Back to Madeline Island

by Jay Gilbertson

  I try to smoke only half a cigarette now and only three a day. We’ll see how this goes, but I seem to have more energy, too. Ruby’s doing the same, but I think she cheats. Rocky’s curled up in my lap, I’ve got on my cozy parka, and for the first time since November, I’m getting too warm for it.

  The screen door bangs. Ruby buzzes around the corner and sits down in the deck chair next to me. She plops rhinestone sunglasses on; a lavender turtleneck peeks out the collar of her puffy white coat. Grinning, I notice her sleek leather gloves; yes, they’re lavender, too. Surprised?

  “Give me that vile thing,” she orders and takes a deep puff. “You and Rocky hogging all this sunshine?”

  “Just thinking.”

  “I like the name you’ve come up with for the home—Toad Hollow. Perfect and not what one would expect either. Like—Eve’s Home for Pregnant Unwed Teenage Mothers or Helen’s House of Sanctuary or…what did Lilly suggest? Oh yes, Eve’s Ark. Good heavens.”

  “With the money the crew pooled together and the generous loan from my dad, we just barely qualified to buy that house in Bayfield. Damn—the mortgage is a killer—but you know what?”

  “Yes, darling, I do.” Ruby blows a perfect ring then reaches up and swirls it away. “We’re going to find a way to pay it—all of it.”

  “This spring, we’ll kick off the Bayfield Ducky Derby, thanks to you and that helpful lady in Aspen. Howard said they’ve been doing it there for a while and can give us some pointers. Thank you, Internet! Then we’ll jump into the Lake Superior Lighthouse Scavenger Hunt after that; well, I’ve not gotten that far yet…but…”

  “We’ll come up with something, darling—perhaps Rocky—you know—we could offer a pet-paw-painting auction as well. Maybe at the Apple Festival in October.”

  “That’s a great idea!”

  “True, so true. Now, about our present situation, we need to gather the troops and get over to Lilly’s—poor dear.”

  “Since we’re not sewing today, the boys headed over to Al’s Place for breakfast and are planning on asking Bonnie, Marsha and Alice Anne to help when they can. I’m going to call Charlie and…who else do you think?”

  “Let’s see, the crew makes six, plus the gals at the restaurant and Charlie; actually, I think that’s a perfect lot. Sam’s bringing over an enormous truck from JJ’s garage, and oh, I know, we need to ring the local churches, see if there’s donation places or such.”

  “Let’s really make sure,” I say, “that Lilly wants to move all this stuff along. I mean, I don’t want to gang up on her or make her uncomfortable—at all. This has been hard enough on her, telling us and all. God—it forever amazes me how what people present to the world oftentimes is just a speck of what’s truly them.”

  “Don’t you think, darling, most all of us have certain things we keep to ourselves? This—what—torment, that’s giving Lilly such a dreadful time, well, she’s reaching out and that—that’s everything.”

  “I do—I do, and her thing is filling up her house. Makes you wonder what she’s missing. I sure think the world of her…and that hairdo of hers…”

  “Perhaps we could revive the hive?”

  I shoot her a look and she smiles. We think our thoughts as the sound of the lake waves takes us away.

  “I still can’t believe Helen’s mother has agreed to meet me and she’s even fine with having the wedding here—funny how things change.”

  “And thank God they do,” she adds, taking a final puff and snubbing it out. “Shall we join the boys at Al’s after we ring Charlie?”

  “Great idea.” I lift Rocky up onto my shoulder and we head toward the cottage.

  “Was wondering when I’d hear from you again.” Charlie’s deep voice is so, well, deep.

  “Heard you were back from visiting your grandkids,” I comment into the yellow kitchen phone. “Did you have a good time with them?”

  “You know, I love my family like crazy, but”—he chuckles—“I let them know that this would be the last winter I’d spend away from home. I missed my peace and quiet up here, not to mention my friends. At least it’s quiet before we get attacked by all the tourists and summer people come June.”

  “This will be my first experience and from what I’ve heard…”

  “You’ll be a happy woman you two have that duck—the ferry gets so crammed with folks—everywhere there’s lines for this and lines for that—but…they bring something everyone here needs—”

  “Money,” we say at the same time.

  “You have any special plans today?” I ask and picture him over there among all those birdhouses, his fedora hat just so.

  “Not especially—what you got in mind, young lady?”

  Ruby is directing me as I back the duck out for its first spring run. Since Sam worked on the motor over the winter, this baby purrs. Ruby hits the big green button to close the huge barn door and then clambers up the ladder, thumping down beside me.

  “So lovely to be back on board,” she comments, checking her perfect lipsticked lips in the lighted visor mirror Sam added. “I’ve missed the duck terribly, haven’t you?”

  “No kidding. “I push in a CD and soon Queen Latifah belts out “Mercy Mercy Mercy” over the duck’s speakers, which really is quickly getting us in the mood. I head the duck down the long driveway.

  When we come to the gate, I slow in order to let a sleek black car jet by. I look over toward Ruby and she shrugs. Some people are in such a hurry. I turn left, hit the gas and off we go!

  Even though it’s sunny as hell out, I still have the heater on high due to the morning chill, but the combination is wonderful. Ruby has on the scarf I gave her for Christmas; it flutters backward in the breeze and makes me smile. We both decided to dress more “work-oriented,” which means Ruby looks like she’s about to board a Learjet.

  She’s decked out in a deep red outfit, a matching headband and jingly bracelets. My feet are cozy in my trusty green Keds, and I’m happy to say it’s back to wearing these faded-perfectly, pinstriped bib overalls topped with a soft pink sweater. Truly a spring fashion first. Someone on this island has to set the standards and we never leave the cottage without lipstick. My hair is still a little damp, so it’s being held up with several red wooden cocktail stirrers we found down in the secret speakeasy. Coming to Charlie’s driveway, I make a right and head down the curvy lane.

  Ruby turns the Queen down a notch and says, “I’ll never get over Charlie’s collection. Slow down a bit, darling, would you?”

  “Look at that one.” I point to a white, triple-decker bird-house; its three gables topped with miniature flags are flapping in the breeze. “All these mini-mansions waiting for spring residents.” How could you choose?

  The duck dips down a slope and I follow the curve in the drive up and around, parking in front of his pink trailer. Its silvery chrome decorations flash the sun back; I push my enormous sunglasses up this oily nose of mine for a closer look. Charlie’s handsome face peeks out the round porthole window in the front door and he waves.

  Seconds later he’s heading toward the idling duck, his signature fedora hat sitting rakishly over one eye, his long, long gray braided ponytail swaying across his broad back as he comes over—and of course, there’s a coffee-stained mug forever attached to one of his hands. I’ve never seen him without one.

  “Morning, ladies.” Charlie pushes up his hat, revealing those twinkling gray-blue eyes. “Permission to come aboard?”

  “Granted,” Ruby and I say together and giggle.

  He scales up the ladder and clumps down the aisle. We give him a friendly hug; he pecks us on the cheek and then thumps into the seat behind me.

  “So glad to have you back, darling,” Ruby gushes. “We’re not exactly sure just what awaits us at Lilly’s, but I think it could be serious.”

  “Only too glad to help. It will be great to catch up on the goings-on out here; sure did miss it.”

  I back up a bit and then head the duck down
his drive, while Ruby fills Charlie in on her version of the winter’s adventures. I turn up the Queen a touch and head to LaPointe.

  Sure hope that Lilly’s place isn’t too full. The only specific information I could find about this particular “obsession” is that usually it seems to err more on the side of garbage and I certainly can’t imagine her being anything but clean as hell. Never, ever has she come to the boathouse, or the cottage, for that matter, in anything but her standard trench coat, cozy housedress or slacks and attractive, but subtle, top. Trailing a hint of good old White Shoulders perfume, mixed with Aqua Net, of course.

  “Look who’s back!” Bonnie sidles over from behind the bar and gives us all warm hugs. “Since it’s obviously not too busy,” Bonnie gestures to the only table that’s occupied—the boys—they wave. “Marsha and I are closing for the day and we’ll just come with you all. Alice Anne mentioned she’d try and join us later.”

  Bonnie pulls the front door of her restaurant closed and we all pile into the duck. Howard and Johnny had Bloody Marys with their breakfast, so there’s a lot of giggling from those two. I check out the gang in my rearview mirror; turning to Ruby, she gives me the thumbs-up, so off to the ferry landing we head.

  “Hold your hats, folks, we’re heading in!” I put the pedal to the metal and we splash into Lake Superior. Switching to the outboard, we zoom across the glistening water. Overhead, the sound of screeching seagulls cheers us on. Spring has sprung.

  The ferry is chugging by us on our left. Their wake is about to smack into us, so I turn into it—I’ve learned a few tricks by now.

  I click on the microphone. “It’s a beautiful day in Wisconsin,” I zing out and my entire crew claps and cheers! Of course, Ruby can’t be outdone, so she does her finger-whistle thing that Sam taught her; it about blows my eardrums out. After the wake simmers down, I shove in the Queen Latifah CD and turn us back toward Bayfield.

  “I’ve never been by Lilly’s place,” I mention to the group. “Since Sam’s already there, can someone give me directions?”

  “She lives in a beautiful, historic home on South Sixth,” Bonnie offers. “I used to shop at her store in downtown—don’t forget that I grew up over here. Go down Manypenny and then it’s a right on Sixth. It’s the Frank Stark House and it’s a beauty.”

  Driving down Manypenny, I honk and wave at the owner of the local bookstore What Goes ’Round, and then hang a right on Sixth Street. Pulling up in front of the two-story house, I put the duck in park and we all fall silent.

  “That there”—Howard clears his lecture throat and continues—“is a Classical Revival. Note the lacy trim around the gables and check out all the detail in the verandah’s side rails. I can’t wait to check out the inside details.”

  “Let’s go,” I suggest and we all file down the ladder. “Sam must have parked out back in the alley.”

  The seven of us tentatively approach the front door. “These lovely windows are all festooned with lace,” Ruby half whispers. “You can’t see a thing in there.”

  “Maybe that’s the idea,” Marsha adds.

  “By the looks of this immaculate porch,” Johnny says, pointing to the brilliant white chairs and matching tables on either side of the front door, “I don’t think it’s going to be as bad as we thought.”

  I reach over to ring the doorbell, but before I make contact with the round button, the door swings open.

  “Hey, look who all’s here,” Sam beams.

  Her girth fills the tall doorway. Dressed in jeans with an oversized teal top and matching headband, she looks ready for something. I spy a maple-colored staircase off to the right, curving into the ceiling, then Sam steps aside and we all gasp. Everywhere you look, there are boxes, bags and more of both and who knows what else, soaring well above my head; that’s a good five feet, seeing as Lilly is taller than I. ’Course, who isn’t?

  We step into the tight round circle that’s all that seems to be left of the foyer and Sam quickly closes and then locks the massive door behind us.

  “She don’t want nobody else coming in here.” Sam points toward a hallway that leads back. “Lilly’s doing her best, she’s so—well—humiliated, poor thing. Why I never seen this—I’m talking psychically here—but I’ve learned that only them that’s reachin’ out can let me in and Lilly is finally doing just that.”

  We can hear dishes clatter in what must be the kitchen. It’s a marvel in a way—not a thing is actually touching any of the walls. The place smells of old wood and history, and God, this house is so massive. Off to the left of us is what must be the parlor, only a path remains. Looking up, you can see an intricate Art Deco ceiling lamp; the crown moldings around all the ceilings are spectacular.

  Looking down, the molasses-colored wood floors are actually shiny. Lilly must just clean what’s visible, and since the rest is covered up, well, that sure saves on time. In single file, we follow Sam down the crowded hallway. We pass many wooden doors, and right before the kitchen, we pass the formal dining room; its double doors are open and you can just barely make out a long table and chairs. The gigantic crystal chandelier has boxes so tight to it, the prisms can no longer hang free.

  We enter a spotless and really cheery kitchen. The harlequin floor is glossy-clean; acres of black-and-white-tiled countertops are bare of anything save a chrome toaster all shined up and standing ready. There’s a farmer’s table in the center with a fresh gingham oilcloth and all the fixings of coffee and cookies and several lovely glass trays holding gooey bars. Lilly rinses something over in the sink and then turns toward us, wiping her hands on her frilly apron. Before she can utter a thing, she starts to weep.

  Each of us takes a step closer; I go over and put my arm around her quivering shoulder. “Well, at least we can get into the fridge!” Everyone chuckles and the tension in the room flies out the back door.

  “This is a lovely home,” Ruby offers and then adds, “I mean, from what I can see—oh dear, I mean, if I saw—could—oh Lilly, darling, you really must lighten up a bit, don’t you think?”

  “Is anything back there of value to you?” Howard asks gently. “Or should it all—”

  “Go!” Lilly straightens a bit; she plucks her bifocals off her nose and plunks them high into her hair. “I can’t explain it. I filled these rooms because I…I couldn’t seem to fill me, I suppose. But something’s happened to me. Oh, it took time, but all of a sudden I kind of came to and realized that—”

  “That you’ve got more shit than Ruby!” I say and Lilly bursts out laughing and then we all do—thank God, it’s a start.

  It took us the better part of a week to rediscover Lilly’s home—and what a showplace it is. Ruby spent one entire morning calling every church and thrift store from Bayfield, Ashland, and Washburn, to Red Cliff and even on over to Cornucopia. They in turn came over in minivans and station wagons, hauling away box after box after box.

  Many of the upstairs rooms, Lilly claimed, she hadn’t been able to get into for years. She’d plumb forgotten an extra bathroom; it’d been that long since it was seen, and the basement, well, that was an entirely different story altogether since it was mostly where she stored/jammed/shoved all her inventory from her notions shop.

  Even though Lilly had been surprisingly organized in her “storing” technique, an avalanche of hundreds of bolts of material still managed to attack Ruby. Seems she was trying to pull one from the very bottom and, well, she got it out, but as she turned to walk away, they came slipping and sliding down all around her.

  She was completely buried underneath all these dusty fabric bolts and no one had any idea where the hell she’d snuck off to. I figured she was out back having a cigarette. Johnny and I both about peed our pants when we figured out why this huge pile of fabric was cursing us to death. I bet the F-word is still bouncing around down there—with a British flair—of course. After uncovering her, she walked away, hair all askew, with the fabric tucked under her arm and her pride restored.

&nb
sp; One of the best finds was several enormous boxes of rubber ducks left over from Lilly’s shop. We’re going to use them in the Ducky Derby, raffle them off and then float them down our creek for donations toward Toad Hollow. I think we’re going to need a lot more though.

  “What do you say to this, darling?” Ruby asks, showing me a big head of broccoli. “I could steam it up a bit and then ladle on my secret lemon-butter sauce.”

  “Stop threatening me and toss it over,” I order. Ruby lobs it into my hands and I plunk it into our cart. “What else do we need—oh yeah—I’m getting desperately low on my Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.”

  “Let’s buzz through the snack lane—shall we?”

  “Sure. Hey—remember who we literally ran into our first time down fat-grams lane?”

  “How ever could I forget?” Ruby says as we marvel at all the snacks wanting to leap into our cart. “I do keep a stock at the boathouse for her, and nothing coats chicken breasts better than these.” She holds up a bag of BBQ potato chips, tosses one in and then shrugs and throws in another.

  We love Andy’s IGA and Lilly loves her chips. After filling our cart to brimming, we head over to the checkout lady and start unloading it.

  “Good afternoon, ladies,” the jet black-haired woman offers. “Stocking up for—oh, I know you two, you’re the ones with the apron business—huh. I just love the ones I bought from you all at the Apple Festival last year. Ended up giving them all away, aren’t these salad greens nice.” Over the country western music, she grabs her handy microphone and asks in high volume, “Price check on light-days tampons!”

  “Good thing,” Ruby proclaims louder than Jet Black, “my Depends were marked properly!” I look in our cart for them and then realize she’s joking.

  “Thank you, have a nice day, ladies,” Jet Black says after packing up our goods. “Maybe we’ll see you for our singles night?” She sends us off with a toothy grin.

  “My heavens.” Ruby leads the way to the duck. “You’d think people never heard of tampons, let alone Depends. Thank goodness I don’t need them myself.”