Back to Madeline Island by Jay Gilbertson Page A

swoops over the lapping lake water; it shimmers around the dock invitingly ahead of us.
    â€œI can’t believe you live here,” Helen says with awe in her voice. “A wooden dock—all this water.”
    We file to the very end of the dock. Ryan puts his arm around Helen and pulls her close. Ruby and I sigh and gaze out toward the lake, the sky and the possibilities.
    Just then Rocky comes racing down the path making a bee-line straight to us! I turn to look, ’cause he’s making a nasty growling sound. Oh boy, there’s what looks to be a head of something dangling from his mouth; it’s bloody and really disgusting. Then I spy the look of sheer terror on Ryan’s face—he’s nearly green and Rocky is headed right his way! Before I can do a thing, Rocky has carefully laid a limp mouse on his polished brown loafer.
    Ryan steps backward and before I can yell “Holy shit,” he’s flying back, his arms flailing windmill-like with wild motions, until he splashes into the ice-cold water!
    I turn to Helen, who’s obviously trying not to burst out laughing, and ask, “Can that man swim? Or does Ruby have to get in there and save him?”
    â€œHe was a champion swimmer,” Helen calmly replies. “But the poor man hates mice.”
    We watch as Ryan free-styles to the shore in record time. He stands up and meekly waves at us, then turns and dashes up the path toward the cottage. Ruby trots on up in tow, and they go inside.
    â€œHow’s he with dead people?” I ask. “I mean, isn’t forensic medicine all about the dead?”
    â€œI guess dead people don’t bother him, but he’s just got this thing about mice,” Helen says and starts to giggle. “But I had no idea how much—did you see the look on his face?” We lose it and cackle and it feels fabulous.
    â€œWhen I saw Rocky heading this way,” I blurt out, “and then saw what was in his mouth and then watching his fancy shoe get covered in goo…” We giggle some more.
    After a time, I suggest we go in and see what can be done for the now-soaking-wet Ryan. We find him and Ruby in the kitchen. He’s perched on a stool in front of the open stove, wearing my yellow terry-cloth robe and bunny slippers, sipping a mug of something. They’re chuckling. Rocky is nowhere to be seen.
    Ryan, looking very sweet, coyly says, “I thought a swim was in order. Hope it’s all right I’m wearing your robe.” We laugh. “I may keep these slippers, though…Let’s continue with the tour.”
    â€œThey do suit you, darling,” Ruby offers. “I’ve popped Ryan’s clothing into the dryer, won’t be long until they’re good as new. Follow me then, shall we?” Ruby leads us toward the hallway, then halts in front of the first door on the right and opens it.
    â€œHoward, our neighbor next door,” Ruby begins, “has just finished putting the final touches on this tiny salon for Eve to keep us looking—ourselves.” She pats her hair.
    â€œVery nice.” Helen peeks her head in. “My mom has one of those dressers. It’s called a waterfall, isn’t it? Works great for your station. I have a sister who does hair in Duluth, tries to anyway.”
    â€œI brought it from my salon,” I offer. “That’s where Ruby and I first met, ten thousand years ago.” I stroll over, pick up a framed picture and hand it to Helen. “Ruby was my first client.”
    â€œYour first client?” Helen asks. “And you didn’t even cash this check?”
    â€œYou kidding?” Ruby says. “That’s a canceled check, darling. For years and years, the prices she charged me, I kept Eve in food and drink! Now come along.”
    We move on farther down the hallway. Passing several doors on our right (potty and a spare room), we end up in front of the huge, floor-to-ceiling