by Lyn Gardner
Judy lifted her eyes just in time to see Robin disappear into the spare bedroom, and hanging her head, Judy pinched the bridge of her nose. “Shit.”
***
An hour later, Judy climbed the spiral stairs with a coffee mug in one hand and regrets in the other. She tapped on the doorframe, and it wasn’t until Robin looked over her shoulder, that Judy walked into the room. Going over, she put the coffee on Robin’s desk.
“What’s this?” Robin said, motioning toward the mug.
“A peace offering,” Judy said, quietly. “Hopefully, you’ll take it.”
“Thanks,” Robin said as she picked up the cup. “I left mine downstairs.”
“I know. I saw it.”
When Judy didn’t appear to want to leave, Robin said, “Is there something else?”
“Yeah, it’s called an apology. I’m sorry I snapped at you earlier. I didn’t have the greatest of weekends.”
“Why? What happened?”
“Louise is planning a surprise birthday party for Patrick, and I’m invited.”
“Who’s Louise?” Robin said before taking a sip of coffee.
“Oh, I’m sorry. She’s Patrick’s wife.”
“And let me guess, after the last visit, you don’t want to go back anytime soon.”
“Something like that,” Judy said, plopping down on the edge of the bed. “I told her I didn’t think I could make it, and I thought that was the end of it, but then Doug called.”
“Laying on the guilt?”
“You know it,” Judy said, running her hand over the quilt on the bed. “And unlike Louise, he wouldn’t take no for an answer. He must have called a dozen times.”
“Crap.”
“Which is why I was less than happy when I walked in this morning, and I want to apologize. I took my aggravations out on you, and that wasn’t fair.”
“You already apologized,” Robin said, placing the cup on her desk.
“I didn’t hear you accept it.”
“What makes you think I wouldn’t?” Robin said, looking over at Judy. “I’ve had my fair share of bad days, so I know where you’re coming from. You just want to reach out and piss someone off so they can be as miserable as you.”
“That sounds really childish, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah, but we all do it.”
“It doesn’t make it right.”
“No, but at least you know you’re not alone, and that I understand. So, if you’re having a bad day, just tell me, and I’ll give you some space.”
“I had a whole weekend of space. It didn’t help,” Judy said, looking around the room.
Robin glanced at her laptop, the page on the screen being the same page she had stared at for the last hour. “Maybe it was because it was the wrong type of space,” she said, closing her laptop.
“What?”
“Let’s go for a run...or a ride. Your choice.”
“No,” Judy said as she stood up. “You’re supposed to be working. I just came up—”
“To apologize, which you did, but you had a shit weekend and what better way to work out some aggravation than exercise? Besides, it’s not like we’re punching a clock. I wrote yesterday, and I normally take Sundays off, which means I’m a day ahead of schedule. So, if you want to do something that doesn’t involve paint or wallpaper or...or paperwork, count me in.”
“Are you sure?”
“The sun is shining, Judy,” Robin said, pointing out the window. “Let’s not waste it.”
Judy paused and looked down at what she was wearing. “Well, if we’re going to attempt to run, I’ll need to go home and change.”
“I’ll go with you,” Robin said and jumping out of her chair, she dashed past Judy and bounded down the stairs. “Just give me a few minutes to do the same, and I’ll meet you up front.”
***
Of all the things Robin had adapted to since moving to Mackinac, the weather had been by far the largest learning curve. In Florida, in the dead of what most believed was winter, days requiring layers of clothing were few and far between, but that wasn’t the case in Michigan. It was only autumn, but layers were already necessary as were parkas, scarfs, and hats, most of which Robin hadn’t owned in years. It took several excursions to the mainland to expand her wardrobe with the Michigan necessities, but when Robin stepped onto the porch of Safe Harbor, she breathed in the chilly air with a smile on her face. It was just ten degrees above freezing, but wearing compression tights, a zip-collar turtleneck, a down vest, gloves, and a headband, Robin mentally scoffed at the temperature as she made her way to her bike.
Self-confidence is a belief in one’s own abilities. Achieved through repetitiveness and success, it boosts a person’s opinion of themselves to a new height every time a feat is accomplished. Just as her return to her manuscripts had shored up any doubts about her talent as a writer, the many bike trips around Mackinac had boosted Robin’s confidence as well. After all, she had leisurely pedaled her way around the island on the eight-mile stretch of M-185 more than once in the past several weeks, and towing an overloaded Burley behind her, she had made numerous trips to and from the ferry. Robin was in the best shape she’d been in for over a year, and it showed on her face.
“How far do we have to go?” Robin said as they walked their bikes to the street.
“Less than two miles,” Judy said, pointing up the road. “That way.”
“Piece of cake,” Robin said, motioning toward the street. “I’ll follow you.”
Judy paused, her eyes holding a glint of mischief as she looked at Robin. “Oh, um...did you bring any water?”
“Yeah, a couple of bottles. They’re in the basket along with some belt bags. Why?”
“Because you’re going to need it,” Judy said, and sniggering under her breath, she sped away.
“I’ll show you who’s going to need them,” Robin said under her breath, and a moment later, she was racing after Judy down Lakeshore Drive.
***
Robin lay on the frozen ground outside Judy’s apartment, staring up at the baby blue sky. Although she had believed her days of making a fool out of herself in front of Judy were over, Robin now knew differently.
Once they turned off Lakeshore onto Market, whatever lead Judy had given herself, Robin had taken back and then some. Smiling as she stood on the pedals, Robin had slipped her bike into a lower gear to make it up the short incline, and when they turned onto Cadotte Avenue, she did the same thing again. Robin managed the gradual rise with ease, but Judy had left out one detail, and it was that detail which soon caused the distance between them to lessen. While Judy’s apartment was only two miles from Safe Harbor, she forgot to mention to Robin the ride was not only all uphill, there was also a two hundred foot change in elevation.
A few days earlier, Robin had jumped to the wrong conclusion with Declan, thinking he was somehow basing his opinion of Judy on her age, yet Robin realized she had done the same thing by the time they passed the Grand Hotel. Unknowingly, she allowed their age difference to play a part in their impromptu race, giving her the advantage, while totally forgetting that with age, comes experience.
Accustomed to the climb, and riding a streamlined bike with sixteen more gears than Robin’s old Raleigh, Judy effortlessly made her way up the road while Robin struggled every inch of the way. With nary an ounce of strain on her face, Judy grinned at Robin as she passed her by the stables, and with every downward thrust of her pedals, Judy increased the distance between them. By the time they reached Judy’s place, Robin was drawing in one hissing breath after another. The muscles in her legs were screaming, and as she pedaled onto the lawn, she caught sight of Judy’s expression. The agony Robin was feeling was impossible to hide, and Judy had seen it.
Robin wanted to speak, say something flippant and witty to shrug off her near-death experience, but she had no more strength to speak and no more strength to stand. She climbed off her bike and fell to the ground as if shot by a sniper.
With the remnants of a less-than-pleasant weekend still on her mind, while Judy hadn’t intended to leave Robin in the dust, her ‘piece of cake’ comment had rubbed Judy the wrong way. She had spent two days being badgered by her family and two days struggling with feelings she couldn’t shake, and Robin’s assumption, albeit innocent, had pushed Judy’s button. Her life wasn’t a piece of cake, and neither was the ride to Harrisonville. Setting her jaw, while Judy couldn’t prove one to Robin, she sure as hell could prove the other, a decision she regretted when she came back outside and saw Robin still laying where Judy had left her ten minutes earlier.
“I am so sorry,” she said, sitting down on the ground next to Robin. “I should have told you about the hill.”
“That’s not a hill. It’s a mountain,” Robin said, rolling her head to the side to look at Judy. “And I can’t believe you bike that every day.”
“You get used to it.”
“Yeah, you made that fairly obvious,” Robin said, pushing herself into a sitting position. “I must have looked like such a fool trying to keep up with you.”
“The only foolish thing you’ve done is to stay out here while I got changed,” Judy said, rubbing her hands over her arms as she stood up. “You should have come inside. These clothes are meant for running, not for sitting out in the cold.”
“I needed to cool down,” Robin said as she stood up. “And speaking of running, shall we?”
Judy gave Robin the once-over. “Are you sure? I mean, if you’re too sore or—”
“The only thing bruised is my ego,” Robin said, and resting her hands on her hips, she began to bend from side to side. “Just give me a minute to stretch out the kinks, and we can go.”
“You read my mind,” Judy said, and moving a few steps away to give Robin some room to flex, she began her own stretching routine.
Absorbed in recovering from her failure as a speed cyclist, Robin had yet to pay any attention to what Judy was wearing, so when the woman stepped in front of her to limber up for their run, Robin had to choke back a gasp.
Compression leggings encased Judy’s lower half, the black shimmering sheath of fabric moving perfectly with every flex and stretch Judy made. Although opaque, through the skin-tight material Robin could see the clearly defined muscles in Judy’s calves and as her eyes lifted, so did Robin’s temperature. Eternally grateful for the moisture-wicking ability of her own compression tights, Robin shifted her stance and attempted to resume her half-hearted warm-up.
Robin knew right from wrong and what she was doing was wrong, but sometimes wrong was oh so right. Unable to stop herself, she continued her lecherous perusal.
The crisscross of the straps of Judy’s sports bra was the only thing interrupting an otherwise unblemished view of Judy’s back. The candy apple red turtleneck was as painted-on as her leggings, and Robin could see the outline of Judy’s backbone through the fabric. It was straight as an arrow, and that arrow led to a waist, deliciously feminine.
Robin’s eyes slowly slid south again, drawn to the gentle curve of Judy’s bottom, and it was at that moment when she noticed something she hadn’t noticed before. It shouldn’t have been a big deal because Robin did the same thing, but going commando and knowing Judy was commando were two entirely different things, at least it was to Robin’s body. A surge of awareness pulsed between her legs and unable to stop herself, Robin let out a lusty groan.
Judy stepped out of her lunges and turned around. “Is there something wrong?”
“What? Oh...um...no, nothing’s wrong,” Robin said, thankful the cold weather could easily explain her reddened cheeks. “I just finished, so I’m ready when you are.”
“Okay, let’s head out,” Judy said, and jogging to the road, she waited for Robin to catch up. “Hey, I meant to ask you. Since this is my first time out in forever, do you mind if we do a walk-run combination? Walk a mile and then run a mile?”
“No, that’s a great idea,” Robin said, coming to a stop next to Judy. She looked to the right and left, and then pointed at the hill they had just climbed. “As long as we don’t end up having to come back up that, I don’t care if we run, walk, hop, skip, or jump.”
***
Under a canopy of red, orange, and tan leaves, Judy introduced Robin to a part of Mackinac she had never seen, and it was a part as breathtakingly beautiful as it was profoundly peaceful.
Robin had always stuck to the road surrounding the island when she had gone on her runs, so as Judy led her down winding paths running through the forest, Robin was in awe. There wasn’t a soul on the trail except them, and each tiny sound emanating from the woods got Robin’s attention. A rustle of leaves and then a red squirrel would appear, darting here and there in search of winter’s food. A branch would suddenly move, and her eyes would be drawn to a blue jay taking flight, and then just as quickly the staccato rhythm of a woodpecker would find its way to her ears, the ticking tap never-ending as he bored his way into a tree.
A mosaic of leaves covered the forest floor, its palette holding every shade of red and brown imaginable, and poking through the jumble were shrubs of emerald and spindly saplings bowing under the weight of their own existence. The air smelled of earth and decomposing foliage and the slightest of breezes brought with it the scent of pine and musty moss.
For two hours, they jogged, walked, jogged, and walked again, yet they hardly uttered a word. Captivated by their surroundings, they traveled in near silence, breathing in the serenity Mother Nature had provided until Robin saw what they were approaching. Arching an eyebrow, she turned to Judy. “Did you plan this?”
Engrossed in observing a squirrel munching on a pinecone, it took Judy a few seconds before she could tear her eyes away and when she did, she giggled. “Believe it or not, I didn’t,” she said, stopping to tie her shoe while Robin continued across the road.
“Sure, sure, sure,” Robin mumbled as she sat down on the concrete and stone wall bordering the cemetery. “And I’ll have you know, I’m no longer afraid of ghosts.” With that, Robin yanked the bottle of water from her belt and took a sip.
As if on cue, a broken branch balanced precariously on another, lost its battle with gravity. It slipped from its perch and plummeted to the ground, taking with it loose leaves, small twigs...and Robin’s poise.
Upon hearing the commotion behind her, as if shot from an invisible cannon, Robin flew off the wall, the water bottle in her hand going airborne as she sprinted toward the road like a deer jumping over high grass. It wasn’t until Robin heard the sound of cackling that she skidded to a stop. She turned around and saw Judy standing in the middle of the road, laughing like there was no tomorrow.
Judy was doing her best to get herself under control, but the more she tried, the worse it got. Kneeling, she covered her mouth and swayed back and forth as she struggled to breathe.
Robin went over to Judy, her presence casting a shadow over the woman who appeared to be praying to Allah. “Are you done?” Robin said, crossing her arms.
Judy held up one finger in response, her heaving shoulders a testament to her current situation.
“It was not that funny,” Robin said, failing to hide her amusement. Watching as Judy bobbed her head in reply, Robin stood over her for almost a minute before she finally held out her hand. “Come on, woman. Get up.”
“I’m not sure I can,” Judy squeaked, sniffling back some tears. “Oh, my God, I think I’m going to die.”
“Well, then we’re in the right place.” Robin took Judy’s hand and pulled her to her feet. “Let’s go find you a nice shady spot. Shall we?”
Robin led Judy to the short border wall surrounding the cemetery, and while the woman composed herself, Robin went in search of her water bottle. Returning a minute later, Robin gestured down the road. “You want to keep walking?”
“Yes, please.”
As they strolled past the cemetery, Robin took in the view. Sunlight streamed down through the branches of st
ately oaks, maples, and birch, illuminating headstones and monuments of every shape and size. “That’s beautiful,” she said quietly, pointing toward the graveyard.
“Yeah, they all are.”
“All?”
Judy nodded. “There are three on the island. Two civilian and one military.”
“Really?”
“Yep,” Judy said as they passed the two small iron gates at the entrance. “This one is officially called The Mackinac Island Cemetery, but most of the locals refer to it as the Protestant cemetery.”
“Some of the headstones look new, but others look really old.”
“You’re right, and if I remember correctly, the oldest one in there is from 1831.”
“Wow.”
“Oh, you haven’t seen anything yet,” Judy said, pointing up ahead. “That’s the Post. It’s the only military one on the island, and it always gives me chills.”
“Why?”
“Come on,” Judy said, motioning for Robin to follow. “I’ll show you.”
A minute later, they stood on a rise overlooking a small plot of land. Eight rows of headstones stood at attention within the boundaries of a white picket fence and toward the front was an old cannon standing on wheels with blue-gray rims.
In silence, Robin followed Judy down the path until they stopped in front of a sturdy wood turnstile situated under a simple timber archway announcing U. S. Post Cemetery Fort Mackinac.
“It’s a lot smaller than I thought it would be,” Robin whispered.
“That’s probably because they closed it in 1895 after the Army abandoned Fort Mackinac.” Judy turned to look up at Robin. “Legend has it that British and American soldiers who died in the War of 1812 are buried here, but others believe it holds only the remains of the soldiers who had been stationed at Fort Mackinac.”
“Can’t they tell that by the headstones?”
“Unfortunately, a lot of the graves were originally only marked by wooden crosses, and they disintegrated over time. From what I’ve read, they know there’s just over a hundred graves here, but the identities of over half of them are still unknown.”