Who’s being sarcastic? Barn dances too. Take up quilting. Grow a mullet. Get a shotgun. Milk my own cows. We’re moving out to the sticks, you know.”
“Okay, you made your point.”
“So did you.”
Stalemate.
Will looked up at his son and sighed. “I guess your mom was right.”
Michael didn’t answer. At that point in the conversation, he didn’t need to.
eight
Life is always walking up to us and saying, “Come on in, the
livings fine,” and what do we do? Back off and take its picture.
RUSSELL BAKER
You’re shaking, Will.”
Merit reached over to calm her husband as he turned the rental car onto the gravel driveway. Behind them, their little car kicked up a parade of gravel and a cloud of dust. Ahead, she could barely make out the faded lettering on a crooked little sign.
“Kokanee Cove Resort.” Will read it for both of them, and she reassured him with a little smile she forced to her lips. “Bait, tackle, boots for hire. I mean boats.”
It had been her husband’s dream, idea, and initiative, but since they’d signed the papers the other day, Merit knew she had to stop crying and buy into it as well.
No second thoughts, girl, she reminded herself, squeezing her hands so they wouldn’t shake. You’re in this together. Easier said than done.
She gasped with wonder, though, when they rounded the last curve and crunched to a halt in front of the docks.
“I’d forgotten how incredible the view is,” she whispered.
Steep mountains bracketed the bay on either side, making it look like a Norwegian fjord. Even in the last week of April, patches of sparkling snow still clung to the heights. Not far to the left, the little town of Kokanee Cove seemed to guard that end of the lake. And off in the other direction, frothy whitecaps studded the bluest waters Merit had ever seen, from a brilliant azure around the wooded edges to a deeper cobalt and ultramarine in the middle. Like an ocean, the lake stretched north, on and on into a blue haze, wandering more than forty miles into the Selkirk Mountain wilderness.
They stared at the vista, letting the dust settle around them, until Will turned the ignition off.
“Welcome home, Mrs. Sullivan,” he said.
Merit swallowed hard but kept her eyes on the view. Better to concentrate on the beauty beyond than on the sorry sight much closer. She’d already cried enough back home.
“Do we really own this place?” she asked.
Will nodded. “And we came all this way to see what we bought, so let’s see!
He jumped out of the car like a child on Christmas morning, and Merit followed. After all, they were partners in this venture, and now that the deal was going through, they needed to take stock before they moved.
“All right,” she said as they walked toward the docks. “You want me to start the to-do list?”
“This old dock probably just needs a few more logs.” Will extended his hand to help her down the short gangplank to the floating store. Well, floating might have been a charitable term.
“Are you sure we won’t sink?” Merit asked, stepping gingerly from one broken board to the next. A family of turtles splashed into the lake from their sunning spot on the end—a spot that had obviously been shared by more than a few water birds over the years.
“Looks pretty solid to me.” Will stomped on a board to make his point, and his leg disappeared to the knee through a sudden new hole.
“Will!” Merit cried, jumping forward to catch him. “You’re going to break your leg!”
“Nah,” he said, playing the tough guy, but Merit could tell he had ripped his jeans and scraped his knee as his foot went into the water. “Board just needs replacing.”
“That and a whole lot more. You really think you can fix all this? And that water’s got to be ice cold.”
He couldn’t argue as they inspected their new purchase. Merit tried to remember what it had looked like before. Maybe it had been the dark and the charming carpet of snow, but it hadn’t seemed quite this…
Will forced open the store’s front door. One of the hinges popped off in the process.
“Oh dear,” she said.
“Well, we knew it was going to take some elbow grease.”
“It’s not elbow grease I’m worried about.” She followed him inside, nearly tripping over a couple of oil cans in the shadows.
“Doesn’t it remind you of Mount Hermon, just a little?” he asked.
As her eyes adjusted to the dim light streaming in through the dirt-streaked windows, she tried to compare this place to the Bible camp back in California where she and her husband had first met. She had been a counselor; he part of the housekeeping staff. Here, though, she had to look past the knee-deep rubbish, the boxes, and the rusty outboard motors.
She sneezed.
“Not really what I had in mind, but I guess…” At least she could use her imagination. “Here’s where we could put our little lending library.”
Will squinted as she pointed to a shelf behind the counter. “Library?”
“You know. Good books for people to borrow. Summer reading. I’m going to have the girls from the Bookworm Society back home help me out.”
Will nodded, but by that time, he had made his own discovery.
“Look! It’s just like one of those old soda shops.” He stepped over a pile of fishing poles, and true enough, a half dozen swivel stools framed an old-fashioned, red-speckled linoleum counter. The nearest stool squealed when he gave it a spin, setting off a rustling sound from somewhere in the far corner.
Merit retreated to the doorway. “Will, there’s something alive in here.”
He made his way over to investigate, but didn’t have to go far.
“Whoa!” he yelped, jumping back.
Merit flinched and screamed as something brushed by her head on its way out. The next moment, she was locked on to her husband out on the dock, trying to catch her breath.
“What was that?” she finally asked. The funny part, if there was one, was that Will had yelled even louder than she had.
“Um…um…” Will looked around but still held on to her as tightly as she clung to him. “Bats, I think. I think we woke them up from their nap.”
That’s when it hit Merit, standing on half-sunken docks next to a derelict floathouse that had once been a store in the middle of a beautiful nowhere. Without letting go of her husband, she looked into his eyes and couldn’t help… giggling.
“What’s so funny?” He returned her look, more puzzled than amused.
“You should have seen yourself,” she managed between giggles. “You nearly went through the roof!”
He smiled. “Well, I wasn’t sure at first…”
Her giggle grew into a full-scale laugh and infected Will. They laughed until they cried, long and hard, like they hadn’t laughed in months—no, years.
“I’m going to make sure you walk a few steps ahead of me for the rest of this tour, Mr. Sullivan,” Merit finally ordered.
“Yes ma’am.” He led the way back up to shore, clapping his hands, stomping his feet, and saying “shoo-shoo” all the way up the gravel path to the caretaker’s cabin.
“That’s enough, Will.”
He looked over his shoulder with a grin. “Never know if there’s a family of raccoons living up here. Or maybe a bear.”
“Stop. You’ve already forgotten how the silly little bats spooked you.”
“Spooked mei You were the one who made all the noise.”
“Oh, now, wait a minute. You’re not going to deny you screamed like a girl back there, are you?”
“To my dying breath.”
She laughed again as Will grabbed their bags from the car, and they mounted the steps to the front porch. She had to admit, it looked like a Thomas Kinkade painting—the one little log cabin nestled by a lake, smoke curling out the chimney, and a canoe pulled up on the s
hore. Only in this case, the canoes looked full of holes, and she wasn’t sure if the little front porch roof would stand up to the next storm.
Will thumped on the side of the house with his fist, dislodging flecks of green paint from the trim.
“Solid,” he told her. “Just needs a fresh coat of stain, some weeding, a couple of new windows, maybe a new roof…”
“Is that all?”
“That’s not a nice way to talk about our new home.”
“Sorry,” she said. “You lead the way inside.”
He dropped the bags, crossed his arms, and frowned. “Ladies first.”
She shook her head. If there were any more bats in this place, she wasn’t going to be the first to discover them.
“You’re the man,” she told him.
He took that news well. Too well. He bent down and tried to scoop her up in his arms.
“Will, no!” she objected, not very firmly. “You’re going to hurt yourself.”
“You’re the one who said I was the man.” He tugged and struggled with her as they backed toward the front door. “Well, this man is going to carry you across the threshold.”
She couldn’t stop laughing again. “You didn’t even do this on our honeymoon.”
“Better twenty-four years late than never.”
“Will!” she cried. “Watch out!”
They fell in a heap on the porch, a tangle of arms, legs, and laughs.
“You’re crazy,” Merit said.
“Oh, come on. That’s not what you said on our honeymoon.”
“Did I let you carry me on our honeymoon?” She reached up to turn the doorknob, hoping it wasn’t locked.
“How soon you forget.” Will got back to his feet and helped her up. Together they shoved open the door.
“Welcome to Sullivan’s Kokanee Cove Resort, Mrs. Sullivan. How do you like your castle?”
Merit locked her arms around Will’s neck, pulling him closer as they twirled in the entry of her castle by the lake. The inside smelled a little musty, but not as bad as she’d feared. They could dress up the plain wood floor with a few area rugs. The pink porcelain fixtures in the bathroom would clean up. And die kitchen—well, she’d been camping before. If Will swept out all the spider webs, she could figure out how to cook over a wood stove.
