Moon over Madeline Island

by Jay Gilbertson

  Then Ruby says, “Now remember—there’s potholes. It’s narrow in places and I have no idea if this heap can…”

  I shift the truck into “D.” “Hang on, girl! Let’s open this baby up. After all, we paid extra for the insurance.” I punch the gas and off we lurch.

  Low-hanging branches make scratching noises as they sweep and slap along the sides of the truck. Ruby curses up a storm, in between gasps of giggling. We bump and jostle downhill; the tires clack over the rickety bridge. Up the incline we chug; then the trees part, opening up to the sunshine and it’s gorgeous. I pull over by the barn, behind the cottage and shut the motor off.

  “My God, Eve,” Ruby says, laughing, out of breath. “For a moment there I thought for sure we’d end up in the creek!”

  I pick up Rocky, who is fully awake now, and we head over to the back door. It’s around sunset and there’s an amazing golden light dancing all over the barn door, reflecting onto the windows of the cottage. We walk across the porch to stand at the bottom of the stoop. I set Rocky down. Ruby reaches up to unlock the arched door, then stops.

  “You do it, darling.” She hands me the keys. I reach up and the door creaks open before I so much as turn the lock.

  “I can’t imagine burglars way out here, can you? Do you have a gun or anything?” I whisper.

  “That’s odd it’s open,” Ruby says. “Perhaps you should investigate while we”—she means herself and Rocky—“wait here.” I give her a look that really could kill.

  Carefully we push the door farther open, then slowly creep in—shoulder to shoulder. Just in case.

  “Well I’ll be…The boys must have come over. Look at all the flowers! Vases stuffed with wildflowers,” Ruby says while Rocky leaps onto the stump table and paws at a note lying there. Ruby reads aloud.

  “Hey Ladies,

  Howard got a new saw and has been desperate to clean up your sunset-sign for eons, since he and Ed made it years ago—and you must admit the facelift looks fabulous!

  We put some goodies in your fridge, something REALLY special in the freezer. We’d be glad to help unload your truck in the A.M. Give us a call, at a reasonable time, say, anytime after nine.

  Love,

  Johnny and Howard”

  “Good grief.” I go over to the fridge to have a look. “Hummus, olives stuffed with garlic, four flavors of yogurt, milk, eggs, a loaf of bread and look”—I pull down the freezer door—“Rocky Road ice cream!”

  I mean—this is paydirt here. We don’t have the guilt of knowingly buying the stuff and besides, everyone knows it goes bad very quickly.

  The next day I awake to the aroma of coffee. Whipping on my robe, I glance outside—gray. Big angry-looking clouds are overwhelming the sky. They look as though a good cleaning is in order. Rocky and I head downstairs.

  “Well there you are, darling.” Ruby pours a mug. “So glad you slept in.”

  “Me too.” I take the steamy mug. “Could’ve slept forever…such a cozy bed,”

  “Why don’t you turn right around and get dressed. I’ll put together a lovely breakfast and we’ll have it on the porch. I rang up the boys this morning and they’ll be over later.”

  “That’s just what I’ll do.” Over my shoulder I say, “Thank you.”

  Rooting through my suitcase in search of my favorite around-the-house-bra, I hear a scratching noise. I look around just in time to see a little tiny puff of fur scurry across the floor and dash under the bed. Seconds later, Rocky rushes through the door in hot pursuit. I’d rather not stick around for the final act, so I grab my clothes and make a beeline to the bathroom. Maybe mousetraps aren’t such a bad idea after all. I click the doorlock, just because.

  “Where are you ladies going to put all this?” Howard asks, surveying our packed-to-the-gills truck. Both hands on his hips.

  “Go ahead—say it Howard,” I respond. “We did bring too much. But we have room in the barn and—damn, we have too much stuff.” I struggle with an armful of rugs, a floor lamp, cord dragging, and the top of my lava lamp. Some things you can’t get rid of.

  “Now Howard, darling,” Ruby says, smooth as silk, “I don’t want you throwing out that back of yours and do keep in mind that one person’s things are another person’s—”

  “Shit!” Johnny finishes.

  We all have a good laugh. But the truth is, I suppose we could have left a lot of this behind. Actually, it’s not really the things, it’s the memories surrounding the things.

  Like this old lamp I’m carrying. Used to sit next to my father’s falling-apart green chair. He’d come home from work, pour himself a drink and read the evening paper by the lamp’s glow. I’d spy on him turning pages, occasionally getting a glimpse of his face. Sometimes he’d catch me and give me a toothy grin that would fill me right up. So—one person’s stuff is another person’s story.

  “Ladies, where would you like this trunk?” Howard asks, wiping away sweat from his brow. “Is it full of books? Bricks maybe? Weighs a ton.”

  “Oh heavens…I would love it upstairs in my room. But it is heavy and I can’t imagine how you’d get it up all those stairs.” Ruby winks in my direction, working the situation. “It’s filled with clothes I’d simply hate to leave out here in this horribly damp barn.”

  “We can do it, ’cause we are men,” Johnny replies in a manly voice while whipping a mink stole around his neck. “You point the way little lady and leave the rest to us.”

  “Be careful, watch the corners, don’t forget there’s a step there and…Oh dear, I don’t think I can watch.” Ruby follows closely behind Howard and Johnny, watching every move they make.

  Since the boss is gone, I walk around the side of the barn, which sits on a sandbank overlooking the creek. I watch the water as it meanders alongside the barn, then slips under the wooden bridge. On the other side it picks up speed and disappears around the far side of the boathouse, cascading into the lake.

  The banks on either side of the creek are lush and green. Clumps of cattail leaves wave in the breeze. The air is rich with the scent of flowers and grass and wetness. A raven cackles in the woods somewhere, while a woodpecker taps away in the distance. I take in a deep breath, then sneeze.

  Wandering down to the edge of the creek, I reach down and touch the surface: ice cold. I can see all the way to the rocky bottom. Leaning farther over, I look at my reflection before sitting back on my haunches very slowly. I spy a deer that has slipped from the trees on the other side of the creek and is now sipping water.

  There’s a rack of horns sprouting from his mushroom-colored fur. Beautiful dark round eyes stare into mine. A second deer slowly emerges from the woods. I’m certain she’s his partner by the way she looks at him for a sign or a signal. I feel something communicated between them.

  They take turns lapping out of the creek directly in front of me. I’m afraid to move. Before I know what’s going on, he’s no more than a foot away—then inches. We’re gazing into each other’s eyes.

  Ever so slowly I reach out to touch his nose. He lowers his head, as though bowing. I reach farther. He steps back, looking me over; time freezes. Then—they fly away into the woods, the rustle of branches closing behind them. I can’t believe what I just saw—and felt. This must be what it feels like to have touched something truly wondrous. Now that’s not a word I normally would try on, but it’s true and I feel it that way—wondrous. Is this something that happens all the time up here?

  “There you are.” Ruby comes down the path to the creek and thumps down beside me. “The boys managed to haul the whole lot upstairs and not one nick. Oodles of cursing though. You all right, darling? You look…odd.”

  “I’m fine.” I put my arm around her shoulder and give it a squeeze.

  “Hey, where’s our lunch?” Howard asks, lumbering down to the edge of the creek. Bending, then squatting down, he scoops water to rinse off his sweaty face. “Sure can tell this is spring water, cold as a witch’s—”

  “Tit,
” Johnny finishes.

  “I’ll go see what I can manage,” Ruby says, putting her hand on my shoulder, getting up. I turn, watching her and Johnny walk arm in arm back into the cottage. I smile, looking up at Howard.

  “They make a cute couple, don’t you think?” Howard asks.

  “Very cute. Hey…thanks for the beautiful sign and flowers and food….”

  “Our pleasure. Ruby spent the better part of the morning thanking us too.” He runs his hands through his mane. “Johnny sketched the letters and I cut them out on my latest obsession—my jigsaw.”

  “Well, it sure knocked me over. I like the sound of it…Eve and Ruby. Has a nice ring.”

  “I agree.” Howard splashes me.

  “Hey! That’s cold!” I splash back and before you know it we’re dousing each other, getting wetter by the minute.

  Yelling and laughing, soaked to the skin, we suddenly notice Ruby and Johnny standing by the barn. Howard and I nod, then make a mad dash to catch them. We share cold, wet hugs and manage to soak them both, but good.

  We’re all huddled around the stump table in the kitchen, reviving our wet bodies with hot mugs of tomato soup.

  “My goodness, we’re a sight,” Ruby says. “Good thing the neighbors are already here or I’m sure there would be rumors. Grabbing people and soaking them to the bone, the nerve.” She elbows Howard in the ribs.

  “You both deserved it,” I say. “Looking all smug and dry. Besides, we didn’t want you to feel left out or anything.”

  “Ruby tells me you’re thinking of starting up some kind of business,” Howard says.

  “Thinking is the operative term at this point, don’t you think, darling?” Ruby asks while ladling more soup into everyone’s mug. I nod in agreement.

  “I, for one, would love to be involved,” Johnny volunteers. “Both of us. The summers here are wonderful, but the winters…Oh man, they drive us both a little buggy. We usually take long vacations.”

  “Let’s brainstorm,” Howard suggests.

  “Rag rugs were a thought,” I say. “But they’d take forever to make by hand.”

  “They would,” Johnny agrees. “I am fast at sewing, though, with the help of a machine, that is. There must be something the world needs more of than rugs.”

  “Ruby sews too and I could learn.” I pick up Rocky. “But what the hell does the world need more of? We need an idea that’s not complicated but that’s different…unusual. Why couldn’t I have thought of lava lamps?” We also need to make money, I think. I look around; I wonder if this could be an inn. A brothel? Maybe a clinic for retired hairstylists—Nah.

  “You know…now this may be too silly.” Johnny lifts a flowered cloth apron from the countertop. “These could be—”

  “Oh my God—this honestly could be just the thing.” I take the apron from Johnny and put it on.

  “Aprons?” We all say, kind of together, then laugh. Then it gets quiet.

  “You know,” I say, “you can’t find anything unusual any more. Make the tie strings longer and wider since most gals are. And have a Web site.” I shoot a look to Ruby.

  “That’s something I could do,” Howard offers. “I’m not really the sewing type, but computers—I’m sure I could create a fantastic Web site.”

  “They could be artsy-fartsy,” Johnny says. “They’re simple to put together, not too many parts and all.” He looks closely at Ruby’s apron. “Use unique and beautiful fabrics. Hmmm…”

  “What do you think, darling?” Ruby asks.

  Everyone looks at me. “I think this could be exactly what the world needs more of. We’ll call them Ruby’s Aprons,” I say, handing it to Ruby, who ties it on. “This is her apron after all and the inspiration behind the concept. To Ruby’s Aprons!”

  “Cheers!” We all clink.

  “Give it one more shove. There! Perfect,” I say to Ruby. We slump down into the sofa in the living room.

  “Why this is such a lovely idea, darling.” Ruby turns a lamp next to her just so. “Ed was very particular about never moving a thing around. Now look at how much better this works.”

  “I am so glad you didn’t get all up in arms.” I sigh with relief.

  “I realize I’m set in my ways, darling, but moving around the living room makes it much more ours now too. Don’t you think?”

  “Ruby, you keep surprising me.” I honestly was thinking that she’d pitch a fit if I even suggested moving a lamp! Just goes to show me. At my age, I’m still tiptoeing around and all I had to do was ask.

  “Before we dig into shuffling around the library,” Ruby says, “tell me, what do you think of the apron idea—honestly.”

  “Well…” I stand and right a picture. “It does seem like it fell into our laps. That must be a sign of some sort. I’m thinking it could…”

  “It could piss some women off!”

  “Ruby! Such language.” We laugh. “Who’s to say men wouldn’t like them as well? Besides, there’s a whole bunch of us baby boomers who are slowing down—a little—and I bet a lot more of us will be spending more time cooking.”

  “I’m beginning to see your point. Being a…fringe boomer…myself.” She gives me the evil eye, so I refrain from bursting out laughing.

  “I say we give it a go.”

  “Let’s do, darling.”

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Standing in the second floor of the boathouse, facing a stuffed deer head hanging on the outside wall, I reach up and pull the jaw downward. I haven’t a choice since this is where Ed installed the only phone out here. Strange guy.

  Clearing my throat while the receiver slides slowly down a black cord and into my waiting hand, I let the jaw go. It snaps shut. Thank goodness he had the sense to put on ample cord. I’m able to walk into the kitchen area and use my notes that are laid out on the counter. I dial the handset.

  “Hello? Is this the Island Gazette?” I ask quickly, as the line was picked up on the first hint of a ring.

  “Yes.”

  “My name is Eve Moss. I’ve just moved out here on Madeline Island and—”

  “You’re staying at the Prévost Place on Steam Boat Point and you’ve been driving all over hell in that old floating bus scaring folks here to death, not to mention the fish,” the woman says in one breath.

  “I forget this is an island; I’m sorry if I—”

  “I’m just giving you a hard time. Darlene Kravitz told me about you while she was checking me out over at the grocery store in Bayfield. There she was, out on her dock…nearly fell in when you and Ruby flew by. I personally think it’s a free world and if you want to go around scaring folks half to—”

  “Sorry. It’s called a duck, by the way—and we were hardly moving. Look…the reason I’m calling is I’d like to place an ad…if that wouldn’t be too much trouble.”

  “You wanting to sell something? Rent your cottage?”

  “I’m wanting to hire some women to come and sew for us.”

  “Oh you must be putting up drapes. You know, when my third husband and I moved out here…that must have been back in—”

  “No…a business. Not drapes,” I inform her slowly, jiggling one leg, then the other; I have to pee and this phone doesn’t reach the bathroom. Time to pick up the speed here. “Look, I’d like to place a want ad. Are you the person I should talk to or—”

  “Yes sirree! I’m the ad person, editor in chief, and accounts payable and receivable. I also happen to write a column about local goings-on, and every Saturday’s edition I do horoscopes.”

  “I would like it to read,” I say in a controlled voice, “‘Wanted—’”

  “Hold on…Okay, go ahead.”

  “‘Wanted’—in bold across the top—‘full-time seamstresses needed for Madeline Island business venture. Flexible hours, great pay, excellent working conditions, lunch included. Must have great hair.’” I pause. No laughter on the other end. Not a good sign. “That’s a joke.” I’m picturing myself sitting down on the toilet, t
he relief one feels.

  “Oh, right…very funny. Scratch that…no lunch, right? Okay, got it.”

  “No, the lunch part is right. The hair part, scratch that!” My God. I’m about to pee my panties. “‘Call Eve Moss to set up an interview.’”

  “Okay okay, got it.” She reread the ad and our phone number back exactly right. “It’ll run in the next issue which comes out in a day or so. Good timing. Can I do anything else for you? Hello?”

  I’m yanking up my jeans, doing a little wiggly thing back to the phone I left hanging from the deer’s mouth. “Oh hi. Had to turn the oven down, water was running over.”

  “Water? In the oven?”

  “Never mind. Listen…you’ve been great. Thanks so much for your help. Look forward to meeting you sometime.”

  “You bet…Eve. Good luck with your business. What is it you’re making again?”

  “Drapes.”

  Over the next several days we begin cleaning the boathouse. I’m thrilled to have a workplace that has such a remarkable view of the lake. All this room here, and we’ll be far enough away from the cottage that it will feel like we’re “going to work” yet no commuting.

  The boathouse perches on the northwestern corner of our property, facing the lake. Standing two stories high, the first floor is where you park the boat. It’s been dug out so that it’s actually lake water. By opening the doors facing the water, you make it possible to motor your boat in and park it. The second story is a charming two-bedroom cottage.

  The living room has three French doors facing the lake that open onto a wraparound deck. The entire inside is paneled in yellowed knotty pine and is similar in design to the main cottage. There’s a small open kitchen, two back bedrooms and a tiny, dark bathroom.

  “What an awesome view. Feels as though we’re sitting in the lake,” I say, carrying one end of a long table we hauled down from the barn. Ruby is at the other end. “I think we should put the sewing machines up front, by the doors—perfect setting for inspiration.”