Cotton Grass Lodge

by Woodbury, DeNise

  “Okaaay.” Jacob pondered and shared a glance with Mathew. “June first is the date the season officially starts. Tourists and snowbirds show up in earnest. We’ve always worked for the lodge as guides. It just makes sense to have an agreement, and we use the party as the place to get together and iron out the details.”

  “Yes, agreements are good. I just didn’t know about it,” Duncan said, “And—this party?” He looked up at the sound of a small plane. He wasn’t expecting any clients until tomorrow. “What about this party?”

  “Like Mathew said, the people around the lake get together and work out who works for the lodge and how to contact each other. The summer folks who have cabins up here usually come to the June first party. To reconnect and all, you know?” Jacob nodded toward the sky. “That will be the first of them.”

  “The first of them?” Duncan looked up again as the plane dipped toward the lake. In the distance the drone of another became apparent. Now, the few comments people had made over the last week made perfect sense. He’d just been too busy to pay attention and connect the dots.

  Three hours later, Duncan ducked his sweat drenched face into the crook of his elbow and wiped with his shirtsleeve. He’d spent the morning helping put up tables made from sawhorses and four by eight sheets of plywood. He’d gathered all the chairs and benches he could find. One of the cherub-faced women working industriously and effortlessly in his yard handed him a cold drink, and he drained it without tasting. When he finished he looked down at her. “Thank you, Naomi.”

  “You’re welcome.” She draped a hand casually over the baby brewing in her belly. Her calico dress stretched tight around her stout body. “If I understand correctly, Nell didn’t tell you about how the lodge runs during the season. She’s a dear, but she’s been slipping.” Naomi stepped aside to avoid a gaggle of squealing children. In one graceful turn, she snatched the oldest by his arm and with a whisper sent the entire troop off in a direction away from the cloth covered tables. “So, anyhow.” She patted her distended abdomen. “I won’t be able to help at the lodge this year. I guess we all assumed Nell told you how things worked, and you’d hired help from someplace else.”

  “No, Nell didn’t tell me a lot of things it turns out.” He added this to the list he called chew Carl out. Because Carl would have known. Out of habit, Duncan glanced at his watch, eleven o’clock. “It’s a small lodge. I thought I’d start out slow the first year. Do most everything myself.”

  Naomi burst out laughing. “Oh my, you really don’t understand, do you?” She patted his arm with neighborly affection. “We’ll all help. It’ll be fine.”

  She went to join a cluster of women greeting new arrivals from the last plane. Little children dipped and swooped like shore birds avoiding the tide as they followed the women in chirping drifts of hugs and exclamations over the changes that had happened over the eight-month winter.

  Another plane landed, and the beehive of activity down by the lake got Duncan’s attention. One of Jacobs’s older boys went racing past with a five-gallon bucket filled with tools Duncan had last seen in his generator shed. “Whoa, hey, wait a minute. Where are you going with those tools?”

  The boy stopped, “They’re for the dock.”

  “What dock?” Duncan asked.

  “Your dock.” A perplexed look crossed the boy’s face. “You always put the dock out on June first.” Without waiting any longer, the boy sprinted toward the shore.

  What the hell? A woman he didn’t know was in the lodge monitoring the radio for airplane traffic. His kitchen was full to overflowing with people he had never seen before. He decided his management skills never prepared him for Cotton Grass Lodge.

  Nothing could have prepared him for Cotton Grass Lodge.

  Several men sat around the bonfire at the edge of the clearing in the front yard. Tom was with them, glassy eyed from the bottle he cradled. One of them handed Duncan a charred hotdog as he passed. He started down the path toward the lake, and two women followed close behind. The cool relief of the dappled shade slowed his pace giving the vicious little white-socks flies an opportunity to catch up. He waved his arms over his head, swatted at his ears, and picked up his pace.

  “Duncan,” a woman said as she passed him, “The Beaver just radioed. He’s on his way in. You were real smart to have a delivery made while there are so many folks to help unload.”

  “I’m a smart guy. Real smart.” He had no earthly idea who the woman was or what she was talking about, “Who is the Beaver?”

  She and her two friends giggled explosively.

  “What?” The helplessness of being irrelevant became more apparent when Duncan got to the bustle of activity at the edge of the lake. Jacob and Mathew and another six men worked on the dock taking shape in the water at the mid-way point of the gravel strip.

  The four tie-downs were full and several other wheeled planes were tucked back into openings in the brush. Two 185s bobbed on their floats, anchored to the shore next to two skiffs. He joined a group standing at the edge of the lake. Blue-green water reflected a scattering of white clouds in the sky. Two more skiffs were being unloaded of people and coolers obviously headed for the potluck.

  “Hi, I’m Duncan Mahoney.” He stuck his hand out, and the group erupted in the agreeable babble of introductions he knew he would never remember.

  Hanna slipped away from another group and approached. “I just got here. How’s it going?”

  “Good—good.” Duncan wiped a smear of catsup off his hand onto his overworked jeans. “Do you believe me? I’m getting better at that particular lie. Hanna, I really don’t know how it’s going. My days were a blur and this.” He gestured both arms. “Is astonishing. Somehow I didn’t connect June with—all this. I didn’t know about fish guide agreements, and I don’t have any idea who is or is not registered at my lodge.” He bobbed his head in bemused exasperation, “I’m…good.”

  Hanna’s eyes twinkled. “Folks sort of take care of things, you included. You’ll get the hang of it.”

  “Naomi said much the same thing,” Duncan said. “But, what happens when three people show up for the same bed?”

  “I’ll give you directions to my little guest cabin. If you need to put people in it you’re welcome.” Hanna’s eyes concentrated on the smear of catsup. “Bye the way. You live in bear country now. Catsup on your pants isn’t a good idea.”

  “Oh.” Duncan considered the bear tracks Tom had pointed out yesterday morning—in front of the generator shed.

  Sympathy infused Hanna’s nod. “You’re getting there. It’s not as bad as you think.”

  “Okay.” Duncan lowered his voice. “Who is the Beaver, and why should I be happy he’s coming?”

  She scanned the sky and pointed at a large twin-engine airplane on floats, “There’s the Beaver. You must have ordered something big delivered. Right?”

  “Nooo.”

  “Oh.” A pucker marred her forehead, “Maybe it is—as bad as you think.”

  The big floatplane made one lazy pass, and as Duncan watched it descend to the lake, he prayed this wasn’t another problem. Not today.

  Chapter 10

  The large plane glided onto the lake with hardly a splash and gracefully maneuvered up to the just finished dock. Two men tied the plane to cleats on the end of the floating walkway.

  The pilot waved at familiar faces as he exited the aircraft. Then, he turned and held a hand out to help Nell. Several people called greetings and cheered, happy to see her.

  “Oh, my God,” Duncan whispered.

  Hanna, still standing beside him inhaled her surprise. “Oh dear.” Her eyes grew round, “Are you okay with this?”

  “Oh, yeah.” He closed his eyes as his body sagged. “In some demented way, I’m fine.” He wasn’t fine, frustration boiled at the lining of his stomach with no remedy in sight.

  Nell was slowed in her ascent of the beach by the clutches of people greeting her. The pilot worked his way through the crowd
and found Duncan.

  Hanna made the introductions. She knew all the pilots both commercial and private on the strip today. The Beaver pilot handed Duncan an invoice. “Nice to meet ya,” he said. “We haven’t done business before, but Nell said you were good for this, so I took her word for it. I can take a check now, or you can send it in with the next mail.”

  Duncan opened the envelope. The invoice had receipts stapled to it from three different stores in Anchorage. The bottom line was ‘Freight and Groceries plus delivery to Cotton Grass Lodge’ $5,432.14.

  “What?” the word squeaked past his lips.

  Hanna gently took the invoice from his hand and scanned it. She whispered, “Did you know she was doing this?”

  “No,” Duncan replied. “Good God, no. I need a drink.”

  The Beaver pilot shot a concerned look at Hanna. “Is there a problem here?” His anxiety was apparent as he looked from Hanna to Duncan.

  Duncan cleared his throat. “I’ll write you a check. I realize you’ve been doing business with the lodge for a long time, but please, from now on, clear anything like this with me. Nell is not authorized to do business for the lodge.”

  The frown on the pilot’s face relaxed slightly. “The office didn’t know about the change in ownership until this morning. She’s been delivering stuff for two days, just like old times. We won’t let it happen again.” Obviously relieved, the pilot reached a hand toward Duncan and started breathing again.

  “Thank you.” Duncan forced his professional demeanor to surface past his desire to swear and pick up a hand full of rocks and pelt the airplane.

  The people milling around began to move as one toward the Beaver. Someone suggested a bucket brigade of four-wheelers, and before he could get to Nell, someone whisked her off toward the lodge.

  He became a part of those people on the dock passing cases of green beans and tomato sauce from hand to hand up to the waiting four-wheelers. Duncan counted six cases of canning and pickling salt, and eight enormous hanging baskets of purple and white petunias. It took some maneuvering, but the chest freezer made it to shore without a scratch. In something akin to acquiescence, he shut his mind to the unfolding melodrama. At least she’d had the brains to bring beer, not his favorite brand, but beer just the same.

  It took two work-filled hours before he reconnected with Nell. She had been flitting from group to group, and finally she stopped moving in front of the steps and scanned the assembled crowd. Duncan was seated on the broad porch steps watching her. “You seem to be enjoying yourself.” He lifted a beer can to his lips hoping the alcohol would somehow mitigate his anger.

  “Oh, yeah, I love June first. Haven’t seen some of these people since they left in September.” Nell lowered herself onto a step beside him. “There’s a girl staying over at Naomi and Jacob’s place. I hired her to work at the lodge for the season.”

  Duncan squeezed his eyes shut and blew his exasperation out at a mosquito buzzing around his head. “Nell.”

  “Don’t matter what you say,” she said. “Alice needs the work; I can’t do it all by myself.”

  Duncan was too mad to say anything. One of his father’s old sayings came to mind. Pick your battles my boy, and pick the ones you can win. He didn’t want this battle, he was damn tired of fighting it, too. The only option—winning.

  “You didn’t mention what a big deal this party is. I was surprised this morning when everyone started showing up.” Duncan carefully watched her deeply lined face for a reaction.

  “I’m sure I told you.” Nell’s eyes drooped.

  “Did we talk about the groceries you just brought in?” Duncan was resigned to the food, but the situation was getting out of hand.

  “Well, I have to feed these people,” Nell said. “I can’t cook out of empty cupboards.”

  “Nell, you don’t work here anymore. I have to worry about feeding people and keeping track of the guide agreements and all of it,” Duncan said softly. He wanted to shout. He was tired of being sympathetic. “You have to retire and leave.”

  Nell’s shoulders slumped. Her breath came in short shallow bursts. She didn’t react for a full minute gazing out at the lake. “Harry, you’re being obstinate. I ordered the groceries just like we discussed. I got the new freezer on sale. You’ve wanted another one for two years. I can’t be held accountable for how much they cost. Next time—you do it and I’ll stay home.”

  The puppy abandoned his play with a group of children and came up onto the steps. He sat down and put his head into Nell’s lap and closed his eyes.

  Duncan watched Nell drift off, her heavy lids fluttered and closed as she stroked the dog’s head.

  He got up and left to find another beer. They were stacked behind two cases of creamed corn in the hall by the kitchen. He popped the top on one and slurped the foam to keep it off the floor. His favorite bartender would have asked him if he wanted a frosted mug. She would have slipped a coaster with a trendy logo onto the bar in front of him and smiled.

  “Duncan?” a timid voice behind him said. “Mr. Mahoney?” Alice stood in the kitchen with the baby slung across her hip. “Could I talk to you for just a minute?”

  The beer was working, even at room temperature. He didn’t care what she wanted. The day couldn’t be any more totally out of control. “Sure. What’s up?”

  “I’d like to ask for a job at the lodge for the season,” Alice said. “I was here last summer. I know what needs to be done. I’d work hard, and Emily won’t be any trouble. Naomi usually works here, but she’s too close to having her baby.”

  “I thought Nell already hired you?”

  Alice looked confused. “Well, sure, but Nell hardly knows what day it is. We all know who owns the lodge now.”

  Duncan looked at the solemn faced girl with her tiny baby and squashed the temptation to be rude or sarcastic. He needed help. “Yes, but Alice, I’m going to get roaring drunk. Please, come and talk to me tomorrow. After noon.”

  ****

  Hanna watched from where she sat on the porch as Duncan meandered amiably between irregular knots of people. He seemed to be relaxing after the fiasco with Nell and the groceries. She watched him cordially meeting these new people. She admired his ability to mingle with strangers. She knew most of these people, she liked almost all of them. but she sat on the porch. She’d rather wait and let the crowd wander by.

  Maybe he’ll work out after all. His reaction to the delivery of five thousand dollars’ worth of groceries was nothing short of extraordinary. He never raised his voice, or threw anything, or kicked the dog.

  The hair on the back of her neck prickled when a disturbance at the edge of the four-wheeler track got her attention. The Shaman came into the yard and walked toward the lodge. People greeted him as he passed. Not with backslapping bravado but with cautious interest.

  Duncan started up the steps of the lodge to where Hanna sat. “I’m glad to see you sitting down. Seems like you’re always in a hurry.” He leaned against the banister and took a drink of the lemonade he’d switched to. “How long are you here for this time?”

  She didn’t answer his question. She was distracted by the green of his eyes, “Have you got a can of peaches?” Hanna asked.

  “Peaches? I, umm, don’t know. Why?”

  She pointed over his shoulder, “You’re going to have to pay the Shaman.”

  He turned, his eyes followed where she indicated to the slight, scruffy man standing in the yard. “What are you talking about?”

  The people closest to the Shaman moved hastily, widening a circle around him as if a bolt of lightning was on its way out of the clear afternoon sky. The drinkers around the bonfire scooted their chairs around to get a better view of the area in front of the tables where he stood.

  Hanna would have laughed except Duncan was so sincerely unaware of what was about to happen. “He’s blessing the season.” She always got the creeps whenever the Shaman made a blessing; for Hanna, laughter was out of the question. />
  The Shaman lifted his hands palms up and chanted in a low voice, his arms began an eerie Tai Chi like motion. A dance of blessing for the lodge and for the coming season. He faced the four directions: north, east, south, and west. When he finished his peculiar endorsement, there was a scatter of applause. Several Amens and thank-yous could be heard.

  The Shaman looked pointedly at Hanna. Goosebumps crept up her spine.

  “Hummm—interesting,” Duncan said. “Does it work?”

  “Do you really want to find out if it doesn’t?” Nell said from behind him. She was standing in the doorway to the lodge. She walked to him and handed him a large can of sliced cling peaches in heavy syrup, “You do it.”

  “Do what?”

  “We take care of our Shaman, and we pay for services like blessings with canned peaches.”

  “Oh.” Duncan cast a quick look at Hanna.

  “This is so stupid,” she mumbled and avoided looking toward the Shaman.

  “If peaches are what it takes for a successful season—” Duncan went down the steps. “—I’ll definitely buy.”

  Chapter 11

  The morning of June sixth, Duncan found Alice in the lodge kitchen. She was putting the finishing touches on breakfast when Duncan came in the back door at six-thirty. “Are you always going to be here this early?” he asked.

  She tipped her head down and peered over non-existent wire-rims, a look reminding him of a particularly sarcastic macroeconomics teacher he’d once had. “Scones don’t just magically appear at seven a.m.,” she said. The baby was lying on a pallet in the corner cooing and watching her mother work around the kitchen.

  “Ahh, right.” He poured a cup of coffee, scraped a finger around the edge of the bowl she’d used to mix the scones, and stuck it in his mouth. “If these are good, I might keep you on after the round-up.”

  The timid mouse he’d hired had taken to her job with spectacular self-confidence. “Get out of my kitchen.” Her eyes flashed. “By the way, did you take trash out after I left last night?”