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ever-so-gently on my cheek. “Your makeup looks like hell, you know.” She grins.
    â€œI look fabulous—coming?”
    â€œCertainly.” She loops her arm through mine and we head down the porch, out the screen door, to the “send-off” team.
    Everyone gives me hugs and back pats and kisses galore. You’d think I was taking a trip to Madison or something!
    Sam pulls me aside and says, “Child, now I know I made you a promise—and I’ve done my darndest not to share any psychic seeing far as Helen’s concerned, but there’s one thing you need to be ready for.”
    â€œIf Helen’s a lesbian, I could care less…”
    â€œShe’s gunna want to know about your folks and things are…”
    I catch my breath. “I’ve thought a lot about that. Maybe it’s time to make amends.”
    â€œIt’s time, honey.” Sam clears her throat. “I know your mom’s passed, but your dad, he’s not doing too good. All I can see is it’s something to do with his breathing.”
    â€œHe’s not going to die—is he?” Why’d we ever drift this far apart?
    â€œNo, far’s I can see, not his time—yet.” She looks deeply into my eyes.
    â€œThank God…”
    â€œEve—you doing this, meeting Helen and all, it’s the right time. Your daddy’s gunna have two surprises. Now get on out of here.” Sam looks away and a startled expression passes over her face. “Oh my land, you both sure are in for—”
    â€œStop.” I hold up my hand. “I want this to be a surprise to remember.”
    Sam mutters something about how it’s going to be, sister as I climb up the ladder into the duck. I pull the seat way up (Charlie’s tall), push my hair around and put it into gear. Waving to the smiling group—my family—I head around the cottage and down toward the lake.
    Passing the boathouse, I look up and spy Rocky perched on the balcony rail. He gives me a cat smile and I wave back. I hit the gas and splash into the lake. While drifting out a bit, I switch to the outboard motor, light up a cigarette and push in a CD. Soon soft flutes float out of the speakers; The V.I.P. Club sure knows jazz. Turning left, I head the duck toward Bayfield; toward her. With all this wind, my hair shouldn’t get too smoky. I hope.
    A V of geese sails across the sky and it makes me wonder. I mean, they don’t use cell phones and look at the perfect flying they do. Right about now, I honestly wish I could just stretch time out a bit, you know, make this moment—longer. Funny how you wait and wonder about something or someone and then, when you’re about to see that person, you want just a few more—what—hours? Like Sam said, “The time is right.” Tell that to my stomach.
    I put the pedal to the metal and can begin to see Bayfield. Even though it’s only two-and-a-half miles to the shore, I feel my bladder saying, “Many cups of coffee in here!” Great. Pulling down my visor, I redo the lips, give the hair some scrunching and snap it back up, the visor, that is. I think I’m pitting out. Double great. I remember when I was packing up some of my mom’s stuff; I found a package of armpit pads. At the time I thought they were really silly—now, I could use some extra protection in there.
    Chugging to shore, I flip a switch for the duck to become a land vehicle and drive up the boat ramp at the City Marina. I make a sharp right onto First Street. Several people turn and stare; this is not your typical SUV. Clicking on the microphone, I singsong, “It’s a beautiful day in Wisconsin.”
    Since the restaurant is only a block away, in moments I’m about to turn into Greunke’s parking lot, then remember the duck is too long to park in there. I pull up along the curb on Rittenhouse Drive and push down the parking brake. Here I go.