“No thanks, I’ll stick with the ginger ale.”
“Ginger ale. What’s wrong with him, Coach?”
Old Coach Young raised his hands in surrender. “I can’t figure it out. He quit smoking, he’s not drinking. I swear the devil has gotten ahold of him.”
There was another round of laughter as Jack Start made his way through the crowd. He was actually enjoying himself. In fact, it was almost overwhelming. He set his ginger ale down on a table and walked to the end of the ballroom, where the bay windows over the lake were twenty feet high. Glass from the floor to the ceiling. The old high school quarterback stood there alone looking down at Canal Park. Beyond that was the utter blackness of Lake Superior.
“That’s quite a view. I miss it.”
He turned when she said that. Turned too fast and almost lost his balance. She met his eyes with a smile, and twenty-five years melted away in an instant.
“Hello, Jack,” she added.
He smiled, a genuine smile he hadn’t felt in years. “Hello, Mary.” She was taller than he remembered. Her hair was longer and a bit lighter. And those eyes, the eyes that had crushed little boys’ hearts, were still as bright as any star that hung over the North Shore. In short, she was even more strikingly beautiful than he’d tried to forget.
She gave him a hug, and he embraced her in an awkward manner, not knowing what to do with his cane. When he’d steadied himself, he said, “You’re supposed to be dumpy and all wrinkled up.”
“They told me you weren’t coming.”
“I wasn’t, but then…”
“Then what?”
“I don’t know. Might have been something I saw on television.”
She glanced at his cane. “Can you walk?”
“Oh, yeah. The cane is mostly for insurance. It’s my left leg,” he explained, a touch too excited. “Sometimes it just goes to sleep, and then I fall down. It’s kind of embarrassing to be falling down at my age.”
“I meant…would you like to go for a walk?”
The sea breeze in his face felt good. The woman beside him felt heaven sent. Jack Start stared at the long walkway leading out to the lighthouse. Where Canal Park had once been the purlieu of prostitutes and sailors, a multimillion-dollar renaissance had brought restaurants, shops, and hotels, not to mention a million tourists every summer. But on this night the park was quiet. In fact, the great lake itself was as calm as he’d ever seen it. The waves were small, and they lapped against the shore in perfect harmony. It was early October now. There remained only two weeks of decent weather. Then the cold would set in. And the storms would follow.
Jack Start found himself doing something he thought he would never ever do. Never in a lifetime. “I’ve walked past it,” he said. “I’ve stared down at it. But I haven’t set foot on this walkway in twenty-five years.”
“How does it feel?”
“With you, it feels good.”
“Should we walk out to the lighthouse?”
It was a remarkably clear night. Every now and then the revolving beam of light sailed over their heads. Jack and Mary stopped halfway down the walkway. The shadow of a man could be discerned standing at the top of the stairs, at the foot of the lighthouse. They wanted to be alone. So they stood where they were and stared at the galaxy of lights that ran up and down the steep hills. Illuminated hills that rolled up and away from the lake. And at the foot of those hills, throwing an eerie, translucent glow, were the klieg lights from the television crews that surrounded the Convention Center.
With his back to the lake, Jack Start shook his head in amazement. “What a circus,” he said. “You know, excuse the pun, but he really hasn’t said a goddamn thing.”
“It’s those three little words that are driving people crazy.”
Jack had to laugh.
She laughed too, but it was a laugh tinged with regret. “Do you think he’s out there somewhere?”
“Who, Pudge?”
“No…God?”
The cynical reporter turned back to the lake. “Me and him have had our differences over the years. I can’t really answer that one.”
She joined him at the wall, staring out at the endless water. “Well then, how about Pudge?”
“You know, Mary, I’ve thought about it, and I’ve thought about it, and it certainly sounds like something Pudge would do.”
“Do you remember when he took over the intercom system?”
“Remember? Hell, I told the FBI about it.”
“But, Jack, would he really hide out for twenty-five years?”
Jack Start shook his head in wonder. “Had to be one hell of a broken heart.”
She thought about that. “He really did love me, didn’t he?”
“Oh yeah. He was crazy in love with you.”
It is said that a friend is someone you can stand in silence with and not be embarrassed by the silence. The two high school friends stood shoulder-to-shoulder facing the great lake—gazing far out into the past, where the water meets the stars. The only sound was the wind whistling over the shore, and the waves washing over the rocks. Time drifted by. At last she took a deep breath and sighed. “Well, I suppose.”
He looked over at her and smiled. “Yeah, I suppose.”
