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“Remember that horrible man—Al,” Ruby says. “He had the most
wretched
comb-over. It would flop about when the wind wasn't in his favor.”

“Who could forget,” I add. “Here comes our food.”

Bonnie, wearing one of the fancy blue-and-yellow striped aprons we made for her and Marsha, comes over with our order. I always think it's so impressive when someone can carry loaded plates up and down their arms. She's looking the most beautiful I've ever seen her, radiant even.

“I would have come by sooner,” Bonnie says, plunking down our plates. “But we got swamped by a group that came over for some tour of yet another possible development on the island and I guess they'd gotten hungry, lucky for me!”

“You look ravishing, darling,” Ruby says and Bonnie reaches up to pat her hair. “My
heavens,
this looks simply divine.” She sweeps her arm over the plate-laden table.

“I haven't worked this hard in years,” Bonnie replies, “but, well, you all know, when it's something you love, it's different. More of a pleasure and people have been so nice and Charlie—he's a godsend.”

“
I'd
say,” I say. “You
do
look great. Are you planning on being open all year round?”

“I sure am,” she says with pride. “Listen, I gotta go, so nice to see you all—bye now and thanks for stopping in.” She darts back behind the bar.

We inhale our delicious lasagna, eat all the bread and decide to head back to the cottage for dessert. I pull my van up to the back and we file through the porch and up into the warmth of the kitchen.

“Hey, Rocky.” Johnny scoops him up and gives him a good scratching behind his ears. “Thanks for dinner, my good man.”

“Yeah,” Howard says, giving his head a pat on the way to the living room. “I'll light a fire.”

“That would be lovely,” Ruby says, her head poked in the fridge. “I know I have something in here that would round things out nicely. Hey—bang on! Look what I found.” She plunks a familiar brown box onto the stump table, grinning proudly.

“Oh boy,” I reach over and lift the lid. “There's not a whole lot left in here; do we have to share—with
them
?” I slit my eyes. “This is B.T. McElrath chocolate and I don't know if they deserve this stuff.”

“Get that box in here!” Johnny yells from the living room. “Who do you think gave that to you in the
first
place, anyway?”

I sigh, pick up the box, take a huge, delicious sniff and then close the lid.

“I'll put the kettle on for tea,” Ruby says, giving my arm a pat. “Now go and share a bit of that—but mind—you best save a piece or two for me.”

“You best get your rear in gear,” I sass. “I can't be responsible for my actions.”

“Perhaps”—Ruby turns off the burner—“we'll do tea later.”

I
'm sitting in my VW van, adjusting the shawl I've thrown over a soft yellow coatdress I just love. My hair is up in a soft twist, so I really feel the cool lake wind on my neck. As the shore of Bayfield slowly comes into view, I scan the ferry parking lot for Helen's silver car. She told me to look for the one with the red kayak on top. Shouldn't be too hard to spot. Apparently, Ryan secured the boat with new locks and now he can't find the keys.

I reach over and turn off the CD of David Gray the boys lent me. Howard thinks I listen to too much music sung by dead people. Can I help it if I like
classic jazz
? I would kill for a smoke or a six-pack—no, make that a big-ol'-bag of Reese's Peanut Butter Cups. Unfolding a stick of crappy smokers' gum, I pop it in and do my breathing. Should be happy as I can, I keep reminding myself.

While the ferry pulls up to the dock, I powder my oil-slicker nose, touch up the lips and then snap up my visor. Opening up the ashtray, I select several Reese's Peanut Butter Cups, then one more, and slide them into my purse. Revving the van to life, I pull off the ferry and head over to Helen's waiting car.

She's standing outside of it and waves me over. I park behind her and climb out.

“Have you been waiting long?” I ask after we hug. “They were having trouble unloading some mysterious-looking crates over in LaPointe.”

“I purposely came early,” Helen replies, tucking a waft of blond hair away. “Bayfield reminds me so much of Mystic, Connecticut, does it to you?”

“I've never been there. I honestly haven't traveled much at all; that's why I read so many books, I guess. You positive you want to drive?”

“Oh sure. Hop in.”

I sit down in her car and sink into the cushy seats. A seat belt loops up and around me. I adjust it a bit; the thing tried to clutch one of my boobs!

“Nice car—what is it?”

True, I could care less, but I'm still a little nervous around her and
really
nervous about seeing my dad. God, what if he slams the door in my face. I'd open it and slam it right back in his. I have to stop thinking like this.

“It's a Saturn VUE, gift from my mom when I landed the professor position at Duluth. As far as taking this instead…to be honest,” Helen says, adjusting the radio, “I'm really sensitive to, well, I don't smoke and your van…”

“Stinks to high heaven?” I ask and watch Helen's face go pale. “Relax—we're trying to quit, so keep any snacks out of my reach.” I pull my purse in closer.

“I didn't mean to offend…”

“Don't be silly, I'm just giving you a hard time. Let's be honest, it
does
stink. Now follow this road up and over toward Highway 13.”

“My father used to smoke,” Helen says, making a right turn. “That's what killed him, lung cancer. So I'm really happy to hear you're trying to quit.”

“Heavy on the
trying
part—but thanks. Sorry about your dad.”

“It's okay. What did yours say when you called him? He must have been very surprised.”

“
Surprised
? I thought he was going to choke to death. His wife, Kate-the-bitch, sorry, she had to have him call me back. Poor guy.”

“What's wrong with—”

“He's got pulmonary fibrosis, Howard researched it and this is not one of those things you get over. Damn diseases.”

Helen chuckles and then catches herself. “I have to say, Eve. I really like your coping skills.”

“It's all a cover, but thanks.” I relax a bit. “What the hell are we listening to, sounds like the tape may be bad.”

“I'm a
huge
NPR fan. Garrison Keillor's show,
The Prairie Home Companion
, is a favorite of mine, but I agree, that man should stick to storytelling and leave the singing to—”

“Singers!” I add and we laugh. It feels great.

We drive on, past the town of Ashland, and eventually we're flying along south on US 63. The early morning sun's brilliant rays are, well, brilliant. So we slip on sunglasses; while rummaging in my purse, I find a pack of cigarettes.

“What the hell?” I pull it out for a closer look. “I thought for sure I'd tossed every last one of these out—oh, for God's sake—it's bubble gum.” I open the tiny Post-it and read out loud, “‘I don't suggest you light one of these, I tried and it's most disagreeable. Love R.'” We giggle.

“I take it you and Ruby are in this together?” Helen asks.

“All four of us. Oh that's right, you've not met Sam and Lilly yet—or the boys next door—for that matter. You'll love them all. Talk about
addictive
.”

“How did you ever end up up there? I mean it's a truly unusual place, but it's so—remote, you must get lonesome.”

“It is and yet it's not. I can't explain it, ending up there. I think—no, I know—it's where I belong.”

“That's a feeling I'm working on.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I'm not sure if I belong in Duluth. I mean I love my job, my new place, which I'll have to show you sometime…but the belonging part.”

“It's been years since I've been there,” I say. “I always thought of
Duluth
as really remote and now look where I live,” I chuckle. “But really, things like that take time and having that handsome hunk around, well…”

Helen laughs, but sits up straighter. “He's a great guy. I'm glad he's not as serious as I am. I need that.”

“You do seem a bit—”

“Uptight.” Helen poses it as more of a statement. “I am. I've got this thing about doing everything perfectly. I got straight A's all through college, but had a
zero
social life. Now I wish I had at least done a few things outside of
studying like crazy
.”

“I've always wished I'd gone to college, but it's one more thing I did to spite my dad. Stupid, huh?” I sigh, thinking how stupid.

“You two really don't get along very well, do you?”

I take a deep breath, remembering the tension. “No, there was always, I don't know, something between my folks, like an invisible wall. I also just got along better with my mom.”

“Some Catholics can be so tense,” Helen says, reading my mind. “I can't imagine
not
being in touch with my mother—or father, for that matter.”

“Do you ever, you know, talk to your dad? I'm only asking, 'cause I chat with my mom an awful lot—mostly in my head, but once in a while out loud. That's the real reason I have Rocky around, so should someone walk in on me, I can say I was chatting with
him
.” Helen grins.

“I think of my father, but…” Helen pauses, “he was so strict with us. We had a lot of rules and limits and not much room for, well, fun things. He was very into discipline and routine and God forbid you didn't finish a household assignment, as he called our little jobs around the house.”

“Probably why you're so damn uptight!” I say and Helen shoots me a look and then we both laugh and I realize: “I've had a bit too much coffee; would you mind pulling into the next rest area? I'm about to explode!”

 

“Much better,” I say, pulling my door closed. “Nothing like midair peeing. Men have no idea what we have to go through. What I wouldn't do to just pull over, pull it out and be done with it.” Helen gasps and then giggles.

“I think,” Helen adds, “you're going to be a very
bad
influence on me.”

“Well, I sure as hell hope so.”

We settle in and enjoy the views flying by. Helen pulls down her visor, selects a CD from her perfectly arranged collection and slips it into the player. Soft orchestrations of violin and flute fill the air and carry my mind away.

I'm remembering being seventeen and pregnant and scared to death. The shiny floors of the convent, the cold stirrups—my legs trembling and the horrible tearing feeling. I just wanted it all to be over. I wanted to go home and be a teenager, but I never was again, not really.

Glancing over toward Helen—who knew this is what my little baby would become. All those years I've wondered what ever became of her and here she is. Some things are too amazing; it's hard to put them in any kind of sense or order. I never dreamt she'd be this, this beautiful, intelligent person, and I had nothing to do with it. Hats off to her parents and thank goodness not
everyone
is adopting children from
other
countries.

Though, from listening to my clients explain the situation, the U.S. is the worst for the adoptive parents. I mean, can you imagine adopting a beautiful little baby, falling head over heels in love with it and then the birth mother changing her mind and taking it back? Talk about heartbreaking.

Helen reaches over and turns down the music. “I memorized the directions to your father's home. But just to double check, would you get the printout out of the glove compartment?”

I snap open the little door above my knees and remove neatly folded papers. Instead of cigarette packs, lipsticks and poorly folded maps—nothing!

“Now if I read
too
much,” I inform Helen, “while you're tooling along, I'll puke my guts out all over your fancy car. But—I'll give it a shot.”

“I get motion sickness, too,” Helen says as if it's a good thing. “I wonder what other things we have in common. Genetics fascinate me.”

“Be glad you didn't get these thighs, or these.” I heave my ample chest out for emphasis. “What am I going to do when I'm ninety and they're down to my waist?”

“Actually…” Helen hesitates. I notice she grips the wheel tighter. “I used to be quite a bit heavier and I
did
have
enormous
, forty double-D's, to be exact. I got to the point where walking into the shower was just
awful
and my shoulders were so sore and kids can be
very
mean and all the stares and giggles and—”

“You're telling me!” I reply, wondering what it must have been like for her. “So you had a
reduction
? Good for you. Boy, that's one gene that transferred to you exactly—sorry 'bout that. I've heard it's a really intense operation.”

“It was worth it, all of it,” Helen says, a bit embarrassed. “Ryan asked me about the scars and he's wanting me to put them back! He said he was kidding—but good grief.”

“What is it with guys and big boobs? I've considered having my girls taken down a cup or two, but I just chickened out. Growing up, my parents would
never
have even
considered
such a thing.” I think my mom was jealous, though; can you imagine?

“It's really odd, how your father was a professor of mine in college and I've walked right by your salon in Eau Claire. Really makes you wonder about things, the statistics and—the odds—astronomical, really.”

“No kidding—now, I can take a peek at this map, but I pretty much know the route by heart. I have to confess, I used to drive all the way out to my dad's house and then just drive by really slow. Could never bring myself to stop.”

“We'll be picking up Highway 53 soon and the next stop will be a turnoff at the Birch Street Exit. That will lead us to North Shore Drive and—to him. Isn't that weird; I live on North Shore
Road
?”

“How are you feeling?” Helen carefully asks. “I've kind of met him, more or less, but for you, it's much more emotional and, well, I'm really grateful we're going together.”

“To be honest, I should have gotten
over
myself and gotten in touch with him years ago. I'm only glad that he's—that he's still around and I can maybe make some sort of
peace
with him. I only hope his wife won't be there. I don't want to go
too
overboard here.”

“I'd be very proud of you—I am proud—if you were
my
daughter.”

“Thanks, Helen, that's really sweet of you,” I reply. I feel odd, young and foolish somehow, but strong, too. “I originally named you Amy. I bet you didn't know that, until you got my note, that is.”

“Amy.” Helen tries the name on. “I knew an Amy once in high school. She was short, had long, beautiful hair, and all the boys were crazy about her. I hated her for being short and beautiful and—not me—basically.”

“Boy, do I know
that
feeling. Not only was I short, but chubby, too, and then, to top it off, I had this hair. I prayed and prayed for it to turn straight and become blond, but no. Why is it that when you're different in high school, instead of kids thinking you're, well,
interesting
, they say and do
terrible
things to you?”

“We really
have
had similar experiences,” Helen comments and we fall silent for a moment.

“You know,” I say, thinking, “I wonder if there isn't something I could do—the crew, too—to maybe help pregnant teenagers up in my neck of the woods. Now that I've found you, I feel like
doing
something, you know, so other kids don't have to go through what I did.”

Helen looks over and then sighs. “Would you have kept me, I mean, had things been different?”

“I'm not a believer in regrets or looking back,” I reply. “But I have to admit I wondered—I wasn't given a choice though and…and maybe if there was a place that could provide, well, hope and support and—”

“I'd like to help,” Helen offers. “Ryan, too.”

“I was kind of hoping you'd say that.”

As we continue on into the northern part of Eau Claire, my stomach is starting to clench. I'm more tense than when meeting
Helen
for the first time. I'm almost sick with worry, but glancing over to her, I feel better. I honestly can't understand, what took me so long?