by Davis, SJ
“We’ve been best friends forever, Jake, but it doesn’t mean we tell each other everything.”
Jake rolled his eyes. “Come on, Lena, all women talk to each other. It’s a Venus thing.”
She held on to the overhead grip as he careened out of the transfer station and back through town. “Venus thing? What the hell’s a Venus thing?”
“Didn’t you ever read the book Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus?”
She shook her head, bewildered.
“The gist of it is that we men are strong, silent individuals, while you women are gossiping fools who band together to make our lives miserable.”
Lena laughed. “I don’t like gossip and I don’t run in a pack. If that’s the truth, then I’m not like most women!”
Jake thought about it for a minute. “No, I guess you’re not. So, since she didn’t confide in you, give it a guess. Where do you think Annie went?”
Lena heard the change in his voice. The laughter was gone; his profile was set in the old lines of despair. “Jake,” she said, touching his shoulder gently, “don’t you think you’ve suffered enough this time? Don’t you think it’s time you moved on?”
He glanced at her then turned his attention back to the road, narrowly avoiding a pothole the size of a swimming pool. “I can’t,” he said. “I still love her.”
Lena took a moment to select her words. When she finally spoke, her voice was low. “Love isn’t any good unless it’s returned, Jake. You know that. It’s time you moved on. What are you waiting for?”
He drummed his fingers against the wheel and sighed. “I know I should forget her, Lena, and believe me, I’ve tried. Every time she runs off, I give up on her. Every. Single. Time. The trouble is she always ends up coming back. I can’t help but think that I still have a chance with her.”
Lena stared out the window. Trees flashed by on the Blanchard Road. They passed a log cabin and a doublewide and then more trees. “Jake,” she said, “I think you should let her go this time. Really.”
He slammed his palm on the steering wheel and winced. “I can’t. My life’s lonely without Annie! There’s no sense of purpose without her! She’ll come back to me sooner or later…I’ll just have to wait for her, that’s all.”
Lena closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry Jake, but I really think you need to give her up this time.”
He slammed on the brakes and pulled the pick-up to the side of the road. “She did talk to you, didn’t she?”
Lena nodded. “There’s someone else and it’s serious,” she whispered.
“What?”
“Annie’s found another man. She told me she’s in love.”
As soon as the words were out, she regretted them. Jake’s stubborn resolve crumbled; for a moment, she thought he might cry. Instead, he shook his head. His shaggy blond hair swung around his shoulders as his hands tightened their grip on the steering wheel.
“How long have you known?”
“Since I was here in April,” she admitted. “She told me she’d been seeing him for a couple of months.”
He turned to face her, his mouth curved in an angry line. “That’s impossible. If she’d been dating someone from Greenville, I’d have known.”
“No, Jake, that’s the thing…it’s a guy from out of town. The botanist that was hired to catalog plants on the Wild Heights development site. They kept it a secret.” She picked at one of her fingers where a splinter from the dock was embedded, avoiding his eyes. “I promised I wouldn’t tell anybody, particularly you. I’m sorry.”
“A botanist?” He laughed, his expression incredulous. “You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”
Lena shook her head. “I should have told you when you first asked. It was wrong of me to keep it from you. It was selfish of Annie to ask me to, and it was selfish of me to agree to it. You need to be free to get on with your life.”
Jake put the truck in park and slumped over the wheel for a long moment then pushed himself back in the seat, his hand to his forehead.
“You’re right,” he said. “You should have told me. I’m a man, Lena, not a kid anymore. I can take anything that Annie Janson throws at me, including this bullshit.”
Lena reached for him but he slammed his hand against the dashboard. “Damn it! Why do I always feel like the outsider when it comes to the two of you? If you thought you were protecting me, you weren’t…you just made it worse.”
“I’m sorry,” she said.
“Save it.”
The rest of the ride to Breakneck Ridge was made in silence. Jake pulled in and waited for her to jump from the cab. “I had a copy of the key made for you,” he said, handing it out the window. “If you don’t mind, I’m going to take the rest of the weekend off. I’ll see you on Monday.”
Lena nodded. “I understand. If you decide not to come back, I’ll understand that too.”
He shook his head and managed a wry smile. “No…I’ll be back. I just need a little time to think things over. I’ll probably get shit-faced and spend the rest of the weekend hung-over, but I’ll be here on Monday morning.”
She smiled, mustering a show of false cheer. “Sounds like fun. Want some company?”
“Not really, no.”
He gunned the engine. Lena dropped the façade and backed away from the truck.
“Bye, Jake,” she managed. “Thanks for the key. I’ll see you Monday morning.”
“See you,” he said.
She watched him pull away with a heavy heart. “Goddamn it, Annie,” she muttered, “wherever you are and whoever you’re with, I sure as hell hope he’s worth it.”
From across the pond, Madame Butterfly sang her heart out. Lena turned the key in the lock and headed back to town and the dim prospects of a night of television alone in her dad’s empty house. Jake was right…life was lonely without Annie Janson.
Chapter 13
After the long weekend, Jake returned to work as though nothing had happened. Lena was relieved; she’d had a bad feeling that her confession would finish him off, at least for a while. But Monday came and he arrived at the camp as usual, looking none the worse for wear. They resumed work where they’d left off, finishing the shed and screening the porch. There was no more mention of Annie. The days passed quickly, turning to weeks as they continued to check things off her “To Do” list.
“What is it with that guy and opera?” Jake said for the hundredth time as he swatted a stray black fly. It was the first week in July and the bloodthirsty insects were making their vicious last stand, opening the door for mosquito season.
Lena shrugged. “Opera isn’t only costumes and music. It’s the story behind the music that makes it so compelling.”
Two voices, one male, one female, intermingled in the calm air. “My neighbor’s playing Madame Butterfly. It was written by Puccini at the beginning of the twentieth century. If you listen, you’ll find it’s very sad…tragic, really.”
She had a feeling that sadness and tragedy were two words that would peak Jake’s interest. She was right.
“What’s it about?” he asked.
She bit into an apple, chewed, and swallowed. “It’s the story of a beautiful Japanese girl who falls in love with an American Naval Officer. Hear the song they’re singing now?”
Jake grimaced. “You can’t miss it.”
“It’s a love song between the American, Pinkerton, and his Japanese wife. She’s young and naïve. A teenager named Cio-Cio San. Pinkerton calls her by the nickname “Butterfly”, hence the name of the opera. Listen, do you hear that?”
Jake nodded.
“Right now, she’s asking him about American customs.” Lena sang a few words of Vogliatemi bene. “She wants to know if it’s true that American men keep collections of butterflies pinned for their pleasure. He tells her that, yes, it’s true. Now, he’s telling her that he has captured her and that she belongs to him. She can’t fly away. She’s his for life.”
Jake
’s hand went to his forehead as he stared across the pond. She could tell he was taken in by the tale despite his despise for the music.
“So what happens next?” he asked.
“In a nutshell, their wedding’s a farce and the officer leaves, swearing to Butterfly that he’ll return. She waits for him, bears his child, and never loses hope that he’ll be back, even as her family’s fortune dwindles.” Again, she sang a few words. “This is the most famous aria of the opera. It’s the girl, Butterfly, singing about the day the ship carrying Pinkerton will appear on the horizon and they’ll be reunited.”
“I’ve got a bad feeling about this.”
Lena nodded. “I told you, already, it’s tragic. Do you want to know how it ends?”’
“I suppose so,” Jake said, turning his face to the sun.
“A rich Japanese businessman offers to marry Butterfly. The American consulate, a friend of her husband, begs her to accept. He knows that her marriage is a sham and that Pinkerton was only using her until his return to the United States. Butterfly refuses, insisting that her husband will return for her and their son.
“Unfortunately, the consulate’s right. Pinkerton marries an American woman upon his return home. He brings her to Japan to explain to Butterfly that his marriage to her is non-binding. Kind of a ‘clear your conscience’ thing.
“In the end, Butterfly realizes that she’s been dishonored and abandoned. She commits seppuku – suicide - with her father’s knife and dies without laying eyes upon her deceptive husband. Pinkerton, it turns out, is too much of a coward to tell her the truth, himself.”
She wiped away a trickle of sweat and smiled. “The music is easier to listen to once you know what the words mean. It’s so sad, it makes me cry sometimes.”
Jake opened one eye and stood, offering her a hand. “I think I might take a liking to this opera stuff. It suits my mood these days. Come on. Let’s head to the lumberyard for shingles. I’ll check the weather. If it’s good, we can start roofing tomorrow. Did you order the new appliances yet?”
Lena nodded. “They should be in by next week.”
“How about propane? Did you set up an account with AE Robinson?”
“Yes. They’re scheduled to deliver the tank on Friday.”
“What size,” he asked.
“Two hundred gallons.”
Jake whistled. “That’s a big boy. Are they planning to bury it?”
Lena shrugged. “I don’t know. Is that what they do up here?”
“Usually, if they can get through the rock. Okay, change of plan. The roof can wait. Grab a shovel and let’s get started on a hole for that tank.”
Lena finished her apple and chucked the core into the woods. “No rest for the weary,” she groaned.
***
Ten days later, she stood in the meadow surveying their progress with satisfaction. They’d worked straight through the Fourth of July weekend and the heavy work on the camp was all but done. The roof was on, the gas tank in, and new appliances lined the back wall of the cabin. Jake’s friend Wally had drilled the well and equipped it with a hand pump for potable water. She’d spent the morning in Guilford at North Woods Furniture, picking out furnishings with a back-woods flavor: beds, tables, chairs, couch and armchairs; it was scheduled for delivery in two days.
“I think we’re almost done,” she said.
Jake wiped the sweat from his forehead and swatted his arm. It was hot and humid, typical mid-July weather, and the black flies had surrendered their rule only to be replaced by deer flies. “It’s looking good,” he said. “Is Alex still planning to come up this weekend?”
“Yes. He’s leaving early Friday morning. As long as the traffic’s not too bad, he should be here by mid-afternoon.”
“How long’s he staying?”
“Only until Monday morning. He’s got a lot to do before he heads for Alaska.”
“Alaska? What’s he doing there? Don’t tell me he’s signing books!”
Lena frowned. “Didn’t I tell you? He’s overseeing the filming of Winter’s Sorrow, the first of those Lifetime movies. Most of the story takes place on a cruise ship along the Alaskan coast.”
“You’re not going with him?”
She shrugged. “I’d rather stay in Maine. I’ve still got a lot of work to do.”
“We’re almost done with the camp,” Jake said. “Aren’t you afraid you’ll be lonely up here all by yourself?”
Lena shook her head. “I’ll swim, and read, and take long walks. I’ll pick blackberries, and raspberries, and commune with nature. I’ll sleep late and go to bed early, go kayaking, and exploring. Did I mention swimming?” She wiped a bead of sweat from her brow. “Maybe, I’ll even take a walk over to the neighbor’s house and introduce myself. He can play opera for me and teach me to paint.”
Jake chuckled. “Fat chance of that! The painting, I mean.”
Thus far, they’d seen only glimpses of the man across the pond. He usually appeared on his dock for a swim in the early morning or disappeared down the shoreline in his kayak, but that was it. His lack of social graces didn’t bother Lena; he appeared to enjoy his solitude and privacy and she was respectful of that.
“What are you doing this weekend?” she asked, turning back to Jake. “Want to come up and have burgers on Saturday? I can’t promise much, but I should be able to throw a meal together by then.”
“I think I’ll take a rain check, Lena. You and Alex will want your privacy after a month’s separation. Besides, I’m kind of busy.”
“What’ve you got going on?” she asked.
Jake flushed from his neck up.
“Are you going out of town?”
“Nope.”
She stared at him, then began to laugh. “Why Jake Morris, I do believe you’re blushing! You met someone, didn’t you?”
His face was crimson. “Maybe,” he mumbled.
“What kind of answer is that? Either you did or you didn’t! Who is she? Come on! Out with it.”
“You know Patty, don’t you? The waitress at the Black Swan?”
“Sure,” Lena said, frowning. “She’s a cute girl but a little young for you, isn’t she? What is she, eighteen? Nineteen?”
He bent and pulled a daisy from the meadow, plucking the white petals and scattering them to the wind. “It’s not Patty, it’s her older sister, Pam. You probably remember her from high school. She was a grade or two behind us.”
“Pam…Pam. What’s her last name?”
“Desjardin.”
“Desjardin.” Lena frowned. “Oh! You mean Brookie? That Pam?”
“Yep.”
“Well, Jake, it’s about time,” she said. “As I remember, she was a sweetheart.”
“Still is,” he said grinning. “It looks like I won’t have to take up the opera after all.”
Lena laughed. “I’m glad. Morbid depression doesn’t suit you.” She reached up and he tugged her to her feet and started across the meadow. When he reached his truck he called back. “Since we’re almost done, I’m going to take the afternoon off, okay? I’m meeting Pam at her folk’s house. We’re going waterskiing.”
“That’s fine with me,” she said. “There’s nothing much more to do until the furniture arrives, anyway. I’ll tell Jim to call you when the truck leaves Guilford on Thursday morning. After everything’s in place, we’re officially done…for this year, anyway!”
“See you on Thursday, then.”
“Thanks for all the help, Jake. Put a bill together so I can get you some money, okay?”
“I’ll bring it when I come to help you with the furniture,” he said.
Lena moved away from the truck and watched until it was out of sight. When the hum of the motor had faded away, she was left alone with the birds and red squirrels. The sun was high and the afternoon was hot. Retrieving a beer from her new gas refrigerator, she popped the top and stripped to her underwear. Leaving her grimy shorts and T-shirt on the grass, she walked to the end of
the newly expanded dock, adjusted one of two teak lounge chairs to face the sun, and sank into it with a sigh. It was finally time to enjoy the fruits of her labor.
Chapter 14.
“Hello.”
Lena awakened to the sound of a man’s voice. She threw her arms across her chest and tucked her legs up while she turned toward the water. Thirty yards out, a stranger sat in a red kayak, paddle resting across the bow.
“I’m sorry to startle you,” he said in accented English. “I will turn around while you get a towel.”
She waited while he turned the kayak toward the far shore, then dashed the length of the dock and tugged on her shorts and t-shirt. “You can look,” she called when she was dressed. “I’m decent.”
The kayak pulled up to the bank. The man propelling it stepped ashore and extended his hand. “Odin Andreassen, your neighbor from across the lake. I’m sorry I have not yet been over to say hello.”
Lena wiped her hand on her shorts and reached across the void to grasp it firmly. “Lena Walker,” she said. “I was wondering when we’d finally meet. I’ve been enjoying your music.”
He smiled, his teeth white against tan skin. “I’m an artist,” he explained. “Opera helps me relax when I paint. I hope it hasn’t been an annoyance.”
“On the contrary,” she assured him, “I’m a big fan of Madame Butterfly.”
He shook his head. “You’re so far away, I thought you wouldn’t hear it.”
Lena laughed. “You’d be surprised how well sound travels on a lake. Come, sit down, Mr. Andreassen. Would you like a beer?”
“Odin, please, and, thank you, yes. I’ve been paddling all afternoon. A beer sounds good.”
She walked the path through the wildflowers and returned with two cans. Pointing at the chairs, she popped the tops and handed him one to him. “Sorry. I don’t have any glasses yet.”
“No apologies necessary,” he said, lifting the can to his lips.
Lena watched him drink his beer. Odin Andreassen was not what she’d expected. The man from across the pond was tall, well over six feet. His lean body was tan and muscular and he moved with the agility of a natural athlete. From the touch of gray in his dark brown hair, she guessed him to be in his early forties, but he wore it long, in a youthful style that was suited to a man much younger. His eyes, when he opened them, were pale gray flecked with golden brown. Cat’s eyes, she thought. All told, her neighbor was a very handsome man. She looked away, aware that she’d been staring.