Heaven's keep

EIGHTEEN

In the weeks and months after, as the details of Jo’s final hour became known to him, Cork cobbled together a scene, played out again and again in his mind when he lay alone in bed at night, or while waiting for the pancake batter to bubble on the griddle, or in a thousand unexpected moments when the image would fall on him suddenly like a thief intent on stealing his heart. Small details differed: what blew in the wind across the hotel parking lot; Jo’s private thoughts; the words exchanged between her and LeDuc, exchanges that Cork knew would have taken place but the subject of which-mending the rift in her marriage-came mostly from his own deep yearning. Some of the elements were, of course, true. What the shuttle driver had reported of the conversations in the van. The recording Jo left on voice mail. The final radio transmission from the pilot as he lost altitude. Cork never allowed himself to imagine beyond the start of that precipitous descent. He held himself back from going with Jo to her final moment. That was a place he knew his heart couldn’t bear to be.

And so time passed, and although there were many periods when Cork yearned deeply for Jo, his life went on. And nearly six months later, the time finally came when he realized that for a full day he’d forgotten to imagine his wife’s last hour. And he wept as if he’d betrayed her, though he knew it was not so.

“Stephen,” Cork called up the stairs. “If you don’t get a move on, we’ll be late.”

“I’m coming!” Stephen yelled back.

“That’s what you said fifteen minutes ago. What’s taking so long?”

Trixie came bounding down the stairs, and behind her came Stephen, tall and in a suit and tie.

“My God,” Cork said. “You look downright handsome.”

“I don’t care about handsome. I just want to look nice.”

“You look stunning, buddy.”

“You don’t look half bad yourself,” Stephen said and gave his father a playful punch. “What time is Hugh picking us up?”

Cork glanced at his watch. “Should be here any minute.”

“I’ve never ridden in a limo,” Stephen said.

“Just a big car. I’m guessing that when you look back at all the firsts in your life, a limo ride won’t even make the top twenty.”

Stephen went to the window and checked the street. “How long do you think this’ll take?”

“Couple of hours, maybe. Why? Got a hot date?”

“I’m going fishing with Gordy Hudacek. We’re taking his dad’s new boat over to Grace Cove to do some fishing.”

“That’s the cigarette boat with the twin Merc engines, right? Give me a break. That boat’s all about speed. You’re going to run it over to Grace Cove just to see how fast it’ll get there.”

“Well, sure, that’s part of it. But we’re going to fish, too.”

“Middle of the day? Grace Cove?” Cork shook his head. “You won’t even get a nibble. You want to catch something, you should be dropping a line off Finger Point.”

“Dad, I’ve been fishing Iron Lake all my life. I know what I’m doing.”

“Make you a deal, then. You catch anything in Grace Cove, I’ll fry it up tonight, along with my special potatoes O’Connor, and I’ll throw together some coleslaw. You come back empty-handed, you’re responsible for dinner.”

“Deal,” Stephen said with confidence. “Is Hugh eating with us?”

“Haven’t invited him. Should I?”

“Yeah. And tell him you’ll be serving walleye.”

In the long winter months following his mother’s disappearance, Stephen had done his grieving. He’d arrived finally at a place of acceptance and, in truth, had reached that place before his father. Cork believed that partly this was because, having gone to Wyoming, Stephen felt he’d done all he could for his mother. And partly it was because Henry Meloux had worked with Stephen to help him come to this understanding and others about death. And partly it was because Stephen still had his whole life ahead of him and so much of Cork’s life felt gone. And partly-the worst part-it was because when Jo left she’d left in anger and Cork had never had a chance to make that right. He’d held a memorial service for her, and all the family had gathered. On one of the two plots in the cemetery that he and Jo had chosen together, he’d placed a simple granite stone that said “Beloved Wife and Mother.”

Cork glanced out the window. “Limo’s here,” he said.

They headed down the porch steps and into the fine sunshine of a warm May morning. Hugh Parmer slid out of the limo and stood grinning at them. He was dressed in a brown western-cut suit, white shirt, and bolo tie. He held a tan Stetson in his hands. Or a cowboy hat of some kind, anyway. To Cork, all cowboy hats were Stetsons.

“Damn, Stephen, but don’t you look good.”

“Thanks.”

“You know, I’ve got a granddaughter about your age.”

“Don’t go there, Hugh,” Cork said.

“Hell, you ought to see the guys she dates, Cork. Jeans hanging halfway down their asses, holes in their T-shirts.”

“Your generation’s showing, Hugh.”

“Guess you’re right. Still, if I’d come courting Julia that way, her father would’ve horsewhipped me.”

“Laws against that now. Probably then, too,” Cork said. “Are we going to stand around bemoaning the younger generation all day, or is Stephen going to get his first limo ride?”

“Hop in,” Parmer said and waved Stephen ahead.

It was a short ride to Sam’s Place. When they turned onto the access off Oak Street, both sides of the road over the Burlington Northern tracks were lined with parked cars, and there was a stream of people walking in from town. The parking lot was filled, but a place had been saved for the limo. They parked and got out and were greeted by lots of locals, Cork’s friends and neighbors. A platform had been erected under the pine tree next to the lake where usually Cork had a couple of picnic tables sitting. The North Star Pickers were playing bluegrass to an appreciative audience gathered there. A couple good long lines had formed at the serving windows of Sam’s Place.

Cork said, “Let me check with my staff, then I’ll join you guys.”

He split off from Stephen and Parmer and entered the old Quonset hut through the side door. The smell was a familiar slice of heaven: grilled burgers and French fries hot from the oil. He headed up front to the serving area, where Judy Madsen, who managed Sam’s Place when Cork wasn’t there, was working fast and furious with three teenage girls, trying to keep up with the flood of orders. She was a retired school administrator, a no-nonsense but good-natured woman with time on her hands, who worked well with the high school kids who were Cork’s usual hires.

“How’s it going, Judy?”

“Been hit by a landslide,” she replied from the grill, where she had half a dozen burgers and just as many hot dogs cooking. “If you wanted to shuck that sport coat and tie, you could roll up your sleeves and give a hand.”

“Got ceremonial duties to see to first.” To the teenage kids in aprons, he said, “You guys are doing great. Keep it up!”

They gave him quick smiles in reply and returned to their work.

“I’ll come back and lend a hand as soon as all the business out there is finished, Judy.”

She gave a grilling patty an expert flip. “If you don’t make it, we’ll be fine. But if this keeps up, a couple of extra hands wouldn’t hurt.”

“I’ll be back,” he promised.

Several boats had tied up to the dock. There were blankets spread along the shoreline of Iron Lake, and folks sat there eating food they’d purchased at Sam’s Place or from baskets and coolers they’d brought themselves. At a long table, members of the Aurora Chamber of Commerce were filling balloons with helium and handing them to anyone who wanted one. Escaped balloons drifted over Iron Lake like birds lost from migrating flocks.

Cork found Stephen and Parmer shaking hands with Gary Niebuhr, mayor of Aurora, and Ted Hertel, who was a county commissioner.

“Just telling Hugh here how excited we are with the project,” Niebuhr said to Cork.

“And how much we appreciate his willingness to work with us to make the development something we’re all proud to have as part of our community,” Hertel finished.

“Did you guys take that directly from the speeches you’re about to make?” Cork asked.

Niebuhr laughed and looked at his watch. “You about ready?”

“As I’ll ever be,” Cork said.

“Then let’s interrupt the music and get on with business.”

They cleared the band off the platform, and Niebuhr spoke first. He welcomed everyone and told a lame joke about a man and a talking fish, and then he spoke for too long about the Northern Lights development and what a great thing it was for Aurora and for Tamarack County. Then he introduced Hugh Parmer.

Parmer didn’t say a lot, but what he did say got an enthusiastic response. “This is a proud day for me, and this should be a proud day for all of you as well. Those of you who know the history of the Northern Lights development know that the vision has changed significantly in the last six months. Originally what we planned was to alter the shoreline of your beautiful lake by constructing condominiums rising almost at the water’s edge. Which would have been pretty nice for the folks who bought condos, but not good at all for anyone else here. That’s not what’s going to happen now. Now, all the structures will be set back from the lake and the land between will be left pretty much as God created it, full of natural grass and wildflowers. Northern Lights is meant to add to the community and to take nothing from the beauty that has always been a part of this incredible North Country of yours.

“You have one man to thank for this change of heart-Cork O’Connor. I’ve worked closely with him for six months now, and let me tell you, when this man digs in his heels, ain’t nuthin’ gonna budge him. He refused to give in to any blueprint that would damage the lakeshore. He got his way, folks. And not only that, he got to keep Sam’s Place, which we all know serves the best burgers anywhere in the great North Woods.” This was met with a nice round of applause. Then Parmer went on. “The work of building the Northern Lights development will be done by men and women hired locally. It will contribute in every way to the growth of your economy, to the welfare of your citizens, and to the attractiveness of your community. That, ladies and gentlemen, is a solid-gold promise from Hugh Parmer.”

Cork spoke next, said as little as he possibly could and still do the occasion justice.

A few others spoke, and then the band returned and the celebration went on. Cork shook a lot of hands, and finally he and Stephen and Parmer headed back to Sam’s Place.

At the limo, Cork said to Parmer, “You have plans for dinner?”

“Nothing I can’t change. Why?”

“Stephen insists he’s going to catch enough walleye to feed us tonight. If he does, I promised him I’d fry ’em up. If he doesn’t, he’s responsible for the backup plan. What do you say?”

“Hell, I win either way. What can I bring?”

“Yourself. But leave the damn limo behind.”

“It’s a deal. You sticking around?”

“Yeah,” Cork said. “I’m giving my staff a hand. We’re doing a land office business today.”

“What about you, Stephen?” Parmer said.

“I could use a ride back.”

“Done.” Parmer looked at the crowd and nodded his approval. “A fine day for us all, Cork.”

“Amen,” Cork said.

He started toward Sam’s Place but stopped halfway when he heard his name called. From the milling of people, two women separated themselves and walked toward him. Cork didn’t recognize either one. It was almost noon, and he stood in the warm sunlight, waiting, smiling at them both, with no idea of how dramatically they were about to change his life.