Iron Lake

19

THE NEXT MORNING, after Jo and Rose had taken the children to church, Cork drove to Molly’s place. She didn’t answer his knock. He checked the shed where she kept her old Saab and found the car still there. He glanced at the sauna by the lake. No smoke from the stovepipe. Ski tracks headed down to the lake, but he couldn’t tell how recently they’d been made. He went back to the house and let himself in with the key she hung on a nail under the back steps. She usually kept her skis on a rack on the back porch, but the rack was empty. Cork stepped into the kitchen, took off his hat and gloves and coat, and began to make himself coffee from the can of Hills Brothers Molly kept on hand just for him.

He loved Molly’s kitchen. There was always a certain disorder to it that made it feel comfortable. She wasn’t slovenly, but she often left a book open on the table, a few dishes sitting by the sink, or her knitting bag sagged on the floor next to a chair. Molly lived in her kitchen and her spirit filled it, so that just standing there, Cork breathed her in.

If he’d believed in prayer, he would have prayed at that moment for a way around what was ahead.

He bent over the sink, feeling weak and sick to his stomach, shaking as if he had a fever.

At least he hadn’t told Molly he loved her. Maybe that was a small blessing, something spared them both. The only woman he’d ever been sure he loved and had told so was Jo, and that hadn’t exactly turned out well. Was it always that way with love?

He poured himself a cup of coffee, and as he took his first sip, Molly came off the lake and removed her skis. He watched her disappear into the sauna. Smoke began to rise from the stovepipe. She reappeared with a long metal bar with a chiseled end, an ice spud, went ten feet out onto the ice, and began vigorously thrusting the bar downward. It looked as if the heavy metal was going right through the thick ice. But Cork knew there was a hole there Molly would use to plunge into after her sauna. She was simply clearing the thin layer of surface ice that had formed since she’d last taken a dip. When she and Cork did the sauna together, she usually consented to a brief roll in the snow or to just standing in the cold for a time while the icy air cooled them. She did this for Cork, who thought a plunge into the lake in the middle of winter was taking an experience a step too far. She put the ice spud away, took her skis and poles in hand, and started toward the house. When she saw Cork’s Bronco, a big smile spread across her pretty face.

“There is a God,” she said, sweeping into the kitchen, her cheeks flushed, her clothes carrying the cold that Cork could feel across the room. She pulled off her down jacket and hung it on a wall peg next to Cork’s coat. She wore a red sweater that she also pulled off, and under it a white thermal top that hugged her breasts and her flat belly. Her cheeks were deep pink and her eyes full of excitement. “I was out on that gorgeous lake thinking what a treat it would be to come back and sauna with you.” She crossed to him exuberantly and kissed him. She stepped back. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“That’s not true.” She studied him so carefully that Cork had to look away.

He cupped his coffee tightly with both hands. “We’ve got to talk.”

“You never talk. It must be bad.”

“Let’s sit down.”

“I’m okay.” She stared at him, and a cold, knowing look seemed to come into her eyes.

“Molly, I’ve been doing a lot a thinking. About us.”

“What about us?”

Cork looked at his coffee. He could see his eyes reflected on the dark surface. They looked worried.

“You’ve been wonderful, Molly. You’ve been better than I deserved.”

“Don’t feed me a lot of crap, Cork. What is it? What’s going on?”

“I want to try to put my marriage back together.”

“So that’s it.” She turned away and went to the stove. She took the tea kettle, filled it with water, set it on a burner, and turned on the gas flame. “She asked you back?”

“Not exactly.”

“This is your idea, then?”

He stepped nearer. “Molly, it’s not about you. You’ve been wonderful.”

“Right.”

“The truth is, it’s the children. I don’t want my kids to hurt anymore. Can you understand? I have a history in that house on Gooseberry Lane. Maybe it’s already too late, but I don’t want to let go if there’s a chance of saving it.”

She touched her forehead a moment, as if thinking deeply. “So you’ll be moving back in?”

“I already have in a way. I’m staying there now while my furnace gets fixed.”

She faced him, and all the freshness that had colored her face when she first came in was gone. “Next you’ll tell me you’re sleeping with her.”

“I want to put my life back together. For better or worse, Jo’s part of that.”

Molly’s eyes narrowed on him for a moment, then she pulled away and went to the cupboard. She grabbed a mug, and swung back toward him. “What do you expect from me? A blessing? Or maybe you think if things don’t work out, I’ll just throw the door open and you can waltz back in here. Well, you can’t, Cork.” She tugged at the lid of a canister that held tea. The lid flew off and hit the floor with a tinny clatter. She just stood for a moment, staring at the lid on the floor.

“I’m sorry, Molly.”

She shoved the canister back on the countertop. “To hell with the tea.” She reached up into the cupboard and took down a bottle of Jack Daniel’s.

“You don’t drink,” Cork told her.

“I do on special occasions.” She poured liquor into the mug and drank it down. “What are you waiting for? You’ve said what you had to.”

“I’m just wondering what you ever saw in me anyway. I’m a decade older than you, getting heavy, going bald. I smoke.”

“Whatever I thought I saw, I guess I was wrong. It doesn’t matter now anyway.”

The tea kettle began to whistle. Molly made no move to take it off the flame. Cork left. Outside he could still hear the cry of the tea kettle growing thinner and thinner as he walked away.

After Cork had gone, Molly went down to the sauna. In the changing room she took off her clothes and laid them neatly folded on the wooden bench. She stepped into the sauna itself, sat down in the darkened room, and let the heat draw out of her the anger and the hurt.

She’d almost told him she loved him. So many times, she’d been on the edge of letting the words spill out, but her past had kept her cautious. And now she was glad, very glad, she hadn’t. Let him go back to a woman who didn’t care. Molly didn’t care either. What ran down her cheeks and tasted of salt wasn’t tears but good cleansing sweat. It poured from every part of her body. When she finally stood and ran outside, she trailed steam like a thing that had been through fire. As she dropped into the hole she’d cleared of ice, the bitterly cold water of the lake squeezed her hard, wrung her out, and left her wonderfully empty.