THIRTY-ONE

Her light filling my eyes, I would die a happy man.

Leelo

“You okay, Mom?”

The second best birthday present is my daughter slipping her arm around me, as I watch Roar’s taillights disappear, in an uncharacteristic show of affection. I swallow hard, already on the verge of tears with hormones all over the fucking place, and another year older, with my guy heading back into danger, and my girl being all nice.

“I’m good.” My voice sounds strangled as I force the words out, squeezing her hand resting on my shoulder.

“I still need to talk to you.”

“I know, Sweetie, just give me a couple of minutes, all right?”

“Sure,” she says easily, removing her arm from my shoulders and I instantly feel the loss. “Matt and I were going to head into town to pick up some supplies for dinner anyway. We can talk while he and I cook?”

I smile in response and watch as they too drive off. I turn away and walk back into the lodge to grab another ice tea. It’s starting off a hot one today, but there’s a stiff wind blowing that comes along with a cold system that’s supposed to be rolling in. As is usual, the instability will probably cause thunderstorms to pop up, and I just pray that we’re spared any more damage anywhere. I try not to think what it could mean for those men battling that fire, but according to Roar this weather change might be a blessing.

It’s been a great birthday. Best in a long time, and it’s not even over yet. I got everything I wanted. Fuck, I got more than I deserve. Both kids here, doting on me and helping out this morning, clearing the cabins so I could spend some time with Roar before he had to head out. It was interesting to see him and Gwen dancing around each other. Sizing each other up. Both protective of me but in different ways. Hopefully, there’d be more time for them to get better acquainted later this week.

Then of course there’s that jar. So tempting to hide out in the bedroom and dump the contents on the bed, reading each snippet of paper at leisure. But Roar asked me to wait until bedtime tonight, so he’d know I was reading them. Like I’m going to refuse a request like that?

The sign in for new guests is at three, but according to Patti, who’s been cleaning cabins all morning, they often arrive early. It’s barely one thirty and already someone is driving up in a pickup, toting a boat. I hold the door to the office open, waiting for the portly guy who is jogging toward me.

“Afternoon,” he says with a big grin.

“Hi there. Come in, you’re a little early, but depending on how far housekeeping is, we might be able to get you settled in. What name is the reservation under?”

“Porter. Jeff Porter, been coming up here for damn near twelve years now.” 

I hear a distinct American accent but I’m not sure if I can place it.

“Where are you from, Jeff?” I ask, as I log into the computer and pull up his reservation.

“Saginaw,” he says with a smile. “Not the prettiest city in the state of Michigan, that’s for dang sure. That’s why once a year; we take the easy six or seven hours straight up the 75 and stay at Jackson’s Point for a week. Been knowing Doyle all this time. He around?”

“Sorry, we’re hoping he’ll be back soon, but he’s helping fight that forest fire along the highway? You probably passed it on your way up.”

“No shit? Pardon my French.” He chuckles sheepishly. If only the man knew how much I swear, to my daughter’s great distress. “Say, are you new here?” he asks, looking a little suspiciously at my ink. “There was usually a pretty blonde here when we checked in. Penny? Always wondered if there was something going on between—”

“Patti is the name. Close enough though, Jeff,” she says from right behind him, throwing her arm around his shoulders. “And no, Doyle and I just are old friends, but Leelo here, she’s his fiancée,” she elaborates a tad introducing me, throwing me a saucy wink.

“Well, I’ll be damned. Fiancée. Huh, I never would’ve pegged Doyle for—”

“You know what?” Patti interrupts him again; before the man has a chance to put his other foot in, something he seems particularly talented at. “I knew you’d be early, since you are every year, so I finished your cottage first. It’s all ready for you.”

“Yes, of course. Much obliged.” He tugs at the bill of his cap. “And nice to meet ya, Lili.”

I just wave, because really, what can you say to that?

“Sorry about that!” Patti comes back in, minutes later, after showing Jeff out. “He’s a bit of a redneck, but he’s really a decent guy. His wife is nice, too. He just isn’t the smoothest, so when I saw him pull in, I ran as fast as I could.”

“Tattoos and blue hair are clearly not his cuppa,” I observe, chuckling. “And you have to admit, Roar and I are not exactly an obvious match.”

Patti tilts her head to one side, scrutinizing me closely.

“You know what? Maybe not, but I’ve seen you together, and it works.”

-

It’s near five when Gwen comes looking for me and finds me still in the office.

“Is everyone checked in?”

“All but one. Not sure when they’ll be here and Patti had to leave, so that’s why I’m waiting,” I explain.

“Well, come and wait in the kitchen. We can see through the window if someone pulls up. I have a bottle of wine with your name on it.”

I smile at my girl, turn the computer and the lights off, and follow her through the foyer and into the kitchen, where Matt is doing his best to massacre fresh asparagus.

“Jesus, Mattie. I said chunks, not minced,” Gwenny scolds, as she takes the knife from his hands. “If you want to mince, grab that little jar with the truffle, and take half of that. The other half can go back in the jar and in the fridge.”

“Truffle?” I ask, an eyebrow raised. My daughter, who never ate more than a handful of things growing up, has turned into a regular gourmet cook.

“It’s a truffle, asparagus, and mushroom risotto with asiago cheese.” I catch the little curious glance she shoots me, hoping to catch a reaction.

“Colour me impressed,” I say, smiling big. “I don’t think I’ve ever had such a fancy birthday dinner.”

“Don’t worry, Mom,” Matt pipes up. “There’s lots of meat, too. She has two bacon-wrapped pork tenderloins in the oven.”

My boy. A meal is not a meal unless there is meat. And lots of it.

“Two? For just the three of us?”

“Four actually, I promised Charlotte I’d pick her up. Besides, I don’t see a problem,” Matt says. “It’ll make for a great midnight snack.”

I warm at the thought of the kids arranging for Roar’s mother to join us for my birthday dinner, as I watch Gwen throw a little look of concern in his direction before looking back to me, a light blush on her cheeks.

“Actually,” she says. “I thought since your guy is not here, and we are using his kitchen, it might be nice to save him some of your birthday dinner too. I can easily freeze it.”

“That’s really thoughtful. I think Roar would appreciate that.”

“Yeah, well, whatever. If it gets eaten, it gets eaten,” she responds, making both Matt and I laugh out loud, because it’s so typical.

“God forbid we think you’re doing something nice, right, Gwenny?” Matt teases.

“Shut up.” She tries to keep a straight face, but loses miserably, soon laughing right along with us. But it isn’t long before her expression sobers. “So, since my rep is busted anyway, I might as well rip the Band-Aid off completely and tell you I’m sorry, Mom.”

“About what, Sweetie?”

“Dad’s a prick. He’s always been a prick, to you anyway, and I know that. I just...well, I guess I just didn’t realize how big of one. First the stuff with Mattie and then driving up here to give you a hard time. I mean that’s seriously messed up.”

“Yup. It is, but that’s not your cart to tote,” I tell my daughter. “It’s his. I don’t want you apologizing for your father. Not ever. Just like I don’t want you apologizing for me either. Not your monkey, honey.”

“Yeah, but, Mom, how can he do that? Say that shit to you, and to Mattie? That’s his son. And you’re the mother of his kids. It’s not right.”

I can tell she is getting agitated so the hug I wanted to give her, I’m putting on hold. Instead I give her some reality.

“I remember one of the hardest realizations I ever came to was when I discovered my parents weren’t perfect or infallible. God, you’ve met your grandma and her collection of exes. We all mess up. We all do stupid things. There’s no doubt in my mind you two will fuck up on a regular basis, just like the rest of humanity.”

“Hey, I resemble that remark!” Matt interrupts jokingly, and at the same time I get a stern “Language!” from Gwen.

“Your father was always good at making it look like he had all his ducks in a row, and a lot of the time he did, except when he didn’t. Maybe that’s where we were fundamentally different; me so blatantly fallible, it clashed with his sense of perfection. Who knows? Point is, we’re here, we got through, and we’re all trying to find our way. Just because your father and I happen to be a few years older doesn’t mean we’re not looking, just like the two of you.”

“You’re pretty smart for middle-aged, wannabe sideshow headliner.” The look on Gwen’s face as she delivers that line, with a saccharine smile, has Matt doubled over laughing.

“Hey!” It’s my turn to protest her jab at my hair, my ink, and my choice of clothing, none of which she’s a big fan of.

“Mom’d be a great addition to any travelling carnival,” Matt taunts, grinning. “She’s like a multifunctional attraction.”

I sit back and take a sip of my wine as my kids proceed to roast me, while they cook me a gourmet birthday dinner. There are worse things, I smile to myself

“How do you figure?” Gwen bites.

“Blue-haired lady, tattooed lady, pinup of the month,” Matt ticks off on his fingers. “And her newest act: bearded lady.”

Immediately my hand goes to my chin where I’ve recently discovered a few pesky whiskers I keep trying to pull.

The kids are still laughing loudly when my phone rings.

“Hello?” I get up and out of the kitchen to hear who is on the other line.

“Ms. Talbot. It’s Henry Kline calling.”

“Mr. Kline? What can I do for you?”

“A little bit embarrassing on two accounts, I’m afraid. One; I was sorting through some boxes in my home office today and I found the drawings for the Whitefish, and two; I’m standing outside the motel but no one seems to be here.”

“Oh, yes, no, actually, I’m staying...up the road.”

“In that case, why don’t I drive up to meet you?”

“You know what?” I make a split-second decision. “Stay put, I’ll be there in a few minutes. Don’t go anywhere.”

I push back from the kitchen table and face my kids who are both looking at me curiously.

“You’ll never guess,” I say, mostly for Matt’s benefit, since I haven’t had a chance to fill Gwen in on all the details surrounding the motel. “That was Henry Kline. He found the drawings. He’s waiting at the motel.”

“Why?” Matt asks right away.

“He seemed surprised I wasn’t there,” I clarify.

“Okay, I’ll go with you,” Matt offers, wiping his hands on a towel.

“There’s no need for that. I’m just picking up the plans from him, I’ll be back in ten.”

“I was about to go pick Charlotte up anyway,” Matt says, determined to follow me out it seems. “You’ll be all right for a bit, right, Gwenny?” he throws over his shoulder, already on the move.

“Go right ahead!” Gwen calls after us. “I’ll just take care of the home front!”

Matt trots up behind me when I get to the Jeep.

“I’m just going to follow you there, wait for your thumbs up, and then I’ll head on to Charlotte’s. Okay?”

“Do what you gotta do, Bud.”

It’s not even that late, there’s plenty of daylight left when we hit the road. As promised, Matt is sticking to my tail, making me smile. Roar’s overprotective nature is starting to rub off on my boy and I’m liking it.

When we get to the motel, I turn up the driveway and Matt stops at the bottom, letting his truck idle. Henry’s black Audi is parked in front of what is going to be the restaurant, but I can’t see him. Still, I pull in beside his car, get out, and give Matt the thumbs up. I wait until I see him slowly drive off, then I go in search of the lawyer.

“Hello? Henry?”

I try the door to the restaurant, but it’s locked and I wonder if he’s gone around the side of the house. I head around the corner, but I can’t see any sign of him.

The side door is also still firmly locked, but still I peek through the windows to see if anyone’s inside. This is really weird and I’m starting to question my decision not to have Matt wait with me.

Unless...I look toward the dock, and as if by rote, start walking in that direction.

The wind is stronger, the closer I get to the water’s edge and the only thing I see out on the lake is a loon about twenty feet from my dock, ducking under to fish. Nobody else in their right mind would be out there right now. At least not for fun.

On the off-chance perhaps Henry’s fallen in the water, I walk the length of the dock, up one side and down the other, checking the water lapping against the sides. No sign of him.

Weird.

Perhaps I should’ve checked his car. I never even looked inside. God knows if he’s had a heart attack or a stroke, and needs help.

I rush back up the trail to the house and round the building to the front. It’s hard to see inside from a distance, but the closer I get, the clearer it becomes that there is no one inside that car. What I do see lying on the passenger seat is a roll of drawings.

Goddammit, Henry. Where the hell are you?

I pull open the passenger door of the Jeep to grab my phone, only to find it died somewhere between the lodge and here. Wonderful. I slam the car door shut and with my keys in hand, walk over to the restaurant. The phones downstairs may be out of commission, but the landline beside my bed upstairs should still work.

Inside, sheltered from the wind, it’s surprisingly quiet. Hollow even, as I make my way through the now empty space to the house beyond. It’s better once I get upstairs: no sound echoing off the walls.

I round the bed and pick the handheld from its base, but there’s no dial tone when I try calling. Another dead phone. Exasperated, I toss it on the bed and swing around to look out the window. My bedroom faces the back of the property and the views from up here are beautiful. Looking out now, I notice that from up here, I can see the property from a different vantage point.

I hit every window up here, scanning the property below for any signs of Henry, but I don’t see anything. Nothing either from the spare bedroom window, overlooking the front, and I’m starting to wonder if I wouldn’t be better off just driving into town to get help, or wait at the end of the driveway for Matt to come back around. He should have collected Charlotte by now.

Decided on a course of action, I take one last look over the property below when my eye catches on the laundry shed.

The door to the shed is open a crack. That’s odd. I’m pretty sure it was locked, along with every other door, but it’s always possible one of the guys left it open at some point. I know they stored some tools in there while they were working on the roof.

Heading downstairs, I notice it getting a little darker outside. Clouds are moving in just as the sun is setting. We were warned we might get some thunderstorms tonight. I just hope they hold off until we’re all safely home. Roar included.

I lock the door, and step on the gravel, hearing it crunch under my feet as I make my way over the shed. One day soon, all this dirty, dusty gravel will be smooth asphalt. I have a smile on my face when I place my hand on the frame and call inside.

“Henry? You in there?”

I stick my head around the door and reach out to flick on the light switch.

“Jesus, Henry,” I rush to the crumpled form of the older man on the floor. “Henry, are you okay?”

The sound of a door slamming shut has me spin around.

“Not exactly. I’m afraid Mr. Kline was unable to keep up his end of what could have been a mutually beneficial bargain, Ms. Talbot. He had every opportunity but sadly failed to execute, so I was left with no choice but to execute him.”

I can’t breathe.

I’m on the floor of my shed, sitting beside a dead man, and a gun is pointed at my head.

Fate, or karma, or whatever the hell it is that’s been screwing with my life, really fucking went all out on this one.

Roar

“Doyle!”

I can hear my name called but I can’t seem to move.

I’m not even sure what happened. One minute we’re doing cleanup, taking down a couple of tall pines that sparked a fire north of the firebreak and the next I’m pinned to the ground.

“Doyle,” Rick says, his face floating in and out of my vision.

“What?” is all I manage to get out.

“Stay put, you lucky bastard. We’re going to lift this sucker off you and then we’ll see what the damage is. Can you hang in there?”

I try to nod but my helmet is restricting my movements. I instinctively try to wiggle my toes, successfully I think, and next my fingers, also with positive results. The heavy smoke from moments ago is starting to dissipate, and I see a trunk about three feet in diameter is keeping me pinned at the bottom of a small gully. I’m soaking wet and I’m having a hard time breathing.

“What happened?” I try again.

“You had a burning tree land on you, ya moron. Fucking luck of the Irish had you land in a gully full of runoff water, bought us enough time to douse the fucking torch laying on top of you before you turned into bacon crisp. Fucking shamrock up your arse.”

“The fire?”

“She’s controlled, my friend. It worked.”

I lay my head back and stare straight up, through the curling drifts of smoke to the darkening sky above, where only one single star is visible.

Polaris—the North Star.