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"Good," she said, hiding her immediate despair. After all, this was what she wanted for him. Her feet snubbed up against the dog lying under the table. "Get out from there, Hugo," she snapped. "The gas company let me go, said there wasn't enough for me to do." He looked glum. "It's not too late to get back in the master's program?" she asked. "I don't know, but I hate to leave you here, Mom. Winter's coming." He pushed his food around the plate, not eating. From under his sun-bleached mop of hair, his eyes looked dully into hers. "I'll be fine. There's always Fred." He glanced at the dog that was crawling out from under the table. "And Hugo and Bill and Ted and Em." "When are you leaving?" "As soon as I'm packed." He gave her an imploring smile, his dimples deepening. He always said she only thought he was cute because she was his mother, so she didn't say it. "I'll miss you terribly." "Me too, Mom. I will come back." He leaned over and thumped the dog on his side. "You behave, Hugo." Hugo lumbered to his feet and put his large head in Joe's lap, no doubt looking for a treat, unwittingly breaking the tension, making them laugh. The last week in September, Shelley stood by with Hugo, watching as the well-drilling rig bored relentlessly into the dry ground. When she tired of the noise, she wandered away with the dog at her heels and drove the garden tractor and trailer out of the storage shed. Now that she no longer had guests, Fred only came when she needed him. He would help her close the cabins in October. Together they had reroofed the cabins that needed it, had fixed screens and painted where necessary. He'd cut down two dead oaks, which she split with the wood splitter. She had never been so lonely. Tomorrow she planned a drive into Crystal Lake to apply for a part-time job. There had been a help-wanted bulletin at the IGA. It would give her much needed money until the estate was settled. Later in the day she set up the bird feeders in the yard. The guests were gone along with most of the lake property owners, and the migrating birds were on the move. She intended to entice with sunflower and thistle seeds the birds that braved the winter. When she went inside at sunset, the phone was ringing. "Joe stopped over to say good-bye this morning," Bill said. "I've been trying to get hold of you all day. Are you all right?" Looking outside at the red glow in the west, she wondered why sundown now created an inexplicable longing when it had stirred only appreciation earlier in the summer. "Fine," she said, but there was a quaver in her voice. "You don't sound that way. Come on over, will you? Bring Hugo." "All right." With night coming on, she hadn't the heart to stay alone. She drove along the black roads toward Chicory Falls. Hugo sat tall on the passenger seat, his nose poking through the partially open window, noisily sniffing. There would be slobber all over the glass, but she didn't care. He was her only companion. Bill ascended the open stairway with her toward the intoxicating smells of Ted's cooking. "It's been a tough day for you," he said. And suddenly, unexpectedly, she began to cry. "Sit." He urged her into a cranberry-colored easy chair near one of the tall windows that overlooked the dam and lowered the blinds that covered half the glass. As she watched Hugo snuffling around Ted's feet, her tears dried up. After all, she'd chosen to live here, knowing she'd be alone. She'd be damned if she was going to whine about it now. "Move in here when we move out," Bill suggested as he had before. "You can work part-time for me in the antique store. I have to go on buying trips." "But I need to make some money." She couldn't afford to exchange work for rent. "I'll pay you, honey," Bill said as if to a child. She smiled. "I know you will, but there's the rent." "No, no, no." He shook his head emphatically. "You'd be watching over the place for us." "And who would watch over the resort?" she asked. "No one will bother it, way out there. You can go home on the weekends." Over a dinner of mustard chicken and fried rice, they told her they had signed an offer that day for a home on nearby Goose Bay Lake. "If you really want someone to live here, ask Emily. I'll work, though, when you want me to, when I can." She needed the money. "Think it over, Shelley," Bill said. "Don't give me an answer yet." "What's going on with you and Emily, anyway?" Ted asked, refilling their wine glasses with a chardonnay. "Absolutely nothing." "But you're friends." Bill looked puzzled. Her tongue loosened by the wine, she tried to explain. "Let me get this straight," Ted said. "You made a move on her, she went along with it, and you haven't seen each other since. Why?" "I think I coerced her." They guffawed. "Bullshit." Bill raised his glass. "We've been wondering what happened. She probably thinks you don't want to see her, especially after all this time." "Want to spend the night?" Ted asked. "I didn't bring any stuff with me." "You can wear one of our T-shirts, and we've got an extra toothbrush." "All right," she said meekly. They walked the dog over the dam to the park on the other side before going to bed. The rushing water drowned out all other sounds, while the clouds played hide-and-seek with the stars. The following morning she wakened on the couch to the smell of coffee dripping. Ted, wrapped in his bathrobe and bathed in sunlight, stood looking out the window toward the stream. She sat up and ran fingers through her hair. "Thanks for letting me stay last night, but I can't live here. I'll work for Bill when he needs me." Bill came out from behind the screen where they slept. "You're a stubborn woman." "I know. But I wanted to live at the resort. Yesterday overwhelmed me, is all, with Joe leaving so suddenly. The big city girl in me panics when I think of the solitude of winter, but I think that'll change." Hugo woofed in her face. "Got to go out, don't you?" She looked at the men. "At the lake I can just open the door. Here I have to put him on a leash." She pulled on jeans and clambered down the steps, out into the morning. The ground was warm underfoot from yesterday's sun. She walked the dog across the bridge to the park, grateful to Bill and Ted for the haven they'd offered her last night but ready to go home. When she'd left for Bill and Ted's last night, the well drillers had gone for the day, leaving the rig behind. When she returned home, they were at it again. "Haven't hit a clear vein yet," one of the men shouted as she held Hugo by the collar. "We're into sludge here." "How far down?" she yelled over the noise. "Thirty-five feet," he hollered back, reaching out to pat Hugo. She released the dog, who sniffed the man's crotch. What was it about dogs? She took him in hand again. "I don't understand. The lake's so close. There should be water not far down." "There is, but the soil conditions have to be right for it to flow. You gotta have a good supply of it here. It's like a stab in the dark, hitting a clean water vein." He gestured toward the drilling rig, clanging as it brought up dirt. "We have another job to do tomorrow." "You're going to finish this one first, aren't you? I have to have water." She could see the costs skyrocketing out of control. "We'll keep at it," he said. "Hopefully, we won't have to abandon this one and start again." She looked at him with horror. Perhaps he just pointed out the worse scenario to make the cost of a deep well more palatable. The house greeted her, cool and empty. Except for the humming refrigerator and the ticking of Hugo's toenails, silence prevailed. She supplied the drillers with coffee and the sweet rolls she had bought in town. At fifty-two feet, they brought up a fresh, plentiful supply of clear water. [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ] |