The Northwoods Chronicles Read Online Free PDF Page B

hard bed and
hold each other, stomachs growling, and wonder at the whim of
fate.
    Or would they dress up in nice, comfortable,
retired-folks clothes and order trout almandine with a fine white
wine at a restaurant in the city? Maybe they would then spend the
rest of the evening calling long-distance grandchildren and
laughing.
    Sadie Katherine turned to watch him, and did so
just in time to see him and his boat slip into a sound-muffling
shroud of mist that she hadn’t noticed a minute ago.
    The chill wind grew to gale warnings as evening
approached. The red ball of a sun set behind a horizon crusted
thick with mist, and the temperature dropped.
    All night Sadie Katherine lay in bed next to
Doc, listening to the wind try to pry open her house and she
thought of a lonely rowboat with a half-horsepower outboard,
bobbing on a whitecapped lake in a raging spring storm.
    At dawn, the wind drove rain, leaves, branches,
garbage and other debris horizontally as she drove back to the
lake. The Pinto was still there, its hatchback covered with wet
leaves and pine needles blown about by the wind.
    Did he live alone? Was there no one else to
raise the alarm?
    She drove to the big new house on the bluff, but
even as she went up there, she knew that was not where he lived.
She kept driving, around behind, to the shack.
    The rain took a breather as she jumped out of
her car and ran to the door.
    A tired young woman opened the door. She’d been
mopping up rainwater. A big-eyed toddler clung to her dress with
one hand, the thumb of his other solidly in his mouth.
    A baby whimpered from a crib across the single
room.
    They looked like something from the thirties,
something from Tobacco Road. Sadie Katherine didn’t know people
lived like this in White Pines Junction, and she wondered about
their circumstances.
    “The old man . . . ,” Sadie Katherine said.
    Her face flushed with what appeared to be hope.
“Is he dead?”
    “I don’t know,” Sadie Katherine said. “He went
out in his boat last night and didn’t come back. I’m worried.”
    “Oh,” she said, looking back at the water
dripping through the patchwork roof. “That don’t mean nothin’.”
    “Your . . . father? Grandfather?”
    “Looney old fart,” she said. “Don’t know who he
is. Calls me Myra. My name’s Cindy.”
    “Hi, Cindy,” she said. “I’m Sadie
Katherine.”
    “Want coffee?” she asked, and Sadie Katherine
was touched that this woman who had nothing was still willing to
share.
    “Sure,” she said, and sat down on an unstable
chair. The little boy detached himself from her and went to the
crib. The baby stopped crying and they both stared at their visitor
with big eyes while their mom poured coffee. “So he doesn’t live
here?” Sadie Katherine asked casually, curious but trying not to
pry.
    “Don’t know that he lives at all,” Cindy said as
she put a steaming mug on the plywood table. “Can’t seem to get rid
of him.” She swept crumbs from one end of the table and sat down.
“Don’t know if I want to.”
    The rain started up again, spraying cold mist
right through the cracks in the wall, and beyond the wind, beyond
the creaking of the cabin, came the sputtering of a car. An old
Ford. Cindy met Sadie Katherine’s eyes and raised an eyebrow. The
toddler took a step back into the shadow behind the crib.
    “Myra?” a voice called from outside. The door
opened and he came in, impossibly dry, a lilt to his frail step,
one earflap cocked up on his hat, a plastic grocery bag in his
hand. “Hi, Myra!” He looked at Sadie Katherine. “Charlie! Long
time, buddy.”
    Sadie Katherine looked at Cindy, who just
shrugged.
    “Amazing catch last night.” He held up the bag
with proud enthusiasm. “Fish couldn’t wait to jump into the boat.”
He set the bag down in the sink. “I think it was the calm
moon.”
    He looked at the place on his skinny, freckled
wrist where a watch could be but wasn’t, and said, “I’m late for
Rotary.”