Cabin on Lake Elderwise Cove

If you have ever been to Lake Elderwise, there is a cove and in that cove there is a cabin which has become my solitude since my wife passed two years ago from cancer. We found this secluded place a few months before she passed tucked in the Adirondack Mountains where there are often more geese than people. Having invested my pension, I was able to buy the cabin that had a dock to launch my boat.

The cove provided me with the privacy I had always desired.  Elenore was more of a socialite, but she ended up falling in love with this place over time.  My boat wasn’t the biggest in the lake, not even close, but for me it gave me a sense of freedom that I always longed for.  The open blue waters that were about four miles shore to shore with pine and white elms lining the shores.  In our cove there were some lily pads that provided an invitation to the graceful white swans who would glide like angels in the water.  

I remember how Elenore was aboard for the maiden voyage, but it would be the only time she would grace my boat with her presence and thus, I named the schooner in her honor.  When I arrive in early spring, I busy myself with the chores of getting the place in shipshape.  Sometimes the place needs an extra going over from the rigors of  hard winter. I make sure it’s done just the way she would like it.  I must confess, I’m not as particular, but as Frost put it, we must mend our fences because that is what we do. 

The cove is on the south shore where my cabin was built by my great-grandfather who immigrated from Germany during President Grant’s administration.  Some of the logs he used are still part of the cabin as he believed that his work would last for many years.  He was right.

A soft breeze blows off of Lake Elderwise in late April.  I make sure I don’t miss it, because it is the freshest air I have ever felt.

The road to the cabin is not paved, nor do I wish it so, but when it rains as it often does in May and early June, the travel can get a bit tricky as the road becomes a river of sorts.  I don’t mind. It is part of the adventure and guarantees my solitude and silence.

Elenore loved sitting in our big old wooden Adirondack Chairs we had on the front deck that faced the lake and watching the boats with their white billowed sails glide by without a sound. Some silences are deeper than others and the past two years have been the quietest I can ever remember.  Still, I put on my old sailing cap, sit in the chair and pretend that she is still sitting right next to me.  

Sometimes my son Sherman and his wife Harriett will bring the kids up for a couple of days. That certainly brings an abrupt halt to the solace and solitude, but it’s always welcome.  I love to watch those kids splash around in the water by the dock.  Later, I will take them all for a boat ride across the cove and into Barrett Crossing’s general store for some supplies.  

“Hey Jack!” Vernon always greets me when I walk into his store.  He’s one of about a dozen folks who stay year-round. We were both Korean War Veterans which means every Memorial Day, we get on our old uniforms and march in the town parade.  Well that was until last year when his arthritis got too bad for him to march anymore.  I know it sort of hurts me, too, but I won’t say nothing to Vern about it.

Ninety is coming pretty quick for me, you know, but Elenore told me I didn’t look a day over fifty.  

I miss her so much. 

Sherman always looks so somber and unhappy as he shoves both hands in his Bermuda shorts and walks along the rocky shore of the cove.  He runs his own contracting business, but from what I hear from him, business is always lousy and he’s just minutes away from bankruptcy. 

Harriett, one the other hand, is so bubbly and quick witted.  She’s a great mom to the two little girls, Haily and Mona.  She always splashes in the water with them and makes sure they have a good healthy snack, but Sherman just sort of mopes around as if he was serving a prison sentence. 

“Grandpa, why you got hair in your nose?” Haily will ask me. 

“Haily!” Harriett admonishes her.

“It’s alright.” I laugh and then tilting my head, I answer, “Haily, it’s because I’m old.”

“You are?” She squints at me as if she doesn’t believe me.

“Yup.  Older than the hills.” I continue with a laugh.

“Are you feeling alright, dad?” Sherman asks me at dinner when we are all gathered around the picnic table eating New York’s finest wienies.

“Sherm, I am fine.” I assure him.

“Mom thought she was fine.” He sits there with that far-off look in his eyes.

“Hey, you know she had seventy five wonderful years.  Can’t ask for much more than that, I’m afraid.” I pop open a lid of my Utica Club beer. 

“It just doesn’t seem the same without her.” He shrugs.

“Sherm, I miss her so much, but I have to carry on.  So should you.” I sip my beer and belch. 

“C’mon girls it’s time for bed.” Harriett announces to groans of discontent.

“Can’t we stay and catch some lightning bugs?” Haily sticks her finger in her belly button. 

“What do you think, Sherm?” Harriett glances over at him.

“I dunno.” He sounds irritated.

“Girls, go find you some lightning bugs.” She hands each of them a glass jar with holes punched in the tops. 

“Yah!” Haily squeals with delight. 

“I bet I get more than you.” Mona sticks out her tiny chin.

Silence comes too soon sometimes.  As soon as they pull out of the driveway, it is quiet again.  Even the birds are taking a break from their chitter chatter in the trees.

“Jack!” I heard a voice.

“Jack!” I hear it again after a moment or two.

“Ellie?” I must be napping.  

“I wanted to stop by.” She was smiling as the sun showed through her in a dazzling display of light.

“Ellie?  God, I have missed you.” My eyes fluttered open, but it all evaporates in the last remnants of a dream.  I remember how when we were in college, I’d take her to the lake near campus and see how the sun showed through her dress, letting me see the shadow of her legs and slender buttocks. How I longed to see it all for myself.  When we got married before I shipped off to Korea, I did just that and it was better than I ever imagined. 

I had fallen asleep in my chair.  The sun was low in the hazel blue sky, birds took to the air.  

I wasn’t hungry for dinner, so I figured I'd just have some jello and call it a night.

Once I turned the lights out, the darkness rushed in and took over.  Before I could acknowledge it, I was already asleep.

Stage four cancer.  I sat there numb as Dr. Johaovich folded his hands on his desk as if he pronounced a death sentence, only it was just that.  Elenore just sat there with this stunned look on her face.

“Oh Jack.” Was all she could manage to say.

“I am so sorry, Mrs. Vanderhoven.” Dr. Johaovich shook his head as a single tear managed to fall down his cheek.  

“Let’s go, Ellie, the docs got better things to do.” I gently took her by the elbow and led her out of the door.

“Jack what am I going to do?” She asked as we slowly walked down the hall.

“Excuse me.” A man in a white coat rushed past us with no way of knowing what we had just been told.  Funny how the world can rush by another world is preparing to end without ever knowing.   

“Let’s go to the cabin and spend some time together.” I suggested.

“That does sound wonderful, Jack.” She put her head on my shoulder.

“It hurts a lot sometimes.” She told me one morning while she was making breakfast on the stove. 

“I wish I could take your pain, sweetheart.” I kissed her on the cheek,

“I am grateful, you don’t.” She turned to look at me. “Let’s take the boat out.” 

“We got all our supplies.” I nodded.

“No, just for a sail.” She shook her head. 

It’s funny how we sometimes forget that doing nothing can be just as satisfying as puttering around with a list of things to do.  We sailed around the horn as we called it and into the deep blue water as the sail dipped and nodded to the fluttering breeze.  She had the main rope in her frail hands, but she was an able sailor and knew how to keep an even keel.  All I could do was sit there and admire her nautical abilities.  

“I love being out here with you.” She sat back and let the wind ruffle her own head of thinning gray hair.  In less than a month it would all be gone.  A month later Dr. Jahaovich gave up the treatment and placed her in hospice where she would have thirty seven days of round the clock care.

When they called me on the morning she died, I knew before I picked up the phone what had happened.

Sherman and some of our relatives were her pallbearers.  I sat with a couple of my nieces as they kept telling me they would check in on me, but they never did.  I got used to the quiet, but never got used to being alone. 

“Dad, go to the cabin.” Sherman suggested.

“That’s a good idea, son.” I was struggling living in the house she had spent so much time taking care of, her little knick-knacks were everywhere, most of them gifts from someone that meant something to her at one time or another.

I packed my bags and was on the road by sunup.  I had my fishing line in the water by my first cup of coffee, coffee I had to make all by myself.  Fishing for me was sitting on the dock where my boat was moored while I got my fishing line wet.  I did not see the need for bait since I was fishing, not catching. 

It was quiet that first night, too quiet, but somehow in the silence, I managed to see straight for the first time since her passing.  As the sun set behind the jagged hills of the mountains, I saw darkness embrace me.  A stiff wind blew in from the north and I knew I was not alone out here.  

I walked the shore, my shoes slung over my shoulder as I let the soft cool waves lap at my bare feet.  I could see the lights from the cabins on the other shore.

“Jack, I am glad you came.” I heard a whisper in the wind.

The Bayshore Shack is my favorite place to go to when I’m in town, because it reminds me of her.  The crab is always excellent and the chowder can’t be beat, but the ambience is always worth the stop.  I always ask for Gino, because he always treats me right.  

“You doin’ alright, Mr. Vanderhoven?” He smiles as he slides the menu to me on the table. 

“Peachy as always.” I chuckle.

“Got some fresh crab this morning.” He winks. His eyes are the color of dark olives with hair to match.

“I guess I don’t need this then.” I hand him the menu back. “Crab it is.” 

I always sit by the bay window overlooking the bay where all of the big boats are moored. I can hear music being played too loudly from one of the bigger yachts where there is a party going on.  I can just about hear one of the tunes we used to dance to.  

Back then, they used to set up a sound system right in the rigata and blast that horrible rock ‘n’ roll that used to keep our parents awake.  I wasn’t a hippie like a lot of the others, but I did enjoy being with Elenore even if I was a bit older than the rest of them.

“Groovy man.” One of them flashed me a peace sign when he saw us.  I just smiled and nodded.

“You’re looking pretty sad, Mr. V.” Gino arrived with my dinner.

“Just memories.” I tried to smile.

“Memories can sometimes be hard to deal with, ya know.” There was a sadness in his eyes I had never seen before.  Even though I always asked for him as my waiter, I had to admit, I did not know an awful lot about him, but then he nodded and said, “My wife Jenna passed some time ago.  My brother Vincent keeps telling me that things will get better, but they never do.  Enjoy your dinner, Mr. V.” 

“Thank you, Gino.” I wasn’t even sure if I was thanking him for my dinner or just the brief statement he said that would remain as a bond between us.

In late August, I would begin the process of getting the cabin ready for another winter.  I had been coming here for over thirty years and it was always the same in August.  I would start cleaning the deck and pull the chairs inside before folding the big umbrellas.  New York winters can be brutal and up here in the higher country, with the lake effect snow, the small one story cabin can almost become buried during a decent Nor'easter. 

Next I would clean the chimney with my bristly brush, knocking the ash from the bricks as well as make a few spiders homeless in my labors.  After that I would begin to wash the tile floor before waxing/  Nothing delights me more  than opening the door in late April next year and seeing the floor sparkle in the sunlight. 

I do it because she would want me to.  I can almost feel her smile as I scrub the floors.

“Another year, huh?” I say aloud once I am finished.  Everything aches these days, but I feel a sense of accomplishment. 

The phone rings, it’s Sherman, “Hey slugger.” I answer.

“Just checking in to make sure you’re alright.” His voice sounds sad.

“Peachy.” I smile.

“I think Harriett is going to leave me.” He sighs heavily.

“Oh I am so sorry, Sherm.” I put my hand to my face.

“Yeah.  We’ve been growing apart for some time.” He droned on.

I knew. She had told me during a private moment we had earlier in the summer when the fireworks were being fired off. I had hoped they could reconcile, but this was not to be. Times had changed.

After he hung up, I sat on the couch for over an hour in silence.  If there was one thing I truly loved about this place was how easily the silence would prevail.  Sometimes there was too much noise in your life and not enough silence.  

I was grateful for the silence.  It was good for the heart and soul.  I stood on the porch long after the sunset.  A cool wind came to remind me of the change of season that was coming. 

Tomorrow morning I would be leaving for home, the car was already packed and I would pull out before the sun would crack against the jagged horizon.  Sherman asked me why I just didn’t stay year round since I loved this place so, but love comes with appreciation and gratitude of knowing that the day will come when you must leave, like Elenore had.