stars that twirl and reflect on the lake. Berit sits bundled on the bench, listening harder than she knew she could. The lake fans against the shore. There are indiscernible rustles and scratchings, and somewhere in the woods, an owl. There are other sounds as well, faint and unnamable, that could as easily be coming from the lantern at her feet as from the million stars. She peers back at the windows all ablaze. They look warm and homey, as if there were nothing at all wrong, as if she could go up and find him sitting at the table. It seems likely even that both of them are there, comfortable behind the warm yellow panes, talking, their feet on a chair near the stove.
Berit has snuffed her lantern wick, finding she can see further into the night without it. A distant wolf howls a long drawn out call, and her heart rises like dough in her chest. She listens for the dip of oars. She waits for the skiff to take shape among the stars lying on the black surface of the lake. Again, the wolf howls and she feels the ache of it in her chest, stretching the thin skin of her heart.
2000
“Hi Mom.” Nikki kicks off her boots.
“There you are.” Janelle turns from the stove, where she’s frying ham.
“Look what we got. It’s all horses.” Nikki holds up the plastic bag from the drugstore, with the coloring book inside. “And a whole box of new markers, too.”
“That was nice of your Nanny. Come give me a hug. I was starting to worry about you guys.”
Nora turns from the coat rack to see Janelle sniffing the top of Nikki’s head. “You smell like smoke.”
“I had cherry jubilee.”
“Where?”
“At the Windigo.”
Janelle glares at Nora across the room, and turns Nikki around by the shoulders.
“You go and turn the bath on, young lady.”
“But it’s not bath time.”
“Now. And I want you to shampoo your hair.”
“What were you thinking,” Janelle says through tight lips, her neck turning red and blotchy. “You want to raise my kid in a bar, too?”
At dinner, no one talks and the silence is loud. Nora looks at their reflection in the window: Janelle’s blurred profile and Nikki’s little face hanging sullenly over her plate.
“I’m not very hungry, Mom.” Nikki rests her chin on her hand.
“You can finish your ham.”
“Am I being punished?”
“Of course not. Your mommy and Nanny just had a disagreement.”
Nora is in the bathroom when Nikki knocks. “Nanny, the phone’s for you. Do you want me to hand it in?” Nora sets down her tweezers and opens the door.
“Hello?” she says, but there’s no reply. “Hello?” She’s about to hang up when she hears music coming over the line. It’s Rose playing a waltz on her new Casio. She’d know her playing anywhere. Nora sits on the edge of the bathtub and cradles the phone against her ear.
When Nora rounds the house she can’t see the picnic table, or even where the yard ends. A wave dashes against the rocks below the ledge. The spray leaps and showers back. Then a moment of silence. No moon. No stars. The sky and the lake are a wall of blackness. Another wave hits and showers. Nora edges back to the rectangle of light cast on the lawn by the picture window. The sidelights of a freighter are visible in the distance. It looks like a long string of diamonds, and it’s heading toward the Twin Ports. Home.
Behind the big glass pane, Janelle is gesturing to someone on the phone. Nora taps a cigarette from her pack. Who knows who she’s talking to. What she’s saying isn’t hard to guess. It’s amazing, the cruelty in her lightning-bolt temper, and then her thunder can roll on for days.
A wave strikes. Nora can feel the vibration in her feet. Up and down the shoreline it’s darker than dark. And yet she doesn’t want to go inside and explain again about Nikki’s hunger and the closed restaurant.
The shoreline is pitch black.
Nikki is already asleep on the floor, her mouth open, breathing in rushes of
Berit has snuffed her lantern wick, finding she can see further into the night without it. A distant wolf howls a long drawn out call, and her heart rises like dough in her chest. She listens for the dip of oars. She waits for the skiff to take shape among the stars lying on the black surface of the lake. Again, the wolf howls and she feels the ache of it in her chest, stretching the thin skin of her heart.
2000
“Hi Mom.” Nikki kicks off her boots.
“There you are.” Janelle turns from the stove, where she’s frying ham.
“Look what we got. It’s all horses.” Nikki holds up the plastic bag from the drugstore, with the coloring book inside. “And a whole box of new markers, too.”
“That was nice of your Nanny. Come give me a hug. I was starting to worry about you guys.”
Nora turns from the coat rack to see Janelle sniffing the top of Nikki’s head. “You smell like smoke.”
“I had cherry jubilee.”
“Where?”
“At the Windigo.”
Janelle glares at Nora across the room, and turns Nikki around by the shoulders.
“You go and turn the bath on, young lady.”
“But it’s not bath time.”
“Now. And I want you to shampoo your hair.”
“What were you thinking,” Janelle says through tight lips, her neck turning red and blotchy. “You want to raise my kid in a bar, too?”
At dinner, no one talks and the silence is loud. Nora looks at their reflection in the window: Janelle’s blurred profile and Nikki’s little face hanging sullenly over her plate.
“I’m not very hungry, Mom.” Nikki rests her chin on her hand.
“You can finish your ham.”
“Am I being punished?”
“Of course not. Your mommy and Nanny just had a disagreement.”
Nora is in the bathroom when Nikki knocks. “Nanny, the phone’s for you. Do you want me to hand it in?” Nora sets down her tweezers and opens the door.
“Hello?” she says, but there’s no reply. “Hello?” She’s about to hang up when she hears music coming over the line. It’s Rose playing a waltz on her new Casio. She’d know her playing anywhere. Nora sits on the edge of the bathtub and cradles the phone against her ear.
When Nora rounds the house she can’t see the picnic table, or even where the yard ends. A wave dashes against the rocks below the ledge. The spray leaps and showers back. Then a moment of silence. No moon. No stars. The sky and the lake are a wall of blackness. Another wave hits and showers. Nora edges back to the rectangle of light cast on the lawn by the picture window. The sidelights of a freighter are visible in the distance. It looks like a long string of diamonds, and it’s heading toward the Twin Ports. Home.
Behind the big glass pane, Janelle is gesturing to someone on the phone. Nora taps a cigarette from her pack. Who knows who she’s talking to. What she’s saying isn’t hard to guess. It’s amazing, the cruelty in her lightning-bolt temper, and then her thunder can roll on for days.
A wave strikes. Nora can feel the vibration in her feet. Up and down the shoreline it’s darker than dark. And yet she doesn’t want to go inside and explain again about Nikki’s hunger and the closed restaurant.
The shoreline is pitch black.
Nikki is already asleep on the floor, her mouth open, breathing in rushes of
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