Traveling Light (38 page)

Maggie was nodding. “Sounds like you still have feelings. You’ll never forgive yourself if you don’t give it another shot. You’ll always wonder. It’ll haunt you, so go and see. You might be surprised.”

“But I feel like such a shit,” Paula said, and covered her face with her hand. “Here he’s made all the changes I’ve wanted him to for ten years, and for some reason it’s not good enough. It’s so unfair of me.”

“Now hold on, doll.” Marvelline held up her hand. “You just said it—you’ve waited ten years. Maybe the man just plain wore you out. It happens.”

“Or else it’s you who’s changed,” Maggie said in a quiet voice. “And all that stuff that was so important no longer is ’cause it’s not what you want. The timing may be off. Ten years ago you might have jumped at it, but that was ten years ago.”

“But don’t you think I’m being an unfair shit?”

“Now quit saying that or we’re gonna have to shoot that bird off your shoulder. Unfair or not, it’s what is,” Marvelline said.

“I’ve loved him for ten years.”

“And that don’t mean you won’t love him always,” Marvelline said. “But living with him, being his wife, is different. People change.”

“But can’t they change together?”

“Sometimes,” Maggie said.

Paula looked at her hands.

“Listen,” Marvelline said. “Some loves can take a hit; some can’t. I tell you, forty years ago when I followed old Arnie up here from Gotebo, good Lord, I knew I had me a tiger by the tail. But what I didn’t expect was for him to take back up with an old flame once we got here. So here I was, didn’t know a soul, and he off and leaves me for a whole month to have a fuckathon with little Ms. Prissy. (Lordy, you should see her now!)” Marvelline stood up and walked to the counter, got three mugs of coffee and set them down on the table.

“So what happened?” Paula asked as Marvelline opened two creamers from a little cup on the side of the table and dumped each one in.

“Well, he come back running with his dick tucked between his legs soon enough,” she said. “Sweating like a whore in church, begging me, saying, ‘Thank God I married the right woman.’ I guess there’da been some doubt I wasn’t aware of back in Gotebo when he’d proposed. After that he knew better than to pull that shit again, and that was that. Put the whole matter to rest.”

“And that was that,” Paula repeated.

“But mind you, it didn’t go on for ten years.” Marvelline stared with a knowing look at Paula while blowing on a spoonful of chili. “I’da been the hell out of there. Now you look at ole Arnie and he’s one a these old doobers who can’t fit their guts into a booth; I gotta get some of ’em a special chair to sit on the end.”

They broke out into cackling laughter. Several of the men turned around to look. One of them called, “Hey, what’s so funny, Marvelline?”

“You don’t wanna know, dearie,” she fired back.

Paula piled cheese onto the surface of her bowl of chili and mixed it in.

“You’ve been so deprived of what us women need that maybe your little soul just gave up, darlin’, and turned elsewhere to stay alive,” Marvelline said. “But sitting here speculating’ll only make you nuts. Sounds like you ought to go back, take that boy for a ride again, see where it takes ya.”

Something had changed. Seeing Theo in the hospital, the moment Fotis looked at her in the shelter, grasping the eagle’s feet that first day in the raptor ICU. Whether that change could fit back into her New York life and her marriage to Roger she couldn’t tell.

“Besides,” Maggie said, smiling. “We get to keep Eleni a while longer.” Maggie raised her glass of water like it was gin to toast Marvelline. Marvelline nodded. “And trust me,” she said. “Between Grand Portage and Old Fort William, mama’s gonna make a killing.”

“Just think,” Maggie said. “Maybe Ephraim’ll have Eleni bring old Chester his cookies and dinner mints just to see if the geezer tries to cop a feel.”

Paula laughed.

“That’ll be the ‘shot that was heard all over the world.’” Marvelline started laughing. “Feathers and teeth flying all over the place.” Maggie laughed, but Paula sat like a stone.

“Oh, come on, Paula.” Maggie grabbed her forearm and shook it. “Lighten up for God’s sake—Eleni loves that dog of yours and that precious Loukoumi. She’s cooking Greek food for them and Rick.”

“And she’s gonna show me how to make that spinach pie thing I can’t pronounce,” Marvelline said. “I’m adding it to the menu.” She looked around at the truckers. “These guys need some vegetables; look at ’em all, probably can’t even shit. Them guts like eleven-month-pregnant stomachs.”

“You know,” Maggie started, “sometimes when people get old and they think life’s over, but often it has a strange way of coming around again. Maybe that’s what Eleni’s getting here. Let her have it, Paula. Don’t rain on her parade while you’re figuring out which direction yours is heading.”

“Yeah,” Paula said. “Wow. My mom’s new life. Shit. I’ve created a monster.” Her eyes widened, smiling as she shook her head and looked down at the table. “But Chester?” She glanced over. “Really, Maggie.”

The three of them cackled so loud, the men from the other tables turned around again. “What’re you ladies laughing at again?”

“You,” Marvelline said, and made a face. It made them laugh all the more.

Paula suddenly felt excited about going back to New York. She missed Heavenly and Tony, standing in line for the best Italian food at Eataly.

“Go back and see him,” Maggie said. “You’ll know.”

“What if I don’t? What if I’m more confused?”

“Than that’s your answer,” Marvelline said. “Confusion is an answer.”

Paula nodded and took a sip of coffee. Nothing felt right. Leaving Grand Marais was torture, but not going back to New York felt wrong, too. As she looked up at both women she knew that each had made up her mind about Roger. Paula could tell. But what she couldn’t tell was whether they were of like mind or not. And neither would say—the way people keep silent when they know that everyone must walk that long road alone.

CHAPTER 16

She hadn’t planned on taking a hike when she left the guesthouse; otherwise she’d have worn boots instead of her patent-leather sandals. Tomorrow her flight would depart from Duluth and her chest already hurt from anticipating the separation—it felt as if the bones in her sternum had been bruised.

For her last day she wanted to take Fotis on a walk, just the two of them. Rick had mentioned that if she followed the small footpath behind the guesthouse it would lead down the steep banks of the ravines onto rocky riverbed. He’d intrigued her with his description of cold springs flanked on either side by red cliffs, gorges and mossy old-growth forests. She’d always been curious as to where the little path went but was usually too tired after work to follow the urge to explore. He’d promised her that following the trail would be like taking a trip back into time through one of the most remote, untouched wilderness wetland areas on the North Shore of Lake Superior.

Walking down the little path, she waded through ferns tall enough to brush against her chin. Fotis pulled her onto the top of the ridge and she could barely see where it dropped off. She lost her footing and fell to her knees onto the spongy rotting bark of a fallen birch. The ravine fell off so steeply that she grabbed fallen timbers, hoping their dry branches would hold. For a second she gasped, realizing she’d dropped the leash. “Oh my God, my God, Fotis,” she shrieked.

Fotis wagged his tail from where he stood on the sandbar, the leash draped beside him, the end in a pool of standing water. “Fotis,” she cried. He nimbly dashed up the side of the slope toward her. “Come here,” she coaxed, reaching out to try to grab his leash. He tapped her face with his nose and took off.

He was back down on the sandbar again, bright eyed, looking up at her, puzzled by the concern in her voice. She sidestepped at an angle all the way down the steep slope and leapt onto the sandbar next to Fotis. He touched her lip with his wet nose, smiling, with his one ear flopped over.

“God, I thought I’d lost you.” She hugged him tightly and then picked up the leash, her chest heaving with relief. He still seemed mildly amused at her worry.

Both sides of the ravine were carpeted with mosses, interrupted and bracken ferns, heavy layers of red and orange leaves and huge boulders covered with sprawling green and orange patterned lichens. Fallen birch and basswood trees spanned the ravine from where they’d toppled eons ago, resting where they’d hit the other side above the river. The smell of fresh water plants and forest soil was intoxicating. The sound of bubbling, running water was everywhere. The air at the bottom was chillier and more humid. Cold underground streams bubbled up from the sand like boiling water, creating their own micro-climate as they fed the river and, ultimately, Lake Superior. Yellow birch leaves floated by as she gained a foothold on the exposed rocks; her feet slipped in the wet sandals—the wrong footwear for the job. She could imagine Rick’s commentary about her shoes.

Fotis surged ahead downstream, dragging her as he hopped from rock to rock.

“Wait.” Her voice was nervous and panicky. “I can’t go so fast.” She stumbled and dropped the leash again. She caught her breath, afraid he’d take off and she’d never see him again.

Fotis stopped to look at her and then turned downstream. She could tell he wanted to explore and not be tethered to six feet of red nylon.

“Oh, you’re probably okay,” she muttered, thinking back to Rick’s comment about Fotis being very bonded to her and obedient at coming when called. Despite her worries, Rick said he’d be shocked if Fotis ever bolted. “Paula—he’s not going anywhere; who else is going to feed him
keftedes
?” She knew Rick had taken Fotis running free with Sam in the woods.

Fotis looked up at her, his eyes pleading.

“You wanna walk on your own, don’t you,” she said. “Okay.” She crouched next to him. He touched her lip with his nose again. “Okay, but promise me you won’t run away. Promise?” She hugged him, feeling the meld between them and how precious he’d become, more precious than almost anything or anyone she’d known. Like they’d already lived a whole life together that Roger could never understand, much less share.

“Okay.” Paula unclipped the leash, tied it around her waist and looked up at the late-afternoon sky. Lingering light filtered through the remaining scatter of yellow and orange leaves along the ridge, making the little canyon glow.

Fotis scampered along the curve of the stream, sniffing, pausing to paw a leaf. He’d stop and look at her to make sure she was watching as he began playing and showing off. She laughed and clapped her hands as he dashed farther in the stream and then stopped to wait for her to catch up. Around a bend, she heard him lapping freshwater that had pooled in shimmering areas, reflecting blue sky and autumn color. Scarlet maple leaves floated along, looking as succulent and fresh as the moment they’d detached from their branches.

There was a fragrance like nothing she could place. Inhaling, she tried to describe it—wet soil and a spice she couldn’t name. Maggie had mentioned something about the sweetgrass harvest, how it permeated the air on chilly mornings, indicating that winter was not far off.

The stream curved around a bend. Fotis was nowhere. He’d either paddled through the deep water or hiked up along the side of the ravine. Paula stopped and looked around.

“Fotis?” Her voice bounced off the red granite walls. It was a silent aloneness she wasn’t used to. Tiny ferns growing out of the rocks listened. Some wore hats of yellow leaves that had fallen.

Panic set in. “Fotis, where are you?” She scanned the steep inclines, quickly looking around.
Oh shit.
Without even realizing it, she drew up both hands to cover her mouth. “Fotis?” her voice quivered.

Then she spotted him. He ran like a ghost atop the ridge, invisible except for the white tip of his tail, scampering sideways down the ravine, negotiating gravity as he made his way toward her.

“How’d you get up there?” Her voice was giddy with relief. As she squatted, he practically dove into her arms, his face beaming. Her chest was heaving. Fotis’ eyes were alive.

“I was so afraid you’d run off,” she explained. Fotis tilted his head as he listened, oblivious to her worry. Paula cried into his fur like a child, knowing she couldn’t bear ever losing him. But Rick was right; it was about trust.

Then Fotis suddenly dashed off again, glancing back, encouraging her to follow.

“Pou pas?” she asked in Greek, wondering where he was going, listening to the thud of his paws as he galloped, zigzagging up and down patterns along the sides of the mossy slopes. She marveled how ill-equipped a human was to follow.

She hoped they weren’t lost. Rick had said to follow the water and you couldn’t get lost.

She looked down at her patent-leather sandals, crusted with sand, probably ruined. It made her laugh. She took them off and stepped in the pool; her breath caught in her chest at the icy water, as cold as the Atlantic. A pocket of colder, fresh air made her look up. The underwater stones and rocks felt slippery, but the water got no deeper than her thighs as she kept walking. What the hell, if she slipped at least she could swim.

She began to walk up an incline to the sandy portion—funny how water finds its own level. The warm, dry rocks felt good on the arches of her feet.

“Fotis?” she called, and then startled at seeing him somberly standing on a sandbar watching her. His expression was curious, as if he wanted to ask her something.

He watched her clumsily hop atop the last few rocks. “Whew,” she said, and leaned over to pet him. His ears lay back and he lifted his head toward her. “You’re liking this; I can tell.”

As they rounded the bend, orange sunlight lit the side of the cliff face and she entered a pocket of still, humid, suffocating summer air. She started to wonder where they were going. The streambed kept winding in what felt like 180-degree turns back and forth, taking her farther from the guesthouse. Paula stopped. She could go back, but then it might be impossible to find her way back up onto the grassy path. The woods were thick enough to get lost.