TWENTY-SEVEN

I never wanted more—until she made me want to give her more.

Leelo

I hadn’t even been all that surprised when David showed up.

Part of me had been expecting it ever since Matt arrived. The phone calls had just been the warm up for the main event. He never could stand being ignored and that’s what Matt and I had been doing after that first call.

The contrast between the two men was never as clear. David would demand attention with his air of superiority and his temper, mostly to compensate for what he lacks in charisma and confidence. Roar doesn’t need to yell or throw attitude, he could stay silent and his mere presence would still claim any attention he needed. He has no need to yell; because his quietly spoken words deliver all the impact he is looking for.

David may scoff at the other man’s rough exterior, and clearly jumped to the conclusion he was dealing with some backward hick, but the truth is, with his unkempt beard, sleeveless flannel shirt, ripped jeans, and old work boots, Roar is keenly intelligent and has more class in his pinky than David’s shiny truck and carefully put together ensemble could buy.

“You okay?” Roar’s arm comes around me as David’s truck speeds over the gravel, almost spinning out when he makes the turn onto the road and leaving a trail of dust billowing in the air.

I could see the struggle on David’s face when Roar told him to take a hike. He speared me with a dirty look before turning to Matt and shaking his head. Matt turned on his heels and marched right around the house. By the time I looked back, David was already getting in his truck while Roar calmly looked on.

I’m sure it’s killing my ex to know he was bested by a man he considers beneath him, but who is clearly superior.

In every fucking way.

“I’m good,” I tell him, grabbing the hand he has draped on my shoulder and pulling him toward the restaurant, or what’s left of it. “Not wasting another thought on him. We’ve got better things to do.”

-

Yesterday, Patti and her crew made piles on the stainless steel counter in the kitchen of everything that survived. Mostly utensils, pots and pans—stuff that doesn’t readily break—but there were also some linens, some china, and glassware. I’m cleaning and packing everything in the large plastic tubs Matt went and picked up this morning to keep it safe. I’ll stack the bins in the shed, where the washers and dryer used to be. I haven’t even had a chance to look at new ones. Not with this persistent shitstorm raining down on me.

The guys’ trucks were hauled off on a large CAA flatbed truck for repairs, new tires, and windows, and may not be ready for a few days. So between us, we just have my Jeep for transportation, a borrowed cottage for Matt, and a warm spot in Roar’s bed for me. Can you say up shit creek?

You’d think I’d be ready to throw in the towel. I mean, this kind of bad luck surely can’t be normal. Oddly, the thing that would once have sent me over the edge, David’s derision, seems to have the adverse effect now. It’s driving me forward with determination to make my dream a reality, no matter what other calamities lay ahead.

It’s ridiculous how calm I am.

“Where’s Matt?” Roar asks, as he sticks his head around the door.

“My guess, he’s sitting on the dock cooling down.” I close the bin I was working on and shove it to the end of the counter. “I’ll go get him, if you wouldn’t mind putting this in the shed in the meantime?”

I let the storm door slam shut behind me, the familiar squeal of the spring putting a little smile on my face. It’s warm, as it has been most of the summer so far. Very little rain has fallen and fire hazard warnings went from moderate to high along the roads. There have been some fires, small ones, mostly started by stupid people who toss their cigarette butts out of the window or don’t cover off their campfires at the end of the night, but nothing major, and nothing close. Still, having such a large body of water nearby is a safe feeling.

As I suspected, Matt is lying on his back on the floating dock, his feet dangling in the water. His boots are standing next to him with his shirt on top. He’s probably trying to get some colour on that white chest of his. He has his forearm covering his eyes, and doesn’t move when I start walking down the dock toward him, but I’m sure he knows I’m there.

“I’m sorry, Mom,” he says when I kick off my sneakers and sit down beside him, sticking my toes in the water as well.

“For what, Bud? You got nothing to be sorry for. Your father is an ass. Always was and I’m afraid he always will be.”

“I’m sorry for taking so long to see it. For giving you such a hard time, when I should’ve been protecting you.” He lifts his arm away and I see his eyes swimming in tears.

I lean over and kiss his forehead, before turning to the water, looking out at the raw beauty of this place I’ve chosen to make my home, while I search for words.

“No, Matt. That’s not for you to be sorry for. It’s not your job to look after me, it’s mine to look after you, and let’s be honest; I didn’t do such a great job of that myself. What you don’t do, is let things that you had no control over in your past, dictate how you are today, or will be in the future. You learn from it, and then you let it go. We all have to let this go. I’m not sure what your Dad thought he would accomplish by driving all the fucking way up here, but we’re not going to let his actions today, or in the past, have impact on the path we’ve chosen. Me on mine, and you on yours.”

Matt is quiet beside me and I let him be. Give him time to process what I’m telling him. That this is his life. That the only person who should be in the driver’s seat is him.

I feel a tug on my arm as he pulls me down on the dock beside him. Curling his arm around my neck, he kisses the side of my head.

“I like you, Mom,” he says, and I’m happy to hear a smile in his voice. “You’re pretty smart for an old broad.”

That earns him a sharp elbow in his side.

“I like you too, Bud.”

-

I’m not sure how long we lay there, bobbing on the water and watching a few clouds drift by above, when a familiar heavy tread sounds on the dock and a familiar voice pipes up.

“Room for one more?”

A hand with three cold, dripping bottles of beer comes into my line of vision, and I automatically reach for one as I sit up. Matt grabs one too as Roar kicks off his dusty boots, strips off his socks, rolls up his jeans, and sits down next to me, sticking his feet in the water as well.

“Doesn’t matter how hot the summers can get at times, this water always stays cool,” he mutters, wrapping his lips around the beer bottle and taking a swig. I scoot closer and lean my head against his shoulder. “You guys good?”

“We’re good.” I tilt my head back a little and smile up at him.

“Yeah,” Matt adds before he continues. “I’m thinking of putting in an offer on your mother’s property.”

I lift my head and look at him in surprise, but Roar seems unfazed.

“Figured you might,” he says, matter-of-factly, without even looking in Matt’s direction. “Figure she’s waiting for it, too.”

Roar

“I was looking at some comparable properties,” Matt says, more animated now than he was earlier. “I mean, I know what I can afford based on what I have saved up, and what I used to have coming in, but I’ll have to see if the bank would give me a mortgage based on what I used to make or what I’m hoping to in the future. Maybe I should wait until I’ve had a chance to build up my business.”

I bite off a smile at Matt’s excited ramble and throw Leelo a wink. 

“Talk to her,” I calmly tell him. “There’s more than one way to skin a cat. Financing might not be the best option at this point, but there are others.”

What I don’t tell him is that I already talked to Charlie; she may be old, but she’s also sharp as a tack. She already researched a rent-to-buy contract that would require a nominal amount as down payment, but after that, only monthly rent payments to cover the cost of maintenance, plus a set amount to go toward the principal amount owing.

I think Charlie likes the idea of keeping the cottage in the family, so to speak.

But I don’t tell Matt any of this; I can sense how important it is for him to forge his own path.

“Okay,” the kid says with a small grin on his lips. “I’ll give her a call.”

“Better yet,” Leelo pipes up. “Why not finish up what we need to here, you drop Roar and me off at the lodge, and go see her. Take her for dinner at the Embassy on Broadway, she loves their pierogies.”

There’s another reason I can’t resist this woman. She sees, she listens, and she remembers all the big and little things that are important. Not for herself, but for the people she cares about.

I look down on her two-tone coloured hair and wonder what I’ve done to deserve her. I don’t even notice Matt getting up until he speaks.

“Let’s go then,” he says, already walking down the dock.

I reach over to grab Leelo’s pink sneakers before she can, and pull her feet from the water, one by one, drying them on my shirt before I tie her shoes for her. Then I quickly slip on my socks and boots, and get up, holding out my hand to help her up.

“Last time someone tied my shoes, I was in grade four and my dad was in a rush to get me off to school,” she says, a melancholy smile on her face.

I tilt up her chin with my forefinger and brush my lips over hers. Once, and then again a little longer. Her response is immediate as she wraps her hands around the back of my neck and holds me in place. An image of me taking Leelo right here, on the dock, is clear in my head, but it’s quickly thwarted when Matt calls out.

“Come on, you guys! Enough time for that later!”

-

I clink my glass to Leelo’s.

To her delight, the bottle of scotch she saves for special occasions survived the baseball bat. It had rolled under the lower shelf of the steel kitchen counter, and she kept it cradled in her arms all the way to the lodge.

“To a scotch kinda day,” I say, earning me a warm smile.

“You’ve got that right.”

She lifts the glass to her lips and takes a cautious sip, while rocking gently in one of the rustic rocking chairs on my porch. We came out here to see the sun go down on yet another tumultuous day.

When Matt dropped us off earlier, I noticed a couple of outdoor fires in front of some of the cabins.

Usually, when the fire hazard warning is high, I choose to restrict open fires on my property. I’ve seen it too many times; people think they’re safe as long as they’re close to the shore, but the truth is, the wind can be unpredictable coming off the lake. Most people don’t realize that a single gust can carry an ember up to a kilometre, if not further, into any direction.

After telling Leelo to go ahead, I check in with the guests at the two adjoining cabins. Neither was aware the warning had been raised to high and immediately shovelled dirt on their respective fires without argument.

By the time I got back to the lodge, she was already going to town in the kitchen. A frittata, she said she was making, which was fine by me. If it has eggs and cheese or meat—or better yet, both—it’s good enough for me. I walked up to where she was chopping vegetables next to the sink and kiss her neck—something that seems to get me an instant response every time—before leaving her to check mail and messages in my office.

Now, with the motel windows replaced, my emails caught up on, my stomach full and my feet up on the railing, this day can be marked off as productive.

I reach out my hand and Leelo places her palm against mine, entwining our fingers, as we quietly watch the moon come out over the water.

“I was thinking,” I start, breaking the silence, as I gently stroke the back of her hand with my thumb. “Tomorrow we start on the roof, but given that half of this summer is already gone, maybe instead of rushing to put things back the way they were, you should put some thought into what you want to end up with.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well...” I shift a little in my seat so I can look at her. “What if you spent the rest of this summer making the Whitefish into exactly what you hoped it might become someday? Let me finish,” I warn her, when she opens her mouth to protest. “Think about it; you could provide ongoing work for Matt for the foreseeable future, and along with realizing your own dream, help him realize his.”

Her eyes soften a little as she lets that sink in.

“That would be wonderful, except for the fact that the insurance company doesn’t pay for improvements, just for repairs. Besides, my bank account is so depleted, I don’t know if I’ll make it to next month, let alone next summer.” She leans over and places a hand along my jaw. “I love that you want that for me, and for Matt, but I just don’t—”

“What if there’s a way to make the finances work too?” I offer carefully, sensing her resistance right away. “A way that would have everyone come out ahead?”

“Like what?”

“The lodge is booked solid for the remainder of the summer. Next year is quickly filling up. Every day I get new inquiries, and every day we turn people away who take a chance and drive up.” I watch as Leelo gets up and starts pacing—she’s listening. “I’ve thought about adding a few more cabins, but I’m hesitant,” I continue, knowing I have her attention. “One of the main attractions here is that the waterfront is not crowded. You on the other hand, have a decent chunk of waterfront, with only the one single dock in a prime spot with just Crown land on the other shore. We could partner up.” This idea has been percolating all weekend, but today it all seemed to gel.

“Are you suggesting we join forces?” She stops right in front of me, her hands on her hips, and her head cocked to one side. “We’ve know each other all of what? A few months? And you’re expecting me to believe that you want to go into some kind of business deal with me as equals?” You’d think she’s Italian with the way she gestures as she talks. “I want independence, Roar. I want to stand on my own two feet.”

“I’m not suggesting anything else,” I assure her. It’s not like I didn’t know this might be a hard sell. “I have no interest in taking your independence. What I’m suggesting is—”

“What he’s saying is that he’ll invest the money, you provide the land. Let me guess,” Matt says to me, walking up the steps. Neither of us heard him coming, but it’s clear he’s heard enough. “You foot the bill for any upgrades on the motel, then you want to expand with three or four cabins on Mom’s waterfront, and the two of you share in the proceeds of those. Oh, and of course, you’ll hire me to do all the work.”

I can’t help grin at the smug smile on Matt’s face. Smart kid.

“And we’ll have a proper contract hammered out by your lawyer if that makes you feel any better,” I direct at Leelo, who is looking at her son, slightly puzzled.

“Did you know about this?” she asks him pointedly, and Matt vehemently shakes his head.

“I didn’t, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t think about it. Although, I admit that was mostly in terms of me investing money, but now it looks like I won’t have a dime left.”

It takes Leelo a minute to catch on, and then she squeals.

“You got it?”

“Rent-to-own. She had an agreement drawn up and everything, wanted me to take it to a lawyer to look over, but she cautioned me to stay away from that local firm. Suggested I find one in Sault Ste. Marie, like she did.” He turns to me with a shit-eating grin, cracking his face wide open. “And can I just say, your mom is a shark.” I chuckle at the description. Charlie would get a kick out of that. “She gave Dad a run for his money.”

“Wait,” Leelo interrupts, swinging him around by the shoulder to face her. “Your father?”

“Was there eating dinner,” he explains, clearly struggling for patience. “He must have seen us come in, because we barely sat down and he was standing at the table. He started giving me a hard time when Charlotte, cool as a cucumber, stood up, offered her hand like they were meeting at a tea party, and proceeded to tell him she’d expected a much more substantial man, given that his son is such a strapping boy. Should’ve seen his face.” Matt snorts. “Looked like he was going to blow a fuse. He started to; slammed his fist on the table. Your OPP buddy, Bill? He was there too. Heard the whole thing. He came right up to the table, grabbed Dad by the scruff of his neck, and marched him out of the restaurant.”

“No shit.” This from Leelo, who’s listening with her mouth hanging open.

“Shit,” Matt shoots back, his eyes dancing. “Bill came back, said he gave him directions back home and told him not to stop until he was safely back there.”

“I need another drink,” Leelo says, dropping back down in the chair beside me and holding out her glass. “This is all gonna take some time to process.”

When Matt gets back from grabbing a glass for himself, I pour all of us a shot. We raise our glasses.

“To your first house,” I toast Matt.

“To your expansion plans,” he in turn toasts his mother and me.

“To your shitbag of a father being run out of town by a five foot nothing octogenarian,” Leelo puts in her two cents, and before I can comment on that, she tosses the contents back in one swig.

“You go, Mom,” Matt says laughing and she holds up her empty glass for a refill.

“Definitely a scotch kinda day.”