Fly by Night (43 page)

He sniffed her palm, her fingers. She felt his wet nose. Then he looked straight at her. Panic tingled in her throat but she washed it clean. Yellow eyes, black face, she kept her hand out, held her ground.

All at once Jethro nuzzled his cheek against her hand, almost knocking her over.

“Hi, beautiful boy.” Her voice was like syrup. The fur of his cheek was smooth and cool to the touch. She dug in her fingers.

Then he turned and pawed the door again, looking back at her.

She opened the door. “Here you go.”

He dashed off as if he'd just spotted breakfast.

*   *   *

The bird was perched in the same spot where it had fallen asleep the night before.

After feeding Lacey and Junior, Amelia slipped on coat, boots, snapped on leashes, and took the pups out. The sun was out. The snow was so bright she had to shield her eyes.

After the pups had relieved themselves, she noticed the Jeep. It was heaped with about a foot of snow. She dug out more logs and carried them in to feed the fire.

The bird moved to the kitchen counter and stood looking at her.

“Hungry?” she asked.

Pulling out a loaf of bread, she crumbled it into fine crumbs, scattering it along the countertop.

“Thirsty too?” She then took one of Gloria's saucers and filled it with water.

The bird looked at her after a peck at one of the crumbs. It seemed so tame or maybe just unafraid.

She filled and placed a pot on the stove, waiting for the water to boil. Thank God she'd bought instant coffee.

The bird then flew back to the same window ledge and tapped again with its beak.

“You want out too?”

Amelia stepped to open the window. The bird flew off so quickly it seemed to vanish as she lost sight of it in seconds.

 

34

Amelia shoveled out the Jeep before calling Charlotte for directions to Whitedeer's place. She then hurried downtown to the Bayfield bakery on Rittenhouse Ave., nabbing one of the last blueberry coffee cakes. Staying at Gloria's house would have been impossible had it not been for Whitedeer's firewood.

Amelia drove as fast as was safe so that the cake would still be warm by the time she arrived. She heard sniffing from the back cage. With her right hand she kept preventing the bakery box that was taped shut from flying off the seat with each turn.

“Survived the storm, did ya?” Charlotte had laughed earlier while giving Amelia directions. “Was wondering how you'd made out.”

“Well, I couldn't have called you if I tried. No phone reception,” Amelia began.

“Not surprised.”

“But I did have a couple of visitors late last night.”

“Oh?”

She told her about Jethro's visit.

Charlotte was quiet for a few moments before speaking. “Oh thank goodness, that was Jethro, alright.” Amelia heard relief as the woman called, “TJ.” She listened as Charlotte relayed the information.

Then she told Charlotte about the bird.

“A bird, eh?” Charlotte sounded skeptical. “What kind?”

“Greenish-yellow,” Amelia said. “Tiny.”

“Huh.”

She could tell Charlotte was thinking about it.

“Sure it's okay to show up to Whitedeer's place without calling?”

“He doesn't answer the phone.”

“What do you mean, he doesn't answer the phone?”

“It's what I said.”

“You're kidding.”

“Does it sound like I'm kidding?”

Amelia made a noise as she frowned.

“If Cherise, one of his daughters is there, she'll answer, but he only uses it to call out.”

“Interesting strategy,” Amelia said. “So how will I know if he's home?”

“He's always home.”

“He's always home,” Amelia repeated, shaking her head.

*   *   *

Amelia counted five driveways before arriving at the sixth as Charlotte had said. The mailbox jutted out onto the road; it said WD, in black and white letters like Charlotte had said. Amelia braked. Peeking down the narrow wooded driveway lined with birch trees, it looked freshly plowed. The white-on-white of trees against snow made the driveway entrance almost invisible.

Turning in, she secured the bakery box, the warmth of the cake felt good on her hand.

A yellow Lab mix stood guard, watching her arrival. The dog didn't bark, didn't give chase. Once she parked, the animal hobbled toward her in an arthritic way, tail wagging, happy to greet, walking as if its stiff hips hurt.

Whitedeer's place opened into a clearing. There were three metal outbuildings with open garage doors. Each housed machinery along with stacks of lumber.

She glanced through an open doorway where a man was running a long board through a sawmill with the help of another holding the other end. Both looked up as she pulled in.

Two trucks were parked, both with mounted snowplows, near a tiny older white clapboard-sided home with green shutters, trim, and door. Smoke steamed from a tall metal chimney. Two mountainous woodpiles were stacked on either side of the house. One for use this winter, as Charlotte had explained, the other to dry out for next winter.

Amelia parked, left the engine running for the heater, and carefully lifted the cake box, balancing it as she thought to drop it off, leaving the pups to wait.

Snow crunched under her boots. The dog approached.

“Hello.” Amelia bent over and held out her hand. She touched the fur under the dog's chin. He smelled her hand.

The sawmill stopped. One of the men brushed off his hands as he walked toward her.

“Help ya?”

“Whitedeer?” she asked, already assuming he was too young to fit the description.

He smirked and looked at the bakery box, pointing to the house before turning back.

A few horses stood by in heavy blankets watching from a gated entrance in the barn.

“Hi, guys,” she said and walked past.

Their ears twitched at the sound of her voice. She met their eyes. One of their tails swished, the other horse turned and walked away.

She approached what appeared to be the front door and stepped up onto the porch. Amelia was just about to knock when a woman about her age beat her to it and opened the door.

“Cherise.” The woman held out her hand and then introduced the man standing behind her. “And Peter, my husband.”

Amelia introduced herself, and passed off the coffee cake.

“Hey, Dad?” the woman called inside. “Dad. Someone's here to see you; brought you your cake.”

Whitedeer entered what appeared to be the kitchen from another room.

“Why, you're Ma'iingan Ninde's kid sister,” he said, motioning with a clawlike stiff hand. “I recognized you. Come closer,” the old man said.

Amelia took a few steps.

He searched her face as if looking for something familiar and latched onto a few features.

“Yep. You look like him.”

She didn't answer.

“Your father too.”

“Oh. You knew my father?”

“Sure did,” he said. “Were best buddies. Went hunting, fishing, harvesting mannomin with him.”

She looked puzzled as she handed him the boxed cake.

“Wild rice,” he said. The old man motioned for her to follow into the interior of the house, holding the box. “Warmer in here,” he said. “Thanks for the cake.”

“Well, thanks for the wood.” Amelia laughed. “I think I got the better deal out of this, especially after last night.”

“You haven't tried the cake,” Whitedeer said. “You might be singing a different tune in a few minutes,” he said. “Cherise?” he called to his daughter.

His daughter followed in with plates and forks.

“Did you deliver all that wood by yourself?” Amelia asked.

“Got two grandsons visiting.”

“Have a seat,” Cherise said as they sat near the woodstove.

Amelia noticed his daughter brought only two plates.

“Will you join us?” Amelia asked.

“No, thanks,” the woman said. “We just stopped by.”

“Every morning she checks to see if I'm dead yet,” Whitedeer said.

Amelia laughed. “Sorry.” She covered her mouth with a hand.

“No such luck today.” Cherise laughed. “Only the good die young. Dad'll live forever.”

“Love you too, baby girl,” Whitedeer snickered.

His daughter shook her head and made a face, saying in a sarcastic voice, “No, more lucky for us, Dad.”

“Oh bullshit.” He laughed. Cherise bent over to hug him as they both chuckled. “Get outta here. You got my grocery list?” He tried to sound gruff and demanding.

Cherise held up the rumpled envelope with his list over her shoulder as proof before slipping into her coat.

“Why the bologna, Dad, not the ham?” She paused, reading the list.

“I don't know.” The old man shrugged and stretched, contemplating as his hands patted his stomach just once. “Change is in the air, I guess.”

“Fair enough,” his daughter said. “Call if you change your mind about the ham.

“There's coffee on the stove,” Cherise said to Amelia. “Mugs in the cabinet.”

“That's my son-in-law,” Whitedeer said. “Peter Holmgren. Fish guy from the DNR.”

“Hi.” Peter reached to shake. “Yeah, TJ told me about you.”

Amelia wondered.

“I'm down one assistant,” he said. “Kasey's out on maternity leave. I'm a fish biologist for the DNR. If you're sittin' around bored sometime and wanna come out with me to get fish samples before the lake opens, give a holler.”

She looked at him and nodded. “Really?”

“Yeah,” he said. “Can't pay you much,” Peter said.

“I'll take it,” Amelia said as they all nodded.

“Sure beats the hell out of just sitting around doing nothing,” he said. “Go out to the Apostle Islands on snowmobiles; give you a tour all the way to Outer Island. I could sure use the help. And this way you can tell me all about your work. TJ couldn't say enough about it.”

She looked at him, a bit surprised that TJ would even mention her, much less be excited about anything she'd do except for maybe going away.

“I'd like that,” Amelia said.

“I'll get your number from TJ,” he said. “Set nets weeks ago; they need to come out soon. Some probably froze into the lake but we'll get 'em out.”

“Does the whole lake freeze?” she asked

“Some years,” Peter explained. “But it's been a warm one, one of the warmest on record but parts of it have, near the harbors, the islands—where we need to go. But even those parts'll be breaking up early so we need to get out there in the next week or two before they become too unstable to collect our samples. Otherwise they'll be lost.”

“That sounds amazing.”

“It is. Especially if you've never been out there.” Peter's face changed into a blissful smile. “I've been out there hundreds of times, never gets old, still shocked by the beauty. You never get used to it.”

She thought of the ocean, of coral reefs, the blue of the water. She lived for the feeling of something never growing old.

“I'm in,” Amelia said. She raised her hand to high-five him.

“Cool.” Peter hand-slapped her back. “I'll give a holler when they're ready to be pulled,” he said.

“Thanks,” Amelia said and felt excited about such an adventure.

The couple headed out. “Great to meet you, Amelia,” she heard them both saying.

“Would you like coffee?” Amelia asked Whitedeer as she stood to get a cup.

“Not for me,” he said. “Any more and they tell me I'll turn into a mass murderer. Have a seat.”

“I have two pups to bring in if I'm gonna stay.”

He held up both hands, motioning for her to bring them.

She dashed out, turned off the engine, and tucked a pup under each arm.

Amelia chuckled as she set each down in the kitchen. She riffled through his cabinets, chose a mug, and poured from the glass coffeepot, grabbing a few paper towels as napkins. She walked back into the room near the fire and sat on a wooden chair.

“Them look like Lacey and Jethro's pups.”

“They are.”

He'd already broken the tape and lifted the top. “Would you look at that—still warm too. And you got blueberry.” He looked up with a smile of amazement.

“Wish I could take credit for it, but it was Charlotte.”

He sawed off a third of the cake with a steak knife and began to eat, picking up a whole section, using his hand as a plate. “Why dirty a dish?”

She chuckled in agreement, watching as Whitedeer ate with zest.

He watched the pups as he chewed and they studied him back through unfocused eyes.

“They don't know to beg yet.”

“I'm sure I'll ruin them in time.”

He chuckled. “I like you,” he said and pointed at her as he washed down the cake with clear liquid out of a coffee cup.

“She's a good girl, my Cherise. And that Peter's a great guy for putting up with all of us,” he said. “Gave your dad all kinds of shit.”

“Were you two close?”

“Pretty much,” the old man said. He reached for the knife. “Ah, look at that. Have a piece or I'll eat it all.”

Amelia smiled. “All yours.”

“How'd you know about my cake?”

“Just following Charlotte's directions.”

“That woman's a gem,” he said under his breath. “Now TJ.” He shook his head. “He can be a piece of work. Good man, though. Give you the shirt offa his back.”

Amelia sat back, letting the cake digest.

“Just have a taste,” Whitedeer said.

“You broke my arm.” She cut a thin slice. “Holy crap, this
is
good,” she said as she chewed. “Maple frosting.”

“Maple's the key,” he said with a pointer finger, reminding her of a professor she'd had in graduate school. “Told ya I got the better deal here.”