The Ravens (25 page)

AS
HE
HEADED
BACK
NORTH
on Highway 61, Lance felt that this burden was too much to bear. Andy, yes. But not Chrissy. The girl had been the closest he’d come to having a child in the years before Jimmy was born. And she’d always had something inside her that pointed beyond where she came from. What exactly it pointed toward was not something he’d ever considered; he just knew it was there. Poetry, possibly, he thought now, recalling her enthusiasm at the poetry reading in Duluth. Maybe she wrote poetry, or she could be studying poems and writing about them. What did he know? What did Lance know about being a talented young person who wanted to escape everything she’d been born into? And who wanted to break away from her parents. He was a middle-aged man who had not only stayed where he was born but had dug in his roots as deep as they would go. He was a policeman like his father, living on the North Shore like the majority of his relatives going back several generations. He was the complete opposite of his strong and courageous niece, who was now carrying the weight of something that was about to drive her into the abyss. For that very reason, he was the one who would have to take away her future. Because even though he could clearly sense that the burden was too great to bear, he knew he would have to do it. It was in his nature for Lance Hansen to shoulder a burden and endure it without complaint.

It was four thirty in the afternoon when he parked outside
the Finland General Store. Through the Santa Claus and reindeer decorations on the window he caught a glimpse of Debbie’s blond hair. For a change he also saw a couple of customers inside, probably people who had just gotten off work.

Lance went inside and immediately received a smile from Debbie, who was ringing up the purchases for one of the customers. He took a little stroll through the store as he waited for the others to leave. He glanced at some old, sun-faded postcards with pictures of Finland: a moose crossing the road in front of a car; the St. Urho statue at sunset; a flagpole with the Finnish flag and the motto
We got sisu!
For a moment he considered buying one to send to Eirik Nyland, but he decided not to.

Finally the door closed behind the last customer.

“Afternoon rush?”

“Uh-huh. It always throws me off when both customers show up at the same time.”

She got up and came around the counter to give Lance a kiss on the cheek. On the cheek! What’s that supposed to mean? he thought. He’d expected a repeat of that long, slow kiss from last night. Well, preferably more than that, so he was taken aback by a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“You’ve sure got a cold, all right,” she said as he snuffled loudly.

“Yeah.”

“But you’re looking pretty alert, considering what happened.”

“That must be because you were the one who rescued me.”

Debbie’s response was another of those rattling smoker’s coughs.

“I need a cigarette,” she said when it subsided. “Shall we go in the back room?”

Lance didn’t really know what he was hoping to accomplish with this visit, but he felt that the dreary back room would ruin whatever it was.

“How about going for a drive instead?” he suggested.

“But it’s almost three hours until I close.”

Lance pulled her close and put his arms around her so they were standing chin to chin. He could hear how her breathing was first shallow and hesitant, as if on guard, only to slowly ease, just
as her body did, adopting the same rhythm as his own breath until they stood there, embracing each other and breathing as one.

It was a long time before either of them moved.

Finally Debbie drew back, straightened her clothes, and looked around.

“Just close the store,” said Lance, “and come with me.”

Debbie tilted her head to one side and looked at him. He suddenly remembered that she used to do that during the summer they were together. He wondered whether they were now back together.

“Okay,” she said. “But you’ll have to take responsibility if I get in trouble.”

“I can handle Akkola, no problem,” said Lance.

THEY
DROVE
NORTH
along the Baptism River. Lance thought to himself that it had to be twenty-five years since Debbie Ahonen last sat beside him in his car. Everything had been so different. Back then his mother wasn’t more than fifty, not much older than he was now. He could never change the fact that he hadn’t visited her before she died. It was too late and always would be.

“Is something wrong?” asked Debbie.

“How can anything be wrong when I’m finally out driving with you again?”

“Why did you walk out on the ice?”

“I don’t know. Mom died, and . . . Well, there’s something happening in my family. It’s been going on for a while, and I’m the one who’s going to have to do something about it. To be honest, I’m in a real sticky situation.”

“Can you tell me about it?” she asked.

“Not yet. But later, after I clear things up.”

“Do you promise to tell me later?”

Lance nodded.

“Good,” she said.

Then they drove in silence for a while until Lance suddenly thought of something.

“Do you remember what you said about the ravens?” he asked.

“No,” said Debbie.

“I said that the two of us were like the ravens, who stay up here all winter. That we’re tough. But you said that was wrong. You said we’re the carcasses they peck at along the road.”

Debbie laughed.

“And you’re right,” Lance went on. “People like us—we end up like carcasses at the side of the road, and the best we can hope for is that someone will stop and chase away the ravens.”

“Then we’ll have to do that,” said Debbie. “We’ll have to chase away the ravens for each other.”

Lance didn’t reply, just focused all his attention on the winding road through the forest.

“I could use a smoke,” said Debbie after a while. “Could you stop as soon as you find a place?”

They came to an open area beside the road where an impressive number of logs had been piled up awaiting the trucks that would carry them away. Lance pulled over, and they got out. The stacked timber towered over them in the dusk. Even in the bitter winter air, he could smell the fresh wood. Debbie lit a cigarette. In the flickering glow from the lighter her face looked smooth and young.

“You have to promise not to disappear again,” she said after taking a drag. “Either out on the lake or anywhere else.”

“I promise,” he said, awkwardly patting her arm. “I promise. You saved my life, after all. You’re my hero.”

“Heroine,” Debbie corrected him. “But I know you would have done the same for me.”

Lance thought the best way of saving Debbie’s life would be to get her to stop smoking.

“I promise to carry you over even the smallest little bridge,” he said, thinking about Willy’s story about Otter Heart and Sad Water.

“In that case, you’re going to need to start working out pretty soon,” said Debbie.

Lance didn’t reply. He suddenly remembered something Chrissy had said:
I’m Sad Water. Nobody is building any bridges for me.
But that was exactly what Lenny Diver had done. He had lain down like a human bridge over the abyss that a long prison
sentence would be for Chrissy. Yet Lance had no doubt that she was speaking the truth when she’d said that. He clearly recalled the disillusioned, naked sound of her voice. It was the voice of a person for whom no one ever lifts a finger to help.

But what did it mean?

“Look at the stars,” said Debbie.

Lance looked up and saw that the stars had appeared in the sky that was already almost nighttime black; only in the west was there a thin brushstroke of light above the forest.

They stood there staring up at the clusters of stars.

“Do you know what’s going to be the hardest part?” said Debbie.

“No.”

“My mother. I can’t expect Richie to keep on . . .”

“I’ll help out,” said Lance.

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah. I’m sure.”

He kept on staring at the stars until his neck felt stiff and he had to look down. That was when he noticed that Debbie was looking at him. In the faint light from the snow and stars it was difficult to read her expression, but he thought she was smiling.

“ARE
YOU
SURE
you want to go back to Finland?” he said a little later when they were on the road again.

“What do you mean?”

“Tonight.”

“But I need to close up the store.”

“It’s closed,” said Lance.

“Tally up the cash register.”

“Let Richie do that. Just send him a text and tell him you quit.”

Debbie giggled.

“And then what?” she said.

“Then we get a motel room,” said Lance.

“Really? Interesting. And after we get one?”

“Then it’s just the two of us in the whole world.”

Debbie didn’t say anything. He wondered if he’d moved
too fast, but how likely was that? He noticed that she was doing something as she sat in the passenger seat. When he glanced over at her, he saw that she was texting on her cell phone. After a moment she held it up for him to see. He put his foot on the brake to slow down as he read the message on the display.
I quit. Not coming home. Am with Lance Hansen.
He handed the phone back after reading the text.

“All right,” said Debbie, and she pressed “send.” “So, that’s done. I’m turning it off for the rest of the night.”

Lance couldn’t think of a thing to say that wouldn’t ruin the moment.

HE
SAT
ON
THE
BED,
which was covered with a hotel-brown bedspread, and listened to the sound of water pouring over Debbie Ahonen’s naked body behind the bathroom door. He thought she’d been in the shower for an awfully long time and wondered whether it was because she dreaded coming back into the room. If that was the case, he could understand, because then it really would be just the two of them in the whole world. Aside from her jacket and cap, which hung next to Lance’s on the row of hooks next to the door, she hadn’t taken off a single garment before heading for the shower. Not even her heavy white sweater. Lance was also fully clothed as he sat on the bed, wearing a red sweater, jeans on top of long johns, and gray woolen socks on his feet. Only now did he realize what he’d started. Soon it would be his turn to take a shower, and then he’d have to show himself naked to her. The mere thought made his mouth go dry with anxiety.

With a groan he leaned down to pull off his socks, first the thick outer pair, then the thin ones underneath. Then he just sat there, still wearing all his clothes but with bare feet. If he’d had any doubts about whether he really needed a shower, they were now gone. The odor from his feet was anything but conducive to a romantic mood.

The sound of running water stopped abruptly. Then a hair dryer started up. Should he get undressed before she came back, or would that send the wrong signal? As if he was just waiting
to throw himself at her? In reality, he was sitting here wishing this wasn’t happening. It wasn’t that he didn’t feel attracted to Debbie, but it had been almost four years since Lance had seen another person naked, not to mention shown his own nude body to someone else. And right now his nervousness was stronger than his desire.

The bathroom door opened and Debbie’s bare legs came into view. The rest of her, from just above her knees to the top of her breasts, turned out to be wrapped in a big white towel. She had tucked her clothes under one arm, but now she flung them into a corner before scurrying to the other side of the bed and crawling under the covers.

“Aren’t you going to take a shower, Lance?” she said, smiling, with only her head showing.

“Yeah. Sure,” he muttered.

He got up and went into the bathroom. As he locked the door behind him, he realized how stupid that must seem, but it would be even dumber to unlock it now, so he didn’t. As he took off his clothes he thought about the uncomfortable fact that neither of them would have clean underwear to put on in the morning. Then he stepped into the shower stall, where he found only a scrap of soap that once must have been a big and gleaming bar but had now been reduced to a thin, grayish-yellow square with cracks running through it. One of Debbie’s long blond hairs was stuck to it. At least he hoped it was Debbie’s.

He soaped up as best he could, using the rock-hard piece of soap, and then took his time rinsing off. For a moment he stood still, letting the water pelt his body. He knew she could hear every sound as she lay in bed, waiting. He’d have to turn off the water soon or it would seem strange. And he’d already done something stupid by locking the door.

Luckily the mirror was covered with steam when he got out of the shower, so at least he didn’t have to look at himself naked. When he tried to fasten the towel around his waist his butt stuck out, which would look comical. And if there was one thing he didn’t want to be right now, it was comical. Finally he gave up and used his hand to hold the towel closed behind him.

Then, with one hand modestly protecting his rear and at
least forty-five more pounds on his upper body than the last time she saw him without any clothes, Lance Hansen went out to join Debbie Ahonen. She had tossed her towel on the floor, so she had to be stark naked under the covers. He tried to get into bed as fast as possible, without revealing too much, but as he set one knee on the bed, Debbie reached out her long arm and snatched the towel off his body.

WHEN
HE
WOKE
UP,
he saw her propped up on one elbow, with her chin in her hand, staring at him. She smiled, as if his face were a story she’d been listening to for a long time and she’d just heard the ending she was hoping for.

“Hi,” she said softly.

“Hi.” He cleared his throat. “Have I been asleep for long?”

“Don’t know. I dozed off myself. But it’s really quiet outside, so I think it must be night.”

It took him a few seconds to remember where they were. A motel in the little mining town of Aurora, on the Iron Range.

“Nobody knows where we are.”

“Mmm. Isn’t that nice?”

Debbie laid her head on his shoulder. She smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and soap.

“What made you answer my text message?” asked Lance.

“Oh, it was a very simple question that you asked. Whether I remembered that night at Baraga’s Cross. And the more I thought about it, the more I was sure it was the best experience I’d ever had with a man. And I thought that had to mean something.”

“Was it really?” he asked in surprise. “The best you ever had?”

“Yes, it was. How awful that somebody had to get killed in that spot. Such an idyllic setting. Do you remember that we drove down there a couple of times and made out in the car?”

“Yeah, I do,” he said dreamily.

“But if we’d stayed together, maybe even gotten married, do you think we’d be lying here in bed right now?” she asked.

“I doubt it.”

“Maybe everything else had to happen first. Marriage and kids and . . . What do you think?”

“Probably,” said Lance. “I just hope it doesn’t turn out that there are even more things that need to happen first.”

“No,” she told him with a big smile. “There aren’t.”

“So now it’s the two of us?”

“That’s right.”

“And I get to see those beautiful long legs of yours again?”

“You mean now?”

“Yup.”

She threw off the covers, and Lance sighed loudly in appreciation.

WHEN
HE
WOKE
UP
THE
SECOND
TIME,
he found himself looking right at her slumbering face. Her mouth was relaxed like a little child’s, and she’d drooled a bit onto the pillow. Carefully, without waking her, he disentangled himself from Debbie’s body and turned onto his back. He lay there, staring up at the none-too-clean ceiling of Room 21 in the Aurora Pines Motel, aware of Debbie’s blond hair seeming to light up the pillow as she lay beside him.

It must be almost morning, he thought, although the sun was not yet visible through the orange curtains. Outside the snow was piled high and the temperature was probably at least twenty below. The Iron Range was one of the coldest areas in the States, aside from Alaska. But in here, under several layers of woolen blankets, life was warm and peaceful. Lance had that rare feeling that time was standing still. Everything was here and now, one big silent moment spreading out in all directions, like concentric rings in the water. And he was lying in the middle of those rings with Debbie Ahonen beside him. Outside some big vehicle drove past, probably one of the trucks used in the open-pit mines. The windowpane rattled a bit, but Debbie slept on.

He turned his head to look at her. When she was sleeping, it was even more clear how beautiful she was; as if sleep erased all traces left by time and worry. She looked almost the same as he remembered her from nearly twenty-five years ago. All those intervening years no longer mattered. He thought about how they’d parked a few times at Baraga’s Cross that summer when they were
together, sitting in the car and kissing. Something about the place attracted couples who could often be seen there, making out.

All of sudden Lance realized what Andy had been doing at Baraga’s Cross on that night.