What We Find
Page 45
“Sure,” she said. “Listen, it’s not like this brought me to my knees, Steve. It’s a combination of things, really. Mostly my dad, but—”
“Maggie, go a little easier on yourself. This kind of thing brings everyone to their knees, even those big badass surgeons who didn’t have a single additional stressor in their lives. Believe me, I know. I’ve worked with a great many of them.”
She sighed. “My dad says I have high expectations of myself,” she said, when in fact it was she who carried those expectations.
“Yes, I know. Uncomfortable, I know. And that’s exactly what it takes to make a good surgeon. We’ll talk soon.”
She sat at her dad’s kitchen table for a half hour. When she went back to the store, she didn’t mention the call to anyone.
* * *
Cal settled into his cabin, the farthest one from the house, and Maggie was with him after their usual fire, then sneaked into her own bed in the middle of the night. The next night she got to bed a little earlier, but one of these days soon she was going to steal a whole night with Cal and not even blush about it.
Cal’s truck and compact pop-up trailer sat behind the cabin he “rented” for which Sully would not take money. Since the days were a bit longer, the store was staying open a little later. Come summer, their hours would be sunup to sundown.
On Wednesday, Tom Canaday came to the grounds early to help with cleanup, grounds keeping, grass and shrub trimming and trash hauling. Cal spent most of the day helping with that while Maggie put in her time at the store, restocking and cleaning. Sully was back and forth between the store and the grounds, giving advice, trying his damnedest not to tote and lift, getting grumpier by the hour. With warmer weather, the crossing was expecting a surge starting the next day, Thursday afternoon, and extending for ten days. They were getting ready. Even Frank was smart enough to be scarce on Wednesdays, knowing he could be put to work.
Yard work done, Enid gone home to her husband and Tom to his kids, Cal grilled fish fillets and an aluminum foil packet full of green veggies and the three of them ate at a table on the porch so they could mind the store if any of the few campers who were still around needed something. When dinner was finished Cal went off to his cabin to shower while Sully headed for the house with Beau to catch a little of the news on TV.
Maggie stayed at the store until closing, which she’d do as soon as cleanup was complete. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the lake, when Maggie was on the front porch wiping off the tables. An old, mud-splattered, rusty black pickup was parked down the road near the lake. It looked like three people sat in the cab. She leaned on her rag on the table and peered in its direction—two men flanking a small blonde woman. Not campers. Not locals—she hadn’t seen the truck before. Two big men and a small woman made shivers go up her spine.
The truck began to slowly inch toward the store and when it neared she saw the two men were scruffy-looking strangers to her but between them, wearing a frightened expression, sat Chelsea Smyth. Where was her family? Had they sent her to get help for some reason? The driver parked at the side of the store and Maggie tried to concentrate on her wiping up. She wouldn’t give away her concern in case something was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
The men talked for a moment and then the passenger got out of the truck. All she knew for sure was that the men looked creepy and Chelsea looked scared.
The man who approached the front porch was dirty and unkempt, not a strange look around a campground. Locally there were fishermen, hunters, ranchers—also frequently messy and disheveled. His pants were baggy and dirty, his boots had seen better days and his beard was scraggly, but it was the look in his dark eyes and the rather large hunting knife holstered in leather at his belt that cautioned her. So she smiled.
“Maggie, go a little easier on yourself. This kind of thing brings everyone to their knees, even those big badass surgeons who didn’t have a single additional stressor in their lives. Believe me, I know. I’ve worked with a great many of them.”
She sighed. “My dad says I have high expectations of myself,” she said, when in fact it was she who carried those expectations.
“Yes, I know. Uncomfortable, I know. And that’s exactly what it takes to make a good surgeon. We’ll talk soon.”
She sat at her dad’s kitchen table for a half hour. When she went back to the store, she didn’t mention the call to anyone.
* * *
Cal settled into his cabin, the farthest one from the house, and Maggie was with him after their usual fire, then sneaked into her own bed in the middle of the night. The next night she got to bed a little earlier, but one of these days soon she was going to steal a whole night with Cal and not even blush about it.
Cal’s truck and compact pop-up trailer sat behind the cabin he “rented” for which Sully would not take money. Since the days were a bit longer, the store was staying open a little later. Come summer, their hours would be sunup to sundown.
On Wednesday, Tom Canaday came to the grounds early to help with cleanup, grounds keeping, grass and shrub trimming and trash hauling. Cal spent most of the day helping with that while Maggie put in her time at the store, restocking and cleaning. Sully was back and forth between the store and the grounds, giving advice, trying his damnedest not to tote and lift, getting grumpier by the hour. With warmer weather, the crossing was expecting a surge starting the next day, Thursday afternoon, and extending for ten days. They were getting ready. Even Frank was smart enough to be scarce on Wednesdays, knowing he could be put to work.
Yard work done, Enid gone home to her husband and Tom to his kids, Cal grilled fish fillets and an aluminum foil packet full of green veggies and the three of them ate at a table on the porch so they could mind the store if any of the few campers who were still around needed something. When dinner was finished Cal went off to his cabin to shower while Sully headed for the house with Beau to catch a little of the news on TV.
Maggie stayed at the store until closing, which she’d do as soon as cleanup was complete. The sun was beginning to set, casting long shadows across the lake, when Maggie was on the front porch wiping off the tables. An old, mud-splattered, rusty black pickup was parked down the road near the lake. It looked like three people sat in the cab. She leaned on her rag on the table and peered in its direction—two men flanking a small blonde woman. Not campers. Not locals—she hadn’t seen the truck before. Two big men and a small woman made shivers go up her spine.
The truck began to slowly inch toward the store and when it neared she saw the two men were scruffy-looking strangers to her but between them, wearing a frightened expression, sat Chelsea Smyth. Where was her family? Had they sent her to get help for some reason? The driver parked at the side of the store and Maggie tried to concentrate on her wiping up. She wouldn’t give away her concern in case something was wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.
The men talked for a moment and then the passenger got out of the truck. All she knew for sure was that the men looked creepy and Chelsea looked scared.
The man who approached the front porch was dirty and unkempt, not a strange look around a campground. Locally there were fishermen, hunters, ranchers—also frequently messy and disheveled. His pants were baggy and dirty, his boots had seen better days and his beard was scraggly, but it was the look in his dark eyes and the rather large hunting knife holstered in leather at his belt that cautioned her. So she smiled.
