It didn’t surprise me . . . that Marlow’s evaluation would come back as anything less than textbook.
We packed our bags on a Thursday and left for Grand Marais the next morning. The road began to wind the closer we got to the cabin. When she presented herself, like an old friend who had finally gotten around to meeting up with you, everything looked almost exactly the same. Yet there was nothing the same about its occupants: a troop less innocent, more worn and easily bruised. We were new owners in a sense, starting over and forging an altered set of memories.
Moni wasted no time setting up the kitchen. She unloaded large coolers full of meat, vegetables, and random containers of spices. A Cool Whip tub filled with red pepper flakes, a plastic yogurt cup holding a scant amount of white sugar. No container ever went to waste in our household, thanks to her knack for utility.
I wasted no time with Marlow. We ran straight out to the dock, sliding our sundresses over our heads, bathing suits exposed. I dived in first. The slippery feel of cool water seduced me. I surfaced and marveled at the endless horizon of Lake Superior, a lake without shores. I felt dizzy thinking about how long it would take to swim to the other side. Marlow’s face appeared as she giggled and tongued her loose bottom tooth.
We treaded water and then lay back, kicking our legs up and then sinking together.
“Do you think the tooth fairy comes out here?” she asked me.
I looked back at the dock where Mom and Dad were embraced, looking out at us, his arms all around her as if he were twine that tied around the scroll of her waist. Maybe this was what we needed. Maybe this was how it would shift back to the way things were.
“Isla?”
Marlow waved her arms back and forth in the water, watching it loop in and out between her fingers.
“I think the tooth fairy travels.” I smiled and then dunked her in.
The first night, Moni prepared short ribs drenched in soy sauce, sesame oil, brown sugar, and a little pear for softness. She laid them on a long plate for Dad to place on the searing grill. The kalbi was tender, sweet with a charcoal aftertaste, as we ripped the meat off the bone easily with our teeth. The pile of bones that collected in the middle of us all made me feel like a caveman, and hungry for more.
“Omma, this is delicious,” Dad praised her after his third piece.
Marlow shared my old bed with me. It seemed so much smaller, our heads close together. Through the window we watched the fireflies glow above the grass until our eyes grew heavy.
In the morning, Mom and Dad took each of us in a kayak. Moni waved to us in the big red Adirondack chair she had settled in, mug of steaming coffee in her other hand. The mist on the water made us feel lost and delighted all at once. We floated above the lake, gliding like water bugs, graceful and serene, the slight ripples evidence of our lightness. We cast a few lines with our poles before Mom got a bite. She reeled in a spotty trout, gripping its midsection as it thrashed to break free.
The fishing knife glinted as she gripped the ivory bone handle. She struggled to cut the line, nicking the fleshy head once. Blood trickled down her palm as she marveled at it.
No one else caught anything that morning.
We returned to the dock to find sunshine and hot rays that baked my skin. I spent the afternoon on my stomach in an inner tube, lazily flapping my arms. Moni scolded me for being out so long, the top of my back a little sunburned. She smoothed aloe on it and ordered me to sit in the shade while she went inside to take a nap.
I sat under a tree with Marlow by my side. We played the game of closing our eyes and having the other one crawl up the inside of her arm with two fingers, like a spider, guessing when they reached the exact middle. We giggled and elbowed each other whenever we were way off.
It was my turn to close my eyes when I heard another male voice talking to Dad.
“Been a few years hasn’t it, Patrick?”
“It has. How you been, Vince? Or wait—should I still call you Sheriff?”
“Nah. I’m off duty.”
I had never seen him out of his uniform. He wore khaki cargo shorts that went practically over his knees and a short-sleeved yellow polo.
“Can I get you anything to drink?” Mom offered.
“I’m okay, thanks. Just thought I would say hello. Heard you were back in town.”
“Yes, we finally decided to make it back up here. It’s funny, I always forget how beautiful this place is.”
The three grown-ups turned to look at Marlow and me under the tree. She was the real reason he was here. The miracle girl who was now part of a family.
“Wow. She’s grown so much. You folks did a good thing,” Sheriff Vandenberg said, one hand on his hip, the other in his pocket.
Marlow stood up slowly. She stared back at him, her eyes hardened.
“Hi there, Marlow. You remember me?” He waved.
She did not flinch.
He took his hand out of his pocket and rubbed his fingers against each other. He seemed unnerved by her presence.
“Marlow. Where are your manners? Say hello,” said Dad with a small, embarrassed chuckle.
She kept her eyes locked on him for another moment and then broke into a pageant smile. “Hello.”
“Sheriff Vandenberg is the one who helped us . . . and you as well. The night we found you. You may not remember, Marlow,” Mom said carefully.
“And that’s okay,” added Dad.
Sheriff Vandenberg sniffed. “Of course.” He glanced at Mom and Dad. “Glad to see you so well.”
Mom and Dad led him back inside, their talk about how nice the season had been so far and other polite chatter floating behind them. Marlow sank back down next to me and went right back to playing our game, although she was quieter. A subdued Marlow. She placed two fingers in her mouth and pulled them out, a small tooth propped in between them.
A few more days into our cabin trip, Marlow asked about Covet Falls during breakfast.
Dad paused and took a bite of his eggs. “What made you think of Covet Falls?”
