She rested her hand on his arm. “Why not wait and call her from Petoskey?”
“I don’t know . . ."
“The casino?”
“Yes!” Though he didn’t feel as strongly about it now as he had earlier. With some distance, his judgement of her felt more petty than accurate. “I guess.”
“You should wait.”
“You think so?”
She nodded. “Definitely. No harm in waiting.”
They got back into the car, leaving the cemetery and Gaylord behind, heading northwest toward some revelation in Petoskey.
Seeing Nicholas’s grave had left a hole in Emily’s chest. She felt it every time she took a breath. “Where are you having dinner with Laura?” she asked, trying to distract herself.
“I never decided. And since it’s probably not going to happen, I haven’t given it much more thought.”
“Suppose you were going, where would you take her? Not Diner 37 again?”
“No, no. I wouldn’t want to come across as boring.”
“No, you have such an exciting personality.”
“Hey! Anyway, the only other place that comes to mind is Jake’s or Ace’s.”
“A bar? No. And definitely not pizza.”
Mark snapped his fingers and pointed at her. “But I could add a sentimental twist to the pizza.”
“How?”
“That was George’s last meal. Pepperoni pizza from Ace’s.”
“No!” She looked at him askance. “Bad idea.”
“Really? Okay. Well, there’s that restaurant next to the Cozy Inn.”
“Big Joe’s. Yeah, you could go there. I went in there for coffee.”
“Is it a nice place?”
Emily shrugged. “It’s not fancy, but it’s nice enough. The coffee’s good. It’s all I had there.”
“Who told me that? About their coffee? Anyway, sounds like a good place for breakfast.”
“There’s always the restaurant at the casino.”
He shook his head. “You’re not funny.”
She laughed. It felt good to laugh. That hole in her chest closed a little. “I can call Dr. Currant and ask him about a good place.”
“Great idea. Double date.”
“Ha, ha.”
“I’m serious. Give him a call and ask him.”
She waved him off.
“Oh sure, when the shoe’s on the other foot . . ."
“Laura doesn’t want extra people on your date.”
“She’d be fine with it. Call him and ask where we should all go.”
“No,” she said. “He might be working. Speaking of which, what about your job? You said you work for yourself?”
“You’re changing the subject.”
She shrugged. “I’m just curious.”
“Yes, I work for myself. Technically, I’m an independent contractor with a financial firm. I have my own clients. I set my own schedule.”
“So you can do your job from anywhere?”
“Yes and no. I mean, I do have to meet with clients every once in a while, but mostly everything I do is over the phone. I try to meet each client face-to-face at least twice a year.”
“So you could come out to Manistique whenever you wanted. You have a place.”
“I suppose so. Better yet, why don’t you stay at the house?”
“Really?”
“Why not? Live there until you move in with Dr. Currant.”
“Shut up.” She couldn’t help but smile. “I barely know him.”
“That’s exactly why you should invite him to dinner.”
Emily didn’t answer.
They arrived on the outskirts of Petoskey thirty minutes after leaving Gaylord. Mark wasn’t sure how to get to the lawyer’s warehouse coming from this direction.
“Look up ‘Frank Walters, attorney-at-law’ on your phone, would you?”
She looked it up and gave directions. As they arrived she said, “This is where his law office is?”
“Yeah, next to Arnot’s Body Shop. It’s kind of convenient, actually. If you’re in an accident, you can drop off your car at the body shop and walk next door and get some legal advice.”
She laughed. “Just seems like an odd place.”
“It suits this guy. Really down-to-earth.”
Mark pulled up in front of the attorney’s office, parking next to an old Chevy Suburban that was backed in. Emily asked, “Do you want me wait to here?”
He shook his head. “No, no, come inside.”
Frank Walters carried a file storage box into the reception room as Mark and Emily entered. Walters, in worn jeans, sneakers, and a blue Hope College T-shirt, greeted them and apologized for the mess, setting the box along the wall next to three columns of boxes four feet high.
“You’ve been busy,” Mark said.
Walters sighed. “I forgot how tiring moving can be.”
Mark introduced Emily and Walters to each other. Walters waved them into his office.
“Where are you moving to?” Emily asked.
“Just down the street here, the space closest to the road.”
“Better location,” Mark added, winking at her.
Once all were situated at his desk, Walters said to Mark, “I’m sorry for not giving you this when you were here last week. With all this moving . . ." The attorney’s eyes dropped to an envelope, where his curved fingers sat at attention as if ready to type. “It’s a letter from Vivian.” With both fingers, he slid the envelope across the desk to Mark. “I found it this afternoon. It’s unopened.”
Mark took the envelope. Mark was written on the front in Vivian’s hand. He turned to Emily, whose careful smile and near-imperceptible nod encouraged him to open it now.
Walters stood up. “Well I need to move some boxes into the truck, but feel free to stay as long as you’d like. And if I can answer any questions, let me know.”
“Thanks.” There was a letter opener on the desk. Mark reached over and grabbed it. He slit open the envelope and pulled out the letter.
Dear Mark,
Greetings from Manistique, Michigan. Have you ever heard of Manistique? It’s where I grew up. I don’t suppose your mother talked too much about living here, but to me it’s home. This letter was never my best-laid plan for telling you all of this. So let me explain a bit in hope that you’ll understand and perhaps forgive me.
My biological father left before I was born, and my birth mother died in a car accident when I was a baby. The man who became my father, your grandfather, worked as a doctor in the community and decided to take care of me. He eventually adopted me (he himself was a small part Indian). Margaret became my big sister. Mother was not exactly thrilled with the new addition, and when I was eight, my parents separated (Dad always said it wasn’t my fault, but I knew better). I stayed with Dad in Manistique, and Margaret left with Mother to live in Milwaukee. When I was a freshman in high school, Dad died. With nowhere else to go, I moved to Milwaukee.
I went to college and then medical school. While I was an intern, I carried on with a doctor at the teaching hospital and became pregnant. I told Margaret about it, and she encouraged me to consider adoption because I was thinking of the alternative. After all, I had been adopted, so it should have been an easy decision, right? But I always felt that I was the wedge that broke up my parents, and I didn’t want that to happen to anyone else.
I don’t know if it was Margaret’s idea or mine, but I placed my beautiful baby boy completely in Margaret’s care. Mark, you are that boy.
This resolved my turbulent feelings (at least at that moment). I thought I’d visit you often as your aunt Vivian and be at least a small part of your life. I wasn’t expecting the guilt and hurt that came afterward. I ran away—far as you know—and worked in places where others’ pain distracted me from my own. I’m sorry if I’ve caused you any pain. When you were in high school, your mother contacted me, saying that you had romanticized my life in the field. I couldn’t think of
you going out there somewhere dangerous. So I stopped with the letters altogether. That wasn’t the answer either, but it was all I could think of.
When Margaret died, I thought about contacting you. But I had promised her to never tell you the truth. She was to raise you completely as her own. That was our agreement. I was, and still am, wracked with guilt. Since you’re reading this, I never sorted out these feelings, and I’m too late to tell you in person. I am very sorry you’re learning about this this way. You deserved to know the truth long ago.
I love you, and I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me.
Your mother and aunt,
Vivian
Mark blindly handed the pages to Emily. His head felt as if it had swelled, and his feet felt numb as if not fully touching the ground. “That’s not possible,” he mumbled as Emily took hold of the letter. As he pulled the string of what he thought he knew, his own history unraveled. He scooted the chair back and leaned over, forearms resting on his thighs.
All the years flew past him. He had never been as adventurous as she was. “But I’m not like her,” he sputtered.
“Huh?” Emily exclaimed. She tugged at Mark’s arm. “Vivian’s your mother?”
As Emily said this, Walters walked back into the room. “Everything okay?” he asked.
“No need to keep looking for Vivian’s son,” Mark replied casually. “You’re looking at him.”
“What?”
“But I don’t know how. I’ve seen my birth certificate and my mother—rather, Margaret is listed as my birth mother.”
“Your birth certificate was probably reissued,” Walters said. “After the adoption was signed by the judge.”
As Mark and Emily headed out of the lawyer’s office, Walters invited them to the The Tell-Tale to watch the hockey game that night. “That’s a fun crowd,” Mark said. “But we have to get back.”
Mark still seemed anxious to her, so Emily asked if he wanted her to drive.
He shook his head. “I’m . . . I’m fine.” He walked to the driver’s side of the car. “That’s just a lot to take in.”
When they were inside the car, Mark said in a tired voice, “I should call Laura before we leave.”
“To tell her tonight is off?”
“Of course.”
“Come on. We’ll be back in time. I’ll even call Jim.”
Mark looked at her with a suspicious grin. “Really? After our day today?”
“Especially because of our day today. We need a distraction. But check with Laura first, before I call.”
“This isn’t some kind of trick, is it?”
“No. I’ll call him. I promise.” She held up her hand in an oath.
Laura sounded happy to hear from Mark. “I’ve had the craziest day!” she said. “Guess where I’ve been all day.”
“I don’t know.” With an impish grin, he turned to Emily and said, “Where have you been all day?”
“The casino.”
“The casino? No kidding.” At least she wasn’t hiding it, he thought. He couldn’t decide whether that better or worse. “So how did you do?”
“Great. But it was all Uncle George.”
“What do you mean by that?”
“He left some chips in his jacket pocket. I went to the casino to cash it in, but they wouldn’t let me because the chips were from their casino in St. Ignace.”
“So what did you do?”
“Well we finally compromised. I don’t really gamble, but they gave me tickets for the slot machines. So I played slots and lost most of it. Until the end when I won the jackpot.”
“Wow. How much?”
“Ten thousand dollars.”
“What?! Ten grand? Are you serious?”
Emily looked at Mark with wide eyes.
“Yes. Are we still on for dinner?” she asked. “My treat.”
“Actually, yes, but do you mind if another couple joins us, Emily and her doctor boyfriend?”
Emily shoved his shoulder.
“No, not at all,” she answered quickly. “Tell them dinner’s on me!”
“Great. Meet us at the house, around six.”
“Okay. See you then!”
He ended the call.
“What? She didn’t lose a bunch of money, did she?”
“No. She won ten thousand dollars. I feel like a complete idiot now.”
“Why,” she scoffed, “because she won?”
He explained.
Emily laughed. “Let me not say I told you so. But didn’t I tell you so?”
“Yes, you did. Now call your boyfriend.”
“Stop calling him that!” She dialed the number. There was no answer, so she left a message. “We’ll see if he calls back.”
“He’ll call. He likes you.”
“And how do you know?”
He didn’t answer immediately. He started the car.
“On Saturday, when he heard you were coming to the house, he got all anxious, like some high schooler.”
Emily shook her head at him. “Please.”
“Oh, sorry.”
“For what?”
“Didn’t mean to insult you—you just finished high school, didn’t you?”
“Funny. At least I’m not going to my twentieth reunion.”
“It’s not my twentieth reunion!”
“Next year?”
“No!” He glanced at her sheepishly. “A couple years.”
Jim Currant called back before they made it out of town. He said he’d love to have dinner with the three of them. He suggested the country club restaurant at the Indian Lake Golf Course.
“Is it fancy?” Emily asked him.
“No. Come as you are.”
“Hold on,” she said, and muted the phone.
“There’s a restaurant at the golf course at Indian Lake. Is that okay?” she asked Mark.
“Why yes, Lovey,” he answered in a haughty tone.
“Huh?”
“My golf game is a little rusty.”
“Shut up. Do you want to go there or not?”
“A country club?”
“It’s not fancy.”
“I can’t imagine.”
“Don’t be pretentious.”
“Pretentious, moi?”
She held out the phone in frustration. “Yes or no?”
“Yeah, sure.”
As she unmuted the phone, Mark said, “Maybe afterwards we can all take the paddleboat out.”
She waved him off. “Hi Jim. Yes, the country club sounds good. Can you meet us at the house—at the Manistique Victorian— at six?”
“Yes! I’ll definitely be there! And, Emily, thanks for asking me.”
“Of course. See you then. Bye.”
“Wow, he sounded excited,” Mark said.
“You could hear that?”
“Yes.”
He could see Emily barely contain her grin. And it was nice to see.
A few minutes later, she rested her head against the window and stared down at the edge of the road. “Let’s make a pact,” she said.
“What? Not one of those stupid, ‘If neither of us is married in a hundred years we’ll marry each other’ things?”
“No! I’m talking about what happened in Gaylord. Let’s not bring it up tonight. I don’t want to think about it for the rest of the day.”
“Or about Vivian being my mother,” he added.
“Deal.”
As Crooked Lake came in and out of view, Emily said: “I just had a thought.”
“What’s that?”
“Remember you said that we were like cousins?”
“Yeah. You backing out, cuz?”
“No, I was just thinking, since Vivian is actually your birth mother. . ."
He nodded, turned to her and beamed. “That makes us siblings. Yes.”
They stared at each other for a long second. And it all felt good and right.
“Were you serious about letting me live in the house?
” Emily asked a short time later.
He nodded. “Of course. But you have to let me stay whenever I come out.”
“Sure, but you should really stay the whole summer.”
“And run it as a bed and breakfast too,” he added sarcastically.
“You should!” Emily exclaimed. “We should. I’d help.”
“No way.”
“It’d be fun.”
“First off, you’ll be working at the hospital, and I’ll be doing all the fun stuff. Second, you said I was an awful host.”
“I never said you were awful—or did I? Did I?”
“Yes.”
“But you’ve gotten so much better, don’t you think? And your breakfasts are awesome.”
“I do like making breakfast . . ."
The idea sat deep for a while, and by the time they were a mile from the bridge, he couldn’t believe he was seriously considering it, even fantasizing about it. He could do it. And having Emily there only added to the appeal of the idea. An overwhelming optimism suffused him.
“Jamet Street. Last exit before the bridge, half a mile,” Emily announced.
Mark shook his head defiantly. “I’m going to cross.”
“What? Really? No.”
He turned to her. “You sound nervous.”
“Nervous, moi?”
He shook his head. “You don’t get it. We have some shows to get you caught up on.”
She shrugged, grinning, and set her attention on the radio.
Doris and Evelyn came on, having a fierce but friendly squabble over the best way to thicken canned soup. Emily and Mark looked at each other and shook their heads and laughed.
And so without hesitation Mark pushed passed the Jamet Street exit toward the bridge and its three-paned tower, and they forged ahead together toward Manistique.
~
Acknowledgements
And now for something completely different. . . As I look back on writing and rewriting Stuck in Manistique, I think about the many good editors, friends, and family members who helped shape the book along the way. Those who listened to plot lines, those who braved early versions of the manuscript, those who offered encouragement during this story’s long journey to completion. I’d like to name a few of those people here.
Stuck in Manistique Page 33