Free Back to Madeline Island by Jay Gilbertson

place,” Ruby loves history lessons. “When Gustave and Adeline first came to the island, that was where they lived for a time, until the main cottage was built. It’s a rather lonely spot, isn’t it?”
    â€œWow, no kidding,” I add, recalling a story Ruby had told me. “You and Ed got a little creeped out when you peeked into it years ago. I mean, something really weird must have happened ’cause didn’t you tell me the place was like they just washed up the dishes and left?”
    â€œWhat do you mean?” Johnny asks Ruby, as a dusty Rocky leaps into his arms. “Hey, buddy.” He gives him a squeeze, Rocky farts, and we all move away a step.
    I light a match and wave it around.
    â€œOh, man.” Johnny sets Rocky down like he’s going to break and then gives him a little push away. “What have you been eating?”
    â€œPerhaps, darling—you should ask whom ?”
    â€œSometime,” Howard says, “I’d like to have a look around in there.”
    â€œMe, too,” Johnny adds.
    â€œMe three,” I say. “But today—let’s clear these canvases off all the mirrors and make a space for the future belly dancers!”
    â€œSuch a spoilsport,” Ruby fusses. “Always has to bring down the fire a bit, doesn’t she?”
    â€œGet over here and help me with this,” I order. “Johnny dearest, how about winding up that old Victrola over there and get some tunes going.”
    â€œYes, Eve darling,” Johnny sasses. “Anything for the spoilsport.”
    He blows a cloud of dust off a big round platter-sized record (in Howard’s face, no less) and puts it on. Soon good old Edith Piaf is singing “ Les Trois Cloches .” That’s according to Johnny; I have no idea what it means, though. But oh, does it sound lovely. Ruby later informs us it’s French for “The Three Bells.” Ding-a-ling.
    We clean and tidy and eventually end up with an enormous space and one entire wall of floor-to-ceiling mirrors. There’s even a ballet barre running waist-high through the middle. Not that belly dancers need one, or do they?
    Â 
    The four of us are over at the boys’ cottage, out back on their patio, gathered around a crackling fire they’ve built in one of those Kiva Hut things. It’s a huge clay pot with a chimney going up and a hole in the side for the fire. Darndest thing I’ve ever seen, but it’s putting off a lot of heat, so what do I care? The cool damp air really does seep into your bones.
    â€œThis is roughing it,” Johnny comments, refilling our wine goblets. “Hope you like your brats well done, ’cause that’s the only way Howard does them.”
    â€œThat’s my favorite,” I say and Ruby agrees. “Thanks for your help today, you guys. Only thing is—now we haven’t any excuse not to get these bodies in shape.”
    â€œI think that”—Johnny pulls over a tree stump on wheels that’s actually a chair of sorts—“Howard and I will keep on with our weight-lifting regime and leave you ladies to the belly bouncing .” I shoot him a look.
    â€œYou’ve a gym here, darling? Why, I had no idea.”
    â€œWe’ve got a nice setup in the lower level. Not a ton of stuff, but it does the trick. You can use it whenever you want.”
    Ruby raises her eyebrows high, takes a puff and sends a perfect smoke ring over toward Johnny. It encircles his face. He flits it away among a barrage of “gross” and “disgusting.”
    When he calms down, Ruby says, “How kind of you to offer, but I think we’ll stick to the bouncing.” We giggle.

C HAPTER S IX
    â€œT here you are.” Ruby pours and then hands me a mug of coffee. “Did you and Rocky sleep well?”
    â€œLike stones in a river,” I reply, thumping down onto a wicker stool. “I don’t think I