South of Superior - Ellen Airgood [141]
Madeline carried Marley from where he’d been napping on the rocker. Two shanties sat near shore, one bright blue, the other Unpainted plywood. “Scary. Is it safe?”
Paul drew her close. “As long as you stay in the bay. You want to be careful. But yeah, those guys know what they’re doing. There’s probably eight, ten inches of ice. That’s plenty to hold you.”
Madeline started to feel excited about the idea. There were a few more people staying this year than last, but it was slow enough that she could go.
“Buddy, you want to go fishing with Us? Maybe we could steal you out of school for an afternoon,” Paul said when Greyson came out of his room.
Greyson shook his head. “Mrs. Callihan comes for arts and crafts today. And it’s pizza at lunch.”
“Oh well, then.” Paul gave him a skeptical look.
“Mrs. Callihan always brings treats. Last week she brang candy bars.”
“Brought,” Madeline said.
Greyson shrugged. “We’re making pot holders. I’ll make you one, Madeline. I’m making Mom one too.”
Madeline called Gladys and asked if she could come down and babysit the hotel in case someone wanted to check in or call with a reservation.
“I’ll be there in fifteen minutes. Just have to get my coat on.”
“You’re sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”
“No bother,” she snapped. “I ran that hotel before you were a glimmer in your mother’s eye, I guess I can handle it for a few hours, and Greyson too.”
“I only meant—”
“It’s nothing.”
“There’s no hurry, I can get Grey off to school.”
“That child is absolutely no trouble, we’ll be fine. Maybe Butte will come down, too, I’ll ask her. Either way, I’ll see you in a jiffy.” She slammed down the phone.
Paul was watching. “She can come, I take it?”
“Yep. Glad to. Annoyed I suggested it might be a bother.”
“You’ve given her a new lease on life.”
“She didn’t need one. She owns life.”
They loaded snowshoes into the back end of Paul’s truck, as well a sled, an ice spud to chisel the hole open with, a bucket stocked with ice-fishing poles and bobbers and sinkers, and a kerosene lantern. They bought minnows and fishing licenses at the hardware, then drove to the marina.
Paul lit the lantern in the shelter of the cab, and they trekked along the shore and out across the ice. He strode along, testing the ice with the spud, and Madeline followed. Looking out toward the open water she thought they could have floated in time, landed anywhere in the last thousand years. Abruptly, Paul stopped. “Here’s as good as anywhere, I guess.”
He spudded the first hole in the ice and let her try the second one. It was harder than he’d made it look, but after twenty minutes of pounding she broke through, and the icy water burbled Up. Paul scooped it clear with a sieve on a long handle, then tested the depth of the water with a weight on the line. He baited a hook with a minnow and squeezed a weight on the line with pliers and dropped it down the hole, then attached a bobber. “You do the other one.” Madeline did, balking a little at stabbing the minnow onto the hook.
“Now what?”
“Now we wait.”
The bobbers floated in the holes. Water froze on the lines, which made a tiny scritchling noise as they fluttered in the breeze. Madeline’s face got cold, and she turned her back to the wind. Now and then they warmed their hands around the glass globe of the hissing lantern.
“So, how’s married life treating you?” he asked at one point.
Madeline grinned. “Not bad. Survived the first year, almost.”
They’d gotten married in April at the courthouse in Crosscut. They had a reception at the hotel and invited everyone: Paul’s family, everyone they knew in McAllaster and Crosscut, all their friends from everywhere. Madeline started crying when Dwayne and Estelle and Candice walked in. Dwayne grinned and picked her Up for a hug and told her to stop bawling or they’d turn right back around for Chicago. Ted and Lisa Braith brought