The Brushstroke Legacy (7 page)

Erika grumbled as she strode off, but at least she did it. Hauling water wasn’t going to be as easy as Ragni had thought. How romantic it had seemed—hauling water, restoring her family’s heritage. Then Ragni thought of the deepening worry lines on her mom’s face, her twisting hands, and the hurt in her eyes. That was why she’d
come: a smile on her mother’s face again would make it all worthwhile.

Ragni dumped soap in her hands and then water from the gallon-sized drinking bottle. She scrubbed and rinsed, then dried her hands on a napkin from the stash she kept in the well on the car door. Brushing cobwebs off her shirt-sleeve brought up a picture of the shower she’d taken for granted at the hotel this morning.
Was it really only this morning? Four or five hours ago?
It seemed like another lifetime, as did her life in Chicago, as if she’d stepped into an alternate world.

Erika set the bucket down with a thump that sloshed water over the edges. “Well…”

“As soon as you wash your hands, we’ll have our lunch.”

“Snack. I want real food for lunch.”

“Like I told you, I bought sandwich fixings for now, and we’ll have hot dogs tonight. If we have time to make a fire pit, we’ve got enough downed branches and trash here to have a real bonfire.”

“We could do that on the riverbank. Nothing there to catch fire.” Erika hadn’t been to Girl Scout camp for nothing.

“Good idea. Easier than digging a fire pit.” Ragni had played mom or chaperon on many of the Brownie and Scout outings when Susan couldn’t get off work. “You think we should get a fishing pole when we go to town?”

“You know how to clean fish? I did it once and I’m not doing it again.” Erika shuddered. “Slimy things.” She stared at Ragni, her eyes round and her chin quivering.

“What?”

“That was always Poppa’s job, to clean the fish, and Grammy would fry them.”

Ragni blinked a couple of times and cleared her throat. “Those are good memories, huh? He taught both your mother and me to fish when we were kids. He did love to fish.” She thought a moment. “I’ll bet that’s something he could still do. They say that the short-term memory is the first to go, and he’s been fishing since he was a little boy. I wonder.”

“What if he got upset and fell out of the boat?”

Ragni nodded and tipped her head to the side in a sort of shrug. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll look into it when we get home.”

She pulled a bottle of water from the ice chest, handed it to Erika, and got another. “Bring out the caramel rolls. I’m starved.” One bite and she closed her eyes, the better to savor the flavor. “Not quite as good as your grandmother’s, but better’n any bakery.”

Erika peeled off part of the outer layer and ate it first.

“Do you know that’s exactly the way your mother eats caramel rolls?”

Erika paused. “So?”

“So…she always told me I ate them wrong, back in her bossy days.”

Ragni sat down on the car seat, her feet still on the ground. “I think we’d better buy us two lawn chairs too. I couldn’t fit any more in the car, or I’d have brought some.” She dug a pad of paper and a pen from her purse. It was time to start the list.

They heard the truck coming and turned to watch. The road wasn’t used much—this was the first vehicle they’d seen.

The truck had seen cleaner days. Its driver slowed and pulled in
next to them. He settled his straw hat in place as he stepped from the truck and came around the front.

“Hi, welcome to Medora. I’m Paul Heidelborg. I own the land around here, and I’m the one who wrote to Mrs. Clauson about the house.”

So this is Paul Heidelborg. Why did I think he’d be much older?
Ragni wiped her hands on her pants and stood to greet him. “I’m Ragni Clauson, and this is my niece, Erika.” Extending her hand, she nodded. “We saw you at the Cowboy Cafe this morning, didn’t we?”

“Weekly ritual.” He shook her hand, his smile as wide as the sky above them. “Welcome to Medora.” He nodded to Erika. “Hope you both enjoy your time here. Anything I can do to help, let me know.”

“Thanks.”
If this is North Dakota hospitality, so be it.

“I live back there, first ranch on the right as you come down the cut.”

“Can we swim in the river?” Erika asked.

“Don’t know why not, if you don’t mind freezing. Won’t warm up much until into July. How long you here for?”

“Two weeks. Do you mind if we camp here?”

“This is your land, from that fence line to that other down there.” He pointed beyond the corrals and a small field. “You can do what you want. You have a little more than three acres. Old Einer quit farming some years before he died, and my dad bought the remaining fields from him. Would a bought the whole thing, but the old man would have none of it. Said he was born here and figured to die here.”

“You know much about my family?”

“Some. Might be some pictures up to the house, if I can find them. I’ll give a look and bring ’em by.”

“Thank you.”

“You been in the house yet?”

“No, that’s next.” She caught him in a questioning look at Erika, who was studying him from under her lashes. He was worth studying. The shirt fit just right, like they’d been friends for some time; same with the jeans and the honest-to-goodness pointy-toed boots with a heel. The oval metal buckle on a tooled belt sported a bucking horse. When he tipped his hat back with one finger, she could all but hear John Wayne drawling. Hazel eyes wore crinkles at the edges that matched his smile, but concern rode roughshod over laughter.

“You really plan to camp here? I mean, the house is in pretty bad shape.” He smoothed back his mahogany hair that sported a wave either genetic or hat-sculpted.

“I brought a tent, camp stove, the things we’ll need.”

“I see. Wouldn’t you be more comfortable at one of the motels in town, I mean…?”

So, he thinks we can’t manage? What’s the problem? I know how to set up a tent and cook on a camp stove.
Her tone cooled. “Are there fire restrictions here?”

“Ah, no. You just have to be careful.”

“So we could have a fire down on the beach?” Erika crossed her arms over her chest and leaned back against the car.

“The beach? Oh, you mean the riverbank. Sure, if you want. Just put it out when you’re finished. We’re not in the park here.” He touched the brim of his hat again. “Well, I’ll be goin’. You need anything, give a holler.”

Ragni smiled and nodded. He got back in his truck and laid his
hat on the seat beside him. She returned his wave and glanced over to see Erika waving as well.

“Seems real nice, doesn’t he?”

Erika shrugged. “He’s right. Staying at the motel sounds like a really good idea.”

Ragni shrugged. “We’ll set up the tent after we tour the house.”
Sure hope this fool tent goes up easier than the last time. Dad said
… She couldn’t allow herself to remember how old the memory was.

“I forgot to ask if we need a key.”

“Guess we don’t then,” Erika answered.

The two of them stood in front of the door. What was left of the screen door hung off to the side, first cousins with the drunken gate.
Will the house be fixable, or is it too far gone?
Ragni wondered. After all, she and Erika didn’t have to fix it; she could hire that out. Just clean it enough so they could cook in the kitchen if they wanted to and have a roof over their heads in case of a storm. Her mother would understand if the place was beyond hope—wouldn’t she?
Will I really learn anything about my great-grandmother, or is this all a wild goose chase?

She glanced to her niece, who looked back at her and shrugged.
Just turn the knob
, she ordered herself. She reached out and grasped the old glass knob, which felt cool in her hand, and turned.

Nothing happened. She turned it the other way, raising a screech of rust on metal. She jiggled the handle and tried twisting it again. The handle moved, but the innards of the door mechanism failed to follow instructions.

“Is it locked?”

Ragni shook her head. “I think it’s rusted shut. I should have brought a can of Coke.”

“Coke?”

“I read that Coke will take rust off anything. I tried it once, and it worked.”
Another thing to add to the shopping list: a carton of Coke. Would Diet Coke work as well as regular?
This time when she twisted the knob, she shoved against the door with her shoulder.

Nothing.

“You twist and I’ll push,” Erika suggested.

“Don’t hurt yourself.”

“Puh-leese.”

“Okay.” Ragni used both hands on the knob, and Erika threw her weight against the door. It squeaked and squawked in protest, but it moved.

“Once more.” Erika drew back. “Now.” On this thrust the door creaked inward and a rush of fresh air followed. Erika stepped back and ushered her aunt ahead of her. “You go first. It’s your gig.”

They stepped into what was evidently the kitchen. A rust-spotted cast-iron cookstove stood against the right-hand wall. Cupboards lined the other walls, and opposite the stove stood a sink under a window. A hand pump at the edge of the sink said there had been running water of sorts at one time. Ancient and curling linoleum still covered part of the floor.

Erika wrinkled her nose. “Something stinks.”

“Most likely mold and mildew. And dirt.” Someone or something had broken one of the south-facing windows, which accounted for the bird that flew out when they stepped in.

“If there’s a bird in here, there might be other, er, wildlife,” Erika said, grimacing.

“As in mice?” Ragni opened one of the cupboards. “Lots of mice.” She shut the door.
Please, no rats. Mice I can handle, but rats
… She shuddered. “We need mousetraps, that’s for sure.”

“Can you set a trap?”

“If I have to. We’ll get some bait too. Good thing I brought a measuring tape. We’ll have to buy glass for that window.”
It needs to be weatherproofed. That’s what Dad would say.
Strange how much she’d been thinking about her dad on this trip.
If only he were here. He loves fixing things. Why didn’t we come out here as a family? It isn’t that far, after all.

“You know how to do that?”

“I’m going to learn. We’ll ask at a hardware store. Besides, I have a book in the car on how to fix anything.”

“Maybe Paul would help.”

“His name is Mr. Heidelborg until he tells you differently.”

“Sor-ry.” Erika stuffed her hands in her pockets. “I’ve seen enough for today.”

“Let’s go on through and out that other door. They must have had a table and chairs here and used this whole room as the main living area.”

Ragni took a step forward and felt and heard glass crunching under her shoes. Not that the broken window did a lot to bring in fresh air. If they left both doors open, the place could air out—from what she could see, the windows had been painted shut. Didn’t people like fresh air back then? She turned and looked at the stove. If they could fire that up, they could heat the water for scrubbing this place
down after they swept it out. It would be easier than heating water on the camp stove.
Next item on the list: a larger pot for heating water.
Studying the room again, she noticed a braided wire and light bulb dangling from a porcelain receptacle in the ceiling.
Wonder how long the electricity has been turned off—and if it can be turned on again.

She followed Erika outside and filled her lungs with clean air as soon as she cleared the door. A shallow ramp instead of steps led into the once-fenced area.
Had someone been wheelchair bound?

“You think this was a flower garden?” Erika asked, studying the overrun patch.

Ragni raised her face to the sun and breathed deep again. Closing her eyes, she saw a woman bent over weeding in the garden. Pink hollyhocks bloomed along the rail fence, and a yellow rose climbed in the corner. The woman wore her hair in a bun. She was bending over with her dress hiked up, revealing the backs of her knees; a faded blue apron crisscrossed straps between her shoulders and a bow tied at the waist. She stood and stretched, kneading her back with her fists, then lifted her face to the sun.

Just like I’m doing now.
Ragni’s throat dried. She blinked, and the riot of color disappeared. Now the fence stood broken in places and buried under weeds and grass in others. But the sun shone the same, and the blue sky vaulted overhead. The breeze felt cool against her face.

“What’s with you?” Erika asked.

“I-I don’t know.” Ragni blinked again. The dream, or whatever it was, didn’t return. Surely she just had an overactive imagination. The dress hadn’t been long enough for…
Cut it out. What movie did you see that brought that picture to your mind?

Erika stood facing the house, her back to the sun. “Ragni, have you looked at that hole yet?”

“What hole?” Ragni glanced around.

“The one under that ramp. Something has dug a big hole under the house.”

Ragni stepped off the ramp and followed Erika’s pointing finger. “Oh my.” She could feel her eyes growing to match Erika’s, both of them with their mouths hanging open. Snapping her mouth shut, she took a step back. A mound of dirt at the entrance said the digger had been at it recently. “You could stuff a basketball in that hole.”

“Uh huh.”

“I wonder what kind of animal it could be?”

“Snake?”

“Snakes don’t dig holes.”

“But they might live in them after something else dug them.”

Ragni shrugged. “Maybe.”

“I don’t think I want to meet whatever is living in there.” Erika glanced toward the car.

“Animals are more afraid of us than we are of them.” Her mother had told her that often enough to make it stick in her mind.

“Ha!”

“Think I’ll walk around the cabin and see what else I need to know. You coming?”

Erika shook her head. “What if…”

“Don’t you think Mr. Heidelborg would have warned us if there was something dangerous here?”

“Not if he didn’t know about it.” Erika headed back to the car.

Ragni watched her go and glanced down at the hole again before moving her gaze to the hills.
What would happen if we shoveled the dirt back in the hole? Another item: a shovel. And a rake so we can clean up the yard. We have plenty of firewood with these downed branches. Or do we need to buy an ax, too? I should have brought a trailer of equipment…

She walked around the disintegrating fence to the back of the car for her walking stick. Tall trees on the west end of the house invited her into their cool shade. She took her stick and started out, beating the grass back in front of her. What could they buy to cut the grass? She wasn’t going to invest in a lawn mower for this two-week visit, but possibly a weed whacker, her father’s favorite piece of equipment. Or at least it used to be.

Windows guarded each side of the door on the west end. Here she could see rocks of what must have been a foundation holding up the log walls. Half of a log set on the ground made a step. She continued on, not bothering to try to open the door. Plenty of dead branches littered the ground and the roof.
Good thing I brought leather gloves. A saw might be a good thing if the kitchen stove works.
She looked up at the roof to see a sheet of plywood on the rear section of the house. Paul had mentioned the makeshift repair in his letter. At the front of the house, she saw a post nailed to the corner with an insulator on top. The wires were flapping either way. No more electricity without some major work.

She meandered on around and found Erika sitting in the car, earphones in place and a DVD player on her knee. Digging a bottle of water out of the cooler, Ragni cranked it open and drank a third of it down without stopping.

All you have to do is go back to town, check into the motel, and you’ll have all the water you could ever want… I know, but this is where we are, and if we keep running back to town, we’ll not get any of this fixed up… So who says you have to fix it up?
She drank again and set the bottle back in the chest. They’d need ice by tomorrow.

Leaning against the car, she studied the surrounding area.
Had there been a well when Great-grandmother came? Or had she been forced to carry water from the river? Water for laundry, for cooking, cleaning… Did they drink water from the river?
She shuddered.
Surely not.

Ragni retrieved pen and pad from the dashboard and sat down to begin her list. If only she could call her dad and ask him about the stove, the animal burrow, how to start the weed whacker. Sadness struck with a blow that made her catch her breath. She’d never get to call him up and ask him life how-to questions again. Not about her car, or her house if she bought one, or how to fix a window. He’d done all those things and now… She dumped the pen and notebook back on the dash and stomped away from the car.
It’s not fair! You robbed me!
Tears burned at the back of her eyes and clogged her throat. She set off for the riverbank, her feet pounding the grass into submission, her jaw clamped against the feelings knotting a rope around her lungs and heart.

She fought to remember her BA father—Before Alzheimer’s. But all she could see was a man slumped in his recliner, glaring at the television, shouting at the players, unable to follow his beloved Minnesota Twins, the game of baseball now beyond his comprehension.

She picked up a handful of rocks and heaved them at the water, at the disease that was devouring her father’s mind, destroying the
man she’d adored her entire life.
It’s not fair. My kids will never know their grandfather. He’ll never get to teach them to fish, to whistle. They won’t get to hear his stories.
She sank down on the log she’d seen earlier, unable to dam the tears any longer.

When the flow finally slowed, she mopped her eyes with the hem of her T-shirt and stared at the river on its way to the sea. How he would have loved to be with her now and take on the challenge of this place.
Tell me what to do, Dad.
She mopped more tears and choked on a sob.
If only I had listened to you more often. You tried to teach me practical things in spite of me. Forgive me for—for…
She had to fight the tears again.
For more things than I can count.
She glanced over her shoulder, but the house was hidden behind the bank and the waving grasses. Only the giant trees marked the place.

She twisted her T-shirt around to find a dry spot, wiped her eyes again, and settled her sunglasses back in place.
This one’s for you, Dad. Maybe when I get home, you’ll have a good day and…
She sucked in a deep breath. Completely drained, she watched the water flow by, a branch bobbing on the current.
Am I like that branch, just floating along, no idea where I’m going?
She glanced at her watch. The hours were fleeing as fast as the clouds overhead. With a sigh, she crossed her arms on her knees and ignored the time, let the memories continue. The peace of the flowing river and singing birds made her want to remain, but her father’s directives intruded.

Better get that tent up and the camp stove started.
Making camp was the first thing they did all those years ago when they traveled. She and Susan had to find wood if they wanted a campfire. No problem with finding wood around here.

She rose and headed for the car.
In the shade of those trees but inside the perimeter fence would be a good place to pitch the tent. Clean up the ground, knock down the grass
—
not necessarily in that order
.

Erika had levered the seat back and switched to her iPod, earphones still in place but her head tipped to the side in sleep.

Should I let her sleep or get her to help?
Ragni went ahead removing the gear from the trunk, making no effort to be quiet. When that didn’t work, she strode to the side of the car.

“Okay, kid, let’s get this unloaded and the tent up.” She touched Erika’s shoulder and got a glare for her efforts.

“What?”

“I said, come and help me get the tent set up and our gear organized so we can cook supper when the time comes.”