A Stolen Season (5 page)

“You’re gonna call me tomorrow night?”

“I honestly don’t know. I’ll try to call if I get a chance. But things might happen fast here. Once I get in the hotel, we’ll be pretty much working this thing around the clock. It’s like my whole life will be on hold for a while.”

“I understand. Call me when you can.”

“I will. Just don’t wait up for me, okay? It’s going to be hard enough.”

“Hard enough? What do you mean?”

“I’m sorry. That sounds bad.”

“Just tell me.”

“I’ve got to do this, Alex. Okay? I’ve got to do this the only way I can. I can’t be thinking about anything else tomorrow.”

“All right,” I said. “I got it.”

“I wish you were here right now. I really do.”

“Me, too.”

“I’ll talk to you later.”

I didn’t want to end the call like that. But I didn’t know what else to say. I didn’t want to put any more pressure on her, didn’t want to add any more weight to her burden. I said good night and that was it.

A week later, and I still hadn’t spoken to her. She’d leave a message every couple of days. Always during the day, never at night. I’m okay, she’d say, things are moving fast, talk to you soon. I couldn’t call her back, of course. At any moment she might have been in character, with Rhapsody or God knows who else right there in the room with her.

Seven days, and the only time I wasn’t thinking about her were those few minutes on the night of July 4, when I was pulling those guys off the sinking boat. Otherwise, no matter what I was doing, working on the cabin with Vinnie, sitting at the Glasgow, lying in my bed and staring at the ceiling, she’d be right there in my head and I’d be wondering if she was safe.

Seven days with me going quietly insane while Natalie put her head in the lion’s mouth.

The morning after the boat wreck, I woke up so goddamned sore, it was like I had been in the wreck myself. My arms hurt, my back hurt, and it felt like I had somehow pulled both hamstrings. Getting out of bed was comical. I got in a hot shower and let the water pound on me until I loosened up a little bit. When I was dressing I looked outside and saw the trees bending. That plus a light rain I knew would feel like cold buckshot in the wind. It’s July 5, I told myself. This is not a hallucination. It’s really the middle of the damned summer.

A cup of coffee and I was out the door. I could have gone down to the Glasgow for breakfast, but I wanted to get two hours of work done before I did that. I got in the truck and headed down the access road, past the second cabin my father had built, then the third, the fourth, and the fifth. They were all empty now. The people who had booked them had looked in the newspaper, had seen a high of maybe fifty-two degrees, a low of thirty-nine. They had decided they could just stay home and be miserable instead of coming all the way up here. I couldn’t blame them.

I came to the last cabin, a half mile down the road. I had been rebuilding it for the past few months. Vinnie had been helping me when he could. Things had once gotten a little sideways between the two of us, and this is how we made up. He showed up to help one morning, and without saying a word we were good again.

When I got out of the truck, I spent a few minutes looking around the outside. The little grooves I had cut on the bottom logs were doing their job, collecting the rain and letting it drip off away from the foundation. Thank God the roof was on now, was all I could say this morning. There’s no way we could get up there today and work on it without killing ourselves.

I went inside the place. It was still just a rough shell at this point. I had been trying to restore it to its full glory, to make it the best cabin in the Upper Peninsula again. This was my father’s masterpiece, after all. When it was burned down…Well, it had become an obsession with me to rebuild it.

I went inside and took my coat off. About five minutes later, I knew I either had to put the coat back on or build a fire. I wasn’t sure which was more ridiculous, but I figured the fire would make things a little cozier at least. I put some paper and wood in the new stove and lit it. That’s when Vinnie showed up. Vinnie LeBlanc, in his old denim coat with the strip of fur around the collar. His hair was tied in a ponytail today.

“Why aren’t you using the fireplace?” he said. He was the kind of guy who never said good morning. Or goodbye.

“I wasn’t sure how long I’d be here.”

“Is that draft still coming down? You’ve got to fix the flue on this thing.” He bent down and looked up the airway. This fireplace had always been his favorite part of the cabin. The way my old man had saved up all the rocks he had dug up over the years, until he had finally taken on this monumental task of building a two-story fireplace by hand. I couldn’t even imagine how he had done it alone. Hell, for that matter, how he had done
any
of this alone. Clearing the property, building these cabins, each one better than the last. It must have been therapy for him, after my mother had died. Something to do instead of sitting at the window, staring out at the street.

“What are you going to start on today?” Vinnie said. “The stairs?”

“I thought we should get the flooring in first. Then we can do the stairs.”

He looked up at the beams crossing the room above our heads. “You want to put the second floor in before you even build the stairs to get to them?”

“That’s what ladders are for. It’ll be easier to do the stairs after we have something to build up to.”

“You just want to get the floor in so it’ll look almost done. I’m telling you, it’s a bad decision.”

“What are you talking about?”

“You’re too impulsive. You know that. You don’t do things in the right order.”

I stood there looking at him. “You’re being a little abrupt this morning,” I said. “Even for you.”

“Abrupt? Who says ‘abrupt’?”

“What’s the matter, Vinnie?”

“Nothing,” he said. He didn’t look me in the eye. “Let’s get some work done. We can do it your way if you really want to.”

As he bent down to pick up his tool belt, I heard the little grunt he let out. I saw him stand back up a little stiffly.

“Vinnie, what happened to you?”

“Nothing. Come on, let’s do it.”

“Stop,” I said. I went over to him and grabbed him by the shoulders. Up close I could see the bruise on his face, just outside his left eye.

“Who did this?”

He looked away. “It’s nothing.”

“You got clocked pretty good here. Who was it?”

“Some guys at the casino. We had a little altercation last night.”

“Some guys? How many?”

“There were three of them. They were all at one table, getting totally lit up, making a racket. I asked them to turn it down a notch, but they didn’t seem very cooperative.”

“Three men, you say?”

“Yeah. One of them looked underage. The other two were real hard cases. I eventually had to ask them to leave, and I tried to escort them outside personally. That’s when things got a little out of hand.”

“Just out of curiosity, was one of them rather large?”

He started rubbing the side of his face, where the bruise was. “Yeah, one of them.”

“Did they happen to leave on a boat?”

He stopped dead. “Yes, they did. How did you know that?”

“You’re gonna hate me for this,” I said. “But I think I helped save their lives.”

We started on
the stairs. I told Vinnie I was just humoring him, but deep down I knew he was right. He usually is. We got in a couple of hours, but I was working on an empty stomach. So we left everything where it was for a while. I asked him if he wanted to join me at the Glasgow. He probably spent more time there than anybody, not counting Jackie and myself, but today he begged off. He wanted to go down to the rez and check up on his mother. Ever since his brother died, it was something he made a point of doing at least once every day or two. I couldn’t even imagine how many times he got asked why he wasn’t living on the rez himself now. Sometimes I wondered what his answer was, when it was just Vinnie and his family and they really wanted to know why he was living up here in Paradise.

He told me he’d be back after lunch, that he’d meet me there. So I went down to the Glasgow on my own. Past my empty cabins, with the wood split and stacked next to each front door, waiting for somebody to decide it was worth making the trip again. There’s a spot right where you turn onto the main road—you can see the lake through a break in the trees. The wind was kicking up three-foot breakers now. The sky was such a dark shade of gray, it was like you couldn’t even imagine the sun ever coming out again.

I pulled into the lot and went inside. The place was empty. I stood there in the doorway wondering where Jackie was, until finally he came out of the kitchen, carrying a case of beer.

“It’s you,” he said. A typical greeting. Born in Scotland, he had come to Michigan as a teenager. Fifty-odd years later, you could still hear a slight burr in his voice.

“Where is everybody?”

“Who the hell knows? If they live here, they’re probably at home in a deep depression. And if they don’t live here, they’d be crazy to come.”

That pretty much summed up Jackie’s attitude these days. He was taking it hard. Not just because there weren’t any tourists around. Hell, he probably didn’t mind that part at all. But Jackie loved the summers up here, maybe more than anybody I could think of. He’s the guy who would pull his car over to watch a sunset.

Maybe it was in his blood, some Scottish thing. A better appreciation for the kind of day they didn’t often see back in Glasgow. Or maybe he was just a tough old bird who had made it through another winter and expected a little sunshine.

“And where were you last night, anyway?” he said. He set down the beer and started putting the bottles in the refrigerator below the bar.

“Any chance of me getting an omelet?”

“Go right ahead. You know where the kitchen is.”

“Come on, Jackie.”

“The one night I actually could have used some company,” he said. He banged another bottle in the refrigerator. “There wasn’t a single soul in this place. Can you believe that? First night I’ve ever seen that happen.”

“Cheese and ham. Green peppers if you have them.”

He stopped what he was doing, just long enough to glare at me.

“Come on,” I said. “It’ll take your mind off your troubles.”

“Use the small pan,” he said. “And don’t burn anything. It only takes a couple of minutes.”

“Jackie…”

“Why are you limping, anyway? Did you go find some trouble somewhere?”

“You can ask Vinnie about it later. He’s the one with the bruises.”

“I’m asking you.”

“Jackie, are you seriously not going to make me an omelet?”

“Two eggs, Alex. It’s so easy even you can do it.”

“Fine. You’re obviously too busy out here with all your customers.”

He slammed the case down, a little clue that maybe I was pushing my luck. I went back into the kitchen and started rummaging around. I found the right pan, then I took out two eggs and broke them.

Not a minute had gone by, and Jackie was right there next to me. “What are you doing? Didn’t you ever learn how to break an egg?”

“It’s not that hard.”

“Get out of the way.” He pushed me aside and started taking the little bits of eggshell out of the pan. “You don’t have the heat high enough, either. I swear, you’re the most useless human being I’ve ever seen.”

“Oh, I forgot to say…Good morning.”

He threw in the green peppers. “You need to wait with the cheese, too. Until the very end. You getting all this?”

“If I start doing all this for myself, you won’t even have a reason to get out of bed in the morning.”

He took his spatula and worked it around the edges. This was the part that always threw me. This was when I’d usually give up and just scramble them.

“Have you talked to her?” he said.

I didn’t answer. I was surprised he had even asked. Jackie was the veteran of a bad marriage and an even worse divorce, and at this point in his life I didn’t figure he’d be changing his opinion on relationships with the opposite sex.

“Not in a while.”

He nodded. “It’s hard. Toronto’s a long way.”

“There’s more to it. She’s working.”

“It’s a long way, Alex. There doesn’t have to be any other reason.”

I wasn’t sure what to say to that. Or if I could even argue his point.

He put the cheese in and folded the omelet perfectly. “Get out of my kitchen.”

“You’re a prince.”

“Yeah, yeah. Go sit down.”

“I think Vinnie might need one, too. He’ll probably be here later.”

“Is that right?”

“Yeah. Your customer service needs a little work.”

I left the kitchen before he could hit me with the pan. I sat down in one of the overstuffed chairs, put my feet up by the fire.

Jackie came back out with the omelet. He set the plate down on the little table. He stood there looking a little lost for a moment, like he didn’t know what to do next.

“You should be enjoying this,” I said. “Nobody else to worry about for a while. Hell, you could even close the place and go somewhere.”

He sat down in the other chair, made a sound like my suggestion was the most ridiculous thing he’d ever heard.

“It just feels strange,” he said.

“By strange you mean…cold.”

“No. It’s more than that. Did you see that sky out there? It looks like the world’s gonna end soon.”

“For God’s sake, you should go to Florida. Or where’s your son these days? Boston? You should go visit him.”

“It’s just…wrong, Alex.” He sat back in his chair. “Something in the air is just plain broken.”

That was the cheerful thought that hung in the air for the next hour or so. Jackie stayed by the fire. I kept my feet up. I could have gone back up and worked on my own, but I was in no hurry. Wait until Vinnie shows up, I told myself. And I hope he takes his time.

The wind picked up outside. It would be raining soon. It would be the rain that blows sideways and makes you colder than any winter snowstorm ever could.

Something in the air, Jackie had said. Just plain broken.

The door opened. Two men came in. I didn’t recognize them at first. I thought it was just two strangers stopping by for lunch, or for a drink. Then I saw the damage. The first man through the door had a bandage on the left side of his face, right along the jawline. The big one had his right wrist wrapped up with an Ace bandage.

The third one…He wasn’t here, but then he was the one who was unconscious when we found them.

The first guy was wearing the same leather bomber jacket. He was a little shorter than I remembered. He looked around the place, then came right over to me. “You’re McKnight,” he said. “I remember you.”

“How did you know my name?” I didn’t get up from the chair.

“I was over by your friend Tyler’s place today. I wanted to find out who you are. And Mr. Prudell, too.”

“Yeah?”

“My name’s Caplan, by the way. You can call me Cap. This is Bruce,” he said, indicating the big guy. Bruce nodded to me. With his wrist all wrapped up, he didn’t look inclined to shake my hand.

“Reason we’re here,” Cap said, “is we just want to thank you. You know, for helping us out.”

“It’s all right,” I said. “You didn’t have to come all the way up here.”

“Seriously, man. Least we can do is buy you a drink.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“I insist. Please.” He stood there, his arm straight out as an invitation to the bar.

“No, really.”

“Where’s the bartender, anyway?”

“I’m right here,” Jackie said. He got up from the chair. “Come on, Alex. Show the men some consideration. If they want to buy you a drink, let them.”

“That’s right,” Cap said. “You should listen to this man.”

“That’ll be the day,” Jackie said. He went back behind the bar.