The kettle whistle blew. Noah mixed it with cold water from the ten-gallon drum under the sink. He washed and shaved, stood naked at the kitchen basin. He felt a firmness in his shoulders he’d not noticed for many years. He dressed in clean clothes, the last such pair of drawers, the last such T-shirt and pants. A pair of cotton socks. He took the key to his father’s truck from a nail pounded into the windowsill and went out. The torrent had weakened, luckily for Noah. The windshield wipers only worked on one slow intermittent speed.
FROM THE PAY phone at the Landing he called Natalie. Now the rain had ceased altogether and reddish water lay in pools all over the gravel parking lot, none of them reflecting sky. She answered on the second ring. “I was hoping you’d call,” she said.
“How are you? How was the trip home?”
“I’m fine. The necklace is beautiful. Thank you. Whatever possessed you?”
“Sheepishness, I guess.”
“I mean it. It’s beautiful. I’m wearing it now.” She paused, he could picture her caressing the glassy stone around her neck. “How’s your father?”
“We’re a stopover for damsels in distress now. Solveig came yesterday, the two of them are off somewhere.”
“How is she?”
“A complete wreck. So is my dad. It’s like he’s worse for her company.”
“I’m sure it’s hard for both of them.”
“Anyway, I don’t get it.”
Natalie took an audible breath. “I missed you this morning. It’s not the same around here without you.” She filled him in on several details. Her travel plans for the week. A conversation she’d had with Ed about the shop. He was fine. She was going to go to her parents’ house to watch the Patriots on Monday Night Football after work. “But no beer for this one,” she said. “I really feel like I’m pregnant.”
“It was just yesterday, Nat.”
“I don’t mean physically feel, I mean I have a feeling.”
“I hope you’re right.”
“When are you coming home?”
“I didn’t tell you this, but the day you got here, my father asked me to bury him in the lake when he dies.”
“What do you mean, bury him in the lake?”
He replayed the conversation in the shed. He described as well as he could the anchor his father was fashioning from the barrel. “And he told me about the wreck, most of it anyway.”
“About his ship? What did he say?”
“It would take me all day to tell you everything.”
“Tell me something.”
“Let’s just say I’m wiser now. Still, I have no idea what to do with him, no idea at all. No idea when I’ll be home, that’s what I was getting at.”
“Well, I talked to Ed this morning, and he’s fine. Completely fine. He might not want you to come home, the way he tells it.” She paused. “Take as long as you need, Noah. I’m fine here, and I know you need to be with your father now. Just keep me posted. And say hello to Solveig.”
“I will,” Noah said. He felt light. “I’ll call you when I know anything.”
HE HADN’T NOTICED, standing outside the Landing talking to Nat, but by the time he got back to the cabin the day had become frigid. Ice had formed along the edges of the shallow pools atop the splitting stumps. Solveig’s car was still gone. Vikar lay curled atop the steps, the stink of his wet coat noticeable as Noah stepped over him. Only the dog’s eyes moved to check Noah.
He ate the rest of the smoked salmon and stale crackers for an early dinner and lay sprawled on the sofa afterward, the walls and all they held becoming familiar now. He thought of grabbing a book from one of the shelves but fell asleep instead. He woke much later to darkness and the sound of Olaf and Solveig returning.
When they came inside — his father first, held at the elbow by Solveig, the old man swaddled in full winter wear again — Noah sat up to meet them. Olaf looked at Noah with blank eyes. Solveig appeared drained, her eyes swollen, her face splotchy.
“Where have you been?” Noah asked. “I’ve been worried.”
Solveig helped Olaf out of his coat, she led him to the chair. “I left you a note,” she said.
“Where?” Noah looked under the magazines and mess on the table.
“I didn’t want to wake you this morning.”
Olaf sat down heavily.
“Are you all right?” Noah said.
Olaf looked at Solveig.
“We went to the hospital in Duluth. That’s where we’ve been, that’s why we’ve been gone so long.”
“You went to the hospital?” Noah asked his father.
Solveig spoke for Olaf. “We talked about it yesterday, Noah. While you were outside, I guess.” Solveig had found the note under the table. She handed it to Noah. “Don’t be mad.”
Noah read, Took Dad to St. Mary’s. Be gone all day. Wanted to tell you but he wouldn’t let me. Sorry. Love, Sol.
He read the note again, folded it, put it in his shirt pocket. “Well?” he said, at a loss for words but suddenly filled with a kind of hope. “What did you find out?”
“Let’s get Dad to bed. We can talk later.”
“Good idea,” Olaf said, his first words since arriving. “I can get to bed myself.”
While Olaf tended to his dentures, Solveig took several small plastic bottles from a white paper bag. She sorted a half-dozen prescriptions. After Olaf stashed his teeth and poured himself a glass of water, he kissed Solveig good-night.
Solveig caught Olaf by the arm. “Take these, Dad,” she said.
Olaf looked at the pills in the palm of her hand. He took them from her and went into his bedroom.
“How did you. . all those pills. . he looked so. .”
“Come sit over here,” she said, patting the couch. She straightened up, wiped her eyes dry with the heels of her hands.
“I’ll stand,” Noah said.
“Don’t be upset, Noah.”
“I’m not upset,” he assured her. “I just don’t understand how you got him to the hospital. What did they say?”
“They did tests. They took a lot of blood. They did a proctology exam and took tissue samples. X-rays. They wanted him to stay, naturally.”
“Of course he wouldn’t.”
“No.” She trembled visibly. “I’m so sorry we went without you. I wanted you to come, but Dad wouldn’t hear of it.”
“Don’t worry. Just tell me what they said.”
“The prescriptions, they’re mainly to help with pain. The doctor said he must have a lot of discomfort. The proctology exam showed advanced signs. She said the first test results would be ready on Wednesday. You’re to call her at noon.” She handed Noah the doctor’s business card. “She said she’d be surprised — very surprised, she said — if they don’t confirm what she suspects, that the cancer is beyond treatment, that it has probably spread to his liver and lungs, that it’s probably only a matter of time. She said he was a big, strong man. That doesn’t mean anything, but it doesn’t hurt.”