A Stolen Season (20 page)

I didn’t know where to go next, so I drove up through the Soo. Without really thinking about it, I found myself on Portage Avenue, seeing all the people out enjoying the sunshine. I parked the truck, got out and walked through the Locks Park. I’m not sure why I was doing this, why I would go look at the fountain, the last place I had kissed her. Maybe I needed to refuel myself, remind myself of what was gone from my life. Because whatever I was going to do next, it was starting to look more and more like I’d be doing it alone.

Story of my life. And even more, of Natalie’s. The fact that she died alone, too. That was the worst part. Her whole life, first as a young girl in Blind River, with everything that happened with her stepfather. Then later, as a cop, posted way the hell up in Hearst, on the last road in Canada. Me finding her, living by herself in that big house, so alone there she made me look like a socialite.

She lived her whole life alone and now she died alone. Before I could stop myself I imagined her body in a metal drawer somewhere, waiting to be put in the ground.

No, Alex. Keep moving.

I went down to the water and looked out at the St. Marys River. Ontario was right there on the other side. Maybe, what, a half a mile away? A long time ago, I could have swum that with no problem. I had a sudden urge to climb the fence and dive right in. I could practically feel the cold water on my skin. I’d swim for Canada, and either I’d make it all the way, or else I’d drown somewhere in the middle. Either way, I couldn’t see a downside.

All right, I thought, time to get your head on straight. Go do the next thing you can do. Then the next. You’re living for one thing now. After that, well…You can deal with everything else when you’re done.

I walked back past the fountain. A brilliant move on my part, I said to myself, to come here today, to remember how she looked that night. I can barely stand up straight it hurts so much. Yeah, Alex, this was genius.

I got back in the truck, closed my eyes until I could breathe again. I headed toward home, flipping the visor down against the sun. On a whim, I detoured north through Brimley. I passed the old abandoned railroad car, all boarded up and sitting there on a forgotten corner of the road, looking like it should be full of ghosts. A couple miles later, I turned off on the road that looped along Waishkey Bay.

I was thinking maybe Tyler could help me out. He was a Coast Guard auxiliarist, after all, although he obviously did things his own way. He knew all about boats, and about the local waterways. Beyond that, he seemed like the kind of guy you could trust, the kind of guy who’d understand a big problem.

I parked the truck in front of his house and rang the doorbell. Nobody answered. I rang again and waited. Then I walked around to the back of the house.

I saw the boat out on the water, about a hundred yards from shore. Tyler and Liz were both on board, sitting in deck chairs with their backs to me. They seemed to be looking out at the bay. I stood on the shoreline, watching them. It felt strange to be here again, remembering that night, how cold it had been, how impenetrable the fog. Now, on a bright and sunny day, the whole scene looked so much different.

Tyler and Liz probably did this every day, I thought. Every nice day, at least. Drift out in their boat, sit on the water with nowhere to go. Just be together.

I didn’t want to disturb them, didn’t want to make them bring the boat in. There was a rowboat there by the dock. I thought, what the hell, I’ll go out and talk to them.

I stepped down into the boat, feeling it rock under my weight. I sat down slowly and then grabbed the oars. I started rowing, skimming the water on the first stroke and banging the oars into the metal sides of the boat. I got the hang of it on the second stroke. Another thing I hadn’t done in a million years.

I made my way out to them, moving backward, looking over my shoulder every few strokes to make sure I was heading in the right direction. As I got closer, Liz turned around and spotted me. She was confused for a moment, then she broke out in that big smile of hers. For one second I thought maybe she hadn’t even heard, as impossible as that would be in a place like this where everybody knows everything about everybody. The smile melted in an instant.

She nudged Tyler, who turned around and went through his own version of the same reaction. Confusion to recognition to that mixture of feelings you experience around someone who’s suffered a tragedy. Empathy and sorrow, yes. Also discomfort, a nervous unease. I wondered how long I’d be evoking this in every single person I ran into.

“Alex!” Liz said. “You don’t have to row out here! We would have come in.”

“You guys looked so peaceful out here,” I said. “I’m sorry to interrupt.”

I should have just turned around and left, I thought to myself. Did I really need to talk to Tyler this much?

He came over and threw me a line. I tied off the rowboat and climbed aboard. As soon as I had my feet on deck, Tyler took my right hand. He held it with a firm grip and looked me in the eye, his free hand on my shoulder. He started to say something, stopped himself, gave me a tight smile.

“I can’t imagine what brings you here,” he finally said. “But if there’s anything we can do for you…” I could tell he meant it. I could have asked him for anything. That’s the kind of people they were, both of them.

These are real Yoopers, I thought to myself. These are the people who make this place what it is.

“I don’t mean to intrude,” I said. “I was just driving by, thought I’d stop in.”

“I’m glad you did,” Tyler said. “Would you like some coffee?”

“Yes. I could use some right now.”

Liz poured me a cup while Tyler unfolded another deck chair. He set it up so I was sitting in the middle.

“We do this a lot,” Liz said. “It’s the best part of living here.”

“I don’t blame you,” I said. “I can’t imagine a better spot to have a cup of coffee.” I looked out at the bay, at the shifting colors in the water as the clouds moved through the sunlight. Today, you could see all the way across the bay. The line of trees on the far side was the Canadian shore.

“Actually, I wanted to ask you something,” I said. “About getting over there.”

“To Canada?” Tyler said. “What’s the problem?”

“Well, it’s like this…”

I let out a breath and looked out over the water. Natalie would have loved this day, I thought, the first day that even remotely resembled summer around here. The fresh air out here on the water, the sunlight, the way the boat was rocking gently on the waves.

What are you going to tell these good people, Alex? That you want them to smuggle you over the border? So you can do what? Hitchhike to Toronto? Then what? What’s your plan? Leon was right. You might as well walk up and down the streets, calling out his name.

“Alex,” Liz said, “are you okay?”

“What do you want to ask us?” Tyler said.

“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” I said. “I’m sorry.”

“That’s okay,” Tyler said. “You know, Liz and I lost somebody once. You never get over it. Some days you live with it better than others. But it never goes away.”

“That’s right,” Liz said. “It never does.”

“Just sit here with us,” Tyler said. “See if you can enjoy the day, at least for a little while. Maybe that’s all you can do right now.”

I sat back in my chair, feeling like everything had been drained right out of me. I didn’t want to agree with him, didn’t want to accept what he was saying, but in the bright light of day with the wind coming in across the water, I couldn’t argue with him. I couldn’t think of one thing to say.

We sat there for a long time. Eventually, I closed my eyes. The rocking of the boat would have lulled me to sleep, but then I heard Liz get up and go to the edge of the deck. When I opened my eyes, she was leaning over the gunwale, staring down into the water.

“Hey, Tyler,” she said.

“Hmm?” He was half asleep, too.

“Remember how we were out here the other day, looking for that thing?”

“Yeah?”

“This is the first sunny day we’ve had in so long…You can see a lot better now.”

He got up and looked over the gunwale. I followed them, looked over the edge, saw the sunlight penetrating the water. I saw the silvery flash of a fish below the surface, a good four feet deep.

“Hot damn,” Tyler said. “You’re right.”

“What are you waiting for? Let’s go look again.”

“What are we talking about here?” I said.

“You remember the boat wreck, of course…”

“How could I forget?”

“Remember how those guys came back the next day, looking for that box?”

“Yeah. Are you telling me—”

“Let’s go,” Liz said. “Before we lose the light.”

Tyler pulled up the anchor and started the boat. In another few seconds we were headed out to the old bridge pilings.

“We came out here a couple of times,” Liz told me. “But you know what the weather’s been like. No sun, plus the water’s been so choppy. We couldn’t see a thing down there.”

“Do you remember where the wreck was?” I said. I looked out at the pilings. Two parallel rows, at least twelve on each side. They all looked exactly the same to me.

“They left their mark,” Liz said. “You’ll see.”

It didn’t take long to get out there. Tyler came in close as slowly as he could. Then he cut the engine and grabbed a long metal hook. He reached over the side and dug it into the soft wood of the nearest piling, bringing the boat to a dead stop.

“What do you carry that thing for?” I said.

“I use it when I’m doing my Coast Guard rounds,” he said. “In case I have to latch on to a boat, or try to pull somebody out of the water.”

“The boat hit that one right there,” Liz said, pointing to the piling on the opposite row. “You can just see the mark on the side there.”

“I see it.” It looked like somebody had tried to cut into the piling with a dull ax.

“If that box sank,” Tyler said, “it’s gotta be right around here somewhere.”

“It was yellow,” Liz said. “Isn’t that what they said?”

“I thought it was orange.”

“Either way, we should be able to see it.”

We spent the next few minutes leaning over the gunwale. If someone had been watching us, they’d have to wonder just what the hell we were doing out there.

“I’m not seeing it,” Liz said. “How deep is it here?”

“Depth finder says eight feet,” Tyler said.

“That might be too deep. Even with this light, I don’t think we’ll be able to see down that far.”

“You may be right. Let me just pull us over here a little bit…”

He worked the hook into the wooden piling again, moving us into the center of the double rows.

I looked into the water, but the sunlight seemed to reach about four or five feet into the water, no more.

“I can’t see anything,” Tyler said.

“There,” Liz said. “Right there.”

“Where? I can’t see.”

“Let me have that,” she said. She took the hook from Tyler and extended it down into the water. The hook disappeared into the depths.

“You’ve got better eyes than I do. Can you feel anything down there?”

She didn’t answer. She was concentrating hard on what she was doing, feeling along the bottom of the lake with the metal hook.

“I don’t want to stir things up too much,” she said. “We’ll never find it again…”

“Do you have it?”

“No. Wait…No…Yes!”

“There’s gotta be a handle or something, right?”

“I hope so,” she said. She kept working the pole, then she tried pulling. “I think I might have it hooked now. But I can’t lift it.”

“Here, let me try,” he said. He took the pole from her.

“Careful. Don’t lose it.”

“I’ll try not to.” He pulled up on the pole. It seemed to come up about two inches. “Okay, this is heavy. This is officially very heavy.”

“Can I help you?” I asked. I moved next to him and put my hands on the pole.

“I think we have to keep it at this angle. Otherwise it might come off the hook.”

“Got it,” I said. I started to put some muscle into it. “I’ll try to work with you here.”

“Okay, let’s give it some power now. Nice and smooth.”

We both pulled together. I could feel my back starting to complain. My arms were already burning.

“Just keep going,” he said. “It might get easier once we get it off the bottom.”

It didn’t get easier. We had to lug the pole up out of the water, inch by inch. When we had made enough progress, whoever had the top hand was able to switch it to the bottom.

“I’m seeing it now,” Liz said. “I was right. It’s yellow.”

The yellow got brighter and brighter as the box came closer to the surface. My arms felt like they were shot now, but we were so close. The box was almost up to the surface. We both gave the pole another strong tug, a little too much this time. I could see the hook jerking at the handle. Then slipping.

“We’re losing it!” Tyler said.

I reached down and grabbed for it, felt my fingers wrapping under the handle. But the box was beginning to sink again. I held on tight, leaning over so far now that it would surely pull me right into the water. Or else pull my arm right out of the socket.

“Get the pole down here again,” I said. “See if you can get the handle. I can’t hold this much longer.”

“I don’t want to catch your fingers,” he said, working the pole back into position.

“Don’t worry. Just give it a try.”

I felt the pole brush against my little finger.

“Are you clear?” he said.

“Go for it.”

He pulled hard. I could feel the box coming up again. I gave it one more good yank. Now the box was half out of the water. Tyler tried to help me get it over the gunwale, but there was no way that was going to happen. We didn’t have the leverage.

“Liz,” he said. “Start the boat and take us to shore. If we can just get to shallow water…”

She was on it. I could hear the propeller churning against the water. Soon, we were moving. Tyler and I each had a hand on the handle. It was all we could do to keep the box against the side of the boat.

A long minute later, Liz had pulled the boat parallel to the shoreline. She cut the engine and let the boat drift even closer, until the hull made contact with the bottom.