Superior Storm (Lake Superior Mysteries) (12 page)

I know now how wrong I was. But right then, what I said was, “All right.”

If Ely, Minnesota, isn't at the end of the road, at least you can see it from there. It is one of the prime jumping-off points for trips in
to
the Boundary Waters Canoe Area and the wilderness that fills both sides of the Canadian border for hundreds of miles around.

I had once been in the Ely public men's sauna with Robyn's father, before we were married. There was a no-clothing rule
,
and it was an embarrassment that still haunted me at times.

This time
,
however, I wasn't in Ely for either t
he sauna
or the wilderness. The main street down the hill in town was quiet and empty, ghostly as only a tourist town can be in the far north in late September.

I turned off to the left and found a white house on a neatly
-
kept street lined with large maple trees. Lawns were all mowed, probably for the last time of the season except for a final mulch once the leaves had all come down.

It was cool
,
with a high overcast and plenty of wind
,
as I knocked at the door of the house. After a few minutes, a
well-dressed
, attractive woman in her
late fifties
answered the door. She was about five foot three, with dark hair gracefully streaking into silver. She
wore
a dark pantsuit
and sported dangling silver earrings.

“Jonah,” she said, reaching up to hug me. She planted a kiss on my cheek. “So good to see you.”

“You too,
M
a,” I said, returning the hug.

After a moment she stepped back and held me at arm's length. “When are you going to stop calling me that? It's been five years.”

“Does it bother you?” I asked.

“Of course not,” she said, waving me into the house. “But I worry about
you
.”

We went into the kitchen
,
which boasted a comfortable array of wooden cabinets, well done brick
on the walls
, and an island with stools situated around it. She poured me a cup of black coffee without asking.

“I'm doing OK,” I said. “Actually, I'm here to talk to you about that.” I sipped some coffee while Robyn's mother sat patiently.

“You know,” I said, “I have a lot of memories in this house.”

“You've been coming here since your senior year in college,” she commented.

“I proposed to Robyn right here in this kitchen,” I said. She smiled at me warmly and said nothing.

“It's a funny thing
,
Susan,” I said, using her first name for the first time in many years. “You know
,
you plan for forever. You think things will never change, or at least, not things like that.”

She sipped her own coffee and nodded sadly. “I never expected to outlive both my husband and my daughter.”

I looked out the window. Susan had an array of bird feeders in her back yard. There were still plenty of birds around who appreciated the free lunch. “For a long time after, it still felt like Robyn was with me.” I turned back to her. “You know? I mean, I would even talk to her sometimes, like she was there, watching me.”

She nodded again. “I know exactly what you mean. I did the same thing, not so much with Robyn
, but
with Rob.”

“But about a year and
a
half or so after she died, then it was like she was really gone. Her
presence
was gone. That's when I was so lonely I ached every day. It felt almost physical sometimes.”

Susan's brown eyes brimmed with unshed tears. She put her hand on my arm, but said nothing.

“But after a while of that, it finally started to ease. I moved out here, you know, shortly after Rob died, and finally one day, I realized, that though I'll always love Robyn, I was done grieving. Moving out here kind of helped me move on, which is funny, because I did it so we could help each other in our grief.”

“You
have
helped me Jonah. More than you know. You've been like a real son to me, the best son-in-law a mother could ever wish for.”

We were silent for a
while, comfortable in each other's company without speech, without other distraction.

“I've met someone,” I said at last. I couldn't meet her eyes.

“Jonah,” she said, touching me again, “look at me Jonah.”

I turned toward her. “I am so pleased,” she said. “You're still young. You should have someone to share your life with.”

“I'm not sure we are to that point yet,” I said. “But she's the first person I've been really interested in since Robyn died.”

“Tell me about her.”

“Well, she's pretty – I think so, anyway, and she was a weekend reporter at
C
hannel
T
hirteen in Duluth until last year. She's got a great sense of humor. She's warm and caring, and we can be very comfortable together.”

“How long have you been seeing her?”

“Well, it's complicated,” I said.

Susan sighed, loudly.

“It really is,” I said defensively. “We started seeing each other last year, during that Daniel Spooner-Doug Norstad mess. Things were going great. But when they arrested me for Spooner's murder, she believed I had done it. She even did a story on me that suggested I had.”

“Wow,” said Susan.

“Yeah. Anyway, she felt terrible about it afterward, and there were some things from her past that maybe explain why she was willing to believe the worst about me.”

“So you've forgiven her?”

“How could I not? I have
been forgiven for so much more.”

She nodded her approval. “So what's the problem?” Susan was always a very perceptive woman.

“Well, there are two. The first is that even though I have forgiven her, I still struggle a little to trust her. I don't know if she'll really be there for me if the chips go down again.”

“You expecting to be accused of murder again soon?”

“You know what I mean. In marriage
,
you have to have each other's backs. You have to be the one person in the world that your spouse can count on, no matter what. There are all kinds of places where that kind of trust comes into play.”

“True,” she said.

“Anyway, I guess it'll take some time to figure out if I can trust her again.”

“You said there were two things.”

“Like I said, I have laid Robyn to rest – physically and figuratively. I am at peace about it. But thinking this way about Leyla still feels a little funny, almost a bit like a betrayal.”

“Are you talking about Robyn, or about me?” asked Susan, looking at me closely.

“How do you do that?” I asked.

“The same way you do,” she said. “We both have the gift.”

“So, to spell it out, yes, I feel a little bit like I'm betraying you.”

“Jonah,” she said. “You began to be part of our family all the way back when you and Robyn were dating. You remained part of us after she died. It's been almost twelve years altogether. You aren't going to ruin our special bond, no matter what you do.”

“It's just, I mean if Leyla and I – I'll have another mother-in-law too.”

“So?” she said. “I promise you, I'll always be your
M
a.”

“What about holidays?”

“You've taken a few of those with your own mother, remember? I didn't wither away, did I? I have my brother and sister and their families too.”

I got up and walked around the island and hugged her. “I love you
,
M
a,” I said.

“I love you too, Jonah,” she replied. “Now I want you to be free to let this relationship with Leyla go wherever it is supposed to go. And sometime, if it gets that point, bring her up here to meet me.”

Driving home, the sun burst through the high clouds and lit the fall colors into bold golds and reds. There is a beauty to the Minnesota forest, but in the autumn it becomes edged with a maudlin poignancy for the approaching death that is winter in the far North.
The trees on
H
ighway
O
ne are mostly jack-pine, dark
,
and less than forty feet tall, interspersed here and there with birch and maple.

I flipped on my i
P
od and sank into the limpid lyrics of Charlotte Ryerson, which went perfectly with the wild, sad land around me. As a songwriter, Ryerson seemed to choose each word with care, placing it precisely, like a master jeweler setting gems in a tiara. The title track of her CD was
Moth Around the Moon
, and it described a lover whose love went unrequited, at least in full measure. Eventually, she got over her love, and, too late, the man whom she had loved realized what he had been taking for granted.
He
ended up as the unrequited lover.

Suddenly
,
I had
an
urgent desire to see Leyla, to spend time with her and work things out. I glanced down at my phone and saw that I had no service, which wasn't surprising in this remote stretch of Northland. Reflexively, I looked up into the rear view mirror. There was one black blazer, but he was patiently keeping his distance.

The blazer stayed with me all the way back to the North Shore, which irrationally irritated me, because I liked having
H
ighway
O
ne
through Superior National Forest all to myself. Ah well, imperfection in this world only reminded me I was made for another.

A few miles short of my house, my phone rang. I glanced again in the mirror before making a grab for it, but the rear-view mirror was empty. I answered the phone.

“Pastor Borden? This is Red Hollis.”

“Hi
,
Red,” I said. “Everything coming along OK for the cruise?”

“Actually Pastor, that's why I called you. I just found out that my brother is very sick. Leukemia. I think I need to clear out my schedule for the next several weeks, and be there for him and his family.”

“I'm so sorry,” I said. “Is there anything I can do?”

“Well
,
you could say a word to the man upstairs for him, but other than that, I don't think so.”

“I'll do it,” I said.

“Here's the thing
,
P
astor,” said Hollis. “I hated to let you down on the cruise.
So I want to find you a replacement captain, and have you go without me, anyway.”

I turned into my driveway. Hollis said he had sailed several counseling cruises, and I couldn't imagine Mike Schwartz, a good counselor, would have used him more than once if it hadn't worked out. In my mind
,
it wasn't just a matter of finding a sailor. A sailboat is a pretty small place. I needed someone who could fit into a counseling environment without intruding.

“Listen
,
Red,” I said “I appreciate you going through the work, but I don't know. I mean he has to be a certain kind of guy.”

“Oh,
I’ll get the
right kind of guy,” said Hollis, far too quickly and sincerely.

I slid the car into my garage and turned it off. “I'm not so sure. We could just ca
ncel
and try again next spring. It's not like I can't help these couples without a sailboat.”

He cleared his throat over the phone, which hurt my ears. “Ah. I, uh...well the truth is
,
P
astor, I was kind of counting on the income.”

I wasn't inclined to feel sorry for the financial plight
of
someone who owned a yacht. But the truth is, I didn't really know what kind of position he was in. While I sat thinking, he broke in again.

“Tell you what, I'll make it work somehow with my brother. I mean, he might be fine for a
while.”

“How about a compromise, Red?” I said. “Give me a chance to find a captain I'm comfortable with.”

“You don't have much time. The cruise is in two weeks.”

“I know. But I have someone in mind. If he can't do it, then maybe I can meet
whoever you find,
and make my own judgment. As far as I'm concerned, the sailing is a side issue. If the captain doesn't mesh, or doesn't know how to be there without intruding, the whole thing could become pointless.”

“
I know what you’re saying
,
P
astor.”

“Can I try my option first?”

Hollis blew out his breath, which again hurt my ear. “OK, give it a try. But get back to me right away.”