Chapter 49

A Visitor

 

Matt arrived about mid-afternoon.  Khakis, blue oxford shirt, light jacket.  Good smile.  Really good smile.  I hadn’t seen him in over three years, but somehow it felt like we had just spoken the day before.  Quick hug, introduction to my mother, and there we were sitting in two of the four front porch chairs.  My mother brought out a pitcher of lemonade and went back to her kitchen.

Conversation?  All about me.

“I’ve seen two of your films.  You were a missionary wife in one, a daughter in the other.  I don’t speak Mandarin, but I am told you are very good at it.”

“I have an acting coach and a voice coach, and we practice each scene carefully.”

“You are also beautiful.  I can see why your films are so popular.”

“I am not supposed to be beautiful.  Jiks, my director, says I am supposed to look like the girl next door.  I look more natural.  More believable.”

“You’re believable, but you are also beautiful.”

I poured his lemonade and crossed my legs, glad I had worn a skirt.  I wasn’t a ten, but maybe, dressed right, I was an eight.  He was definitely looking at me like an eight.  Or nine.

We finished the lemonade while I talked about making the films.  Eventually that felt like too much about me.  Time to hear from him.  Maybe, eventually, he would tell me why he had flown over two thousand miles to see me.  Lori knew him, so there was an NSA connection, but how did that link back to me?  I listened, and I waited.

“How is your technology group going?”

“We now talk less about cars and more about deep fakes.  Hollywood is all in favor.  They have dead actors taking new roles, and old actors taking young parts.  And now we have videos of celebrities and politicians saying incredible things.  Hollywood was always fantasyland.  Now fantasyland has no boundaries.”

“So, reality?”

“Harder and harder to find.”

“Is this where you ask me what is happening in Chinese cinema?  New CGI attempts?  Deep fakes on the Great Wall?”

“No.  I am here to see the Fox River.”

I had to laugh.

“No you’re not.”

“Yes.  Really.  I also wanted to see you of course, but I love early history.  Six traders and a priest paddle up a small river and find the Mississippi.  Better than anything Indiana Jones discovered.”

“I think you’ll be disappointed.  The Fox is shallow, weedy, and covered in algae most of the summer.”

“Show me.”

Was he serious?  It seemed like it.  But I admit to being embarrassed.  He had shown me cable cars and Sausalito.  I was going to show him a glorified ditch.  But if he really wanted to see it…  I told my mother we were going for a drive, and then climbed into his rental.

First stop, Buffalo Lake.  Up until the 1950s the Fox was navigable.  Shallow and narrow, but you could take a boat from Lake Michigan up the Fox and to the Wisconsin River, then all the way to New Orleans if you wished.  Not many people wished, so the river was blocked by dams and a series of small lakes created.  The lake at Montello was called Buffalo Lake.  Three feet deep and maybe a hundred yards wide with cabins along both sides.  I got him onto county roads, and we drove alongside the “lake.”

I wasn’t sure what to say.

“The lake they created from this stretch of the Fox runs about halfway to Portage - the final stretch that Marquette and Joliet paddled before finding the Wisconsin river and their run to the Mississippi.   They had been paddling for several days by the time they got here.  Local Mascouten guides had helped them find their way through the marshes.  I’m afraid the Fox is never very impressive.  I am sure Joliet wondered if they were on the right river.”

“You studied Joliet?”

“We had a good high school history teacher.  He found a translation of Marquette’s journal.  We traced the route on maps and did a few site visits.”

Matt parked the car, and we looked down at the lake.  Long and narrow.  At least the algae was off it.  And the willows on the banks were in full fall colors.  The lake looked better than I feared.

“Six men and a priest.  Pretty brave.”

“Yes.”

I had no idea what else to say.  And, to repeat the obvious, I had no idea why Matt had really flown to Wisconsin.  Tracing the route of Joliet and Marquette is not on many bucket lists.  But here we were, looking down at a long, thin lake of no real importance.

“If we continue on this county road, it will take us down to Portage and the canal that was later dug to connect the Fox and Wisconsin.”

I guess that was my way of trying to move him along.  It worked.  He followed the river, stopped, looked, drove some more, stopped, looked, drove about half an hour to Portage.  There is a small park where the canal begins.  He pulled in there, and we got out.

“The canal?”

He pointed.  Maybe twenty feet wide.  The canal gradually curved into the city of Portage.

“Dug in the eighteen hundreds.  Actually guarded by Union troops in the Civil War when this was still a significant trade route.  Jolliet and his men just dragged their canoes over a low ridge and lowered them onto the Wisconsin.   Boats used a lock I will show you.  The difference in elevation is just a few feet.  An easy portage for Jolliet, a small drop for steamboats a century ago.”

He stood and looked.  Appeared interested.  No one else was.  The parking area was empty.  I couldn’t ever remember seeing a car parked where we were.  He walked a short ways up and down the canal, then got back in the car.  I gave him directions to Lock Street.  We were there in five minutes.  A small park surrounds the unused canal.  It’s on a small ridge.  Matt took my hand and helped me up to the top.  He kept my hand in his as we stood and looked at the lock and the place where the Fox and Wisconsin joined.

The canal and the Wisconsin run parallel for the last quarter mile or so.  The canal runs through the backyards of Portage homes.  It had been a trash bin during my childhood.  At some point in the last couple years the trash had gotten bad enough the state had come through and dredged it all out.  At least I wasn’t embarrassed by floating debris.  Now the canal was a straight waterway to our left, the Wisconsin a much larger river to our right.  The lock was a concrete trough with a few feet of sand along the bottom.

“So this is where Joliet portaged down onto the Wisconsin?”

“No.  The canal didn’t exist.  They slid down the embankment a little east of here.”

“I’m guessing Marquette prayed first.”

“Definitely.  And he made a point in his journal.  So far, the waterways they had been on all led back to Montreal and Quebec.  French lands.  Known territory.  Obviously, the Wisconsin led off on a new way.  And you can see how wide and fast it is.  Once their canoes were on the Wisconsin, they would be racing into strange lands.”

“So, left on the canal goes home, right on the river goes to the unexplored.”

“More than they could know.  It’s two completely different watersheds.  Rain to our left flows into the Great Lakes and out to the North Atlantic.  Rain to our right flows into the Mississippi and out to the Gulf of Mexico.  The watersheds meet here, then diverge for thousands of miles.”

“An interesting place to stand.”

He wasn’t looking at the river anymore.  He was looking at me.

“Lori told you I like to come here when I have decisions to make.”

“Yes.”

He continued to hold my hand.  I looked at him, not sure what was going on.  It was unsettling.  The wind didn’t help.  It was racing down the river, pushing my hair and skirt around.   I grabbed a fistful of skirt in my free hand and waited.

“I don’t think you know how impressed I was during your time in San Francisco.  Your presentation is all anyone wanted to talk about the next day and in the meetings since then.  You have a following.”

I had no idea how to respond, so I just stood and waited.  Somehow, he seemed closer.  His free hand went to my hair and pulled it to one side of my face.

“I have a contract in my coat.  I want to hire you as communications director for our research group.”

“I’m returning to China in a few days.”

“I’d like you to move to Sacramento instead.”

“I plan to marry a man in China.”

“I plan to fight for your hand.”

I studied his face.  He was serious.  I was, well, I was many things.  Shocked, confused, and, yes, pleased.  Our hands moved.  I put both my palms on his chest.  He put one arm around my shoulders and kept the other on my face.  I leaned into him.  I felt his warmth.  I wondered what it would be like to kiss him.

“You don’t know me.”

“I think I do.  I hope you will take the time to know me.”

“What I am doing in China is important.”

“Yes, it is.”

“You’ve spoken to Lori about me.”

“She and I have common interests.  One of them is you.”

He brought his face close to mine but didn’t kiss me.  He waited.

“I have a life in China.”

“I would help you build a life in California.”

I found myself leaning into him.  My palms were still on his chest, poised to push him away, but I didn’t.  I leaned close and studied him.  California.  Him.

“Come to California with me, Mary.  Give me a week.  We’ll spend it in Napa.  Visit some wineries, sit in the shade, sip some wine, and get to know each other.  You might find you like me.”

That would be such a mistake.  One week would be confusing.  And exciting.  I would stay a second week.  I would stay.  With this man.

I laid my head on his shoulder.  He held me with both arms now.  Firm.  Warm.  He kissed my forehead.  The wind blew me against him.  Him.  My man?  My husband?  Jiks had the rights to my hand.  He had asked.  Well, I had asked, but he had agreed.  I would give him three sons.  In China.

There was a third person.  Not Sheng.  Tiny Lady.  Fascinating Tiny Lady.  Her story.  The Long March.  She had been what – eight?  Ten?  Daughter of a soldier?  Orphan they had picked up along the way?  I would do a film about her.  I would write it.  Jiks would direct it.  It would be amazing.  Spending time with her would be amazing.  I wanted that.  Time with her.

Matt held me.  Here.  My decision place.  Left down the Fox, back to the familiar.  Right down the Wisconsin - into the unknown.  I looked over his shoulder.  The Wisconsin was high and fast.  I had no idea where it would take me.  

And Lori?  She had asked for a couple days.  Time to investigate a trade.  Something for me to take back to China.  Two days. 

Two days with Matt holding me.  Holding me tighter.  Suddenly I was up on my toes, my arms around his neck.  He straightened up, and now my feet were off the ground.  Do I want this?  Yes.  It felt good.  I looked up at him.  I kissed him.  Feet off the ground.  A very long kiss.  He was warm.  His arms held me tight.  Two days while we waited for Lori’s message.  Maybe a day or two in Napa?  Maybe.

Mary Motor Pool.  A woman who suddenly had choices.  Opportunities.  Warm arms around me.  I looked off toward the river and smiled.  I was a very happy woman.

 

READERS - Observations?  Suggestions?  Did you find the novel interesting?  I would appreciate any and all responses.