Stuck in Manistique

by Dennis Cuesta

  “Who’s John? Dr. Butcher?”

  “Yes,” she sighed. “And not only did he interfere, he’s going to be on the board there. So there’s no way I’m going there now.”

  Mark took in a deep breath. He hadn’t known her reasons. He had figured she was doing this because she was interested in Dr. Currant. “I’m so sorry.”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “So where will you do your residency now?”

  She hesitated. “Here.”

  “Here in Manistique?”

  “Well, hopefully. It’s not decided yet.”

  “I think you might be suffering from Stockholm syndrome.”

  She smiled and laughed. “Maybe. They’re building a brand new facility that opens up in the fall.” She pointed west. “It’s about a mile west of here, off Highway 2.”

  They reached the boardwalk. She bent down and tugged on her laces. “I spoke to Dr. Currant about it. He came over last night after you went to bed.”

  “He did? There are rules about having men at the house at night.”

  She laughed. “He didn’t stay. It was purely professional,” she replied evenly. “He said he was going to talk to the hospital’s director and set me up with an interview.”

  “Sounds promising,” he said, but only because she seemed truly interested in staying.

  “We’ll see,” she said, and began running.

  When Emily was in the shower, Mark made himself a cup of coffee and walked out the back door. He sauntered around the side of the house and across the lawn to the tree. There he drank his coffee, staring back at the house. Vivian’s house. His grandfather’s house before that. He couldn’t sell it, though he didn’t know exactly what else to do with it, either. Then as he surveyed the quiet neighborhood, his mind wandered a little further, and he considered briefly what it would be like to live in Manistique, before laughing out loud.

  As he stepped inside through the front door, he heard Emily calling him from upstairs.

  “Yeah?” he yelled back.

  “Can you get me a cup of coffee? I haven’t had any today.”

  “Sure.”

  After getting her coffee, he went upstairs and knocked on her door.

  “Come in.”

  After a brief hesitation—he was unsure that he had heard right—and with a certain anxious tension in his heart, he walked in.

  Emily was in the bathroom, brushing her hair. She was wearing a robe.

  “Here you go,” he said, walking toward her. He stopped and held out the mug, remaining on his side of the threshold.

  She moved over and took it. “Thank you, thank you.” She blew into the cup and took a sip. “After I got out of the shower, all I wanted to do was go back to bed.”

  Mark nodded. “After you’re done getting ready, I have something to tell you.”

  “I have something to tell you too, but don’t leave. Just tell me.”

  “It can wait,” he answered, feeling uncomfortable.

  “Sit down and tell me,” she said, pointing to the bed.

  He sat down where he still had an angled view of her. She brushed at something on her face. “I’m going to keep the house.”

  She turned toward him. “Yeah?”

  “Yeah. I’ll come and visit you once in a while.”

  “That’d be nice—assuming I get the job here.”

  “You’ll get it,” he said, slapping his knees and standing up. “That’s it. That was my news.”

  “Where are you going?”

  “I was going to let you finish getting ready.”

  “No, stay. Remember, I want to tell you something.”

  He sat down again. “Okay.”

  She was silent for a moment, putting on mascara. “I’m not sure I can do this today.”

  “You can,” he said evenly.

  “He’s going to be angry with me. He quit being a doctor because of me.”

  “Maybe he’ll reconsider after you talk to him.”

  “Maybe.” Her answer came from far away. “I’m going to get dressed.”

  Mark got up again.

  “No, no, sit down,” she insisted.

  “But—”

  “Just shut your eyes.”

  Hesitantly he sat back down and shut his eyes. “My eyes are closed.”

  “Don’t peek.” He heard her step into the room near him.

  “Completely shut. I promise.”

  He heard her robe fall to the ground. A nervous twirl played in his stomach. He pressed his eyes closed even tighter.

  “You weren’t totally wrong yesterday.”

  “About what?”

  She didn’t answer him immediately. “I totally related to that story and at the end when he, you know . . . I don’t know, it struck me hard. Like I might be going down that same path.”

  “But you’re n—”

  “Not that I would ever do that exactly. But I thought about quitting. Like Dr. Olsen. Nicholas’s death struck me really hard at first. I dealt with it by being angry. I was angry at John. Even at Dr. Olsen. I used my anger as a shield. But it had other effects. I stopped socializing with my friends and coworkers. I lost my appetite. I was unhappy. And then came Match Day.”

  “Match Day?”

  “It’s the day you learn which hospital you get matched with for residency.”

  “Oh right.” He heard the gentle swish of clothes being put on.

  “And I got matched with Lincoln Presbyterian, which was a huge confidence-booster. Of course I was still upset and sad about Nicholas, but suddenly I was distracted by all the excitement. Moving to Chicago and all that. And now I feel really badly for Dr. Olsen.”

  “Everything will work out in the end,” Mark said.

  There was silence for a moment, and then she said, “You can open your eyes now.”

  He did, finding her barefoot, wearing jeans and a soft white ruffled top. He stood up. “Any interest in day-old French toast?”

  She smiled. “Definitely. I’ll be down in a few minutes.”

  When Emily came downstairs, Mark met her in the dining room with two plates of French toast, four pieces each, carrying the maple syrup under his arm.

  “Smells great. Sometimes leftover food is better than fresh. Like stew.”

  Mark nodded. “And meatloaf.”

  “Yes! What about chili?”

  “Definitely.” He pulled out the chair. His heart immediately sank. Speak, Memory on the chair. He sighed.

  “What?”

  He picked up the book and showed her.

  “Oh.”

  Setting it on the table, he said, “That reminds me.”

  “What?”

  Mark sat down. “Bear Foot had another vision.”

  Emily took a bite. “Mmm. This is really good.”

  “Thanks.”

  “So what did Bear Foot see this time?”

  “Actually he didn’t see anything, only heard a voice.”

  “How’s that a vision?”

  “That’s what I said! Anyway he said it sounded a bit like George.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. And it was the night George died.”

  “Not that I believe in any of this, but what did George say?”

  “He told him not to leave Manistique. And he was right. Bear Foot should never have driven Yvonne. He could have saved himself all that time.”

  Emily’s mouth twisted skeptically. “That’s ridiculous.”

  “I know, I know. It was just a dream he had.”

  “No. I mean the message is ridiculous. You’re trying to tell me that George came to Bear Foot in a vision so that he would save himself a two-hour drive?”

  Mark shrugged. “Yeah, it does seem trivial.”

  She laughed. “Yeah.” She took another bite. “You definitely got the second B in the B&B covered. Now, if you only worked on your hospitality . . ."

  He shook his head. “Bear Foot did say the message could have been for somebody else.”
<
br />   “Like who?”

  He gazed out into the living room. “You, maybe.”

  Her eyebrows lifted. “But I’ve already decided to stay.” She pointed at Mark. “Maybe it was meant for you.” She winked at him.

  Mark frowned. “No way. No way.”

  Chapter Thirty-Three

  Waiting to turn east onto Highway 2, Emily gazed in the opposite direction, west, toward Appleton. She wished they could go to her parents’ house and have a relaxed Memorial Day barbecue in the backyard. She missed her dad’s beef brisket, smoked for eight hours—

  “You thinking about your car?” Mark asked.

  The dealership was in that direction, two blocks west around a small bend. “I would have been really upset if I had called them this morning without any idea.”

  “I know.”

  Several cars were lined up behind a slow truck. When the last car passed, they turned left, and a sharp pain shot through Emily’s gut with a cold wash of anxiety.

  “So did you talk to them?” Mark asked.

  “Who?”

  “The dealership.”

  Emily nodded. “Yeah, I called when you were in the shower. At first no one answered. It just rang and rang. I thought for a second it might be closed.”

  “Memorial Day.”

  “Yeah, but finally Barbara answered.”

  “What did she say?”

  “She was shocked to find out about Conrad’s finger. She had no idea.”

  “Look at us. We’re insiders, we know more gossip than the locals.”

  She smiled. “Yeah, but is that good or bad?”

  He chuckled.

  Lake Michigan came in and out of view through a line of evergreens. When they drove by the hotel that was being renovated, Mark commented, “I heard that that hotel actually burnt down, and that’s the reason for the renovation.”

  “Really?”

  “I’m thinking it was one of Bear Foot’s ritual fires gone wrong.”

  “To rid the hotel of evil spirits?” Emily laughed.

  “Oh, I guess I never explained that to you.”

  “Explained what?”

  “Bear Foot’s fire that day. That was for Vivian. A gesture to keep her warm during her spirit’s journey to heaven.”

  “And you put it out?”

  “No,” he replied defensively. Then, “First off, you don’t believe in that stuff. Secondly, I started a fire inside the house for her, okay?”

  “I’m not sure if that’s the same, but okay.”

  “Don’t worry, Bear Foot gave me his full blessing.”

  The view of the lake opened and Emily stared out there, trying to calm her nerves.

  “What did he say when you called?” Mark asked.

  “Who?”

  “Dr. Olsen.”

  She hesitated a second. “I haven’t called yet.”

  “You haven’t?” He gave her a look of consternation. “So how do you know if he’s actually there?”

  She didn’t answer immediately, not until he turned and looked at her again. “I don’t know,” she muttered.

  “Seriously? We’re going to drive all that way—”

  “You don’t have to go.” She stretched her neck and stared out her window, partially expecting the car to swing around.

  After a loud breath, Mark said, “Sorry, sorry. I know this is difficult for you, but . . ."

  She was quiet for a moment and then explained, “I’m not sure he’d be willing to see me if I wasn’t already there.”

  “Yeah. I sort of get that.”

  “Sorry, I should have said something.”

  The Indian casino came up. A few cars were parked in the lot.

  “A little early for gambling, isn’t it? Like drinking pop for breakfast.”

  “I interned with a doctor who drank Diet Coke for breakfast, put it in his corn flakes.”

  “Yuck.”

  “Hey!” Emily tapped on the window. “Doesn’t that look like George’s niece?”

  Mark looked back toward the casino, but they were at a bad angle by the time he looked. “I don’t know.” He slowed down, then pulled over.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Turning around. I want to see if it was her.”

  “What, are you planning to confront her or something?”

  He let a car pass and then made a U-turn. “No, I just want to see if it was her.”

  “Why?”

  “Because I’d like to know before I get any more involved.”

  “Know what?”

  “Whether she has a gambling problem.”

  Emily sighed. “Come on.”

  They pulled into the parking lot. She said, “Are you going inside? Maybe someone will see you and think you have a problem.”

  “Nope. I’m just going to look for her car.”

  Only a dozen or so cars were in the lot. He stopped behind a white Ford Explorer with an Illinois license plate. “Yep, that’s her, all right,” he said.

  “So what?”

  They drove off. “Nothing,” he said. “Except that I’m not having dinner with her now.”

  “Come on. You’re kidding, right?”

  They got back on the highway. He shook his head. “No, I’m not kidding. She has some kind of gambling addiction.”

  “Addiction? You’re totally jumping to conclusions.”

  “What other conclusion is there?”

  “Maybe they have great breakfasts there. Have you thought of that?”

  He answered her with a murky glare.

  “You can at least ask her about it.”

  “I wouldn’t believe her anyway—unless she admits she has a problem.”

  “But you said you liked her.”

  “I do—I did.”

  “So . . ."

  “So this changes everything. I don’t need this kind of complication in my life.”

  “Ha!” she said. “My life is complicated. Your life is a walk in the park.”

  “And I’d like to keep it that way.”

  She shook her head.

  Mark recounted a story about his friend’s girlfriend—a gorgeous woman who wrote award-winning children’s books, was working on a graduate degree in child psychology, and was from a wealthy family in New York. “She turned out to be a complete fraud.”

  “What do you mean she was a fraud?”

  “She wasn’t a writer of children’s book—she had the same name as the author. Just a coincidence and she ran with it. She wasn’t studying in school. And she wasn’t from a rich family in New York.”

  “I don’t get it. You said she was attractive.”

  “She was. She must have felt inadequate or something.”

  Emily said, “Oh no,” softly.

  “What.”

  “This is where—” She shut her eyes.

  “Huh?”

  “The deer.”

  Mark spotted a red stain on the left side of the road. “Oh . . ." After a moment he said, “That was one determined deer.”

  “What do you mean by that?” She opened her eyes again.

  “It made it to the other side.”

  “No it didn’t.”

  “But . . ." He thought for a few seconds, running it through his mind, confirming the logic. “The damage to your car was on the left side—”

  “Can we talk about something else?” she snapped.

  But they didn’t talk about anything at all. They rolled silently through long straight roads past trees and grassy clearings, isolated houses and dilapidated buildings that looked like they had never been new, and through the scarce township.

  Emily stared out at the landscape, worried about her meeting. Mark thought about Laura. A bit of regret pushed on his chest, but he remained determined. When they stopped somewhere, he’d call her and cancel dinner.

  Mark’s cell phone rang. He smiled when he saw who it was. “Do you mind if I get this?”

  “No, I don’t mind.”

  “Bra
dley, what’s going on?” he said, on speaker.

  “Oh, thank God, you’re alive.”

  “Reports of my death have been greatly exaggerated.”

  “I suppose so.”

  “Why would you think otherwise?”

  “First off, you missed the party.”

  “That’s right! I’m so sorry, Brad, I forgot to call—by the way, don’t say anything obscene. You’re on speaker.”

  “Yeah, who’s there?”

  “Emily.”

  “Emily who?”

  “Hello, I’m Emily.”

  “Hi. Nice to meet you, Emily. You don’t have any kids, do you?”

  “Come on, Brad,” Mark pleaded. He looked over at Emily and shook his head. “Ignore him.”

  “Sorry, sorry. Only kidding,” Brad said. He asked, “So who are you?”

  “It’s a long story,” Mark replied, looking over at her with a grin.

  “Very long story,” she said.

  “I promise to tell you all about it when I get back.”

  “Back? Where are you?”

  “Michigan. The UP.”

  “Seriously?”

  “Not for long,” Emily interjected.

  “True,” Mark confirmed. “We’re heading to the Lower Peninsula.”

  “What are you doing way up there? You didn’t mention anything about a trip.”

  “I should’ve called you. My aunt died last week. She lived up here.”

  “Oh. I’m very sorry to hear that, Mark.”

  “Thanks. I’ll be back in a couple days. We can catch up then.”

  “Sure. Glad you’re okay. I’ll let Steve know. He was worried too. Thought you were stuck in jail without bail money.”

  Mark laughed. “Steve always thinks the best.”

  “He does.”

  “You guys know I’d call one of you to get me out.”

  “That’s what I told him.”

  “All right, Brad, I’ll call you later this week.”

  He ended the call.

  “That was an old high school buddy,” he said. “I totally forgot he had an invited a few of us over to his house for a barbecue yesterday.”

  Emily nodded.

  They were quiet again. A few minutes later, as they neared Naubinway, Lake Michigan appeared. Mark broke the silence. “You okay?”

  “Huh? Yeah, I guess. Sorry.”

  “It’s fine. You don’t have to talk.”

  “I mean, I’m sorry about back there.”

  “Back where?”