Back to Madeline Island

by Jay Gilbertson

  “Speaking of courses, what’s this?” I ask, pointing to a beautiful crystal dish.

  “Delicious Beluga caviar. We just got a tin of it from one of Howard’s friends.”

  “Oh man.” I lean against the counter. “Just when I thought I was all through with eggs.”

  Ruby picks up the dish and puts it carefully into their sleek fridge. “Perhaps we’ll skip that course.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Finally, the day has thundered down to—voilà—the wedding! As you can imagine, we’ve been running around like chickens with their heads whacked off; whoever came up with that one, it certainly paints a pretty picture. But speaking of pretty, the day looks absolutely beautiful.

  Stretching, I slowly am coming to; soft sunlight is just beginning to peek into my bedroom window, the birds outside have begun to sing their morning compositions, and boy, are they loud! Rocky’s still snoring among several of my pillows; he was out late chasing the moon. I give him a pat, then change my mind and scoop him into my robe-clad arms. Stepping into chilly slippers, together we seek out some java.

  At the top of the stairs, I glance down, taking stock of the living room. The growing collection of round mirrors along the wall above the stairs are reflecting the morning sun; some are picking up the rippling waves from the lake, so the walls have become a silent disco room. It’s dizzying and magical and reminds me of fireflies I used to be so mesmerized by as a child when summer had finally come to Wisconsin.

  I set Rocky down on a stool in the kitchen, load up the coffeepot, slide it onto a burner and wait for its noisy percolating to begin. Opening up the shutters over the sink, I take up one of the rocks sitting on the sill. Many of the sills around the cottage have rocks tucked in their corners from various places up here. I can easily remember each find’s history. Holding one in my hand, like now, calms me. I can see the rush of the river I used to walk alongside in Eau Claire, smiling; I can glimpse the life I had back there.

  But I’m here now and this is going to be one humdinger of a day! The pot starts to percolate. Turning it down a bit, I fire up a cancer-stick and blow a perfect circle, which swirls up and then slowly drifts away. Rocky purrs against my ankle, I give him a nice rub behind his ears, and then we stroll down the hallway and into my cottage salon. Helen’s dress hangs ready. I take it down and then hold it against myself, studying my reflection in the round mirror attached to the waterfall dresser.

  “What do you think?” I turn this way and that for Rocky. He sits down and then starts licking clean his rear—is that a sign or something?

  “I think you look lovely, darling,” Ruby says in the doorway. Dressed in a cobalt blue kimono, her sleepy eyes regard me with kindness. “It’s a perfect day for a wedding, don’t you think? Come along and let’s take coffee down to the dock, shall we?”

  I rehang the gown up and follow her back into the kitchen. “We’ve such a busy day ahead.” I take the pot off the stove and pour us mugs. Ruby takes one from me and then reaches up and grabs my cigarette, takes a drag and then snubs it out.

  “Vile things, really.”

  We sleepily stroll through the living room, with Rocky trotting close behind. The screen door smacks closed. As we meander down the path leading to the lake, I take in the neat rows of folding chairs facing the dock. Lilly’s tent creation is very romantic with its sweeping arches and gathered canvas at the corners, making the food area look more like a movie setting for—a garden wedding! Imagine that.

  At the end of the dock, we thump down and hang our legs over the side. We’re not about to dip toes in, as it’s just too darn chilly yet.

  “Thank heavens,” Ruby says, “Helen only wanted a small gathering—we certainly couldn’t handle hundreds here. My wedding was enormous, and looking back, I so would have preferred something more on the order of this, but Ed’s mother insisted on big and it was her way or nothing—period.”

  “Apparently her mom’s not given her too much grief over wanting it here. But she’s made it crystal clear she doesn’t completely approve. She had dreams of her daughter walking down the aisle of the family church in Edina, just like her other daughter. Talk about heaving on the guilt, but at least she’s coming. God, I’m getting so nervous thinking about meeting her.”

  “Helen is a grown woman, darling, and so is her mother—and so are we—for that matter, and don’t you think enough time has passed that we couldn’t all simply jolly well get along?”

  “I sure as hell hope so—is it too early for a drink?”

  The cottage has never been so busy—like a bee’s nest—it’s humming with activity. Howard’s been keeping a keen eye on the weather, via the Internet and his high-tech weather-measuring equipment, and so far the sky is clear. There is a storm brewing, but it’s far, far away. We’re keeping our fingers crossed.

  “I have never been so pampered,” Helen comments to her reflection. “I love the way my hair turned out. I wasn’t sure if I’d like it curly, but I really love it.”

  Standing behind her, I pin one more curl up. “Okay, close your eyes and no one breathe!” I hit the button on the hairspray and give her up-do a good shellacking. “Now let me put a touch more cheek color on that perfect skin of yours and I’d say you’re ready. I can’t believe your mom didn’t want to come be with us all—I haven’t had a second to so much as say hi to her. I am sooo happy she’s here, though.” Now if these butterflies in my stomach would just leave me alone; what if she hates me?

  Sam clucks her tongue from the chair next to us. “She’s too busy directing Bonnie and Marsha. That woman’s got more diamonds on than seems possible; you see her necklace?” Sam asks. She’s a “voluptuous diva” in a moss green shift; silver drop earrings lie against her mocha skin. She pats on deep red lip color, occasionally tossing her long mane.

  Helen sighs. “What can I say? My mother has always over-dressed. She even gardens in full makeup and I’ve never seen her sweat.”

  Should I tell her Ruby and I do housework in full makeup and aprons? Nah.

  “Speaking of gardening,” Lilly lisps and I get panicky, “I could have sworn all those tulips bordering the boathouse were white. I mean there’s hundreds of them, and now—they’re lavender.” Her freshly backcombed silvery hair is swirled regally high, setting off her pewter gown; bifocaled eyes suspiciously regard me. “Now I realize I may be getting on in my days, but I know my tulips and I honestly thought…”

  Sam shoots me a knowing look. I slide a tall can of hairspray in front of the guilty spray paint can. I know Helen’s favorite color is lavender, so why the hell not mess with nature—a bit. If it rains, well, then Lilly will have her white tulips.

  Ruby zooms into the room. “Eve Moss, you and I need to get into our frocks—pronto! The ferry we paid a fortune for has just dropped off the first load of guests at the end of the dock and someone has already fallen overboard.” Saved! My tulip secret is safe—for now.

  “Ain’t a party,” Sam says, tucking her bra strap underneath, “’til somebody falls in the lake.”

  “Helen—you look simply divine, like a—beautiful princess bride.” Ruby comes over and stands next to me, Sam and Lilly join us, and we all gaze into Helen’s eyes reflecting back at us.

  A tear slides down Helen’s cheek and then Rocky leaps onto the dresser and we all burst into laughter.

  “There, perfect.” I blot my lips onto a hunk of toilet paper and give my curls a final pat.

  Heading back into my bedroom, I take one final inspection of myself in the long mirrors attached to my wardrobe. Due to the grassy yard, none of us is in heels, so my dress is truly floor length. It’s a pale yellow color, off the shoulders and showing off my girls just a tiny bit—why not? The gathered waist helps—as long as I don’t breathe, I’m looking good! I turn and regard my ample rear, then sigh.

  Ruby saunters in, does several turns, then poses against my bathroom doorframe, tossing back her chestnut bob with major attitude. She’s in a stylish,
aquamarine half-sleeve jacket and skirt number—size one. We both have Raven Redz nail color on, but her lip color is more ruby (naturally) than my pink frost gloss. Ruby comes over and we regard ourselves in my mirror.

  “Pity,” Ruby says, putting her arm around my waist. “No matter what we do, we’re still prettier than the bride.”

  “No way. Helen is a showstopper. Listen—the music has started up.”

  “I simply love the flute and…oh heavens…how divine, a harp.”

  “Friends of theirs from the university. I’ve got an idea—c’mon.” I dash up the stairway leading to the tower room with Ruby right behind me.

  “What a lovely sight,” Ruby says. “Right out of a movie, don’t you think?”

  Below us, the party is assembling. Guests mill about, talking and laughing, admiring our magical wedding creation. The dock is festooned with white velvet roping, looping from pole to pole and then swirling up an archway at the very end. Off to one side of the boathouse is Lilly’s tent. Several groupings of well-dressed people sip from long-stemmed goblets glinting in the afternoon sun. Folding chairs on either side of the path, facing the lake, are slowly filling. A small boy wearing knickers is chasing a tiny girl dressed in white.

  “Look at Ryan,” I say, pointing. “And those must be his parents next to him. Hey—there’s Charlie. My, my, talk about movie star, with that hat, and even from here I can see he’s in pinstripes. He sees us!” We wave and he tips his hat then nudges Sam, who gives us a wave, too.

  “It’s time,” I say. “God—this is one of those moments I’d like to pause—you know? Isn’t it the most beautiful sight?”

  “They deserve—everything,” Ruby pulls me toward the stairs. “Especially us. Now let’s get going, we have a bride to deliver!”

  We check ourselves once more in my bedroom and then head down, into the living room and out the front, through the porch. Just as I’m reaching for the screened door, Helen’s mother appears out of nowhere and comes toward us.

  “There you are.”

  She’s a poised, elegant woman, stick-straight posture adding to her already commanding height, yet there’s something vulnerable in her eyes. Dressed in a glove-tight gown perfectly matching the color of Helen’s wedding dress, she has pulled her hair severely tight into a chignon; diamonds glow from neck, ears, and off her many bracelets. She introduces herself—her name is Saundra—and we all “hello,” but I can tell there’s more.

  “Could I have a word with you—alone?” Saundra turns her cool blue eyes toward Ruby, who bows slightly then slips away and out the door; its ominous smacking sound makes me jump.

  “Come have a seat over here.” I gather myself together, leading us over to a wicker set of chairs. “It’s funny, but Helen looks a lot like you.”

  “Thank you…yes.” Saundra smoothes back her perfect hair. “I’ve often heard that, especially when she was younger. Look—you have no idea how difficult this is for me.” She sighs and I can see her poise is taking a lot of energy.

  “Saundra…I,” I stammer and could kick myself. “I never expected—anything—you know? I just—”

  “My husband was a very controlling man…very. He wanted a family—badly—and when I learned I couldn’t bear children, well, you know the rest. I did the best I could, but I never felt—connected.” She starts to snivel, then quickly catches herself. “She’s done nothing but talk nonstop about you and Ruby and this place, and I see a change in her.” Saundra clasps and unclasps her hands.

  “Look—I never meant to—”

  Saundra’s thin hand silences me. “Hear me out, please?” I nod and she continues. “I raised my children to be independent, to be confident…strong. But I couldn’t let myself get too close. I guess I was afraid they’d never think of me as their real mother.” She sinks in her chair and I can feel her confusion.

  “What a load of shit—sorry—but it is!” I’m on a roll here. “You raised a wonderful daughter. She’s smart and funny and has great hair.” She actually grins. I’ve got a grin, too, but I need more; she needs more, I can tell. “Look—I was a little girl when I handed her over and all I prayed for—begged—was to have someone raise her with love. I couldn’t be more grateful for the woman she’s become. Your daughter is who she is because you were there—you, Saundra—not me. You did the best you could; hell, that’s all any of us can do.”

  “I—I don’t know what I was expecting, but—thank you.” She straightens, then stands and offers me a hand.

  “Oh, for pity’s sake.” I give her a nice hug. Ever hug a tree? “Let’s go and get her married.”

  “Let’s.”

  Ruby and I climb up into the duck, which has been wrapped and swirled with white roping and bunches of flowers that are looped just so—to match the dock. We both turn and reach down to help Helen up.

  “There we are,” Ruby puffs out. “Now be sure and duck down a bit extra, darling, so you don’t catch that hair of yours on the awning here.”

  The three of us head to the front of the duck. I start up the motor; Ruby and Helen sit next to me. I back us out of the barn and then we sneak down the driveway.

  “This was such a great idea,” Helen gushes. “Are you sure those people next door won’t mind us driving down their yard into the lake?”

  “I sure hope not,” I offer. “We’ll find out in a second here.”

  I head us down the incline and off, across the bridge and up to the gate, turning right; I enter the very next driveway. Since we’re on a slender finger of land, you can barely make out the outline of a cottage as I turn in.

  “Okay—hang on to your hats, ladies—hair, I mean.”

  Off to our left sits a tidy little cottage; several people are milling around on a deck built on top of the garage. We wave. As I round a curve, a naked man in an outside shower stares in disbelief—I honk. Ruby tries to cover Helen’s eyes. We wave him off, then splash into Lake Superior. I switch the motors and turn us back toward the cottage. Rounding the bend, Charlie, standing on the end of the dock, signals to the musicians.

  “You sure you want to do this?” I ask one last time for the hell of it. “I mean, I could hit the gas and we’d be in Canada before dark.”

  “I’m sure—I’m very sure,” Helen gives us each a peck on the cheek and then heads to the back and waits on the platform.

  As we turn the corner and come into view, everyone stands up and starts to clap and cheer. I look over to Ruby; she reaches out and squeezes my hand. I gently pull up to the end of the dock, where a handsome Ryan reaches out for his bride; a tear slides down his cheek.

  The service is short and sweet, not a dry eye in the audience. It ends with Ryan kissing Helen under the archway; they’re framed perfectly by the blue, blue sky, and right on cue, an enormous flock of seagulls pass over. The bride and groom turn and face us—more cheering and clapping and then the party begins.

  “Look at the two of you,” I say. “I haven’t decided who’s more beautiful.” Howard blushes and bends his head as he enters the tent area with Johnny beside him.

  “I suppose,” Ruby adds, “you’re both about to beg us to dance with you.”

  “Let ’em beg,” I chide. “What a wedding—huh? I mean, the entrance was really the pinnacle, but I think the kissing part was pretty amazing.”

  “It’s all set,” Johnny whispers into Ruby’s and my ears. “Howard says the storm is about to hit—can you get over the timing, like it was ordered or something. It’s very—”

  All of a sudden thunder rumbles across the sky. Back over the cottage, a line of gray clouds, like a thick quilt, is swiftly covering over the sunny sky.

  Howard nods at me, then climbs on top of a chair. “We have a little surprise planned for you all.” His deep baritone quiets the group. Everyone turns to listen. “Please take all your belongings and follow Charlie, the man standing over there.” He points as Charlie tips his hat and grins.

  Charlie leads the group through a small door direc
tly underneath the stair leading up to the sewing operation, and heads in. Normally concealed from view, it leads directly into the hidden room behind the boathouse area, down the metal staircase and then through the hidden barrel door to the speakeasy!

  The thunder rumbles again and then lightning snaps and crackles. Just as Ruby and I step through the door, the sky lets loose and rain pours down. I pull the door closed and we follow the end of the procession back.

  As we cross the threshold, it’s as though we’re stepping back in time. The boys—Charlie, too—have cleaned and polished the bar and now it gleams. Ceiling fans slowly turn, and with the frog lamps back on each small table, it looks exactly like the photo we found. In the center of the room, the lily-pad-shaped dance floor is now a shimmering green. The supporting columns have potted palms standing next to them; their branches bounce and bob in the fans’ gentle breeze.

  Howard and Johnny, now dressed in their white shirts and black armbands, are behind the bar pouring drinks for the noisy, happy crowd. Up on stage, Lilly, Bonnie and Marsha have tied on frilly matching aprons and are chatting with Charlie as several other men take up instruments and prepare for the show. The band is situated on a small half-round riser directly behind the lip of the stage where two old-fashioned microphones stand at the ready.

  Lilly demanded we take down the original black velvet curtains that hung on either side of the stage and replace them with new ruby red ones. Now I’m glad we did; it’s too exciting! Helen motions us to come over to their table, which is right up front by the stage area. We wave and head over.

  “I can’t get over all this.” Helen’s eyes are glistening. “What more can you have planned—and this place.” She sweeps her arm around the room.

  Ryan has his arm around her; he just grins. I glance over toward the table one over. Saundra catches my eye, and then smiles brilliantly.

  “Just a few more surprises,” I practically have to yell over the crowd.