 
River of Stars

A Jessica Thorpe Novel

By William Wresch

Copyright 2019 William Wresch

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Jessica is inspecting one of her hotels when she meets a Hollywood cinematographer who is scouting film locations on the North Shore of Lake Superior. She goes with him to look at various sites and is overwhelmed by his sense of beauty. They begin talking movie plots. She suggests a better location would be Wisconsin and the rivers used by Jolliet and Marquette as they discovered the Mississippi – a route that would take the film crew from her hotel in Green Bay to her hotel in Dubuque. They discuss the idea with a Hollywood director. The director will do the film, but she wants the focus to be women who have served in Iraq. As they paddle hundreds of miles, the women reflect on their time in Iraq and their lives after their return.
Chapter 1

A Quiet Walk Downtown

I complain about Wisconsin weather a lot. And with good reason. But there are days. It was the Saturday before Memorial Day. The sun was shining, temps in the low seventies, not much wind. It was the kind of day where you look out the window, and then maybe you open the door, and then finally you know you will have to go out because staying indoors was just crazy. That kind of day.

Where would I go? It didn't really matter. Just out. I put on a yellow cotton sundress. Short sleeves, skirt to my knees, pockets. I love pockets. Kleenex, comb, keys in one pocket, a very thin wallet in the other. No bag, no purse. Nothing on my shoulder or arm, or in my hand. Free to walk and swing my arms like I hadn't since being a little girl. Tennis shoes on my feet, and out the door.

Walk through the woods? Maybe. My trailer sits on four acres. My girls and I had made trails here and there. No, I was feeling social. I would walk downtown. With our new affluence, that was easier. The county highway at the end of my driveway was newly paved and newly widened. Folks could get to the Hilton Resort more easily. No pot holes for them. Me? I turned the opposite way – into Amberg. The town now had three functioning businesses, and stood astride a newly paved bicycle path. You add millions of dollars to the property tax rolls, and suddenly there is enough tax money for lots of asphalt. I crossed 141, got to the bicycle path, and I was on my way.

I walked, swinging my arms, taking long strides, but not rushing. Ambling. Amberg was maybe half a mile north of my trailer, so I was walking with the sun at my back. I could feel it – warm, not hot. A bit of a breeze. A few cars were on the road also moving the air as they went by. On my left was heavy woods. Small noises from squirrels and chipmunks down in the leaves. But mostly I felt quiet, serene. I had taken a few days off, just arrived the night before, and here I was, gifted with this perfect day.

I was alone on the bike path, almost to town, when suddenly I wasn't alone anymore. I could see about half a dozen bikers headed toward me. Women. I waved, they waved, just the normal reaction to people you meet, but then one of them recognized me and stopped the group.

"Jessica." She stopped her bike and immediately got off. Between the helmet and the dark glasses it took me a second.

"Hi Kat." It was Katherine Johnson, owner of a business specializing in outdoor activities for women. She had just started the business the year before, buying the old fishing lodge where I had once, well, where I had once done many things. We had met, we had talked, I liked her and I liked her business. I took a step or two and gave her a hug.

"Good to see you again, Kat. Is this one of your outings?"

"Yes. We were going to drive to a few places, but the weather was so I good, I thought why not take bikes?" She turned to the other women with her. "Ladies, if you haven't already recognized her, this is Jessica Wilson, Amberg's movie star." I waved, a couple of them waved, all of them got down off their bikes, phones already out for pictures.

"I timed it, Kat. I was on camera for a total of thirty two seconds."

"Those were beautiful seconds, Jess." I should describe Kat – actually Katherine Johnson, retired US Army major, tours in Iraq and Afghanistan. Five nine, solid build, really nice hair to go with a fairly rectangular face. You looked at her and thought, if she gave orders, men and women would follow them. She had to be pushing fifty, but she was barely breathing hard after the ride down from her place ten or twelve miles out of town.

"Thanks, Kat. Where are you off to?"

"We thought we would do Dave's Falls, and then maybe out to the old school house you showed me." Looking over her shoulder at a couple of the women, I was pretty sure Dave's Falls would be the end of the line. But, maybe. In the meantime, all the women seemed to have a phone or camera out, and would I mind... I did pictures with each of them, and then with all of them as a group. Really, they had just used my few seconds at the very end of the movie, and I wondered if all these women had even seen the film. I had this vision of them getting about a hundred yards farther down the bike path and one woman asking another – "Who was that?" So much for my fame as a film "star."

When everyone had whatever pictures they wanted, Kat stood close and asked, "Jess, I'd love to have you come to dinner some time."

"Yes, I'd like that too." There was a pause as Kat watched me closely. You could almost read her mind – was I just being polite?

"How about tonight?" There was the army officer for you. Charge ahead. Take the chance.

"Sure. About seven?"

"Perfect." She wrapped her arms around me and kissed my cheek. Then, in almost a whisper, she added, "Thanks, Jess."

She and the others got back on their bikes and continued on their way. They had barely gone twenty yards when I heard one woman ask, "What movie?" It sounded like several others told her "The Greatest Love Story Never Told." It was nice that several of them had seen it, but my scene really had been less than a minute long.

It only took me another fifteen minutes to finish my walk to Amberg. There had been big changes in the last couple years, so let me describe the before and after. This is a town that had been going downhill for so many decades it no longer had a school or a church. Main Street was one block long, and businesses only occupied one side of the street. Railroad tracks took up the east side of the street. On the west side was a vacant lot, a bar, a restaurant, a grocery store, a vacant lot, and a post office. That's it.

What has changed? Up until two years ago, the bar was in business, but the restaurant and grocery were empty. So was the post office. Amberg has a zip code, but all mail comes out of Wausaukee. And now? The post office is still empty, but the bar is doing fine. The restaurant has been reopened by a pair of women who call the place "Burgers Incorporated." They are open for breakfast, and lunch, but also do dinners Friday and Saturday night. The grocery has been reopened by a retired guy. He has one aisle for beer, wine and liquor (he even has a couple bottles of wine that go for fifteen to twenty dollars), one aisle for snack foods, one aisle for basics, and a counter by the door where he will make you a sandwich. I hear both the store and the restaurant are doing well.

Next change? The sidewalk that fronted the buildings was a million years old and broken everywhere. So Dad took a bulldozer to it, tore out the whole block, and replaced it with a twelve foot wide concrete plaza, complete with large concrete pots for trees along the street side. In the process, he wiped out all parking on that side of the street, but since he owned all the buildings, no one questioned his actions. Now you park facing the train tracks. Maybe he got permits for all this, maybe he didn't. In a town this small, folks have a bit more elbow room to do what they wish.

What's the patio for? The grocery guy (Steve) puts signs out there advertising his sandwich of the day, and whatever beer is on sale. Outside the bar are two small plastic tables, and five or six chairs for folks who want a cigarette while they drink. But the ladies at Burgers Incorporated had made the best use of the space. They had six tables complete with umbrellas spaced around their door. And that's where I went that morning. Maybe this wasn't Paris, but Amberg now had a sidewalk café.

Four of the tables were already taken. There was a family at one, an older couple at another, and two groups of women using the other tables. Me, I took the table closest to the street, picking a chair right where the umbrella created a shadow edge. If the sun turned out to be hot, I could slide under the shade. If the shade was cool, I could slide out into the sun. Choices, choices, choices. Initially, I took the sun. If you live in Wisconsin, you take the sun any time you can get it.

I had known both the restaurant owners all my life. They had been two years ahead of me in school. That didn't mean we had been friends (we hadn't been), but we had sat on the same bus, sat through the same assemblies, and passed each other in the hallways for ten years (I had done two months of eleventh grade before I got too big with Tiffany, but that hardly counted.) It was Amanda who came to take my order. She looked like almost all Amberg women in their mid-forties – thicker waist, bigger hips, graying hair back in a ponytail, jeans, polo shirt, and a face that was friendly enough, but showed strain around the eyes. The kids were almost raised, so that big part of life was nearly accomplished, but it had taken a toll, and while up ahead was the final payment on the mortgage, what also waited was higher costs for health insurance and an income defined by social security. But I got a big smile.

"Good morning, Jess. Thanks for coming by. What can I get you?" She wore an apron with big pockets and pulled a small order pad out. Somewhere in the pocket was a pen, and she rummaged around to find it while still smiling at me.

"How about a BLT and a bottle of water?" There was a funny look on her face when I placed my order, but maybe it was about the struggle for the pen, or maybe she was looking into the sun. Anyway, she finally got pen to paper, wrote down my order, and went back inside. Two minutes later she was back with a glass and a bottle of the local Pike River Water. I was pleased to see they were still using the graphic of Dave's Falls that I had selected years before. It really was a scenic little falls, and it looked good on the bottle.

Amanda was barely back inside when one of the ladies at another table asked me, "Do you know how long it takes for those plastic bottles to decompose?" I turned to see who was talking to me, but I couldn't be sure. There were four women at one table, and three at another, and I seemed to be the object of attention for all seven. They all seemed to be late thirties, wearing jeans and polos that I knew had fashion labels. They all also were wearing hats to protect their hair. I noticed a small Hilton logo on one.

I obviously did not know how long it takes a plastic water bottle to decompose. Who does? Presumably whoever had asked the question did. Is this something I wanted to discuss? Not really. I just said "No" and hoped this conversation would be a short one.

I want to characterize the rest of this conversation carefully. It was never hostile, but it did remind me of the way sixth grade girls talk to fifth grade girls. They weren't being too arrogant, but if we were on a school bus, I would be looking out the window by now. They knew something I didn't know. What did they know? Six thousand years, landfills were stuffed with the things, the oceans were filling up with them, animals were dying. Two women did the talking, but all seven were looking at me as if to assure me what I was hearing was all true. Was it all true? Probably. Up until their final comment – "One of the largest bottling plants in the world is right up the road. We do some informational picketing up there every Sunday."

"I appreciate your concern, but I know for a fact it is not one of the largest plants in the world. It only has three extruding machines." Well, that stopped the conversation dead. Seven minds had just seen the conversation go off in a completely new direction. How to get it restarted? It probably took a full ten seconds before one of the women found a new path.

"Well, it is still contributing to the problem. If you have the time, we hope you will join us tomorrow."

"My son-in-law works there. I don't think he'd like that." Actually, I think they had a pretty good response to that. I was essentially farting at their picnic, but they just smiled and apologized for interrupting my meal. They went back to talking among themselves, and I took a long drink from my water bottle.

Were they right about plastic? Sure. I read enough to know there are concerns and real problems. There was talk of eliminating plastic straws. Plastic bottles would no doubt be down the road somewhere. Back when I was running the plant (before Dubai, before Shakira, before Heritage Hotels, and before Hollywood), we had been worried about over use of the local water. I had solved that problem. Should I have seen the plastic problem? We all have our limits. This was now someone else's problem. Maybe Billy's. Maybe someone back in Switzerland. They were all smarter than me. They would take care of it.

At the moment, my concern was my lunch. Amanda brought out my BLT, the seven resort ladies left (all smiles and best wishes), and I spotted my father coming around the corner, headed for the bar. I waved, and he came right over.

A couple comments before I describe the next conversation. My Dad, Clark, had been my employer at the bar. I had tended bar there for nearly ten years before a pair of Swiss gentlemen and then a Chicago mobster changed my life. At no time while I tended bar did I know Clark was my father. My mother had left his name off my birth certificate, and refused to tell me who my father was. I only found out several years ago, and only after I was nearly killed outside a casino in Mississippi. When I got back to Amberg – miraculously alive – he had actually cried on my shoulder while telling me how worried he had been. That was what – three years ago? Four? In time to walk me down the aisle for my marriage to Willie. One of the better days of my life.

Now, it was still easier to talk with him about the Packers (he had attended the Ice Bowl) than about personal things (like my mother), but as he walked over to me, it was clear time for such conversations was getting shorter. His walk was not much more than a shuffle, and his face had almost no color. He still went to work every day, but his mornings started later and his evenings ended earlier. The man was old. How old? He wrapped an arm across my shoulders and kissed the top of my head, then struggled to get a chair out from under the table. I could say he sat down next to me, but it might be more accurate to say he "plopped." I was really tempted to ask about his health, but I decided that would be unkind. And it was always easier to talk to him about business.

"I never imagined Amberg with sidewalk cafes. This is beautiful. Did you have any trouble getting approvals?"

"I never did any papers, but I did talk to the town board to get their impressions of the plan. As for approvals, all I had to say was – I'll pay for it. In a town this size, that pretty well covers it."

"So you did it for every business?"

"I own them all, so why not? I bought the grocery and restaurant when they were empty. I bought the post office years ago. I sat on these properties a long time, hoping the town would come back. As you can see, it has. Mostly thanks to you. I poured the concrete. You made sure there were people to sit on it."

"It was Hilton that build the townhouses around the resort. And Willie who negotiated the sale to Hilton." I found myself looking at the table top. It had been a year and a half since I had lost Willie. This was one wound that time was not healing. Dad put his hand on mine, but said nothing. I like that about older people. They are far more comfortable with silence. Sometimes there just isn't anything to say. So, better to say nothing.

"You know Dad, I don't even know all the businesses you own."

"Billy does." Billy Simmons had married my daughter Britney. They had one daughter, with another on the way.

"Billy?" Of course I was surprised. Granted, I was only in Amberg for a few days every two or three months, but you would think I would know what my father and son-in-law had going.

"In March he needed a project for one of his on-line engineering tech classes. I needed all my dryers maintained. He did the ones in Wausaukee first, and then I paid him to do the ones in Niagara and Crivitz. I plan to give him all three. It's a good business for him and Britney. Even with little kids, she can make the rounds during the day to keep the vending machines full and check on the places, and he can fix the machines after work. I also own four bars and some commercial rentals – like these two here. My plan is to sell the bars over the next couple years. Tiffany and Ben get the commercial rentals, and the money from the bars gets split between Britney and Tiff. It is in my will, and part of my estate, so they get it all tax free."

"That's a good plan."

"I thought you would approve. I didn't think you would need any money. What I have for you is a suitcase. It was your mother's. There are some of her things in it, and lots of pictures. I have been selfish keeping it all these years, but I do like looking at it. I hope you don't mind."

"Dad, I don't know how to ask this question, but the two of you?" I wish I could describe his face as I asked. He had a bit of a smile. Thinking of her? Yet he was also sad, and maybe a bit angry. Of course on a face that old, I may just have been misinterpreting wrinkles.

"Okay. Here's the story. It's long past time you heard it." He took my water battle and drank some before getting started. "You know about your grandfather."

"Yes, killed at Okinawa. Last day of the last big battle of the war. Grandma was pregnant with my mother."

"People look back at those times and see heroes – Brokaw calls them the greatest generation. First the Depression, and then the war, and they made it through. Heroes all. And they were, but we have forgotten the casualties. Men came back, often really confused. There was violence we don't talk much about. And the women back home? Sure there was Rosie the Riveter, working in defense plants. In all the war posters she is showing off that strong right arm. It doesn't show any of them waiting back here while the boys they dated in high school are killed. All those nice old grannies we see now, you should ask them how they felt about Germans and Japanese in 1945. I bet you hear some words that will surprise you.

"Your grandmother loved a man, and took a chance. Most women waited until the war was over. The Baby Boom began in 1946 – when men were home and safe. Your grandmother took a chance. She was pregnant while he did his second tour in the Pacific. She spent her days reading the newspapers and listening to the radio as the Marines moved closer and closer to Japan. And the closer they got, the higher the casualty rate was. The Japanese stopped bonsai charges where they could be mowed down, and sat in holes, literally their own graves, waiting to pick off one or two Marines before they were killed. One for one. Don't die until you have killed an American. Iwo Jima was bad. Okinawa was worse. Our boys died by the thousands, crossing the damned island a yard or two per day. The newspapers were censored, so the worst was kept from the home front, but by 1945 everyone could read between the lines. Your grandmother, now eight months pregnant, knew where your grandfather was and what his chances were. Day by day the Marines advance, getting closer to the last hills and the last Japanese. Your grandfather was killed by a sniper on the last hillside. Your grandmother was three weeks from having your mother when the chaplain arrived. She never recovered."

"And you?"

"I was born in 1934. I did my service in Korea. In 1970 I got an inheritance. I used it to buy this bar. Your mother was one of my customers." His face had changed again. I thought he might cry. I had one hand on the table, and he had put his hand over it. Now I put my other hand over his.

"And the two of you?"

"Your mother lived two doors down from me in the next block. Just down from the house I still live in. At night I could hear your grandmother screaming. We all could. People didn't have air conditioning then. We left windows open all summer. There was no privacy. We pretended we didn't hear neighbor's conversations, but we could hear it all. Elsie we could hear all down the block.

"I'm telling you this to explain why your mother was my customer. Yes, she became alcoholic, but at least at the start, she just wanted to be around people who were having fun. She liked to laugh. And no question, the boys liked having her around. Sometimes she would leave with them, but mostly she stayed at the bar. When I closed up, I walked her home. Sometimes we would stop at my place to sit and talk. I was eleven years older than her, and felt a bit like an uncle. But after a while, well we just spent more time together. The summer she turned thirty, we spent lots of time together. She moved in with me. And I got her pregnant. When her mother found out, she lost her mind. It was scary to be around her. She was raving. Your mother moved back with her to keep her from hurting herself. And that was the end of us. Your mother and I still saw each other sometimes, but less and less after you were born. I bought her the trailer so she would have some place away from your grandmother, someplace to raise you without those additional problems. And, mostly, it worked."

At this point I was sure both of us were on the verge of tears, but we managed – barely. We held hands, slowly got our breathing back to normal, and just sat together. It was my turn to say something. I waited a very long time, and then just said, "Thank you."

Chapter 2

Back to the Fishing Lodge

Eventually Dad struggled to get to his feet. He needed to put one hand on the table and push himself up. I was tempted to help, but knew better. Male pride. I stood, and we hugged, and then he shuffled off to his bar. I paid my bill and then started the walk back to my trailer – the one Dad had bought all those years before to give my mother some freedom.

In years past, I would have gone into the bar for a while. But in years past I knew everyone who came into the place. No longer. Besides, it was May. Baseball season. Yes, every decade or so the Brewers surprised the world by not being entirely feeble, but still, it was baseball. Europeans complain that our football is boring with all the stops in the action. I can just imagine what they would think of our baseball. Why would I waste a bright sunny day to sit inside and watch gown men stand around? So, sorry Dad, but no bar today.

Besides, the kids were coming over tomorrow, and it had been two months since the last time I was home. I needed an afternoon to chase dust bunnies. So I walked the bike path and then County K to my trailer. I suspect a few people might wonder why I still owned a trailer. After all, I now owned nine hotels and had a few bucks in the bank. But I had no need for a trophy home. Who would I be showing off for? And that forty three year old trailer had been where I grew up, and my daughters grew up. True, I had a local handy man come in and reskirt around the base of the trailer so my floors would be warmer in the winter, and he had built me a nice deck out front that now had railings that met state building codes. My grandbabies could play out there and be safe.

And my trailer had one other thing that made me smile as I walked up County K and looked into my four acres: poplars. Birches grow up here, as do several pine varieties. If the land is low enough to be wet, you get cedars. But give me poplars. They are a soft wood that bends in the wind, so they are fun to watch. I especially like it if some are swinging in one direction, and some are swinging opposite. You think, shouldn't they all move together? Nope. It's like they are a bunch of silly people not sure what to do in a storm – go this way or that? And even without a storm, they have those big spade shaped leaves that seem to move in the slightest breeze. I think I spent every night of my childhood listening to those leaves. I do love my poplars.

So, after about an hour with a vacuum cleaner and a dust rag, I took one of my kitchen chairs out to my fancy new deck, and enjoyed my four acres. Dad had chosen well.

I did give some thought to dinner at Kat's lodge. Should I bring a dessert, or a bottle of wine? Wine probably. Her lodge had a massive kitchen, and she had always had some assistance with meals, so dessert was already set. The place also had a well-stocked bar in the great room, but my bottle of wine could join the rack there.

I assume Kat was still running the lodge the way she conceived of it when she first bought the place. Her cousin taught at the university in Stevens Point where there was a really good program for getting women involved outdoors. She took the idea, and spent lots of evenings thinking up interesting things for women to do for two or three days at her lodge. The idea was to have activities year-round – since her mortgage payments were year-round. And the activities shouldn't just mimic what men did – hunting and fishing. There should be activities that would appeal especially to women. The fact that she was still in business showed she was still creative enough to come up with the right activities at the right price. It would be fun to see her latest.

I wasn't quite sure what to wear. There had been times when people at the lodge dressed on Saturday nights. Maybe they still did. But I thought my sundress was within the bounds of acceptable. So I just sat out on my porch until six thirty or so, took my chair back into my kitchen, grabbed a bottle of wine from the back of a closet, found a sweater to take as the evening cooled, and finally walked across my weed-infested lawn to my Toyota.

The lodge was on a lake about ten miles outside of town. The lake was one of the reasons the previous owners had all ended up selling the lodge at a loss. The lodge was massive, with milled logs, high arching windows, and one of the biggest stone fireplaces I had ever seen. But across from this place that easily cost a million dollars to build was the least interesting lake in Wisconsin. It was maybe ten acres in size, but it was shallow and surrounded by fields as uninteresting as the lake. If you will, imagine a forty acre pasture, but there is a depression in the middle filled with water. Yes, you can swim there, or boat there, or fish there, but why would you when there are tens of thousands of more interesting lakes in Wisconsin? And would you spend two or three hundred a night to sleep across from it? No. So, when Kat came along, the previous owner (and another of my employers) was happy to sell it to her at a loss. He got out from under a huge mortgage, and she got a base of operations that rarely involved the lake.

She also got an incredibly long driveway that ran almost halfway around the lake. Up here, you take one look at a driveway like that and start thinking of snow removal. Not cheap, easy, or fast, but one of the charms of the place was its privacy. She had plenty of elbow room. I kept my speed slow as I approached, both to avoid a few pot holes, but also to get a good look at the place. Any changes? It looked like a garage had gotten an addition, but the lodge looked the same – beautiful, and impressive. Imagine any picture of any Canadian fishing lodge you have ever seen. That was this place – logs, glass, stone – and massive.

She was waiting for me at the double doors, a quick hug, a kiss on the cheek, and in we went to the great room. This was the room with the two story stone fireplace, windows facing the lake, leather furniture for twenty, a long bar along one side. It had been built for men to drink and brag about their catch of the day. Kat had left most of that, but added flowers, ferns, and a beautiful quilt hanging on the fireplace. The lodge had six bedrooms, so she always limited her guests to five. That meant the great room was set up to put six or seven chairs or love seats in smaller groupings. The grouping near the windows was the one they had chosen to use that night. The five guests were already seated. Kat and I joined them. There were hugs and introductions. This being Wisconsin, there was a glass of wine in my hand almost before I was seated.

They wanted to hear about me, but I wanted to hear about them, so I ignored the first couple requests from them.

"First, tell me about your day. What did you think of Dave's Falls?"

"It's a pretty place now, but it's hard to imagine trying to send logs over that falls. The Pike isn't big enough, is it?" The five women were an interesting mix. It seemed there was one from each decade – twenties, thirties, forties, etc. The woman in her sixties seemed most engaged in the discussion. Old enough to finally have an interest in history.

"If you know what to look for, you can see where old rail lines had been put in to get logs out, and they poured water over some temporary roads to pull logs out on huge sleds. There is a museum in Marinette where you can see pictures from those days. Mostly what you had was farmer's boys working over the winter. They were back in the fields all summer, but come winter they were free to work for a few bucks, and it was much easier to move logs over frozen ground. So, did they use the Pike River and Dave's Falls much? I doubt it, but in truth, I don't know."

"Could you tell us about the Red Carpet?" This from the woman in her twenties, but it was clear all of them wanted to know. So much for local history.

"First, let me explain what I did and did not do on that film." I took a breath and looked around. I wondered if I had ever had people pay so much attention to me. They really wanted to know. I hoped I didn't disappoint.

"I met the director, Lisa Lang, at my resort in Galena. She and her staff were just resting a few days before starting the filming of remote scenes. We talked, and she asked me if I would help with their logistics. You know, find a catering company, get travel trailers, that sort of thing. No glamor at all, I'm afraid." I paused again. "I rented twenty four RVs, hired four women to do the cooking, and spent a lot of time shopping for food in Walmart. Are you with me? Zero Hollywood glamor."

"But you got on camera."

"I was actually on camera a lot. If you saw a picture of a woman's back, that was probably me. Once I had the RVs and hired the cooks, I had some free time, so they used me as a stand in. I can't tell you how hot it was out there, and the stars needed to look fresh, so I substituted for Benicia or Melanie. I sat out in the sun while the cameras and microphones were set up and the ladies were getting their makeup done. And they might leave me out there if the ladies were just being shot from behind. My backside is a pretty good match for theirs." I paused for a laugh. Yes, I was having fun telling the story.

"But that closing scene. That really was special."

"It was supposed to be Melanie. All I did was sit out in the gazebo while they set up the cameras, same as always. Then I rehearsed the scene with the three girls they were considering. I have to tell you, by the way, all three girls did a great job. When I see that scene, I just look at that little girl. There is something in her face that just carries the scene."

"But they used you."

"They shocked the hell out of me. I did all the rehearsals and then got out of the way while Melanie did the real scene. You cannot believe how beautiful she was, by the way. She looked like an angel. The whole company went down to Hollywood after that final remote, and I came back home. I didn't see the movie until opening night in a little theater in Casper, Wyoming. I was invited to join the cast there, so I got to see the film that night. I was completely shocked to see they used me at the end. But I still thought it was just a temporary thing, and when they released the film they would use Melanie. My daughters saw the film the next day in Green Bay and told me I was in it. I still don't know why they used me. My best guess would be the girl they used maybe was different with me. Maybe by the time they filmed with Melanie, she was tired. I just don't know."

"And the red carpet?"

"That is a production like you would not believe." I leaned forward. "I managed the bottling plant up the road for a time. Those Hollywood people could teach us a thing or two about production processes. What you can't see is the backlog of limos waiting their turn. You are assigned a time. You will not arrive early or late. Guys stand in front of your car until it is your turn. Then you drive the two blocks to the carpet. You have twenty seconds to get out of the car, or it will pull away with you still in it. You are given a spot to stand for interviews and a spot for your pictures. Everything is timed. If you stay too long these beautiful young girls in formals will nudge you a bit and remind you your time is up. You have ten seconds for a final shot or to finish your sentence if you are being interviewed. If you don't move then, this young thing puts an elbow into your side that you will remember."

"Really?"

"Oh yeah. I just stood and smiled, but Lisa Lang got into an argument with some guy about historical accuracy. Her time ran out and she was still going at this guy. I ended up pulling on one side while the girl pushed on the other."

"I loved your dress"

"Thank you. It was a gift from the production company. The idea was that Lisa and I were to dress as a woman might in 1840 if she were going to a formal event. We even wore corsets. I stepped on my hem and almost tripped once, but we managed to get through the evening without any real damage."

"When's your next movie?"

"That one was enough for me. I have a hotel business to run, and a family here in Wisconsin. I think Hollywood will do fine without me."

"Ladies," Kat interjected as several women started another round of questions. "I promised Jess we would feed her, and I know Debra has been waiting to put our dinner on the table."

That got us moving, but slowly. Everyone had questions. As we walked to the formal dining room I talked about the Oregon Trail, living in an RV, Miles' blue eyes (yes, they really were that blue), and how Melanie Davie looked without makeup (far better than I did). I think I eventually ate something, but I was so busy answering questions at the table, and I have no memory of what was served. I recall Debra vaguely looked familiar (someone who had been a few years ahead of me in school?). Beyond that, I recall eating, talking, finishing one glass of wine, and suddenly it was after eleven.

What's the show business motto – leave them begging for more? I was leaving just because I was talked out. All six women followed me to the door, and I stopped for dozens of pictures, and then it was just me and Kat out by my car.

"Thanks for coming over, Jess. You made their weekend."

"My pleasure. I am pleased to see you are still doing so well."

"Thanks. I'd like to talk to you sometime about some new ideas I have."

"Sure." We were standing next to my car, and I really was feeling tired. I think I had been talking almost nonstop for four hours.

"What would you think of longer events for women? Like taking the Oregon Trail?"

"It would be interesting, but before you go too far down that road, take your hair dryer and aim it at your face. That is Nebraska and Idaho. It's also a long way off. Why not do something closer to home, like following the route of Jolliet and Marquette. Three weeks gets you from Green Bay to the Mississippi." Where did that idea come from? I have no idea. My mouth had been moving for four hours. It was just moving on its own now. We had studied Jolliet in eighth or ninth grade. Somehow his name popped up.

"Yes, that would work." Kat gave me a hug and a smile. "We could do that." She had her arms wrapped around me and kissed my cheek. I kissed her cheek and waited to be released so I could go home. But she wasn't done yet. "Thanks, Jess." Her arms were still around me. Did I mention she's bigger than me? I wasn't going anywhere. She held me a little bit longer, I think just to be sure I understood her gratitude was real.

"Thanks for a great evening." I kissed her, and dropped my hands. She backed off, and I got into my car. She stood and looked at me as I backed around, and then drove down that long driveway. I watched her in the rear view mirror. She was still standing there, watching me drive away.

Chapter 3

Sunday with the Family

I have many things to be thankful for. Certainly high on the list is the fact that my girls still like coming back to my trailer. After we all sold our townhouses at the Hilton Resort, Britney and Billy bought a nice three bedroom ranch in Niagara where she worked part-time. Since the mill closed there, houses went for pennies on the dollar. Britney and Billy probably could have bought any place in town, but they picked a newer ranch with two bathrooms. Nice, but not showy. Tiffany and Ben had bought a similar place in Green Bay. Theirs ran two fifty since Green Bay was doing okay. Mills were laying off, and Shopko was going under, but there were other employers, so the town was holding its own. Housing prices were holding steady.

But enough on the local real estate market. Both my girls had very nice homes, good places to raise my grandbabies. But as much as they liked their homes, they still liked to come back to Amberg and to my trailer. They weren't embarrassed by my place – by the place where they had been raised. As you would expect, that made me feel pretty good.

Our plan for that Sunday was to have lunch around noon, and then either take the kids for a walk in the woods, or just sit out on the new deck and watch the kids play with their toys. Lunch? I grilled some brats and burgers, after all, it was summer in Wisconsin. The girls brought potato salad and baked beans, and stuff the kids would eat – mostly mac and cheese. Tiffany's boys were both walking now, but Robbi wasn't too steady on his feet and needed to be watched near the stairs. Jeremy was off collecting leaves almost the minute he got out of the car. Britney was pretty far along with pregnancy number two, but Patti was keeping her busy as she chased after Jeremy and Britney chased after her. Both dads were also up and down as they went after one of the kids, and then came back to the deck to sit and talk with me.

There was much I wanted to say to my girls, but I also wanted to talk to my sons-in-law. I got to Ben first. He came over to help with the grilling, and I thought this might be my one chance to see which way the wind was blowing on my current plot to get him involved in my company. Over the winter I had bought hotels in Green Bay and Appleton, in part because they matched our profile – classic hotels that could be remodeled and made profitable, and in part because I had a daughter and son-in-law who lived in Green Bay. Maybe, they would visit the hotels and take an interest.

Ben, being both a good son-in-law, and a mind reader, knew how to start the conversation.

"Tiff and I had dinner at your hotel yesterday. They opened up the seating area along the river, and it was very nice. Good food, good service, and a great view west across the river."

"Do you have any suggestions for improvements?"

"No, we were both happy with our meal."

"You know I am always looking for new hotel managers. Any interest in the place?"

"I think Tiff and I are both more skilled in the medical field."

"You might be surprised how your skills could transfer. You deal with the public, analyze data, solve problems."

"Maybe so, but I think we are happy where we are."

"Okay, but would you do this for me? Visit the hotels in Green Bay and Appleton, and keep me updated on how you think they are doing. And, if you ever have a bad day at the clinic, remember you have a job waiting for you, as does Tiffany."

"That we can do." He flipped the burgers and I went inside to get drinks – lemonade for grownups, apple juice in sippy cups for the kids. Maybe I hadn't made the sale with Ben, but there was no need to rush him. He might have a bad day at the clinic, or he might find he liked being around old hotels. We would see.

Billy was next. I got him as we sat down to eat. You recall eating with little ones. Mostly you are cutting up their food or trying to get them to take one more bite while you pick their sippy cup off the floor again. But I did get his attention eventually.

"I hear you are fixing Clark's dryers." Having spent twenty years calling my father "Clark." I still found myself calling him that on occasion.

"It started out as a class project, but now he has had me and Britney takeover his laundromats. I fix the machines, and Britney stocks the vending machines."

"And I clean up the places." Britney added. "You wouldn't believe what gets tracked on those floors."

"It's not too much for you?" I asked.

"No, it's actually a nice break in the day. I do all three in the morning. Patti runs around while I clean, and we are still back home in time for her nap."

"It's good he has you. I had lunch with him yesterday. The man's eighty five. You can see it in the way he walks."

"It will also be a good job for us if they close the plant." That got everyone's attention. Suddenly everyone was looking up from the kids to see if Billy was serious. I asked the question everyone was thinking.

"Could that happen?"

"Sure. As we drove down here we passed some women picketing the place. They want to ban plastic. And they might. Plastic straws are already being banned. Other plastics will go soon. And you look at what is happening in the oceans, and you can see why."

"What about recycling?" Ben asked.

"It's complicated. With aluminum, you just clean the cans and melt them down. No big deal. With plastic, there are all kinds of plastic formulas in use, so you can't just melt them all down – you would get a mess. First you would have to sort them out. Each container is marked on the bottom so you can see what kind of plastic is used. Some guy would have to pick up every container, look at the bottom, and then toss it in one bin or another. Think of the cost, and think of that poor guy."

"You would think there would be some way..." Ben again.

"Switzerland is sending a couple engineers over. Maybe they'll find a solution. Maybe they will just shut us down. We'll know in a couple weeks."

Well, that pretty well wrapped up that conversation. We went back to helping the kids get food where it belonged, and after a quick clean up, we took the kids for a walk in the woods. By two the kids were back in their car seats headed home to naps. I told the girls I would be back in July some time, and that was that. It was good to see all the family again, but obviously we were all unhappy about the threat to the plant. How many times did we have to fight to keep it open? I stood at the edge of the road and waved as both cars drove off. I was smiling, but I didn't feel very happy.

Chapter 4

Riding the Circuit Again

I spent my afternoon sitting on my deck, eating leftovers, and thinking about the water plant. I didn't have to worry about Billy. I had dozens of jobs in my company that would be perfect for him. And my dad could use him as well. My worry was about the other twenty three employees and their families. Marinette County is not a great place for jobs. Would the Swiss close the plant? Maybe. Was there someone I could call? Yes. Saanvi. Did I want to make that call? No. At least not yet. It might be years before this all came to a head. And I had plenty of reasons to keep my distance.

What I needed to do now was laundry and packing. There are lots of ways to run a company. My way was hands on. Every six months I visited every hotel. No surprises. They knew I was coming. I might stay a day, I might stay a week. I might schedule a follow up visit from Bobbi or Andy to give a manager some additional training. I might put some money into a new project or a partial renovation. But I would spend at least one night in each hotel.

When I had Willie, these trips had been so much more fun. Sometimes it felt like a second or third or fourth honeymoon. Us in a hotel room. Us together. Me with someone to share the driving. Me with a hand to hold. Now I did it all alone, just me and my Rav4. Almost two hundred thousand miles on the thing, and it just purred. One thing I could count on.

So I spent the evening getting ready to ride the circuit again. I knew what to pack. I had done it again and again. I got out my phone and checked my map yet again, ready to take the hotels in the same order. Duluth first, then straight down the Mississippi, then back around through Indiana, the same counter-clockwise circuit I always made. Probably a four week trip, maybe five. Then back to my headquarters in Galena. Around and around we go.

Come morning, I hit my usual routine. Up at six, shower, breakfast, a little work on my hair, a little makeup, and my visit uniform – knee-length cotton dress, blazer, black pumps with one inch heels. I suppose I looked like an accountant, but that was fine. Bags in my car, I was on the road by seven thirty.

How do you get to Duluth from Amberg? Highway 2. It runs along the northern edge of Wisconsin and climbs into the Upper Peninsula of Michigan at several points. I had lunch along the way in Ironwood, Michigan. Want to see what a town looks like after the mines close? Try Ironwood or Iron River or any of the Iron anythings in the UP. Have a burger and keep driving. Eventually you get to Duluth. You will know when you are in Minnesota – you will see people smile again.

Our hotel there was the perfect fit for us. The building was a classic. Four floors, right on a main street, restaurant on the ground floor, meeting and exhibit rooms on the second, eighty rooms up above. The city economic development people came to us. Fix the place, and we won't raise your taxes for twenty years. Our engineers looked in every corner. The place was solid. But it was old. The bathroom towels hadn't been replaced in twenty years. The mattresses were older. The flooring? Who knew? The lower two floors needed painting and new fixtures. Floors three and four? Everything. It had taken two contractors to finally get the work done.

But it was worth it. First, Duluth is a very pretty city. People like visiting. Second, it is the gateway to the north shore of Lake Superior. Want to add a road trip to your bucket list? Highway 61. And take it all the way to Thunder Bay. And do it late September when the leaves are changing. As you drive north, you have the lake to your right and forests to your left. Get another memory card for your camera. You will be stopping for lots of pictures.

What else did we get with the deal? The University of Minnesota Duluth. Great place – and great placement. It was up at the top of the hill that defines Duluth. We were below it maybe six blocks. We never had a labor shortage. Any job we posted was filled by students. And our rooms were filled by their parents when they came up for a visit. Not being stupid, our bar, restaurant, and all meeting rooms were decorated with UMD regalia. Want a UMD sweatshirt? You can find them in our gift shop. Any of their athletic teams have a good day? We have discounts in our bar. Make the dean's list? Your dinner is half price. Our managers had degrees from UMD and spent at least one day a month working with UMD Career Services people. We had jobs, we had internships (paid), and we had opportunities. Basically we married UMD, and the marriage was working just fine.

There was a UW campus across the river in Superior, but we learned early on not to bother. Wisconsin had been cutting university budgets for years, and the place was shutting programs and losing students. It finally dropped football because it couldn't find fifty boys who wanted to play. So, no jersey sales in our gift shop.

There was a parking ramp around the corner from our hotel, so I parked there and carried my dress bag and overnight bag into the hotel. I knew I would stay at least one night. I never try to do sneak visits. I walk in, announce myself at the registration desk, and wait to see the manager. Within two minutes a young man took my bags up to my room, and I was back in the manager's office.

What did we talk about? The nice thing about networked computer systems is I didn't have to ask about sales or expenses. Before I left Galena, I already knew how many rooms had been rented every night for the last six months, revenues from the bar and restaurant, and all costs. If there had been any surprises along the way, we had probably already talked about them over the phone. No, the purpose of these visits was to test the temperature of the manager (still happy to be working here? Still handling employee issues well?), and to talk through any potential changes to the hotel or to the hotel activities (new ideas for wedding receptions? Special promotions in the bar?).

Andrea Burns had been manager three years. This was a time for me to be especially watchful. With three years' experience, Hilton and Marriott would be sniffing around, and she might feel like spreading her wings. She had helped with the hotel renovation, so that gave her an especially attractive skill set. Fortunately, I didn't get any of that vibe. I don't think we were in her office five minutes when she bounced up and wanted to walk me through the bar and the meeting rooms to tell me about some ideas she had.

Her big idea was to go with Bobbi Stein's latest innovation - Date Night. Bobbi was one of the most creative people I have ever met. She had done some special event organizing at the hotel in Dubuque. I made her hotel manager and never looked back. She was endless fount of ideas and energy. I asked her to visit and help other managers, and she did. The latest idea she was spreading through my hotels – Date Night, just one more way to get customers into our banquet rooms.

Andrea led me into the larger of the three second floor reception rooms, and she pointed to where she would add onto the bar, and where she would put a projector for the kiss cam. She already had the budget authority for the costs of these upgrades, but she wanted me to know why labor costs would go up once Date Night started. And then she got to her real concern.

"The university connection works well for us, but the Duluth bar scene is dominated by Grandma's Saloon. They have three locations now. They have their big marathon and sponsor a million sports leagues. I want a piece of that action." Andrea was just over thirty. But she was also tiny. So what you saw was this tiny woman with hands on her hips and passion on her face. You should have seen her in the job interview. We were with her five minutes and were already negotiating salary. She was a fighter.

"There's another way to cut that problem," I said. "Have you thought about renting our bar to them? They have three locations. They might want a fourth." I had real trouble not laughing when I saw the look on her face. She was a fighter, and I had just suggested surrender.

"We can beat those guys. Joe has got our bar humming, and our restaurant has much better food than them. If we get this second floor working for us, we can be where Duluth goes for fun." At this point I knew I didn't have to worry about losing her. She was a fighter, and she had found a fight she wanted.

"I am sure you can beat them. Bobbi had real success with her Date Night and Girl's Night Out. Go with them or anything else you think may work. If you think it will help, I'll double your promotions budget." Judging by her smile, you would think I had just doubled her pay. I would have to send Bobbi up for another visit. Her creativity coupled with this woman's drive, and I think Grandma's was about to see their first revenue decline.

We spent two more hours walking the floors and plotting and scheming. Then I let her get back to her office, and I went up to my room to change for dinner. Or at least that was my intention, but as I walked to the elevator I saw Jim Thomas in the bar. Jim Thomas – the videographer from the Oregon Trail movie. He was sitting like every other person in the bar, staring at his phone and occasionally glancing up at a ball game on the big TVs. Baseball. No reason to do more than occasionally glance.

"Hi Jim." I walked right up to him before he saw me. He looked like he always had – good tan, good haircut, film star looks, a black tee shirt and jeans. He got up and hugged me.

"Hi Jess. What in the world brings you to Duluth?"

"This is one of the hotels I own." I never got tired of saying that. I took a seat across from him at the high top he was using. The bartender came over in a flash, and I asked for water. "Are you making a movie up here?"

"Lisa has me looking at settings. After the success of her Oregon Trail film, she is thinking of doing another historical film. This time the voyageurs. Fur trappers paddling birch bark canoes and battling cold, loneliness, and grizzlies."

"Let me guess. You are driving up the north shore to Grand Marais or maybe Thunder Bay."

"You know the drive?"

"I did it last fall. That's when you should shoot, by the way, the colors are amazing."

"Do you have time to go with me?"

"No. Sorry. I am just starting my summer circuit. I am supposed to be in St Paul in a day or two."

"I think it would just take a day. Let me buy you dinner and try to persuade you."

"You can buy me dinner and tell me why your Oscar speech was cut off." We laughed, I left a dollar for the tip, and we agreed to meet again in an hour.

What did I need an hour for? Did I mention his film star looks? I had already promised to meet Andrea for dinner, so once I was in my room I called her and explained Jim would be joining us. He was someone I knew from the film I was in. Something else I never got tired of saying. An hour later my hair looked much better, I had worked pretty hard on my makeup, and I changed into a silk dress with a floral print, a flared knee-length skirt, scoop neck and very short sleeves. I left my blazer in my room and chose sandals with a two inch heel. I was trying to look nice, but not too nice. Well, maybe more than "nice." But, this wasn't a date. He was just an old friend, who happened to look like a film star. He really did.

How did dinner go? Very well. Andrea was overjoyed to have an Oscar winner in her hotel, and got permission for a picture that I knew would be mounted on the lobby wall by the end of the week. She had seen the movie (probably a good idea when your boss is in it), and asked fairly original questions about the filming. She was also smart enough to be too "busy" to stay very long. By the time we were finishing our main course, Jim and I were alone.

"I have to ask about your acceptance speech. It was obvious you were cut off. What were you going to say?"

"I have no idea." I was on my second glass of wine. He was on his third. We both decided this was absolutely hilarious. "Really. I thought I might win it, since we did so much shooting on location. How do you not vote for a picture that uses shots of America? So I was prepared with some comments about the importance of the Trail and Narcissa. You know, all the right stuff to say. And then I started on the usual round of thank yous. So far, so good. But I was sure I was forgetting someone, so I paused to think through my list, and, of course the minute I paused, that was it. Off I go."

"And the person you were going to thank?"

"I still don't remember. Probably my mother, or something like that."

That exchange sort of encapsulates our conversations for the evening. Two old friends joking about past events. I told him stories about Lisa's party after the award show, he told me about the places he had gone to. It turned out he had eventually made it to Lisa's place in the Valley, but I had gone to bed by then.

The one topic that wasn't fun? Lisa's Oscar – the one she didn't get.

"Jess, it wasn't going to happen, and she knew it. We had already won two technical Oscars, my cinematography, and best actor and actress. Six Oscars is no small thing. But. This was the first feature film by a woman who had been doing porn flicks for over a decade. She was a woman you didn't invite to parties. And now you give her best director and best picture? No. Maybe ten years from now when she has done half a dozen more films. But not now."

"I thought she handled it well. And both Miles and Melanie said great things at her party. Benicia gave a long toast, mostly to draw attention to herself, but generally, people said the right things, and Lisa kept her head up."

"I should hope. Six Oscars on your first film? The woman is now a Hollywood heavy weight."

"And her follow up is about fur traders?"

"She read a short story about a group of Voyageurs who get up in the Rockies, get trapped by snow and are hunted by a pair of grizzlies. Man versus nature, and nature has big teeth."

"She relies on you again. You give her settings that fill the screen. Maybe there's gore and drama and guys in buckskin running for their lives, but much of the film will be little men against huge mountain backdrops."

"Yes, I think that's the way it will go." He was staring at me now. "You have a pretty good sense for it."

"I have watched a whole lot of movies. Sorry. Films." At this point I'm staring back. What do books say about such moments? Their eyes locked? Their eyes met? She looked deeply into his eyes? Actually, his whole face looked pretty good. The room was nearly cleared out. It was just us and maybe two other tables, little being said. At some point he had started holding my hand. I looked, he looked, and we both wondered what might come next. Well, obviously we were both old enough to know what came next, but the question was whether it happened now.

"Jess, will you come with me tomorrow? Show me the best places to get on film. I'll let you pick the opening shot."

"I won't pick anything, but, yes, I'll show you some places I liked when I drove the North Shore last fall."

"Thanks. And..." He didn't have to finish the sentence. I knew what "and" was leading to.

"And I will meet you here for breakfast at seven." I stood, he stood, we kissed, and maybe we kissed longer than old friends kiss, but not as long as lovers kiss. At least I think not.

I went straight up to me room. Why was I going to spend the day with him? Because I wasn't ready to spend the night with him.

Chapter 5

A River of Stars

Morning came, breakfast, hugs, two of us going off together. Where would this lead – besides a long drive? Yes, we ended up in a motel that night, but let me explain what led up to that. Since I had driven Highway 61 before, we took my car and I drove. At least I did for the first hour. Highway 61 is simple enough. It's two lane, not a huge amount of traffic, and lots of places to pull over and look at the lake. Minnesota should get credit for building it to please. And I thought it did. But maybe it pleased too much. I had some stops in mind, places where I thought the scenery was particularly good. But I am your average person with an average visual sense. I was driving with a guy who had just won an Academy Award for taking great pictures. I found out what that meant in our first hour on the road. I swear he tried to stop my car every fifty feet.

I try to be a courteous driver. There weren't many cars, but if you slow down to ten miles an hour, cars tend to back up behind you. And if you stop every fifty feet, sometimes they talk to you or wave to you with one finger. Jim wanted to look at the trees, at the shore, at any rock formation or stream bed. I wanted to find someplace to pull off the road so normal people could pass by. After eight stops, I finally found a normal parking area overlooking the lake, and I not only stopped the car, I got out. Enough.

I should say that while I was feeling a fair amount of stress from being a Toyota speed bump, Jim was in a great mood. He loved everything he saw. And he saw far more than I did. Really. Even if we were stopped, and he pointed, I would see a grove of trees. He would see twenty more colors than I saw, plus textures, spacing, and "layers." He would tell me what the space would look like at every hour of the day, the impact of clouds passing, and what each color would do as the sun hit the horizon. I walk around looking at things I think are "pretty." He has a hundred words for every vista. It's like I am taking first semester Spanish, and he is a native speaker.

So after one hour along the lake, three things had changed. First, I let him do the driving. Cars got backed up behind him too, but he just waved and kept watching the shoreline or the forest. Second, I shut up and listened. And looked. Did I see what he saw? No, but I began to see more than I had before. The colors really were special. The waves hitting the shore began to look more and more like a rainbow of blues and greens. Third, I saw this guy was not just another pretty face. I stood closer. If his hand was free, I held it. If we walked down to the shore, I was pleased when he took me around the waist and lifted me down off a rock or off a fallen log. Actually I was more than pleased. Much more.

He had a huge camera with him and took a million pictures. But sometimes he would just stand and stare. Was he envisioning actors walking through the scene? Me? I think I know when to keep my mouth shut. I would stand, wait, and try to see the way he saw.

By lunch time we made it up to Grand Marais. Bigger town, several restaurants. Did we stop? No. We were on a quest. On we go. An hour later, we are up at Grand Portage and to a reconstructed fort outside town. Fort? Trading Post? It had vertical logs for outside walls and a few buildings inside. I told Jim the fort in Thunder Bay was much better. There seemed to be a competition between national historians with these forts. The one in Grand Portage showed where Americans had taken rivers west for furs, while the one in Thunder Bay showed where the French and British had gone west. I gave Jim a three sentence comparison in case it mattered. I'm not sure it did. Neither of us had a passport along so we weren't going to Thunder Bay, and with movie magic being what it is, I was fairly confident Jim would have either fort looking pretty different on screen.

We walked around the Grand Marais fort and Jim took lots of pictures. But I noticed he was looking mostly at the shore of Lake Superior, and at the stream that went west. My best guess? He was already seeing the fort as just a backdrop as the voyageurs loaded canoes along the edge of the river. But I am just guessing. He wasn't talking. By now it is midafternoon. He is taking pictures. I am walking three steps behind. Once in a while he thinks to take my hand. Once, as he panned with his camera he actually looked at me and smiled. At least I think it was a smile. It all happened so fast.

Then we are back in the car, he is still driving, and we are headed south. Back to a restaurant? It felt funny to break the silence and interrupt his concentration. But I asked. Lunch? Sure. But first he had seen a sign for a waterfall. We should look. There is a state park. Judge Somebody. He passes by the only restaurant within a thousand miles and parks at the base of a hiking trail. We are going looking for a waterfall. We find the trail and head west into the woods. Somewhere along the Brule River is a waterfall. Off we go.

I should mention what I was wearing. Fortunately, I had put on tennis shoes. Nothing to hike in, but at least I wasn't wearing sandals. But it would have been really good if I had worn jeans. Nope. I had worn a sun dress. Why a sun dress? Do I really need to explain? I had this wild idea he might pay some attention to me. He did occasionally take my hand as we climbed up over a rock ledge, or wound around a thicket of cedars, but he was just as likely to drop my hand and pull up his camera. The Brule River never got such loving attention as it was getting that afternoon. If there was water coming over a rock, he got a picture. If water bent under the roots of a cedar, he got a picture. If there was moss on a rock, he got a picture.

We weren't the only hikers. They strode by, hiking sticks in hand (store-bought – apparently how the cool people walk now), gave us a cheery "hello" and kept going. There was one guy with a camera who stopped for a minute and I think wanted to talk photography, but when Jim didn't move from his position, squatting adjacent to some ferns, the guy walked on. So I wasn't the only person being ignored.

We did eventually get to the waterfall. There was a park bench, and I made one of my smarter moves of the day – I sat down. For the next hour, Jim was all over that water fall. I was waiting for him to step under it. He got that close. He climbed up and took pictures from the top, from a million angles, from below, from two feet away and twenty. I have no idea what memory card he had in his camera, but it had to be gigabit range. And I would bet dollars to donuts he had two or three more chips in his pocket.

By now the sun is getting near the top of some pines to the west, so I think we might be about done. He sits down on the bench next to me. He has his camera on his lap and is reviewing some images. I lean close, my arm around his shoulders (even though his should be around mine.) At one point he pulls his camera closer to his face, and I take advantage of an empty lap. Yes, I am a hussy, but did I mention he looked like a film star? I get my ass on his lap, one arm around his shoulders, and my face against his neck. Remember me, Mister Oscar Winner?

The man may be a photographer, but he is also a man. So it doesn't take long before he has one hand on my thigh and the other on the back of my head. But then he takes my arm from about his shoulders, and puts it around his waist. His hand goes back to the top of my head. And I understand. I am welcome to sit on him, but I shouldn't block his view. He wants to be able to look over the top of my head, and to move his arms with the camera. Am I getting half his attention? A third? I kiss his neck, and the hand on my thigh slides farther up my leg and under the skirt I had thoughtfully worn. So maybe I was over half?

At this point I assume we are there until sunset. It's June, so that will be late. No mosquitoes so far, but they have to be hovering somewhere. First mosquito, and I am back in the car. While we wait, I stay busy. My hands stroke his back, and I push my face into his neck. When he isn't taking pictures, his hand is all the way up my skirt, his fingers sliding across my panties. I think I'm winning the competition with the waterfall, when he sees something, and his hand is gone again. Ugh.

But it gets dark. I hear him taking shot after shot as the shadows change. The whole waterfall takes on a different appearance. I almost lifted my head to get a better look, but he had his hand on the back of my head again pretty quickly. Okay. I understand the rules. I get to sit here and hold him if I keep my head out of the way. So I see the waterfall with my head leaning to one side. And then I can't see it any more. The sun is fully set. It is pitch black.

Are we done? Apparently not. His hand goes back to climbing my leg, and I go back to kissing his neck. This goes on for a very long time, and feels so good, I feel my eyes start to close. I am practically falling asleep on the guy, when he says his first words in five or six hours.

"Jess, look up."

I open my eyes and look up, but all I see is black. What does he want me to see? Can he see in the dark? He puts a hand under my chin and lifts my head higher. Stars. A row of them. And then I get it. We are in a canyon of trees. They are now black walls ascending on each side of the Brule. But straight up, the stars are visible - a narrow band of them. An echo in the sky of the river below. They even bend as the river bends. It is the most unbelievable sight I have ever seen. A river of stars.

"Thank you." I have no idea how long we sat and looked at those stars. But we held each other tight. And I didn't feel I was competing with his camera. I looked up, and I was still looking up as he kissed me.

We did eventually leave. Both our phones had a flashlight feature, so we made it out over the roots and rocks. Where did we go? That place on the edge of the park not only had a restaurant but a motel.

Chapter 6

We Plot

The room smelled of mildew, and the bed was lumpy. I didn't care. He had my zipper down and bra unhooked and me on my back, all at just the right speed – fast enough to show some passion, slow enough to show he enjoyed what he was doing. And he did enjoy what he was doing. So did I.

We did eventually get some sleep that night. In the morning I introduced him to the Jessica Shower Ceremony. The shower was small, he pinned me to the wall, I had my arms so tight around his neck he wasn't going anywhere. The perfect shower.

Off to breakfast. We were on our second cup of coffee and third pancake when we finally started talking.

"I assume you have them portage around the waterfall. And it will be beautiful. I assume this is beauty and the beast. You give them quiet, and nature at its most magnificent. Including night scenes like we had last night. Men around a campfire, men paddling canoes across lakes, trees everywhere, and then mountains everywhere. It's all visual art."

"And then the beasts. Yes."

It was a silly restaurant. They had tried to go with local themes, so there was a birch bark canoe hanging from one wall, and fishing poles everywhere. There were probably fifty places along this road decorated pretty much the same. All I cared about was the table. It was small. Jim sat opposite me, our knees touching, both of us leaning over our plates, leaning close to each other. I wanted to drop my fork and put my hands on him. I wanted him. You have no idea how much I wanted him.

"So you show two sides of nature. And with you behind the camera, both sides will be accentuated. When you show beauty..."

"Thank you." I thought he was going to reach across the table and take my hand, but he reached farther and put his hand beside my face. It was warm.

"What are your plans for today?"

"Jess, my plan is to keep you as long as I can keep you."

"Good plan."

I suppose at this point you would expect us to drop our forks and go racing back to our room. But we kept eating. I am not sure I have ever been as hungry or ever had food taste so good. We ate every pancake they brought us, and added eggs and bacon and a third cup of coffee. Yes, we had missed a couple meals, but I didn't think that was all that was going on.

When we got back to our room, we laid side by side, and talked.

"Will the beasts scare kids?"

"Probably. Lots will just be noises in the dark. And men will wander off to gather fire wood or check traps and you will hear screams. But eventually you will see the bears. And they will be huge."

"No happy ending. I liked the last film. Strong women. Suffering endured. The world a better place."

"Lisa said the last film was an Obama film. This will be a Trump film. Strong men take on a dangerous world."

"You didn't show me a dangerous world last night."

"No, I don't really see a dangerous world."

"Tell Lisa to call it 'River of Stars' and just show the men paddling west. No real plot. No real drama. Just men paddling and looking."

"And no ticket sales."

I didn't have an answer to that. And while we had been talking, our hands had been busy, so there was no time for answers anyway. We bounced around that lumpy bed pretty good.

It was afternoon when we felt like going outside again. The hotel fronted on Lake Superior, so we walked along the shore, hand in hand. The surf was a bit noisy as it rolled the shore stones against each other, and the breeze was even a bit cool. But my hand was warm, and periodically I just turn turned into him and pushed my body against him. That warmed me up pretty fast. I think he got warmer too. It didn't take him any time to get a hand under my ass and pull me tight to him. Good man.

When we talked, it was about the film.

"Move it to Wisconsin. We have lots of history on our rivers. You can do Nicolet discovering Green Bay, or Jolliet discovering the Mississippi. Put your people in my Green Bay hotel, and I promise an open bar every night."

"You own a bar in Green Bay."

"And another in Dubuque. If you do the movie about Jolliet, I promise you an open bar at the beginning, and again at the end."

"And for drama?"

"Not sure. This was all stuff we read in ninth grade Wisconsin history. I think Jolliet lived. Marquette died. But I don't think it was bears."

I swear at this point we both pulled out our phones. We are walking along a beach in the middle of nowhere, and we think we can reach Wikipedia. And we did. The beach got two bars. A miracle. What did Wikipedia tell us? Lots. Why did school kids still have textbooks? We both read fast, looking for drama. First to find the Mississippi. Fine. First to go down the river. Good. Drama? Indians in Arkansas threaten them. They run for their lives. Drama.

"Lisa won't do Indians."

"Yes, I heard her in Casper." As I am talking, I am scanning the entry again. "Indians are too complicated. They killed us, we killed them. We killed lots of them. You can imagine how this incident would look on the screen. Seven Frenchmen, hundreds of Indians. Not good." But I didn't see anything else that might work for drama.

It felt like a letdown. We both turned and started walking back towards the motel. If nothing else, I would get my sweater out of the car.

"And there's no women." I thought I might as well get that out.

"The only women out here in those days were Indian women."

"These days there are plenty of women on the rivers. I have a friend who does outings for women. She is taking a group down Jolliet's route yet this summer." I was pretty sure Kat would do that. If she had an interest in something, it got done.

"Okay, so now we have rivers and women. Two out of the required three. What about drama?"

"I don't know. Maybe they capsize?" You know how you feel when you have worked an idea to death? We just laughed. He held my hand. We stood for a while and stared at the lake. His hand slid around my shoulders, and, well, it was time to revisit our hotel room.

Chapter 7

Back to My Circuit

The rest of our time together went pretty fast. Some we spent in bed, some in the shower, some in the restaurant, and some along the shore again as he took pictures of the shore and of sunset – and of me. We did some talking that evening and again as we drove back to Duluth in the morning. For the first time, we talked about us. He was twice divorced. Too much traveling, too many drugs (he didn't say if that was him or his wives or both). Three kids. Yes, he had done some acting, but he was behind the camera by choice. Acting was fine, but these new cameras let you do some really amazing things.

He wanted to know about me. I explained Allen and I had gotten together several times in the fall, and he had talked about transferring to one of the national forests in Wisconsin, but in the end I had lost out to a wolf count in Montana. Lisa and I? Our times together had been fun, but infrequent.

I drove him to the airport that afternoon. We sat in the car and necked like teens, but we were adults and knew how things generally ended. Maybe we would meet again in Duluth when they started filming. Maybe we wouldn't.

I drove down to my next stop – St. Paul. This would be one of my longer stops, not because there were problems, but because this was now our largest hotel, and because Bobbi was here. She had moved to the Twin Cities from Dubuque, and she was in love with the place. She had started a Date Night at the hotel, and she came almost every week with a new guy. If you were a young professional, the Twin Cities was a great place to be. I assumed I would find extreme enthusiasm from her. And it would be fun to see my kitchen crew again. Shirette and the others had taken the jobs in the hotel, and they had been doing fine when I saw them during my winter circuit.

The hotel itself had been a huge risk, but what a reward. It was eight floors of gleaming glass and freshly maintained brown brick. A huge overhang projected out to the street in front, and the back had almost a hundred yards of frontage on the Mississippi. It looked special. I felt special when I parked my car and let a bellhop and valet deal with my car and luggage. Inside was a two story atrium, broad staircases up, wide windows out to the river, two bars, two restaurants, meeting rooms in any size you could want. It had cost more than I wanted to think about, but everywhere I looked, I saw people. Build it well (and hire a great manager), and they will come.

Bobbi must have been watching for me. Still in her early thirties, I knew she was working sixty hour weeks, but you couldn't tell it from the smile on her face, or the bounce in her step. I got a quick hug, and then she led me outside where we could talk. Why not her office? Because she seldom spent any time there, and because she knew my love for sidewalk cafes. We barely got our butts down under the umbrella of a table right on the edge of the river when a waitress brought over two cups of coffee. Leave it to Bobbi to have prepped the waitress. And who might the waitress be? Jolene. I bounced back up and gave her a hug.

"You look beautiful." And she did. Her year in the city had given her access to girls who knew something about makeup, and she had also had her hair done by someone with skills. The Kansas City girl who looked destined for a factory, now looked ready for a university. I had to ask.

"You graduated high school this month, right? And this fall?"

"University of Minnesota. Premed." No wonder she looked beautiful. Pride. She was glowing.

"And the rest of the family?"

"Mom and Aunt Clarissa are both assistant chefs upstairs (the nicer dining room), and Marlena works here too. She comes on later, so you should see her."

"I hope I will." We talked for a few minutes more, and then she was off to another table.

"Are things going as well as she says?" I asked Bobbi.

"The Twin Cities have neighborhoods you need to stay out of, but we got them moved to a safer building close by, good high school, safe walk to work. All four of them work well. I'm glad you sent them this way."

"Have you hired a permanent manager for this hotel yet? I am happy to have you up here, but remember you are corporate. I don't want you burning out from doing two jobs."

"I have an assistant manager who needs about three more months with Andy Tower, and then she can take over."

"Good. So how are things going here?"

It took her until her third cup of coffee to cover everything she was doing. No surprise. An art history major, she had finally gotten to use her college education, and was bringing all kinds of exhibits to the second floor. She had also joined three groups for people her age, and all of them were doing events here as well. Naturally, she had brought Ladies' Night and Date Night here, and both were selling out. Convention business was not as much as the Chamber and city had promised when we took the hotel, but she had hired a new person to sit on that and make it happen. In short, things weren't perfect, but they were pretty good.

We were still talking at seven when a young man came to get Bobbi. Jake. Not a bad looking guy. I guess tonight was date night. Both he and Bobbi apologized, but I just smiled. I'm thinking, be good to her, Jake. Make her want to stay here.

Left on my own, I took a short walk along the river. The Mississippi is wide here. And busy – barges, pleasure boats, bigger boats for dinner cruises. I got thinking about Jolliet. He was an explorer, but also a merchant. He wanted to trade with the Indians he met. I wondered if he would be doing dinner cruises now.

How did the rest of my visit go? That night I had a good dinner upstairs (and went back into the kitchen to talk with both Shirette and Clarissa), and enjoyed the view from my room. I spent much of the next day walking floors with our engineer and the head of maintenance getting updates on problems still left from the remodeling. I was learning no building job was ever perfect. Now, nine months after the official completion of the job, most things were fixed, but there were still a few leaks and cracks. Fortunately, it looked like the final fixes would happen without recourse to our lawyers.

Another meeting with Bobbi, another walk along the river, another dinner in our restaurant and night in my room, and I was ready to move on. Eight more hotels to go.

Chapter 8

I Get Distracted

I am lucky things were going well at our hotels that June, because I was distracted. As I drove the circuit, I should have been thinking about any issues with the last hotel, and reviewing my notes for the next hotel. But what was I thinking about? Jim's movie. Bears. Really? Any kid who sees a movie like that is going to be afraid of the dark for years.

Evenings I often hit Wikipedia yet again, looking for some alternative outdoor story. I wanted outdoors, and I wanted women. There was always the farm wives who homesteaded in Kansas or Nebraska. Or Wisconsin. Drama? Hoping the kids didn't get smallpox and hail didn't take out the crops. There were probably diaries all over small town historical societies that could be used as the basis for a movie. Would Lisa go with that? My guess was she had already thought of such plots and decided either it had already been done by "Little House" or even if it was fresh, it wouldn't appeal to current audiences. One more farm wife facing one more plague of locusts? No thanks.

The drive to Paducah seems to take forever. I was on my third or fourth hour driving straight south mumbling the words "outdoors" and "women" and I kept coming back to Kat. Just for the heck of it, I gave her a call.

"Kat, you were talking about taking longer trips with your guests. Did you ever do anything with that idea?"

"Yes, I stole your idea – down the Fox to the Mississippi following Jolliet's route. I have been reading, and it appears he got from Mackinac Island to the Mississippi in about a month. I don't think anyone can afford to be gone for a month, but I thought one week, Green Bay to Oshkosh, another week, Oshkosh to Portage, and the last week from Portage to the Mississippi. Sign up for one, two, or three weeks. How does that sound to you? Want to come?"

"That sounds pretty good. When will you do it?"

"I thought September. Fewer bugs."

"Good idea. Let me get back to you."

Okay, so the idea is real. We have outdoors, and women. What about drama? I kept barreling down Interstate 57, and no drama came to me.

If you ask people how they feel about Paducah, Kentucky, ninety nine out of a hundred will say: Paducah? What's a Paducah? And in truth, it's not much to look at. But it does have one virtue – Peter Cosini. This is a guy connected to the Chicago mob. He had taken three bullets when the other family came for him, but was out of the hospital by the time Willie and I drove down to reopen the hotel. After the FBI belatedly busted up his mob, everyone else connected to the mob went to jail. Not Peter. Why not? Two reasons. One, the guy was actually honest. Willie and I checked every invoice. There was not a dollar misspent, not a quart of liquor diverted. An honest mob guy. Two, he's a natural leader. One week on the job and he had organized all the local antique dealers into a group that did regular shows, had weekly specials, and erected a massive tent for exhibits. And they all loved him. They actually tried to get him elected mayor. A mob guy. So the FBI left him alone, and Willie and I gave him a shot as manager.

I say all this to explain just how odd it was that I was thinking about Jim's movie when I had every reason to be thinking about Petey (he insisted people call him that). Here was one of life's most interesting characters, and I am thinking about canoes rather than him. Not that Petey gave me much time. I got to that hotel late afternoon and barely had my bags out of my car when he was out of his office to greet me. A clerk in registration took my bags (no bell hops here), Petey took my hand, and we were off to meet his new wife.

Who would a mobster/hotel manager marry? A very nice middle aged woman who owned an antique store down the street. They had been married over the winter, but still acted like newlyweds. The minute we entered her store, she came rushing up and kissed him. He hugged her, and kept an arm around her while he introduced me. I was told all about their honeymoon (Florida), their new house, and some redecorating they were doing. I did what people normally do in such situations. I nodded and smiled. They were happy. I was happy they were happy. Anything else? No.

Eventually Petey led me out of her shop, reintroduced me to all the other shop owners on the block (no wonder they wanted him to be mayor – he was basically the welcome wagon), and finally got me back to the hotel. What was new here? The roof. A bit of background here. When the hotel was owned by the Chicago mob, there had been a project to build a bar on the roof. But the real purpose of the project was not to build a bar, but to provide a system for contractor kickbacks. A three months project has been ongoing for two years when the shooting began. The first sign we had that Petey might be honest was his quick action in ending the roof contract.

In the last two months he had found another contractor, and the roof was finally – and fully – finished. Not only was there a bar, there was a stage for a band, and there were about a dozen tables for dinner. Petey walked me around all corners of the roof to see every aspect of the work, and then he took me to a table. We would have dinner up here. His wife would join us soon. In the meantime, we were joined by half the population of Paducah, all of whom had to come over and say "hi" and tell Petey a joke or the latest events in some local business.

Did I ever have a chance to speak to Petey about the hotel? We did have a few minutes that night, and again at breakfast, but I had seen all the financial information before leaving Galena (his was one of our best performing hotels), and all I wanted to see on such visits was the condition of the manager. His condition? Excellent. So I found myself leaning back and enjoying a pretty good meal, passable music (a step or two up from a garage band, but not much more), and an endless stream of local stories.

We could see the Ohio River from the rooftop, and I found my mind drifting. Outdoors. Women. A river. Anything exciting on the Ohio? I could do a Google search, but I didn't expect to see much. Then I had a wild thought. Maybe it wasn't an event that would be dramatic. Maybe it would be the people. What about criminals paddling down the river? "Mobsters on the Mississippi." Okay, too far. But what if the film were about six women just about to be released from jail, and they are put on these canoes to develop team skills and better self-image? As they rediscover the Mississippi, they rediscover their own value. After I got down to my room, I actually texted the idea to Jim.

His response? "This isn't 1968. We are now tough on crime – and criminals. No one would watch it. Come up with some characters that would put butts in the seats."

Okay, so much for that idea, and that visit.

My next drive was to Evansville. Here I needed to pay more attention. The hotel was covering its bills, but not giving us the return we saw from the other hotels. And worse, part of the problem was the amount of wedding business we were getting. I had designed the wedding gardens. Maybe I had done a bad job with that, or maybe I had picked the wrong manager.

Or maybe there was a completely different problem. I knew there was road construction near the hotel. What I didn't know – until I tried to get to the place – was that the hotel was an island surrounded by traffic cones. Indiana was putting a few bucks into their roads. It took me an extra ten minutes to follow various arrows in to the hotel. By the time I finally got there, I saw the problem was not the manger – Liam – or the garden designer.

I parked out front and carried my bags in. The hotel lobby did not echo with my steps, but it was a near thing. There was me, there was a young woman standing behind the registration counter, and there was a potted plant. The young woman smiled at me. The potted plant just sat there. I felt like I was walking through a vacuum. Really. I have never felt space to be so empty.

I introduced myself as I crossed the lobby. No reason to keep my voice down – I wouldn't be disturbing any customers. The young lady stepped back into the office area and got Liam. Liam came right out after her, but there was a look on his face like he was walking to his execution. He knew I was here to fire him. I had seen that look before. When Willie and I drove here after taking ownership, we had discovered the front office was all mob. Sure, the top guys had been gunned down, but half a dozen had been missed. I guess quality assassins are in short supply. It took me five minutes to see those guys were going to be trouble, so I had fired all of them – except for one. Why had I not fired Liam? He had hung his head and said, "Please, I need this job." I kept him on, and eventually I made him hotel manager. For two years he had done fine. Now?

First things first. I gave my bags to the woman behind the counter and asked her to find me a room. Then I gave Liam a big hug.

"Liam. Good to see you again. How's the family?" yada, yada, yada. I must have kept my mouth moving for five minutes, mostly saying things that I hope were translating to "relax, I still respect you." I was sure he needed to hear all that, and I wanted it seen by the registration woman. The owner is not angry. Relax. Maybe even smile.

Then I did something I never did on such visits. I opened the bar. It was midafternoon. The bar (it claimed to be a "sports" bar. Don't they all?) was just off the lobby. There was a sign that said "Open at 6" but I wondered if it opened at all. No matter. I had tended bar here lots of nights as we were rebuilding the place. I knew where the lights were and where the glasses were. I poured two beers and motioned Liam to a stool next to the bar. I sat next to him.

"What are they telling you about the construction?"

"If it doesn't rain, six more weeks. If there's rain, it's anyone's guess."

"In the meantime, getting here is annoying."

"Yes." Liam took a sip from his beer. I have no idea if he was a drinking man or not, but he would go through the motions for his boss.

"I like the operations manual Andy created. It has good ideas for how to measure and control costs. I suspect it is telling you to cut back on your hours and cut your advertising."

"Yes." He was alternating looking at me, and looking at his beer. His hands weren't shaking, but I am sure it was a close thing. The guy was so obviously uncomfortable, I was tempted to hug him again.

"This is sort of a special situation, Liam. What if we ignored the operation manual? What if you could spend what you wanted on promotions? What would you do?"

"Well, we did have a talk about that at our last staff meeting. We called it 'Zany ideas.' Would you like to see the list we made?"

"Sure." Off he went to his office. He was back in a flash with a piece of paper. Whatever was on the paper, he was already walking better – faster, with his head up.

"Some of these are pretty crazy." He handed me the list, suddenly unsure again. What was on the list? Most ideas just involved cutting prices, never a good idea since it generated complaints when prices went back up ("Why is this drink five dollars? It was just two dollars last week?"), but there were a couple promotional ideas that looked good. One involved a "Treasure" map for how to find the hotel.

"Which idea do you like best?"

"Well my fear is we will lose more wedding reception business if people decide it is impossible to get in here. So we need to show it can be done. I think this treasure map idea does that, but also makes it fun. We could put up some large signs at the main entry points with our own maps, but also put maps in newspapers and on our web site, all with coupons for those who follow the map. The treasure coupons might vary by week, or even by day. Some are known – five dollars off dinner, or half price drinks – and some are surprises. You could reach into a treasure chest and get a prize. We also might get the Chamber to do a special Business After Hours with their own treasure chest. When the street finally opens, we would have final drawings for a week. It would help fill our bars and restaurants and maybe even get some new people in here."

While he is talking, I am listening, but I am also watching. I am convinced almost any promotional idea will work if it is backed by some enthusiasm. I am watching his eyes. By the second sentence I see what I want. I nod and give my approval. "It sounds like a good idea. Do it. Spend what you need to spend. Go off budget until the road opens."

That done, we leave our beers and take the traditional walk. He shows me the current state of the restaurant and the reception rooms on the second floor. And then he takes me where I really want to go – the wedding gardens. I want to see how the trees are doing on the berms I approved. How are the flower gardens doing? It looks to me like winter hadn't done too much damage, and the flowers have had a good spring. I ask him about annuals, and he says he was holding back to reduce costs. I told him to put the annuals in. We sit out there for a while. I have to admit I am proud of the gardens I helped design.

But we can't sit out there forever. Eventually we go back in, him to begin work on these new promotions, me to check into my room and then have dinner in the second floor restaurant – sitting alone at one of five tables occupied for the evening. I have a nice meal, and, like everyone else who dines alone, I work my phone, responding to emails. Just for fun, I text Jim again.

"Okay, no criminals. How about troubled teens? They start out angry at the world, but end up feeling better."

His response? "Yuck. Try again."

He was right, of course. Would I pay to watch six girls bitch about the world as they paddled down the Fox? Nope. But I kept working down my mental list. No criminals. No teens. Next? I had no idea. But I would keep trying. There had to be some movie idea better than big scary bears.

Liam joined me as I finished my meal. We had coffee together and talked more about his promotions. He had a staff meeting called for the morning. He already had the web people working on the new images. He looked like a man ready to run with an idea. I told him I would be leaving right after breakfast. I was confident he would be successful. If you saw his smile, you would be confident too.

Chapter 9

Epiphany on the Road

Is there any part of Indiana I like? Evansville was slowly growing on me. The rest of Indiana? Not so much. Roads, farms, an Interstate that needed repairs. Nothing much to see. The car was on autopilot, and as I drove north, so was I. Back to the movie. Film. A river. Women. What kind of women? How about old women? Hollywood was full of older actresses. I bet big names would be easy. The drama? Six sorority sisters back together after thirty years. The drama? Who knew? Hollywood had writers who could figure that out. I pulled over at a rest stop and texted Jim.

"Women in their fifties. Back together again. Former sorority sisters. Working out some problem. Men? Kids? Life's next stage? Fill the canoes with six A-list older actresses. I'd pay to see them again."

"Better. Let me run that past Lisa."

I was about an hour north of Terre Haute when Lisa called. It was all farm fields there. I pulled into some farmer's driveway and took the call.

"Good morning, Lisa. It's what, about eight your time?"

"Never too early to talk to an old friend."

"Are you calling about the conversation I have been having with Jim?"

"I'm calling because I want to spend a few days with you. Jim is just a good excuse. I am at LAX. They tell me we arrive in Chicago around three your time."

"I am about three hours south of town. What if I pick you up?"

"Please do. And wear something nice." She gave me her flight number, said a few more things that made me smile, and that was that. I was going to see Lisa again.

I sat in that driveway another fifteen minutes while I got my phone to tell me how to get to Ohare. Basically I needed to jog over to Interstate 57, and then drive into the rat's nest of highways that fed Chicago. I could feel my muscles already tighten up. Chicago. I could do this. I repeated that several times as I pulled back onto the highway and followed my phone's directions. I could do this.

Eventually one road led to another, and I was on a tollway. I had to pay for the right to drive around Chicago. Tollways have stops. I pulled into the first "Moasis," gassed up, and then went inside to change. "Wear something nice." I had a sleeveless silk number in the back of my bag. Not sure why I packed it. It had never come out of the bag before. Maybe just wishful thinking. It would have been perfect for Jim, if we had spent another day together. It would be perfect for Lisa. The skirt was just above the knee and flared nicely. The neck scooped enough to be interesting without being obvious. Lisa would smile when she saw me.

I also took the time to work on my hair and makeup. She had a four hour flight. I had a three hour drive. I had time to get this right. I took up one of the mirrors in the women's room for twenty minutes. I got a few stares, but no complaints. There were other mirrors.

Back on the road, the speed limit was fifty five. I did seventy. Everyone else did eighty or eighty five. Illinois. I thanked my phone for putting me in the right lane at the right time, so I got into the lanes for Ohare. Short-term parking was open, and after only driving through three levels, I found a spot. I felt like I had won the Illinois lottery. I sat in the car and waited. Less than an hour later, she told me she was in terminal three. I checked myself in the rearview mirror one more time, and then made my way to Lisa.

There were a thousand people in baggage claim, but only one Lisa. She was five nine or ten, but still wore three inch heels. She wore her hair back from her face. She would see, and be seen. She was wearing silk, like me, but wearing it shorter. I am certain the skirt had been designed for eighteen year olds, but at forty five, she still looked good in it. She certainly looked good to me. I walked up and kissed her. She held me close. Lisa has many virtues as a lover. Her hands are magic, her kisses last forever, but I most love the way she holds me. She doesn't hold tight enough to squeeze me, but I know I am being held. Once in her arms, I wanted to stay there. I reached up and smiled. Her arms felt so good.

She had four bags around her feet, and eventually we unwrapped from each other. Each of us took one bag to carry, and one bag to pull. She never traveled light. Had there been another person with her, I am not sure I would have had enough room in my car. And, had there been another person with her, I would have been very unhappy.

Once the back of my car was loaded, we got in and did some serious necking. But ultimately, I needed to know where we were going.

"Show me this river you want me to use." Good. My trusty phone gave me the best way out of Ohare, and out of Chicago, and out of Illinois. Still, it wasn't until we were past Milwaukee that I felt fully comfortable. Only then did I take a hand off the wheel and put it where I wanted to put it. Only then did I feel like saying anything other than "Get off my tail, moron."

"Jim said you wanted to do another outdoor picture. Good. And I guess voyageurs are good. Lots of landscapes as they paddle west. Jim will find beauty everywhere. But bears? It will scare kids, and no women will want to see it."

"Wrong, Jess. Women love thrillers. They get to hide against their men, and pretend they are scared. Oh, this is so scary. Hold me tighter. It's practically foreplay, and they get to make the first move."

"Okay, I get that. But give this idea a chance, okay? I bet all the leading women from the eighties and nineties would kill to be in this one. Together again after thirty years, following the route of Jolliet. Three weeks and hundreds of miles to work out their problem."

"And their problem is?"

"I don't know." It would have been so good if I had figured that out on the drive up to Ohare. But I hadn't. I hoped Lisa wasn't upset that she had taken a long flight for nothing. Me she had, but she could have gotten me just by asking me to fly to LA again. I would have been on the next flight. Coming all the way to Wisconsin, she needed me plus. Plus what? I had no idea.

It was already after seven when we got to Oshkosh, so I decided this would be a good place to get dinner and look at the river. There's a pretty good microbrewery not too far off the highway, and they had outdoor seating along the Fox. I parked and led Lisa through the building and out to the tables along the river. It wasn't as big or as fancy as the rib place she had liked in Kansas City, but it would do. A waitress gave us menus and told us how nice we looked. I guess we were a bit over dressed for Oshkosh, but Lisa never minded being looked at.

"The Fox?" Lisa was looking up and down river. It was about a hundred yards across at this point, and small boats were traveling in both directions. There was a small park across the way.

"Yes. The woman who runs these outdoor activities for women, thinks it would be one week down from Green Bay, one week from here to where the river links to the Wisconsin, and then one week from there to the Mississippi."

"Will Jim like what he sees?"

"Some of the river is industrial. But there are parks along the way, and much of the Fox farther up river goes through empty areas. I think he can get the kind of footage he will want."

"And why six women."

"That's the number Kat takes out. It also happens to be the number with Jolliet – six traders plus Marquette. Jolliet used two canoes. I think Kat would too – bigger, and more stable."

"I would like to meet her."

And we did. Two days later. First there was dinner along the Fox, the stop in Wausaukee for groceries ("I can't believe how small this town is!" "Wait until you see Amberg."), and about thirty six hours in my trailer, most of that spent in my bed. I had loved being with her in Galena, and then in LA, but I was even happier to have her in Amberg. This was my home. Somehow it meant even more to be with her here. In my trailer. In my bed. Her on me, holding me, kissing me, pleasing me. Every time I looked up, there would be that face for me to kiss. And every time I moved, I could feel her move against me. Her thighs were magic. I pressed against them over and over. And I held her, hoping I was giving her half the pleasure she was giving me.

Once in a while we got up. We did shower, and I did my best to please her there. I did cook for her. We never got fully dressed. Mostly we wore night gowns. Sometimes just towels. We went out on my new deck long enough for me to point out my poplars and to make sure she listened for them. Then we were back in my bed, my window open, a wind sometimes blowing across us, her all over me, and me unbelievably grateful. Sometimes I held on tight, hoping my hands were telling her how much this meant to me. I would wind my hands in her hair and hold our faces together. I told her I loved her. It seemed a silly thing to say. I loved her, and I wanted her. She told me she loved me, and I thought I would cry. What could I do but hold her, knowing that I couldn't hold her forever. But I had her now, and she felt so good.

Chapter 10

Kat

I knew Lisa would get restless before me, and she did. On the second morning, she showered with me, and it was great, but she didn't come back to the bedroom with me. She went to the kitchen and made some breakfast. Lisa had come up here for more than me. It was time I gave her more. I made the call.

"Kat? Hi. I'm in town with Lisa Lang. She would like to meet you. Can we visit sometime?"

That's all it took. We were invited to dinner. She had a group doing her "Flowers to Remember" tour. We would join them around seven.

I had Lisa until then, but it was clear we would not be spending the day in bed. Where to take her? I would give her the standard tour. We put on matching sundresses, and we were off. First stop, Dave's Falls and a quick overview of the logging period. Then over to the old one-room school house for my standard lecture on the farming period, complete with a description of the flowers from the house that had stood across the street. That seemed to get her attention, and she put an arm around me as I pointed out the remnants of the foundation and described my thinking about the woman who had raised a family there. The woman who had struggled, but still found the time to plant lilacs. The lilacs were just past their peak, but it was still an impressive bush, standing out on the edge of the field. I wasn't sure how bored Lisa was with this bit of history, but she didn't seem to move, so I continued and talked about Kat's flower tour. It was one of her more popular tours, and seemed to go even better once she added the school house (my time to brag about how I was the one to show Kat the school and the Lilacs, but I didn't. Me, the modest movie star.)

"It's not a film we would do," she told me. "But if we did, this would been the final scene. Yes, there was struggle, and ultimately failure, but the essence of beauty survives. You get Jim to slowly back away, and then the scene dissolves as the credits roll. Not a dry eye in the house."

"Not a film for you?"

"It's the film I probably should have done my senior year at USC. Very sensitive. Very deep. But ultimately not commercial." Her hand dropped from my arm, so I knew we were done there. Okay.

Next stop – downtown Amberg. It was after one, so the restaurant was open, and three of the tables out on the patio were occupied. We chose a table close to the road. It gave a broader view of the town. Before I could do much town history, Amanda was out with menus. I did introductions.

"Lisa, this is Amanda Holmen. We went to school together. Amanda, this is Lisa Lang. She directed 'The Greatest Love Story Never Told.'" That was fun. Yes, Amanda had been two years ahead of me in school, but I think now I had matched that. Amanda smiled, and shook Lisa's hand, and then told us about the lunch special. It was soup and a half sandwich, and we both took it.

"You know I looked for Amberg on a map once. Now I know why I couldn't find it." Lisa had sat with her back to the street so she could see the town.

"Before you get too snooty, let me point out that my father owns all four buildings. Tell me there's anyone in your family who owns an entire town."

"You have me there."

"The bar right here," I pointed. "That's where I worked for ten years. Nine dollars an hour. I poured beer, talked football, and made really bad pizzas. We'll go in later, and I'll buy you a beer."

Funny thing is, I was talking real big, like I was now so successful it didn't matter that I had lived in a trailer and worked in a bar. And of course it didn't matter. But. I was watching Lisa's face as I talked. I so wanted her to love me. She must have sensed something, because she took my hand and then leaned in close.

"What you did here made you what you are. And what you are is pretty amazing." I gave her a hug, and maybe started breathing a little easier.

We had a pretty good lunch. Amanda had Carrie help her bring our food out so she could also meet Lisa, and there was a short chat about the film. Carrie had a phone in her apron pocket and asked if she could take our picture. She took about ten. And then the people at the other tables asked if they could take pictures. Lisa was very good about it, and talked to everyone.

Lunch done, I gave Amanda a very nice tip, and then took Lisa into the Amberg Bar. Morgan was working. This is a woman who lives through the glamour magazines. I didn't have to introduce Lisa, Morgan knew immediately who she was. I feared she might wet herself. We let her take a dozen pictures, and then she brought us each a beer. We pretty much had the place to ourselves, so I challenged Lisa to a game of pool. Turns out she's pretty good. Beat the hell out of me.

By three we were out of there. I drove back to my trailer and told Lisa I wanted to take a nap. You have to love a woman who knows an invitation when she hears one. By six we were back out of bed. Lisa decided we should wear our silks. A bit much for a fishing lodge, but she was Hollywood and would dress like it.

I think she liked the lodge. As we drove up she said, "I could see six successful women liking a few days here." Was she thinking of it as a movie set? I could only hope.

What was our evening like? The wine flowed, the food was good, Lisa charmed all. She had an endless series of Hollywood stories to tell. And she did something else. Somehow, as the women were introduced, she remembered their names. So as she told a story, it often began with, "Elaine, you are going to love this one." Or "Sara, imagine you are floodlit by a million lights and your blouse tears." I hadn't paid any attention to the women's names when they were introduced. Lisa had learned them all. And she didn't need to. We sat around on those leather chairs in the great room, and then around the dining room table, and every eye was on her for every minute of every hour. She needed no effort to capture their attention, but still she made this extra effort. It's not enough to say I was impressed. I was astonished. And grateful.

These evenings usually ended around ten. The women would be up early in the morning for the drive home – wherever home might be. Obviously this night was special, and no one would be going to bed at ten. But by eleven I started making the required noises. "Lisa, it's getting late, maybe..." And everyone would say, "Please, just one more story. Tell us about..." And Lisa would be off again. But by twelve I could see a couple of their backs begin to slump and shoulder sag. Time to go.

"Lisa, we really should go. They are all traveling tomorrow." I stood, and this time Lisa stood too. Maybe this was the old entertainment motto – leave them begging for more. Because they certainly did want more. And there were lots of pictures before we could make our way to the door. But we did finally get free. Kat walked us out to our car.

"Lisa, Jess. Thank you so much for visiting us. You can see how excited everyone was. It was an evening they will be talking about for years."

"Thanks, Kat." Lisa hugged her. I noticed they were both about the same height. Probably unusual for Lisa. "I got talking so much about Hollywood, I never got to hear from you. How long have you been doing these outdoor excursions?"

"Four years now. Ever since I got out of the army."

"You were in the army?"

"Yes, twenty years."

"Well, thank you for your service. I hope we can hear your stories one night."

"You are welcome any night."

At this point we got in my car and headed home. We were still partway along her driveway, the lake shining bright under a nearly full moon, when Lisa turned to me.

"You got the river right. And you got the canoes right. You got the women wrong. Forget sorority sisters and their whining. We are doing veterans. Women veterans."

She made two calls that night, even though it was late even in California. The next morning she waited until ten, and then she seemed to call half of Los Angeles. I cooked breakfast, and then lunch, and I walked close to her every few minutes, my hand sliding across her arm or resting on her ass. Pretty pathetic, I know, but I didn't want to be totally forgotten. She managed an occasional smile, and she took my hand once. But clearly, she was all business.

What was she chasing in California? She wanted screen writers, and she wanted casting to find her women who were veterans. She wanted pictures and acting credits texted to her. These calls took over an hour. Then she called her co-producers. She wanted a meeting. She wanted it tomorrow. Tomorrow!! She had an idea to pitch.

And that's how "River of Stars" began. Endless phone calls from my kitchen, my living room, my deck. Screen writers were going to put six women veterans in two canoes for three weeks as they followed the route of Jolliet and Marquette. They would reach the Mississippi and along the way... Well, something would happen.

What happened as I made lunch is she called a travel agent (famous directors don't use Expedia) who got her on a flight from Green Bay to Minneapolis to LA. She needed to be in Green Bay by two thirty. I turned off the stove, helped her pack her bags, and loaded the car. An hour later I helped drag her bags across Austin Straubel. I think on the drive down we may have said ten words. Obviously she was creating the movie in her mind. I didn't interrupt. I did keep a hand on her leg most of the trip, and she did put her hand on mine. I was grateful for that. I also got a big kiss at the gate. Then she was gone. I waved as she walked through security, but I am not sure she saw me.

So, where were we? I had a quiet hour as I drove back north to think through my situation. I had helped Lisa come up with a film idea. Yea me. Maybe she would use me again to provide food and transportation. I would make time for that. It would only be three weeks. Maybe they would stay at my hotels in Green Bay and Appleton. If so, I could at least join them for a drink. Maybe Jim or Lisa would want me for more than a drink. So, there might be some interesting times ahead.

In the meantime? In the meantime I had nine hotels to run. I would pack a bag and head to Galena in the morning.

Chapter 11

Galena

It was August before I heard from Jim or Lisa again. Both had significant deficiencies as lovers. In the meantime, I did my job. The day after I got back to Galena I had my monthly meeting with Bobbi and Andy. As always, the three of us sat around a conference table, a laptop in front of each of us. Our agendas never changed – existing hotels first, potential new hotels second. We did existing hotels in the same order I visited them – Appleton, then Green Bay, then up to Duluth and around. There was a financial spreadsheet for each hotel, and then a word document with our notes. Since I had just completed my circuit, most of the notes were my observations, but Bobbi and Andy had contributions to make as well.

Overall, we were doing fine. The renovations to Appleton and Green Bay had been fairly inexpensive and mostly cosmetic. And, while the costs for the St Paul and Duluth renovations had been a strain, both hotels were now contributing, so we had much less money going out, and more coming in. We were profitable. So our big discussion was new purchases. We had gotten feelers from Champaign and Springfield. Andy and Bobbi thought both places had possibilities. They would drive down in the next few days to look them over.

My next day was with Amy Tippin, our accountant. I always gave her a full day. Money mattered. Not just at each hotel, but collectively. And I would be the first to admit, my prior financial experience had been trying to keep the minimum required balance in my checkbook. So, we could call our day-long meeting updates, but in truth, they were my education. I had lots of reasons to appreciate Amy, but high among them were her willingness not to laugh at my questions, and not to sigh when I asked the same question four months in a row.

We had gone through a lot of money buying the hotels in Appleton and Green Bay, and maybe I had bought them too soon after doing those renovations in St Paul and Duluth. We still had nearly a million in cash in the bank, but if you have old hotels, things happen, and repairs are never cheap. And, truth be told, I am incredibly conservative with money. I still had nearly four hundred thousand in my personal account at the Pembine-Wausaukee Bank. Who kept that kind of money in checking? A woman who spent twenty years hoping to have money for her propane tank come winter. Amy didn't push me on any of that. She took me through each account and helped me see where we stood. Our biggest drain? Those damn on-line travel sites. Yes, they helped fill our rooms, but it seemed their real goal was to suck every dollar from our accounts. Could we do anything about it? Not that we could see.

I usually ended Amy days about four. That was as much accounting as I could handle. I didn't quite have blurred vision when I left her office, but I can't say I was too clear headed. I walked through our gardens for a while, letting images of flowers slowly replace images of numbers. Our guys were really doing a nice job. Still, it took me half an hour and six flower beds before I felt normal again.

My next stop? My standard routine. My title might be CEO or President, but my main job was Entertainment Director. I worked the bar for an hour or so, then the restaurant, then the music venues until midnight. What I was really doing was following Shakira's lead. When she had been here, she was always the life of the party. She was one of the reasons you came to the resort in the first place. She was fun, she was beautiful, and she would talk your arm off. She made every visit special. Could I do as well? I tried.

I always changed into something nice. Silk, satin, flared skirt, something I could dance in later. Then I started in the wedding bar. We did at least six weddings a day, mostly same sex, and the video people projected video of those weddings on the wall as people drank and laughed and hugged. I would start at one end of the room and work each table. Meanwhile, the video people would insert the little bit of film from my movie. Thirty two seconds of fame. People always clapped, and it gave us something to talk about, and maybe also provided a reason to feel a little special as I stood at the table, talked, and posed for selfies. I never spent less than an hour in the bar.

My routine in the restaurant was to be a bit naughty. I would wander over, grab a French fry or carrot stick, laugh and talk. Sooner or later I would just join a table, order some soup for myself, and comp a couple bottles of wine. We would talk for maybe twenty minutes, and then I would finish the room. Ninety minutes minimum.

Then the receptions and the music venues. I would assist the bartender in all of them (I still had my license in both Wisconsin and Illinois), and when asked (and I always was), I would join the dancing. This was my exercise for the day, and I have to say, if there is a better way to exercise, don't bother telling me about it. I will dance until they put me under. With men, with women, with groups, with no one in particular, I danced. We always had good music, and I always had fun.

At twelve or so I would head to my room, the one I had shared with Shakira and with Willie. These days I slept alone. But I slept well. In the morning, back in cotton dresses and a blazer, I joined people for breakfast, worked the lobby as people checked out, listened for suggestions, and then walked the shops and the grounds. I did have an office and a desk, but I didn't think that was the best place for me.

So, July passed. I spent a few days in St Paul for their celebration on the Fourth. It was fun standing along our part of the river watching the decorated boats and seeing all the fireworks. On the way back I stopped in La Crosse and Dubuque for meals. I liked to get around. But mostly I hung out in Galena. After all, I was Entertainment Director. Or, more accurately, I was a woman trying to be like Shakira and add some sparkle to the place.

I hadn't forgotten about the film. Maybe I would be invited to provide support services again. Maybe I would see Jim and Lisa again. In preparation I did some reading. Wikipedia had good background. But it turned out there were lots of good things on-line, including Marquette's journal. That has to be some kind of miracle, doesn't it? Here we are, almost three hundred and fifty years later, and I can get his journal on my phone. What did he have to say about finding the Mississippi? Let me look, while I eat my Cheerios.

His journal is interesting, by the way. It is basically a report back to Jesuit headquarters, so it is included in their Relations – an annual report covering all the missionaries in New France. Almost two hundred years of such reports, and there, in Volume 59, is the report from Marquette. Discovering the Mississippi doesn't even warrant its own book. We hear first from Father Nicholas and how things are going on the Labrador Coast, and then an update from Father Dablon on work with the Ottawas ("Baptized more than five hundred infidels"), then an update on work with the Senecas ("fail not to win many victories over Hell"), with some complaints about Dutch and English heretics. Finally, in chapter thirty six, we get the journal from Marquette.

Marquette is along to help with the salvation of the local Indians, so if you want a description of Indian tribes along the way, he has it in detail, practically to their shoe size. If you are interested in geography, he is less helpful. They get to the bottom of Green Bay (which the French call "Stink Bay") and he describes what Indians say, and what they eat, and even debates whether Green Bay is subject to tides. But what they might see along the way (islands, the Door Peninsula), not a word. They leave St Ignace, start paddling, and there they are at the base of Green Bay. The expedition spends a week on the Wisconsin River before reaching the Mississippi. What do we learn about the lands along the Wisconsin? In three sentences we learn the river has a sandy bottom, the banks are wooded with some prairie, and he thinks there is an iron mine along the way. As color commentator, he has some shortcomings.

But I read his journal several times, assuming my friends in Hollywood were doing the same. If you are curious about Jolliet's journal, by the way, no luck there. He capsized on the way back to Quebec, and it went straight to the bottom. It would be interesting to get his version of the trip. I have to believe there might have been more about the geography he paddled through, but we will never know.

So, how do I sum up July? I stayed busy, but I kept my phone in my pocket and hoped I might hear a ring.

Chapter 12

Hollywood Calls

The first week in August things started going my way. It started in my office. I was sitting behind my desk, going through some mail, when Bonnie came into my office and then came around behind me. She put her fingers in my hair, and said I might want to visit the salon. Bonnie had never done anything like that before, but then, I had never had gray hair before. It wasn't bad yet, just a few hairs, but I am vain enough to want to deal with it. She told me my schedule was pretty open, so I walked down to the salon and let them go to work. They decided my hair needed some color, and while I was there, maybe a facial and manicure would be timely. Essentially, they were telling me I was theirs for the afternoon. The women there are nice enough, but this involves a lot of sitting around, and I can't say I was all that happy about it. Which might explain why I was overdue for all this. I talked to some of the customers, kept my phone out to monitor emails and texts, and watched the afternoon pass. And yes, what I saw in the mirror as I left was pretty good.

I started back to the office, but as I passed through the shops, Keisha grabbed me. She and Michelle ran our dress shop, and they had just gotten some things in from a new designer, I should take a look. Okay, I hadn't been in her shop for a while, I should see what was new. Ten minutes later she and Michelle had me in a perfect dance dress for a summer evening. It was some new fabric so thin it was almost transparent, with a slight sheen to it. The skirt was flared and just touched my knees. The neckline was deeply scooped so that the top of my breasts showed. It was sleeveless so it would be cool. I liked it. The one they had on me was a shade of yellow that seemed to work well with my new hair color (a lighter shade of my mousy brown), and they had others in various colors and prints. I thought I might be back for more. Michelle had me try on matching sandals with three inch stilettoes. I wouldn't be dancing in those, but they would come off fast enough. They suggested I keep the outfit on since it was almost time for dinner, and I agreed.

So, I walked back to my office, looking as good as I was going to look, the beneficiary of a large group of cupids. For there, waiting for me, was Jim, wearing jeans, a black t-shirt, biceps and a smile. I took two steps and leapt into his arms. He got an arm under my ass and held me off the floor. We kissed, and everyone in the general vicinity applauded. I loved having my arms around his neck, and I loved where he had his arms. That kiss lasted a very long time.

Eventually he let me down and pointed to a package sitting up on the registration desk. "I hope you like it."

I like presents of course, but I really liked holding Jim. But I did unwrap my arms and slide a newly manicured thumb nail through the gift wrap. It was a picture. About fourteen by eighteen, it was me sitting in the gazebo with the young girl. Jim had done something with the coloring, since it seemed to be streaming sunshine. There was all the light from behind the gazebo that seemed to radiate from the picture. And there was color. Every detail of the girl's face jumped off the canvas, highlighting an expression that could only be labeled pure joy. And me? I was in profile, but you could see, as I held her hands, that I, well, it looked like a mother's love.

I stared at the picture, and I could feel people gather around behind me. Employees, guests, they all were drawn to the counter and to the picture. I didn't say anything, and neither did they, other than "Wow". It felt like the whole room just froze to look at that picture. It was Jim who got us moving again.

"There's another one."

And there was. It was behind the first. I slid the gazebo picture to one side, leaning it against one of the computers. I still wanted to see it. But as I saw the second picture, I stopped breathing. It was me at the waterfall. It was me the way every woman wishes she looked. I didn't remember him taking this picture, and I didn't remember any wind, but my hair was just back from my face, and my skirt was slightly pressed against my thighs. I had one hand at my side, but the other hand was out slightly, as if I might have been reaching for him. My face was straight to the camera, my eyes wide in the shade of the river valley, my mouth slightly open. I was inviting him. All around me was color, the blue and gray of the waterfall, the greens of the ferns and moss and trees. But what you saw in the picture was me, enhanced somehow by camera magic, the most beautiful me, the me inviting him.

I was stunned, and I think everyone else was too. No one moved, said a word, or even coughed. We just stared. Finally I reached for the picture with one hand, and for Jim with the other. As I picked up the picture, I heard Bonnie ask,

"Please Mrs. Wilson, can we put the other picture in the entryway?"

"Yes, but this picture is coming to my room, and so is he." I had a hold of his belt, and I pulled him down the hall. Fortunately, my room is close.

I can't begin to describe the next week, other than to say, it mattered that he saw me the way he saw me. In his eyes, I was the woman I wished to be. Could I really ever be that beautiful, that loving? I could try, and I did. I tried in my bed, I tried as we walked the grounds, I tried as we danced, I tried as I led him downtown just so we could walk hand in hand. I went back to Keisha and Michelle every day for a new dress in the same material, but a new color or print. I went with green floral prints that reminded me of the waterfall. I used shades of yellow that reminded me of the sunshine he had flowing into the gazebo.

I touched him. In bed I held him tight. In the restaurant I sat close, always choosing a booth so I could be up against him. When we danced, I kept my arms around his neck and kissed him when he put his hands where I liked. Anywhere we walked, I kept my hand in his.

I shared him. A little. Several evenings I worked the marriage bar and the restaurant, introducing him, my hand never leaving his. "Let me introduce my good friend Jim Thomas. He won this year's Academy Award for Cinematography." People took pictures of him, of us, of us and them. One night we joined a table. I pulled my chair close, he kept an arm around me. I kept one hand on his leg.

Another night I gave a band a very nice tip when they opened a half hour early. Jim and I had the dance floor to ourselves. If my mouth left his, it was to rest against his neck as we swayed to the music. His arms held me close. And I said, "tighter."

I was desperate to go with him when he left. I cried on his shoulder, not because he was leaving without me, but because I knew this would happen again and again. And I couldn't put all the blame on him. He had things he needed to do, and so did I. I had a family. I had hundreds of employees. As much as I might want to follow behind him, carrying his camera bag, I couldn't do that.

What could I do? I could try to be the woman in the picture. The woman so beautiful he would come back to me. It's hard to look beautiful and cry. So I stopped crying. I walked him to his car, my hand in his. I leaned into him. I tried to look at him with the openness he had seen in that picture. I put my palms on his chest and reached up for a final kiss.

"I love you, Jim."

"I love you, Jess." I stood out in front of the hotel as he drove away.

It was a week later when Lisa called. She had financing for the film. It would be what we had talked about. Women would canoe the route of Jolliet. She would wire a contract. I was to provide support services again – food, and transportation. Assume forty people. We would be starting in St Ignace September tenth. We would use RVs again, but there would be some camping along the way. I should coordinate with Kat about the canoes and camping gear. Kat, by the way, would be in the cast. Interesting. I also needed to rent a boat for the video people to use on Green Bay. Oh, and we would use my hotels in Green Bay, Appleton, and Dubuque.

Somewhere in there, it would have been great to hear, I miss you so much, this time you drive my RV so we can share that big bed, I'll see you a few days early so we can have our own special planning session, I dream of you in the shower... You know, the basics. Nope. She was wearing her director hat, and I was one more contractor. I suppose I could have gotten huffy about it, but I didn't. Although I did sneak in one dig by asking if Jim would be the cinematographer. She pretended to ignore all the implications of my question, and just said "yes." So fine. Be that way. She was off the phone, and I asked Amy to start up an account. And to charge full rate for all our rooms.

I called Kat and congratulated her on getting a role in the film.

"I just found out last week. There was a woman who came to my door. Said she was my voice coach."

"Voice coach?"

"Lisa thinks I garble several words, and don't project well."

"You were an army officer."

"Apparently I didn't project orders as well as I should have."

I asked about the canoes and tents. She said she was already arranging that. She had contacts for such things. I asked about a boat. She gave me the name of places to call, but said "Get a big one. I know she wants to put a camera on it when we are in Green Bay. But it might also be a rescue boat."

"What?"

"Do you know why Door County is called Door County?"

"Some guy named Door?"

"It is short for Death's Doorway. The open end of the bay has a series of islands, and it has a series of rocks just below water level. Sailing ships used to hit those islands or rocks and go down. As for canoes, there is a record of a whole tribe paddling out to Washington Island. A storm came up. They all drowned."

"Got you. Big boat. And probably a captain who won't run over a rock."

We talked for another fifteen minutes or so. She was glad I had come by last month, she liked seeing me, she looked forward to working with me, this was all going to be fun. You know, the stuff you kind of expect people to say when they are friends, unlike the call I got from LA. I did look forward to working with Kat. I wondered if I could hear a difference in how she talked.

Over the next week, I drove down to a big RV rental place near Fond du Lac and got fourteen RVs. Same boxes I had used going west, but different makers, so these had different names. We were now riding in "Adventure," "Westward Ho," and "Aspen." Whatever. I checked to see if the heaters worked (just in case), and negotiated rent for a month. They had to get them to St Ignace on the tenth, and get them back from Dubuque. Any maintenance problems we just left it alongside the road. It sounds like I was driving a hard bargain, but I knew he was smiling. We were taking his RVs after the peak rental period.

My next stop was Sturgeon Bay and a charter company Kat had mentioned. How big a boat did I want? I wanted something that would hold twenty people in a pinch. How much do boats that size cost? An arm and a leg, but it wasn't my arm or my leg, and it was my friend who might need to be rescued. I hired the boat and a captain for a week, starting September 10th.

Now all I needed was cooks. I was really tempted to call on my old crew from St Paul, but I knew the girls would be in school. Then it occurred to me that I was already using three of my hotels. Why not use their people on the road too? Green Bay could take St Ignace to Green Bay. Appleton could take Green Bay to Portage, and Dubuque could take Portage to Dubuque. Assuming each kitchen had two cooks and two helpers who wanted to rub shoulders with film stars and pick up some overtime, my plan should work. I called the managing chef in each hotel. Every position was filled by morning. I drove back to Galena feeling pretty proud of myself.

Chapter 13

The Gathering

While I had thought things began September tenth in St. Ignace, things actually started moving on the first. Lisa wanted everyone at Kat's fishing lodge for some rehearsals. I was invited, both to help with the cooking, and to practice my lines. For this film, not only would I be a stand in while the scene was set up, but I had an actual part – I was a bartender ("You look like a pretty wild bunch. What can I get you?"). But – and this was important – I knew my primary function was to support the film – food and transportation.

Lisa made that clear when she called me on the first. She had orders for me. She and seven others from the film would be arriving at the Green Bay airport. I was to pick them up and get them to Amberg. Everything in her voice said she was once again dealing with a contractor. Yes, mam. Sure thing, mam. Right away, mam. Was I hearing pre-film jitters, or facing a new relationship with her? I would find out soon enough. Right now I would just do as commanded. I drove to Green Bay and I waited. Kat arrived with her big van, and we talked a while. And then we waited.

When Lisa and the others arrived, I got a smile and a kiss – a flash of the kind of intimacy we had enjoyed before – but just a flash, and then she was back to business. So far I had not been introduced. I was just some random gofer. Well, she had kissed me, but would an introduction have been so time consuming?

I said "Hi" to people as I helped load their bags into Kat's van or into my car. Lisa decided who would go where. She and the actresses took the van. I got the other two women. Once we were loaded, I led the way out of the airport. Who was in my car? Melissa Meyer, screenwriter. She was quick to tell me the current script was mostly finished, but she was expecting to make some changes, especially in dialog, as she heard the actresses talking up at the lodge. What did she look like? If you saw her in an office, you would assume she worked in accounting. Black glass frames, shoulder length hair that didn't appear to get much care, maybe ten pounds overweight, about thirty years old. She seemed like a woman who was more comfortable listening than talking.

Good thing, because she was matched with Bunny Poston, publicist. Really. Bunny. Bunny had just spent about six hours in airplanes and airports, but she was "So excited to be helping with this project." She had worked on five other films, but this one was special. It was going to "set the standard" for all "films in this genre." I think I knew what a genre was, but whether I did or not was unimportant. Bunny had lots to say, and she just kept saying it. Whatever her salary was, she spent most of it on hair care, makeup, clothes, and her nails. She was sitting next to me in the front seat, and I got to see those nails again and again. She was one of those people who know you aren't listening unless they are touching you. So her hand would be on my arm, on my shoulder, and back on my arm. I am guessing she was mid-thirties, but she dressed mid-twenties, and talked like she was still a sorority girl. It only takes an hour to get to Amberg, but it felt far longer.

We went straight to Kat's lodge. By the way, the people of Wausaukee will be glad to know Bunny thought their town was "adorable," and Amberg was "precious." I was certain if I checked Bunny's phone, I would find it logged into a thesaurus. That would account for the fishing lodge being "brooding with tradition." I wondered how editors felt about her press releases. Anyway, once at the lodge I was finally introduced. I would be "providing support to the project." But all of the women recognized me from the last film, so I got lots of compliments. Not bad for a "support person."

Lisa must have called ahead, because Kat had the room assignments all ready. The actresses were to pair up. Kat had Shontae in her room, Tamira and Jane were in room two, Imelda and Angelica in three (hang on a bit for descriptions), poor Melissa got Bunny in room four, Lisa took room five, and I got room six. Since I only live fifteen minutes away, why am I getting a room? I learned quickly that being a "support person" meant I was the virtual maid for the week we were there. That included carrying much of the luggage up to rooms, and then starting dinner while Lisa and Kat gave everyone else a tour of the place. Wait until Lisa saw what maid service cost!

Kat came back to the kitchen several times to help, but I had been in that kitchen enough in the past, so I knew where things were. Kat had stocked the pantry well, and I can cook for ten easily enough. Pasta isn't too different whether you are cooking for two or twenty. I made sure I took snacks out while the sauce was simmering, so I could see what was going on. What I saw was the arrangement Lisa used almost the whole week. Melissa and Bunny sat over by the bar, basically out of sight, but close enough to watch and listen. The actresses were in love seats and chairs circled around the central coffee table, with Lisa at one end. Lisa, of course, had an agenda.

"We will do lines in a few days. What I want to do first is establish identities. Tonight, we will do your real identify. Whenever you are ready, tell us about your military service, and your life before and after. Tomorrow, I want you to take on your character. We will spend all day talking about your character's time in Iraq. If you think there are any glitches in that service description, Melissa will make changes. The day after tomorrow, you will talk about your life since Iraq. What has your character been doing, and how has it been going? Again, any glitches, tell Melissa. If we need more time to get these characters correctly defined, we will take the time. I want this all set before we get to Mackinac Island. Clear?"

Mackinac Island? I thought we were just going to St Ignace, the town across from it. I guessed it was time for me to find a script.

Anyway, we had an interesting evening, initially in the great room, but mostly in the dining room where I laid down an endless supply of spaghetti and French bread, and kept the wine glasses full. We sat like I had so many times before – Kat at the head of the table (the fish that had formerly hung behind her head was gone), Lisa and the five actresses closest to her, Melissa and Bunny at my end, and me by the door at the bottom of the table, constantly up getting more of everything.

What did I learn that night? Lots.

First about Kat. She had taken ROTC at UW Milwaukee. "I would do anything to get out of Sheboygan." Three tours in Iraq, two in Afghanistan. Military police guarding the Green Zone in Iraq for two tours, one tour in a forward operating base ("FOB" in every future description) called "Speicher." Over twenty years she had moved from second lieutenant to major. She was the only officer in the group, and the only actor over forty.

Shontae Jackson was more typical in age – just thirty. Black (why did people use that term? Her skin tone was light brown). There was a bit of flare to her nose, her hair was jet black, long and unruly. I think she and all the others had done things to their teeth. They were unbelievably white and straight. Her face was nice enough, your basic female round. If she had success as an actress it would be because of her eyes. They were big, black, and matched whatever emotion she wanted. She was in her second year of college, bored, and broke. She joined the National Guard. She had gone to Iraq right out of basic and AIT. Her MOS ("Military Occupational Specialty" (I looked that up later)) was military intelligence. She had flown drones. Three tours in Iraq. She was in LA now, finding acting jobs where she could.

Tamira DeLane was twenty eight, also black (and also really just light brown). Dimples and cheekbones to die for. She smiled a lot, betting that her smile would make her career. I bet it will. Regular army right out of high school. Two tours in Iraq. Both times in FOBs. Both times doing base security, mostly sitting in a room watching perimeter cameras or standing at the gate watching vehicles slowly maneuver around the bomb barriers. Went to visit a friend in LA and stayed to do some TV shows where she danced with whatever stud was the lead.

Imelda Campos was thirty, Hispanic (actually darker skin that the two "Black" actresses, but hair that went on forever). She had a nice enough face, but she teased it, constantly shoving her hair to one side, or dropping her head to get her hair to fall forward, then making a huge motion to get it back behind her. She was a bigger girl with a nice chest. But I bet all anyone remembered of her was her hair. And I think that's what she wanted. Crap jobs out of high school. She joined the army to get money for college. One tour. Military police. Prison guard. Don't ask her to talk about those prisons. Two film roles. She stood and acted out her bartender role. One hand on her hip, her chest out, she poured Lisa a glass of wine while licking her lips. "Would you like anything else?" The male leads in the film – three high school boys trying to get drinks and act big – had just melted.

Jane Thomas was white, small and perky, but seemed confused. It was like she wasn't sure if she should be acting, or maybe she wasn't sure what her real identify was. She had joined the army right out of high school, thought it would be interesting, and maybe it would pay for college. She had done one tour in the Green Zone. She didn't say much about what she did there. Out of the army, she had moved to LA and was taking acting lessons.

Angelica Cabrissi was white, thirty, and looked like she could bench press the dining room table. Three tours in Iraq, all in the motor pool. She had fixed everything the army had, and had driven MRAPs (I think the new HUMVEEs) over IEDs. She had come to Hollywood to do stunt work.

Interestingly, none of them said they had gone to Iraq because of 9/11. All of them had been in grade school at the time. Iraq had been a war that had been going on for a long time. It was still going on. They went over, did their time, and got on with their lives. I am not sure what I expected to hear, but not that. I guess I had a lot to learn.

Dinner ended around ten, and people wandered off. It took me until after eleven to get the dishes cleaned up. Then I drove home to pack a bag. I still have two maid's uniforms, but I decided to leave them behind. I might be a maid for a few days, but I was also a bit of an actress. We actresses dressed better. By twelve I was back at the lodge, now prepared for everything from drudge work to elegant dinners. Melissa was still sitting by the bar. I sat and had half a glass of wine with her, then I went up to my room. I had to be up at six if I was going to make breakfast for all.

Chapter 14

The Plot

How does a maid/support person/actress dress for the day? I went with a sundress and sandals. I also made a significant effort with my hair and makeup. I would look good, even if all I did that morning was make oatmeal. I had my first bucket of mush ready at seven thirty, but it was after eight before I saw anyone. I shouldn't have been surprised. It was still just six California time. Kat was actually the first one down, and she made herself some eggs while I cut up some fruit. Fruit turned out to be the right move. Eventually they all came down for breakfast, but no one ate anything other than fruit. I should have known, if anyone would be careful about their diet, it would be actresses.

Lisa was the last person down. She just poured herself a cup of coffee and led everyone out of the kitchen and back to the seats in the great room they had been in the night before. My orders? "Just keep the coffee coming, Jess." Yes, mam. I did keep the coffee coming, and I brought out some fruit cups. If I was going to do this job, I thought I might as well do it well, but I also wanted to hear what Lisa had to say. I missed some of it while I was cleaning the kitchen and getting ready for lunch, but I think I got the key moments.

"The major premise of the film is that you six were friends in Iraq. We think a FOB rather than Green Zone, and since I heard no other name, I am thinking Speicher. Okay so far?" She got nods. "You are not in the same unit. You just happened to be eating dinner in the same general area when the bullets start flying."

"Unlikely." Kat is talking, but the others are clearly agreeing with her. "FOBs are surrounded by huge sand barrels. They are about fifteen feet in diameter and just as high. Someone outside the perimeter could not see us, and they could not get a bullet through the sand barriers. We call that direct fire, and it almost never happened."

"So you couldn't be attacked?"

"Sure we could – by mortars. Jihadis would set up, fire a few rounds, and then try to get the hell out of Dodge before counter-battery fire turned them to dog meat. That's called indirect fire, by the way."

"And that happened?"

"Yes, and people died."

"They hit our Taco Bell." Angelica added. "Fuckers blew up the building and killed two E-3s in the middle of a taco grande."

"You had Taco Bell?" Lisa was obviously surprised.

"It's a point of morale," Kat answered. "People are a long way from home. Give them something familiar. The food sucks, but it is food they remember. We also had Pizza Hut."

"Okay." Lisa is looking over at Melissa to see if she is getting this down. I can see the girl scribbling away. I think I just heard some dialog added to the film. "But it seems reasonable that you might all be thrown together by a mortar attack. We just need a reason for you all to know each other."

"We might end up in the same place," Kat said, "but we would never be friends. I am a major. They are enlisted."

"What if you weren't an officer?"

"Well, also assuming I was doing twenty, I would probably be a first sergeant. And, if I wasn't a complete jerk, yes, we might hang together."

"Okay, you are now a first sergeant." Lisa looked up at Melissa and got a nod in response.

"Lisa, can you tell me why I am even in this film?" Kat asked. "Everyone else is ten or fifteen years younger than me, and they are actresses. I take people out fishing."

"I'll give you two reasons. First, I like your looks. You are not movie star beautiful. You are middle-America solid. And, by being fortyish, you should bring in an additional demographic. Now, for the real reason. And this applies to you all." Lisa stopped and looked at each woman. "I want to do something that isn't complete Hollywood bullshit. No CGI monsters battling superhumans flying through space. And no war movies where John Wayne kills Japs while never leaving the back lot of Paramount. I am going to make a war movie using people who have actually been there and done that. I want legitimacy. I want to grab Hollywood by the throat and tell them, see, there is a real world, and we can tell its story. All of you, are part of that story." She let those words hang in the air. She had been an actress after all, and she knew how to make a moment. She waited, and then asked, "Okay?" I saw six heads nod. Off to the side, I saw Bunny burning up her phone, both thumbs a blur. I guess she had a press release.

"So back to the beginning. You all use the same shelter, you get talking, you end up seeing each other at dinner more and more often. You become friends. As luck would have it, your tours end at roughly the same time, you all get back to the states, and you keep in touch. You do a weekend together in St Louis, it seems like fun, so you do another one in Chicago. Now you have been back about a year, and Kat suggests you all go camping next time. Maybe do a week or two. Talk some things out. Kat says there are plenty of places to camp along the Wisconsin River, why not canoe part of it. By the third or fourth bottle of wine, you are all up for the idea, and the idea keeps growing. Finally you decide you will do the Marquette Jolliet route. Wikipedia says they made it from St Ignace to the Mississippi in one month. You will do it in less. It is all a bit silly, but you are friends, you like being together, so, why not try it?"

"Is that true?' Imelda asked. "They paddled from up in the UP all the way to the Mississippi in one month?"

"They left St Ignace May 17 and discovered the Mississippi June 17. Using birch bark canoes, by the way."

"Are we going to do that too?" Imelda was asking, but I think she was asking for all of them.

"We don't have to. We could do some shots here and there. We can put the canoes on a trailer and drive them from place to place. Is that what you want?" Lisa was looking at them with a fairly neutral expression, but I know a challenge when I hear one.

"Before you answer," Kat interrupted. "I have the canoes out by the lake. It might be best if we took them out. You could see what this would be like." That made perfectly good sense to everyone. The room cleared in seconds. It was a bright sunny day. Why not take a canoe ride?

I spent about half an hour clearing dishes and cleaning the kitchen, so they were already out on the lake by the time I got outside. My first surprise was the size of the canoes. These were big, and wide. I guess Kat took that Death's Doorway stuff seriously. I would hate to see the wave that would capsize these things. But bigger also meant heavier, and I wondered how fast – or how long – they could paddle these giants. At the moment, the big problem seemed to be steering. Kat was at the stern of one canoe, and even she had trouble keeping the thing going in the same direction. The other canoe was all over the place, and nearly came to a stop several times as they worked out who would paddle on which side. It was not pretty.

I stood next to Lisa and watched.

"I take it you would prefer that they paddle the whole route?"

"Like I said, I am tired of Hollywood bullshit." As she is saying this, her arm went around my waist. It felt good. I slid up against her.

"Assuming they learn how to paddle in a straight line, there is still some risk while on Green Bay." I brought my arm around her waist, and then slid it down onto her hip and pulled her tight.

"It's your job to get a boat that will protect them."

"Done."

"Good." Long pause. "I hear Jim Thomas came to see you."

"The man is an artist. He gave me two pictures he must have performed magic with. The light and colors are astonishing."

"And if I assign you to his RV?"

"Not yours?"

"You are always welcome in mine, but I think you would rather have his."

"I love both of you – for the brief periods you let me."

"Welcome to the current century. People move now. If you want stability, marry an accountant."

"I want love." I walked back into the lodge. I had meals to prepare, beds to make, towels to launder. I had a full day.

The actors spent two hours out on the lake, and came in hot, tired, sore, and disappointed. At the moment they weren't ready to even do short sessions in front of a camera. Could they paddle the complete route to the Mississippi? No. And of course, paddling was just part of this. This was a film. It had dialogue. People had lines to learn. I served sandwiches out in the great room. People nibbled. They were beginning to see how much more work would be needed.

I will give Lisa credit. She didn't seem overly concerned. I didn't know what day she intended to go up to Mackinac Island, but I guessed she still had a few days here.

The after lunch agenda? The six were to talk as if they were assigned to Camp Speicher. They had just finished lunch. What might their Speicher characters say to each other? I brought in pitchers of lemonade so I could hear.

The first topic was CHUs. The women who had lived in them explained them to the others. I was fascinated. Apparently old shipping containers are modified. A wall was built in the middle to create two housing units (CHU = Containerized Housing Units), each with electricity and heating and cooling. Not much else. Two women to a unit, usually working different shifts, so each has the place to herself when she sleeps. The overall judgement – better than a tent.

The next topic was muddled a bit. It started off with weapons – they were to be armed at all times. But then I could see Kat was getting really uncomfortable. Shontae started hinting. "And you know who we needed protection from." Imelda described how when some units were on base, men from her unit would walk with her wherever she went, and she strapped on a nine millimeter and carried a rifle. Kat stood at that point and said, "Let's take a walk." She was a major, and she had just given an order. All five actresses stood and followed her out the door. I saw Melissa stand and look at Lisa. Lisa shook her head and motioned for Melissa to sit back down. So, our soldier actresses would have some things to talk out amongst themselves. There were decisions to be made about what was said, and by extension, what went into the film.

I walked up to Lisa.

"What's this film going to be about?"

"It will be like my last one – a braid of three threads."

"I understand the first one – the river."

"Don't underestimate that thread. It's been almost three hundred and fifty years since Jolliet found the Mississippi, and still today you can get in a canoe and do his voyage on your own. Think of how much the world has changed in all that time, but this is one thing that has remained the same."

"Okay. The river. I assume the second thread is the women in combat."

"Something totally new. Women doing the same jobs as men, taking the same risks, carrying the same weapons. I am not sure it has registered with people, just how big a change this is. I'm using real veterans to help make the point. These women – the ones you see right in front of you – they did this. Women just like them are still doing this."

"Good. I am with you on that. And the third thread?"

"I would be lying to you if I said I knew. I'm working on it. Melissa is working on it. If we don't know by Portage, we have a problem."

I had no idea what to say. I stood and looked at her, and then saw her motion me to come closer. I did, and we hugged.

"We might be making the most important film in a generation. Help me with this, Jess. I need you."

"I'm with you." We kissed, and stood together for a moment, and then I went back to my kitchen. I had work to do on dinner.

Chapter 15

The Next Stage

What do I say about the next five days? There was so much to do before shooting started. I could see Lisa was stressed, but she hid it pretty well. She also did a good job not infecting the actresses with her fears. She kept them busy, but not hectic. She also seemed to sense when they needed a break, and she gave it to them.

Days had the same general schedule. For about an hour after breakfast (they did finally start eating more than fruit), Lisa gave them time to sit and talk. She might prime the pump with a question like, What was your biggest frustration after you got back? And they would talk and Melissa would take notes. I hoped the script was getting more complete. I had the impression Melissa had arrived in Amberg with next to nothing. Were other films made like this?

About midmorning they would take the canoes out. I would love to say they improved rapidly. They didn't. But they did improve. Kat could steer the straightest line. Angelica steered the other canoe (biggest woman at the back). She had the most strength of the women, and I wondered if they might have been better off if they just put down their paddles and let her do the whole thing. I could see a lot of her work was just offsetting the misdirection she was getting from the bow (Jane), but each day things got a little better, a little straighter, with a little less shouting. They were wearing gloves now, to protect their hands, and they seemed to use their backs more. They would paddle to the far end of the lake, come back, do it a second time, and then beach the canoes, all of them wet with sweat.

After lunch Lisa said they were practicing their lines, but I think they were really working on more basic things. Like how to stand around each other. They were all friends. Did they hug? Touch each other while talking? How did they look at each other? How close did they stand? Whose words seemed to get the most attention? How did they show agreement? Disagreement? What about pacing? Were interruptions allowed? There were words they had to say, but she first had to help them see what kind of friends they were. How deep were these bonds? And how were the bonds displayed? How might the bonds change during the journey? They worked on that every afternoon.

Evenings, Lisa gave them free time that was not actually free at all. She wanted them to interact, to talk, even to argue, as they internalized the relationships she had taught them all afternoon. So she left them alone to walk along the lake together, to play cards, to talk over a couple bottles of wine.

Except for one night she had me take them into town. This was to be just me and the actresses. So I loaded all six into my five passenger Rav4, and drove into the Amberg Bar. It happened to be a Friday night, so the place was already full. Loggers get paid on Fridays, so six or eight were there, as were some construction workers who had spent the week building yet more townhouses at the Hilton Resort. Put another way, if you were a single woman, this was as good as the pickings ever got in Amberg. And, of course, if you were a single guy, it's not like half a dozen actresses walked into your bar every day. Conversations stopped, heads turned, pool cues froze.

I couldn't help myself. Talking much loader than I needed to, and still ten feet back from where my father was sitting at the end of the bar, I said, "Dad, you know Katherine Johnson. The rest of these ladies are actresses in from LA. They are going to be in Lisa's new movie." Dad turned around and shook Kat's hand, and waved to the others. They waved back, but they were already getting into conversations with the men in the place. I should say that Amberg is lily-white, and not race-blind. But the men are also not blind. Shontae, Tamira, and Imelda were all beautiful by any standard, and they were almost instantly offered drinks. Angelica slapped two quarters on the pool table and challenged the winners. The two guys playing decided their game was over, and asked Angelica if she had a friend. Angelica called Jane over, and that started a series of games that lasted all night.

We ended up staying about four hours. Kat sat and talked business with my father, I had beers with a couple guys I knew from the old days, and our five LA actresses drank beer, shot pool (Angelica was good, but Imelda was better), talked, and danced to the radio. Morgan was working that night, so I got behind the bar a couple times to help, and I know I changed out two half barrels. Dad probably had a bigger night than some of his New Year's Eves.

About eleven I heard a couple guys ask our ladies to join them at another place, and I knew it was time to load up the car again. Fun was fun, but it was time to go home. I had to wait until the pool game was over and the phones had come out for a million pictures, but eventually I got very happy actresses back in the car and back to the lodge. Two of them walked down by the lake and puked up the beer they had drunk, but that seemed to be the worst of the damage. And I think Lisa got what she wanted – another bonding experience.

Speaking of which, Lisa slid into my bed that night. I had been wearing satin nightgowns, hoping she might visit. She was wearing satin too, so she really did slide right onto me. We grappled a bit, trying to work out which arms went where, but memory served. My arms went low, across the small of her back and ass. Her arms went around my shoulders and held me while she kissed me. Her legs went between mine, and were very warm. We were both panting pretty good before any conversation started.

"You know I want you here every night."

"Yes." She shifted her hips against mine, and forced my legs farther apart.

"At least tell me you love me."

"You know I do."

"Yes, I know."

"Jess, I love you like crazy. But I won't marry you. Neither will Jim."

"That's final?"

"Of course not. When I walked down the red carpet with you, you in a sea of purple ruffles, I wanted to marry you right then and there. I wanted to carry you off. I still do. You'd be a fabulous wife. But I would be a terrible mate. You would hate me within a month. Maybe within a week. Ask me again when I am feeling less honest and more greedy."

"If you aren't going to marry me, at least hold me tighter." She did. And she stayed with me all night.

Chapter 16

Mackinac Island

The Mackinac segment was a challenge from the start. Actually from before the start. We drove up to the island in two cars. Kat used her van and carried all the other actresses, plus Lisa and Melissa. Let's see, who does that leave for me? It's about a four hour drive to St Ignace. Four hours of Bunny. I learned about every other movie she had been involved with. Twice she looked out the car window, at which point I learned that the UP was "sparse, but stoic," and jack pines have a "stunted grandeur." I also learned she had consulted a map and now knew where Iraq was. Did Iraq have stunted grandeur? She didn't say.

Maybe the only useful thing I learned was why we were going to Mackinac Island. Money. It turns out Wisconsin has no funds to encourage film makers, but Michigan does. The finance people had insisted we film there. So the Green Bay to Dubuque film had become a Mackinac Island to Dubuque film. We were getting comped by several hotels, plus getting a nice check.

Fine for the finance people. Not so fine for me. I had to put together the kitchen crew in St Ignace, plus organize all the RVs, plus get over to the island to do whatever Lisa needed. Well, in truth, I also wanted to get over to the island because I had heard about it all my life. Heard about it, but never seen it. One of the many places nine dollar-an-hour workers don't go.

Kat had pulled a trailer with the canoes. We needed to get those, plus ten peoples' luggage over to the island. We pulled up to the ferry dock and unloaded. And unloaded. And unloaded. No cars were allowed on the island, so these are not the huge car ferries you see. Yet these are pretty large boats. And they have several people who work the passenger decks to help. Usually that means they help bring bicycles on board. Now they had to help stow canoes, and not the usual little canoes, but big canoes that took up much of the open deck. And there were three of them. And there were bags and boxes, and cases of all sizes. And we weren't the only people on the ferry. I tipped each of the guys twenty bucks and apologized for the extra work.

Next problem? The ride over. The ferry had to be seventy or eighty feet long, and it was rolling and pitching the whole twenty minute cruise. What's the problem? The problem is we won't be coming back on the ferry. If we stick to the script, the actors will be coming back via canoe. It is now obvious to everyone (and especially the women who will be in the canoes) that this could be a problem. It might well be the last person to take a canoe from Mackinac Island to St Ignace was Jolliet. And even he capsized on the way home. I was sitting with the others and watched them watch the water. Tamira and Jane had a death grip on their seats as the ship rose and fell. The others laughed at first, but I could see they were studying the water. Were those two foot waves? Three? And the sides of the canoes came up how far? There was a lot of arithmetic being calculated as we crossed to the island.

We were met by a pretty good crowd – about thirty or so from our company (including Jim working a camera), plus some local officials with signs and flowers. It was so cute. The ferries have very large docks and long warehouses alongside, and the dock was pretty well filled. Lisa and Bunny had the actors stand along the rail of the ferry as we landed, so they could look down at their admirers and wave as the boat slowly eased in. I was reminded that about a third of the people with us would be along for publicity. It was their job for the project "to go viral." I guess that had begun.

Once the ferry was tied up, our actors came down and went through a reception line of local officials. And each woman was given a bouquet of flowers. Nice touch. Lisa had all the actresses in sun dresses. Half sleeves, coordinating colors. Very feminine, very pretty. Lots of smiles. The mayor of the island gave a five minute speech – five minutes to say "welcome," and more people were introduced, mostly managers of local hotels. Our people took pictures. Their people took pictures. Tourists who happened to be on the same ferry took pictures. With digital cameras, this could go on forever. But eventually Lisa got things wrapped up, said all the right things, and we finally got off the ferry dock.

Now where? That depended. In the script, the women would stay at a bnb. They were the cheapest places on the island, but probably still too expensive for women just a year out of the army. But, this was the movies, so up to the bnb they went. Mackinac Island has two streets. One runs along the marina and has all the souvenir shops and restaurants and the big hotels. The second street has a few shops, the municipal offices, and several bnbs. That's where we went. The biggest is the Cloghaun. It had over a dozen rooms, and we had taken all of it. Lisa's people had made these arrangements, and they had already taken several rooms for the last several days. While we had been rehearsing in Amberg, they had been setting up filming locations. So, up a dozen steps to the front porch went the actresses, their bags, and several assistants.

I waited out on the street with my bags, and Bunny. Where would we go? The Iroquois – big hotel around the corner. Where would Lisa go? The Grand Hotel. Should have known. Next steps? Get to our rooms, dump our bags, and then meet for a very late lunch at the Gatehouse, a larger restaurant on the road up to the Grand Hotel. Actually not a bad choice since it was centrally located to all our hotels.

What can I say about the Iroquois? Bigger, fancier hotel, at the south end of the main street, nice restaurant in the basement, good patio bar, great frontage on the water with views of the Mackinac Strait. None of which meant nearly as much as the next words I heard from the registration lady. "Oh, I see you will be staying with Mr. Thomas." She gave me a room key, a young man took my bags, and I raced him up the stairs to our room. No Jim, but his clothes were there. His things were in the bathroom. I would have him soon enough. Thank you, Lisa.

I tipped the guy a ten and had to stop myself from hugging him, I was so happy. I hung up my clothes, then sat on the bed and enjoyed the moment. He had a huge room with large windows facing south – to the strait. Nice. Nicer was the bed. Big. Soft. I would melt down into it. Whatever we had to do today, let's get it done so I could get up here with my man. I spent some time in the bathroom. My hair needed a little work, and my makeup needed serious improvement. And I changed my dress, from one yellow sundress to another, but the new one was sleeveless and just a bit shorter at the skirt. He had liked this one in Minnesota. I had a couple other dresses he had liked in Galena. I would change for the evening, pretty sure I would have his hands on me fast enough after dinner.

But for now, I had my sun dress, I had my sandals, I practically skipped up the hill to the restaurant.

I found Lisa trying to make order out of chaos. The restaurant has a large outdoor serving area, but she had chosen a dozen tables on the inside, basically taking up the whole area. She had a seating plan and got people to assigned tables as they entered. Support people (that was me and the whole publicity crew) were back against the wall. Camera and sound people were in the middle, and the cast was closest to her. She had already ordered for us, and wait staff brought us grilled chicken salads and lemonade as we sat down. Ugh.

The point of the lunch? Our schedule. We had until four to see the town, put our feet up, buy souvenirs, or whatever else we wanted. But we would do our first shooting at four – the women arriving. At eight we would do the first bar scene at the Grand. The upper bar was reserved for us each night. If shooting went well, we would celebrate up there the final night. We would launch the canoes each of the next three mornings. The weather forecast was good, but just to be safe, we would launch each day and film it. Afternoons would be shots around town. Sites had been reserved for each of the days.

Question from one of the techs. How many days would we be here? Lisa said, ideally we would be done on the tenth. But we had room reservations through the twelfth if necessary. I heard no complaints.

I looked around for Jim and found him two tables away. He was looking my way, and smiling. Good man. The people at my table were from finance. A man and a woman. Both looked to be straight out of college. They had additional contracts for me to sign. Apparently I was giving the company a thirty percent discount on rooms in my hotel. Both assured me very earnestly all other hotels had discounted to fifty or even a hundred percent. I signed, drank my lemonade, and ignored the dead chicken on my salad.

As lunch broke up I had a few minutes with Jim.

"Apparently we are free until four. Any idea for how to spend the time?" I had my palms on his chest, and I was up on the toes of my sandals.

"I have to set up the cameras and the lighting, but I think I have an hour I could spare." His arm was around my back, and as he talked, it slowly pulled me tighter.

"Good." I got back down and took his hand. He told his crew he would meet them at the shoot at three, and we left.

"I take it you are okay with the room arrangements?" I could think of no reason to answer that question. I just smiled.

I was right about the bed. With his weight on me, I just sank down deep. And he kept me there. I was held tight by the cushions, tight by him. My arms stayed around his neck as I pulled him down onto me and into me. After we had made love, he started to rise up off me. I pulled him back. There were times I could barely breathe. I didn't care. I held him, I kissed him, I loved feeling him on me. I would have him every night we were here. I pulled him tighter.

"Do you have any idea how much I love you?"

"Yes, Jess, I do." And he kissed me. And he held me tighter. Good man.

He was late to set up for the first filming. I certainly didn't care. I hope he didn't care too much. I did finally let him go. But I stayed right where I was while he dressed. I wanted him to see me as I was. I wanted him to think about me, and where I would be tonight. The look on his face as he left made me fairly confident he would be thinking exactly what I wanted him to think.

My next steps? I would go over and see the first scenes being shot, but I was in no hurry. There was only one scene I wanted to prep for, and that wouldn't happen again until late. So I laid where I was and enjoyed the bed, enjoyed the warmth he had left behind, I even slept a bit. It was after five when I finally roused myself. And another hour passed before I finished in the shower, worked on my face, and slipped into the yellow gauze dress I had worn for his first visit to Galena. We would be heading to the Grant Hotel later, and I would be the woman he looked at. And the woman he kept an arm around.

One minor glitch. I was an actress. I walked over to the bnb, thinking mostly about what Jim might say when he saw me, but it was Lisa who saw me first.

"Very nice. But you know you need to change, right?"

"Why?"

"You're the bartender tonight. Remember your lines?"

"Sure. You look like a fun bunch. What can I get you? That's tonight?"

"It's every night until we have what we want from that scene."

"Oh."

"Go flash you ass in front of Jim while we are setting up, then go up to room 14. That's the wardrobe." I stepped closer to her, and slowly slid my hand over her ass as I walked past. She smiled, but kept her hands to herself. Hmm.

Jim had three cameras set up and was struggling with lights. I think I understood. The sun was dropping behind the bnb. He was getting more shade, less sun, and the drop was increasing. He was probably chasing a moving quantity of light. I knew better than to get in the way while he worked. I walked around behind him, and slid my hand over his ass, but I kept moving. He grabbed my hand, and I got a quick kiss and a hand all over my backside, but I knew not to press my luck. I climbed the stairs (this place had lots of them) and went inside looking for the wardrobe.

Room 14 was all clothes racks. The bed had obviously been taken elsewhere. There was barely room to stand, and all changing had to be done in the bathroom. This was a different wardrobe mistress than the Oregon one, but she had the same talent. She barely glanced at me and she pulled out a uniform in my size. Black, a shiny plastic material, half sleeves, slightly scooped neck, flared skirt to my knees. Not bad, but not nearly as nice as what I had just taken off. She tied a white apron around my waist, and pinned on a metal name tag. I was "Tomi." Above "Grand Hotel" (complete with horse carriage logo), my tag also said "Chicago." Really. Of all the hometowns, I had to be from Chicago? Yuck.

I went down stairs and stood in the dining room. This seemed to be where people went to be out of the way. Bunny was there, smiling at her laptop as she wrote up some press release ("arriving at scenic, gothic Mackinac Island"). Several others sat at tables working over their computers, including Melissa, who had her face practically on her keyboard, her hair hanging on some of the keys. Others were obviously idle, looking at the back of a cameraman and two sound guys. I saw one take some food off the table in the corner. We would be here until late. Why not? There were donuts and sandwiches. I took one of each.

Face full of donut, I watched the next filming. This is the arrival scene. Imelda was crossing the street. Jeans, sweatshirt, a duffle bag over her shoulder. She walks up to the picket fence and hears shouting. She looks up and waves. "Hi guys." Through the gate, up the stairs, and into a big hug with Kat and Shontae. "This is quite the place."

"Come on in. Everyone else is already here." Big smiles, step to the door, walk through and disappear into the hallway. End of scene.

"Okay, let's see what we have." Lisa walks around and checks each camera. Jim walks with her.

"We will have to open the irises, but we can keep shooting another hour if you wish."

"I think we are close." She is looking through the camera as she talks. "I want to try something. Have you got someone who can do a steady walk?"

"I can."

"Okay, then take camera three down to the corner." She turns toward the hallway. "Imelda, I want to do that again. You were great, but I want to try something." Lisa waited for Imelda out on the porch. "Tomorrow we are going to do a long distance shot of you getting off the ferry. You have a map, so you know how to find this place. But you are not comfortable. You pass through the crowds on the main street, you have to stop as several people on bicycles go past. Finally you get to the side street that leads here. You slow down, you even hesitate. You are unsure. Then, when you get to the gate, you hear your friends. Now you smile. Got the idea?"

Imelda nodded and followed Lisa down the stairs and out into the street. Lisa had hired some local extras. She got them walking again, up one sidewalk and down another, one pair pausing to look in a shop window. There were two people on bicycles. She got them going again.

Lisa started Imelda halfway down the side street. I could see her talking to her again while they waited for Jim. He had put a huge camera on his shoulder, and before he did anything, he not only walked to Imelda, but he walked backward up the hill, pausing here and there as he might as Imelda approached the bnb. How do you walk backwards, up a hill, and not fall on your ass? He practiced it twice, and then told Lisa he was ready.

They shot that hill climb five times. Once Jim tripped. The other four times Lisa told Imelda how great she did, and then asked her to do it again. It was hard to hear from the top of the hill, but I heard Lisa tell Imelda "look more uncomfortable." On the fifth take, Imelda stops, looks back down at the crowd on the main street, head slightly tilted. She takes another step, now looking at the two going by on bicycles. She almost stops a second time, but pulls the strap on her duffle tighter to her shoulder, and crosses the street, looking carefully both ways. Only when her hand touches the gate does she look up. And as she does, her face transforms. You see more than a smile. You see happiness. She says her lines, climbs the stairs, and you know you have just seen film footage that provides the perfect opening for the film. There is Imelda on her own, and Imelda with her friends. Now we are ready to learn more about that friendship. The scene was perfect. Every technician out there applauded.

Done with that scene, Lisa told the technicians to move their equipment up to the bar at the Grand. She went into the bnb and pointed upstairs. She and the actors would rehearse another bnb scene while the equipment was moved to the Grand. Me? My one scene in the film would be at the Grand, but I was curious, so I stayed at the bnb and followed the actors up to the second floor rooms. I stayed out in the hallway – out of the way.

There would be two scenes shot in one of the bedrooms, although how they would find room for the cameras and lights plus six women was a mystery to me. The initial meeting scene would be the most complicated. All six women together for the first time, hugging and talking and tripping over all their packs. They would also do their final planning, agreeing, yes, they really would at least try to paddle all the way to the Mississippi.

Kat (Elaine in the film) unfolds a large map and points to the route. She also builds some tension by pointing to problem spots, and this is the first time they use the term "Death's Doorway." Lisa's problem is trying to differentiate among the women – begin to show some divergent personalities. These women are all late twenties and have survived life in a combat zone, so they won't show fear, but there needs to be some elaboration of the characters. Lisa has picked Shontae (named Daeshanda in the film) to hold a larger role in the film, so she has her take the line, "So if we don't drown in the first week, we should be okay." Light, but some acknowledgement of the risk. Angelica (Angel in the film) raises the other potential conflict area. "You guys may have more time than me. I got off for four weeks by promising lots of overtime later, but four weeks is it. Whether we make the Mississippi or not, I have got to go back to work." So it's an important scene. Light, but it establishes the parameters of the trip and foreshadows future conflicts. I can see why Lisa wants to rehearse it early. They are still working at it when I leave an hour later.

My next stop? The Grand, of course. I had seen a million pictures of the place. Now I finally had a chance to see it for myself. You have probably seen pictures too. Huge, white, high on a hill, longest front porch in the world overlooking the hotel's gardens with the Straits of Mackinac and the Mackinac Bridge in the distance. Or, simply, a very cool place with a fabulous front porch. Rockers lined the porch, and I took one. They take drink orders on the porch, and a waiter came to me pretty fast, I think initially worried that one of the staff was out where she shouldn't be. I explained I was in costume, and I would like a bottle of water. I couldn't help but smile when he came back with a bottle of Pike River water, with a picture of Dave's Falls on the label. Nice to see the brand was doing well.

I was still sitting up there, rocking and watching the sunset, when I saw the rest of the crew climb the hill. Lisa was talking to Kat. All the cast had changed into dresses. The Grand has a dress code. I followed them inside. Just inside the doors is a massive sitting room with a bar at one end and a piano at the other. A very talented musician was playing show tunes. Lisa stood for a minute playing traffic cop – the elevator and stairs are that way, the upper bar actually has two floors, take the additional steps all the way to the top. She stayed behind while everyone else trooped off. I stayed with her. She smiled, and I followed her down a long hallway. This is where the fancier suites were. It was no surprise Lisa would take a suite.

We had about ten minutes together in her room. Long enough to muss each other's hair, and talk a bit. She had a huge canopied bed, and we did our talking there.

"Thanks for putting me with Jim."

"That was his idea. You are also welcome here, but be sure to call first." No doubt she planned to have other visitors. I lay looking up at her with a tight grip on her ass. Did I wonder who else would be in my place later? No. I had her now. It was like stealing kisses. Fun, and fast.

"Besides massaging your backside, is there anything else I can do for you?"

"Yes. Spend time with the actors. Jim will be there for you at night. During the day, hang near the ladies. Even if it is just standing out in the hallway like you did at the bnb. Be around them. Help them if they ask. And tell me if the stress level gets too high."

"Stress you plan to create." She didn't respond to that. But she didn't need to. I had seen her work before. We went back to kissing and fondling. She was good at both. When she had done what she wanted to do, she got up off me.

"You should head up to makeup."

"Are we shooting tonight? I thought this was just rehearsal."

"We shoot everything at least three times. Who knows which version will look best when we edit?" She retied my apron and got my dress straightened out. Only fair, she had gotten it twisted around. One last kiss, and I was out the door. She stayed behind. I didn't see anyone outside the door, no obvious person next in line, but who knew?

I climbed the stairs and had two women work on my hair and face. The hair lady asked, "What did you do to your hair?" When I said "wind," she just scowled.

How did the evening's rehearsal/filming go? I got my lines right. I also got in and out of the area without tripping over a cord or knocking over a light. And really, that was a challenge. The point of the scene was to show the women having some fun before they hit the water, and to increase the character development. This showed up in drinks – three cosmos, two white wines, one beer (Angelica). We also get the differences as they talk about recent actions ("What's new?"). Two have gone back to college, one is processing a divorce, two are working, and one is wandering (Jane).

Okay so far, just basic exposition, but then comes the fun part, and the most interesting. It starts with "Seeing anyone?" Here Melissa earned her pay, or she was just really good at listening, because all the dialog sounds real. Here's an excerpt.

"You want men?" Daeshanda (Shontae) says. "College vets club. Guaranteed to have three assholes who want to talk about how they used their K-bar knife, but you get past them, and you find dozens of decent guys who feel funny dating sophomore girls, so who have they got? Me."

"Amen, sister." Imelda says (also Imelda in the film). "I walked into that office and felt like Miss America."

"I need to go back to college." Tamira ("Chanise" in the film) says. "My first job back in the world, I find a jewelry store with nice stuff, nice people, I settle in. A good looking guy works there – white – and takes me out. Two dinner dates, kiss at the door, third date, I figure this is where he jumps my bones. Nope. He tells me, I won't last long. I'm thinking, what, he's going to fire me? No. He's all conflicted because I did time in Sandland. After all that, I will be bored in a retail store, and bored with him. Pissed me off, but you know, he was right. I'm over there, doing what we do, and guys like him are watching the clock and spending weekends shouting at a TV while eating chicken wings. I was gone six weeks later."

"Yeah, these vanilla guys are pretty limp," Angel (Angelica) gets a laugh. "But we aren't easy. I had a guy almost to the altar and I get the call. Back to Sandland, tour number three. I say, but my enlistment is up in a month, I'm getting out. Nope. Stop loss. Read your contract. Tell me one man who's going to wait a year. Even with my remarkable beauty." And they all laugh again.

It's a good scene. I also notice the actors are getting into it. This isn't Hollywood bullshit. This is them telling their lives, and doing it with a laugh. I hoped the scene made it through editing, and not just because I managed to serve drinks without knocking over a light stand.

Lisa turned off the lights after one take, and the tech guys pulled some of the equipment out. I brought the actors another round of drinks (complete with alcohol this time) and sat with them. They had more stories to tell about men. I told them about husbands one and two. I am glad all the tech guys were gone, because we laughed like crazy and tore up men something awful. It was fun.

Chapter 17

At Least Nobody Drowned

When our gigglefest ended, we climbed down out of the tower bar, and walked down the road to town. It's funny being in a place with no cars. We walked down the middle of the road, still laughing and talking. It was quiet. There were a few other people around, but mostly it was us, walking through the night, past the local school and golf course, down to the main streets that were now empty of tourists. I stood with them outside their bnb, all of us pretty happy with how the day had gone, and then I walked down the side street to my hotel.

Jim was already in bed when I got to our room. Good man. I sat on the bed next to him and asked for help with my apron and the zipper on my dress. Lots of good things start from a man "helping" with a zipper. He had his hands all over me, and then I stood and did the best strip tease I know how to do. I made him wait. And I took an especially long time sliding my satin nightgown over me. When I finally came back to bed, he had me on my back in a heartbeat. I sank into that mattress and melted under him. He held me tight all night. I made sure he was happy to be holding me.

A funny thing happened in the morning. He got his camera out. He had me sit on the edge of the bed, my hair still mussed, one of my straps sliding towards the edge of my shoulder. He asked me to sit still, but to follow him with my eyes. Once he asked me to touch my hair. I don't know how many pictures he took, but it had to be a large number. He put his hand on my chin and moved my face slightly, but he never said anything. He just moved from one side of me to the other, taking pictures. I was a little afraid he would ask me to strip, but he never took naked pictures of me, or even showed my breasts. Not then, not when he had me looking out the windows, not when I was out of the shower wearing a towel, not when I was putting on my sundress. He might ask me to put a hand to my hair, or touch my skirt, or look here or there, and he had me stop many times while he took pictures, but I was always covered. And most of the time, I was looking at him, happy to have him looking at me.

I'm not sure how he found the time, but he took some more pictures of me that day and many more the next. Even as he was lining up the cameras for filming, he kept his personal camera close by. He had pictures of me walking up the street, pictures of me on the beach as they set up to launch the canoes, pictures of me walking through the garden at the Grand, and then sitting in a rocker, staring toward the bridge. There was me in a dozen locations – the marina, the park, the fort. It was funny as he took those shots; it was almost like I could feel him touching me. I felt myself leaning towards him, one hand just a bit out from my side. I wanted him. Maybe this was him teasing me a bit. I know I was half crazy for him each night.

But before I could be back in his bed, we had the day. And what a day. We grabbed some breakfast in the basement restaurant, and then walked to the park next door. It had a beach where the canoes would be launched. His crew had already set up cameras, and the area had been taped off to keep tourists back from the filming. We arrived just as the canoes did. They had been in the warehouse by the ferry dock, about a block down the street. The actors were carrying two of them. A couple technicians carried the third. Lisa and her publicists followed behind, filming everything.

The plan seemed simple enough – launch one canoe with a camera. Then launch the two canoes with the cast. The minute the first canoe was launched, it was clear none of this would be simple. It only needed to go out about thirty feet. One man to paddle in front, one man to paddle at the back, Jim in the middle with a camera. Had either man ever paddled a canoe before? Not sure, but even if they were experts, the canoe was no more than twenty feet from shore when a ferry came past. Big boat, big wake. The camera canoe almost went over before they managed to turn it so it took the waves bow-first. Still, it was rocking over the waves like a rollercoaster ride. Jim stayed low in the middle and protected the lens from water. Eventually they got stable and he signaled Lisa they were ready.

Lisa wanted the cast to launch as if it were the real thing. So she had them load the canoes with camping gear and their clothing duffels and bags. They took a few minutes to don life jackets and hats (embroidered "Mackinac Island" of course), sprayed suntan lotion over their bare arms and legs (they were all wearing shorts and t-shirts), and pushed the very heavy canoes into the water. One person held the stern while the other two walked out into the water and then climbed into the canoe. You could see both stern paddlers really struggle to keep the canoe from capsizing as the others got in, their weight pulling the canoe well over. The sound guys had mic poles well overhead, and you could hear lots of "sorry" and "careful" as they loaded. Then it was time for the stern ladies (Kat and Angelica) to push the canoes the final two or three feet and step in themselves. They had just stabilized the canoes when the ferry went past in the other direction. Fortunately both canoes knew to steer into the waves, but still, it was a near thing. I am not sure if Jim got it, but the tourists on the ferry stood along the rail, happily waving. Tamira waved back, but I bet she wanted to wave with just one finger.

What next? It actually wasn't a bad day on the lake. A slight chop, but no major head winds or waves. So without being told anything, both canoes turned right and followed the shore, staying maybe twenty feet out so they were still getting some shelter from the island. The camera canoe followed behind, maybe twenty feet back, and a little farther out from shore. Away they went.

Mackinac Island is about eight miles around, so even if they were just going to paddle to the far side of the island, we were looking at an hour or more. And then what? Should they keep going to St Ignace? That had to be a couple miles across open water, and we had seen on the ferry how big the waves might be over there. Should they try to cross it already this morning? Lisa didn't seem to know. The idea had been to film a launch in case the weather turned bad other mornings. But the women were off and moving. Should they keep going?

There was a bit of a panic at the launch site. Any place else, they could just jump into a car and follow along. Not here. I saw Lisa looking around, and then she pointed. I ran with several others to the closest bicycle rental place. As quick as we got there, we took the first bicycle they pulled out, and went racing back to the beach. Four of us had already left when the rental people started getting upset. There were forms! We kept going and let the later people handle the forms. Back at the beach, we gave our bikes to Lisa and three camera guys. They raced off without a word.

I walked back to the rental place (it was just over a block away), and settled the poor employees down. I handed over a credit card, apologized repeatedly, and signed for twenty one bikes. It was a part of a movie, I hoped they didn't mind, we would have the bikes back in an hour or so. Since I was being nice, and talking to them, they not only adjusted the seat height for my bike, but gave me a map of the island. I smiled, they smiled, I followed the perimeter road west, well behind the rest of the crew.

Biking on the island is so popular because it is so easy. There is an asphalt road right along the water's edge. It is almost perfectly flat, and it is only eight miles around, so you can circle the island and be done before your butt hurts. If, like me, you haven't been on a bike in decades, this is the place to bike. Also, no cars, so no danger. It took me a minute to wrap my skirt around me so it wasn't flying up in my face, and then I was off.

I had only gone about a mile (there are mile markers on posts) when I caught up to everyone. It turns out bikes go faster than canoes. Everyone was pulled over, the camera guys filming everything, while Lisa shouted out to the canoes. They did a really nice job of not looking at her while they paddled and talked. No surprise about the conversation – go or stop? Lisa was asking both the actors and Jim. Jim said he thought his footage was pretty good. Kat said she thought they were doing fine so far. So, Lisa told them to keep going.

We spent the next hour following along, the camera guys leapfrogging, with one guy going out a couple hundred yards and setting up for the canoes, while another filmed them going away. It all seemed pretty good – filming from the shore, filming from the water, everything fine so far. But. Here along the island they had some shelter from any wind, and they were away from the ferries. If they tried to cross to St Ignace, they would lose their shelter, and they would be back out with the ferries and their wakes.

So we spent an hour happy with the progress so far, but unsure about what to do next. I asked if they had food. No. They had a cooler in the canoe, but it was just for show. I turned my bike around and went back to town. There is a general store. I bought nine subs and a case of water bottles. I got back to the group as the canoes were nearing the far side of the island. Lisa had called a halt. Time to talk this over. All three canoes had stopped, and had pulled together, just a foot or two from shore. Lisa sat on the bank talking. I brought the subs and water down, and waded out to the canoes.

"Put everything in the cooler," she said to Imelda. While Imelda did that, she moved the video and sound people around. You would be surprised how long some of those mic poles are. "Let's do this. You are pausing for a rest. Imelda gets your food out of the cooler and passes it around while you decide what to do. You eat and talk. Do you cross now, or wait for calmer water tomorrow? Figure it out, and then do whatever you decide. If you decide to cross today, be careful. The natural landing place is there at the foot of the Mackinac Bridge. But to get there, you will have to cross the route the ferries take back and forth from St Ignace."

"Lisa," Jim shouted from his canoe. "If we go, have someone go back and warn the ferries. They have radios to warn all to watch for us."

"Good idea." Lisa pointed to several of her publicity people. "Go now. Get on every ferry. I will call you if they decide to go." Five people got on bikes and raced back to town.

"Can we eat now?" Kat asked.

Lisa looked around to see if everyone was in place. Then she and I both backed out of the shot. "Yes. Eat and talk."

And that's what they did. Imelda passed three subs and some water over to the camera canoe first, then paused, then passed subs and water to the actors (the water just happened to be Pike River water, the bright Dave's Falls logo visible (I hoped)). As she passed the food, she took the first line.

"Well, first sergeant. Are we crossing today?" None of this was scripted. But they stayed in character really well.

"You see any stripes on this t-shirt?" Kat paused. "This is a democracy. We eat, we look at the waves, we decide."

"How long to get across, do you think?" Shontae was leaning back against the camping gear in the middle of her canoe.

"Two hours for sure. Maybe three." Kat replied.

"I've got about half a damn bar on my phone," Angelica responds from the back of the second canoe. "It shows nothing on radar. No storms coming to Death's Doorway."

"Death's Doorway is about five days ahead. This is just a large bay." Kat replied. "What will kill us here is any ferry or larger boat coming right over the top of us."

"I vote we do it." Tamira said. The others nodded. They each took a couple bites of their sandwich, a long drink of water, got back in position, and started paddling. Jim's canoe waited a minute or two, and then followed. From now on, his would be the only camera. Those of us on shore just stood and watched them paddle into the horizon.

It was about six when nine very happy, very drunken people got off the incoming ferry. We were all waiting on the dock and applauded when we saw them. They had done it. Lisa led us all to the Gatehouse for dinner. Along the way, Jim explained he had looked at his footage, and didn't think anything would need to be reshot. The other camera and sound guys had called him and said they liked what they had too. So, not only had the women gotten across safely, but we were days ahead of schedule. Lots to celebrate, and it was obvious the canoeists had gotten an early start.

Lisa had reserved inside tables again. That turned out to be smart for two reasons. First, we had all gotten a lot of sun and there was some sunburn everywhere you looked. And second, inside was closer to the bar. Lisa announced an open bar, and folks used it. She let us sit where we wanted, and everyone wanted to sit close to the actors. We all wanted to hear the story. Finally, Lisa just asked Kat to stand up and tell it.

"First sergeant, how about a report."

"First, I was wrong about the time. It was over three hours. Part of that was dodging ferries and a goddamn ore carrier. Do you know big those things are? We looked up, and the thing came past us, and past us, and past us. They go on forever. And this guy threw out a wake that damn near capsized us. We did end up with two inches of water in our canoes. But no problem, no panic. Angelica and I turned like ballet dancers, perfectly synchronized and right into the waves." She pointed to Angelica who raised her hand and did high fives with anyone within reach. "And let's not forget the bow paddlers who helped us get around, and the middle paddlers who kept us stable." Lots more high fives. I had never seen this version of Kat. I liked it. "And let's not forget our man Jim who was knocked on his ass by the same wave, but did not go over the side, and in fact caught the whole thing on film." More cheers, more high fives. I noticed people who had been eating outside were now gathering around the doors to see what was going on. I also noticed that two publicists with cameras were filming the people watching us. Twitter and Facebook were soon to get large video uploads.

"Thanks, Kat." Lisa stood up, and Kat sat down. "When we set out this morning, I thought we might just get a launch. Getting all the way to St Ignace puts us well ahead of schedule. It also tells us a lot about the quality of people in front of our cameras." Pause for applause. "Take tonight off. The bar is yours. Order what you want from the menu. Tomorrow we are still supposed to have sunshine, so we will do the outdoor shots. We will do bicycles at nine. Until then, have fun."

And that's exactly what I did. As you can imagine, Jim was exhausted. He was also bruised from when he had fallen back against the side of his canoe. He had both hands on the camera, so he was unable to brace himself as he fell. We each had a few shrimp and a few French fries, and then I got him up to our room. I can do a pretty good massage. Of course I got his clothes off him first, and then my clothes off, and my hands on him, and then he had his hands on me, and I helped him relax, and, well, he seemed to like my massage.

Chapter 18

Father Marquette

If you are going to take money from a state for a film, they like it if people actually see the state in the film. So the point of the next day was to show the women seeing – and enjoying – the sights around Mackinac Island. It didn't matter if two minutes or ten minutes of the island survived the final edit, but it needed to be there. And it did seem like a thing the women would do.

First I needed to do some more work on my man. He woke up really stiff from where he had hit his back. I did some work in bed, and then much more in the shower with the water as hot as we could stand. I knew I was making progress when he pushed me against the wall and started working on me. I wrapped my arms around his neck, held on for dear life, and spent the rest of the morning with a smile.

He also took more pictures of me -- combing my hair, putting on my sundress, looking out the window to see what kind of day we faced. He had me in front of those windows for a long time. It was an interesting feeling to have him looking at me so intently. I might have been self-conscious, after all, we all have blemishes here or there, a wrinkle we know is getting longer, but after seeing the pictures he had given me at Galena, I knew he was seeing beauty. I am forty three and decent looking, but no model. I know where I stand on a scale of ten. But knowing it was him looking at me, I felt comfortable, maybe even beautiful. So I stood, and I looked back at him, and I enjoyed the feeling of his eyes on me.

He took my picture in many places that day. Of course he also had his real job to do as well. But the sun was out, the temperatures were in the low seventies, and it felt like a day you remember from your childhood. Recess lasted all day.

We started by biking around the island. As I said, the island is perfect for biking. It also sets up nicely for visuals. You have the women on bikes, and then you choose the backdrop – water when you want it, some shops near the marina, cedar groves around much of the island. This was to be their first full day together, so they are shown laughing, stopping to play on one shore or another, briefly racing each other, sometimes walking their bikes so they can talk. The film will begin very light – filled with fun and friendship.

Capturing what is essentially a one hour bike ride took over five hours and lots of people. The women are biking, but so are the camera guys and the sound people, holding cameras and mic poles over their shoulders as they bike a few feet in front of the actors. All three videographers were using tandem bikes, one man doing the pedaling up front, while the man with the camera sat behind. Jim actually rode backwards in the rear seat, his legs dangling just off the road.

It was easier for everyone when they stopped for scenes along the shore. They did that three times, mostly just for background shots that might not make it through editing. The one shore scene that mattered was the one at the far end of the island. They stopped and looked back at St Ignace across the water. The point was to show just how distant it was, and for the women to comment on that. They did, showing some concern (to build a bit of tension), but with general confidence (to reinforce the fact that these women had all survived much tougher challenges in Iraq). Lisa was still establishing their characters, and this scene would help.

But mostly we had fun out there. I hung with the publicity people, enjoying the bike ride and the day, and staying out of camera range. It really is a nice place to bike.

We finally got around the island, had lunch at the Gatehouse, and then walked to the city park below the fort. Here would be the one more important scene of the day – Marquette. There was a replica of a bark house in the park near the stature of Marquette. Lisa wanted the Marquette/Jolliet discovery trip to be part of the film (one of the three threads in her "braid"), so that connection needed to be established. So, there the actors were, standing around an elongated dome made of sticks and bark.

The technical people got all three cameras set up and the mics positioned while Lisa put the actors in their places and then had them run through their lines. It was up to Shontae (Daeshanda) to carry this scene. The Marquette connection would only matter to the audience if it mattered to the actors. Why should six women recently back from Iraq give a damn about some canoe ride from three centuries ago?

I'll give you her lines, but I think it helps if you can imagine the woman delivering them. Remember Shontae is Black, pretty, and has two features that will help her acting career – huge dark eyes, and hair that will fill the screen. It is like black straw. It doesn't quite stick straight out, gravity pulls it down towards her shoulders, but it is massive, and extends out six or eight inches on each side of her face. It is like she has this black frame around her. So she is looking at you with those big eyes, and anything that might distract your attention is blocked out by the mass of hair around her head. Once you look at her, you keep looking at her. And Lisa has positioned her by the door to the shelter, which is just a bit higher than where she has the other actors stand. Lisa has picked the messenger, and placed the messenger, so if the message has any chance at all, it will connect with viewers.

Now for the lines.

"College bored the hell out of me. I couldn't decide on a major, and anyway, the first two years are just general education courses, all of which were identical to courses I had taken in high school. Chemistry bored the hell out of me in high school, and here I was taking the same stupid course all over again. Same for English, and history and all the rest. What a complete waste. It's a sham, really.

"So I quit, and a year later, I am sitting on my bunk in my CHU, listening to the wind blow sand against the metal door, killing time before my shift. On the bunk opposite are some school books. She is taking an on-line course. American history. I pull one from the pile. It is about the French period. You know, the guys from the French and Indian War, the guys who have been losing wars ever since.

"I start reading, and two things happen. First, I find it interesting. Shocked the hell out of me. And second, I realize I am a complete asshole. If there was one word you heard around my neighborhood all day, every day, it was 'respect.' Aretha spells it for us, we believe it. And I had given these guys none. Father Marquette comes down here with a tribe of Indians running from the Sioux. They hide on this island, hunt, plant corn, live in huts like this. Turns out the soil is bad, and they have killed all the game on the island, so they paddle across the bay to where St Ignace is now. Marquette lives with them, winters with them, trying to stay warm in a hut just like this – tree branches and bark. He will live like that as long as his Jesuit masters tell him.

"Jolliet and five other fur traders come by in May. They bring new orders. He is to go with these men, explore, and meet with Indian tribes that might want to learn the word of God. Off he goes, with men he doesn't know, to places no one has seen, in canoes made of wood and covered with bark. I can respect that. It's certainly worth four weeks of my time to follow his route and see what he saw."

"Jesus," Angelica has a scowl/smile combination on her face. "I was just along for the beer." They laugh and then all go inside the hut to look it over. You see them come out, and then walk up the stairs to the fort hanging over the park and the marina. I'm watching Lisa, and it looks like she is holding her breath. She liked that take, now if they can just get up the stairs without tripping or some damn tourist flipping the bird. The actors get to the gate at top, go in, and I think I see Lisa breathe again.

She motions all three cinematographers over to where Jim is standing, they all put on headsets and listen to the scene. I see heads nodding. She points to a young guy with a mic pole, and gives him a thumbs up. I think we got the scene in one take. The publicity people standing around me are looking at their own video and already typing in texts to go out. Lisa hugs Jim, and then hugs anyone near. A very happy lady. High above us, the actors stand at the edge of the fort wall, just small heads above a wall of white. They are waving. Should they come back down? Lisa motions for them to stay. She has the scene she wants.

We are up in the fort for the next couple hours. There are about a million stairs up to the front gate, and it is no small thing even for the bigger guys to get all the equipment up those stairs. But eventually everything is where it needs to be, and Lisa gets a shot of the actors walking through the open area between the fort buildings, and then sitting in what may be one of the world's more scenic cafes. The menu isn't huge, but the tables are right along the top of the front wall, so while eating your burger and bag of potato chips, you can look down on the marina and out to the endless water dotted with islands and a light house. It's a view well worth the climb.

Jim got a fair amount of footage of the women at tables up there, and then Lisa called it a day. She sat with the women and they ordered more wine. I helped Jim carry equipment back down the stairs. Equipment storage was at the bnb, so all of us trekked back there, a dozen technicians pounding up yet another set of stairs to a bedroom storage area. But that was it. It was barely five, and we were free.

Next stop? Our room for a quick shower and a change of clothes. We were going to the Grand. I wore another of my gauze dresses, and Jim actually wore a tie. But we stopped in the garden below the Grand first. It was an interesting time of day. The sun was getting low, so there were shadows, and a deeper kind of sunlight. I suppose Jim could describe it better. All I can say is the flowers had a darker, deeper, color. I was entranced. Jim was busy. He had his camera with him, and I bet he took a thousand shots of me in that garden. He never told me how to stand or where to go. He let me move where I wanted and approach flowers as I wished, sometimes standing, sometimes bending to them, sometimes crouching down to get closer.

Eventually we lost the light. As we walked towards the stairs up to the hotel, I looked back at the garden. I heard his camera click a dozen times.

I'm not sure I need to describe the rest of the evening. The Grand has a very elegant bar just off the lobby, and we sat for drinks and to talk over the day. We thought about dinner at the Grand, but instead we walked down the hill, hand in hand, and back to our room.

Chapter 19

Last Day on the Island

Jim left me fairly early the next morning. Well, not that early. I kept my arms and legs wrapped around him until he told me he loved me. And then he had to show me he meant it. And then he had to participate in the Jessica Shower Ceremony. And then he had to help me dress. And then he had to tell me he loved me. And then he had to kiss me again.

Then I let him go. Lisa had called a meeting of the leaders. For this project that meant the screen writer, the cinematographer, the sound guy, and her. Jim told me the agenda – were we done on Mackinac Island? They would sit together, look at all the footage they had, and decide if anything needed to be reshot or added.

I figured I had at least an hour free, maybe two. So I walked down the main street, stopped for a huge breakfast, and looked for souvenirs for the kids and grandkids. I didn't want t-shirts, and I didn't want fudge, so that sort of narrowed the options. In the end, I bought some toys for the grandkids and some lilac scent for the girls. The island is covered in huge lilacs.

Back at our room, I made three calls. First, the RVs. Yes, they would be up at St Ignace by three tomorrow, and yes, one of them would stop at my hotel in Green Bay to collect my kitchen crew. I promised to tip that driver. Next, the manager of my Green Bay hotel. She would make sure the crew was ready. They were very excited about the trip, and had already assembled boxes of cooking utensils and spices to take with them. That all sounded good to me. Last, I called the charter captain. He warned me the weather might be a challenge this next week, but he would be in St Ignace marina by noon tomorrow.

Okay, now what? I decided I would take my waitress uniform back to the wardrobe lady. It appeared we were done with that scene – and I was done with acting. Oh well, if the scene stayed in the film, I could at least point to myself when I watched the film with my girls. See the back of that waitress? That's me.

The bnb was a bit of a jumble. There were people having breakfast, people sitting out on the porch sipping coffee, and others just sort of wandering, not sure what to do while Lisa evaluated their status. I returned my dress, took a cup of coffee, and looked around for a friendly face. I found Kat out on the porch. I took the other half of her love seat.

"How do you like acting so far?"

"I haven't been this scared since Afghanistan." We were sort of off by ourselves in one corner of the porch, but still, I noticed she kept her voice down.

"You were great out on the water. 'Do you see any stripes on this t-shirt?' That was perfect. Somehow you were humble, but still clearly in charge. I don't know any first sergeants, but you sure seemed like one to me."

"Thanks, but we are just getting started. And I don't want to get this messed up. That's the prayer officers say every morning – please God, don't let me do anything stupid and get my people hurt. Here I am with five really nice women who are just starting their careers. If I don't fuck this up, this movie could launch their careers. If I don't fuck this up."

"Lisa gets paid to worry about that. She has rehearsals and endless reshoots if she wants. You ever watch Groundhog Day? Bill Murray relives the same day over and over until he gets it right. That's your life now. Lisa will just keep reshooting until you are brilliant."

"Thanks." She took my hand and held it as we finished our coffee. We looked down at the street. There was a riding stable around the corner, so there was a fair amount of horse traffic – people riding, and people being pulled in wagons. And there was a guy with a broom and a shovel and a metal garbage can doing what you do if you have horses on your street. There was lots for us to watch as we waited for our orders.

I had just refilled our cups and sat down with Kat again when Lisa came around the corner and climbed the stairs. Jim, Melissa, and the sound guy were right behind her.

"People I really like what I have seen." She was standing at the edge of the porch, so she could be heard by us and everyone inside having breakfast. Was she really happy with what she had seen? I think so. I was close enough to see her face clearly, and yes, there was some stress there, but the smile appeared genuine.

"We want to flesh out the opening a bit, so we will show the team shopping for supplies, and I have had a couple locals suggest we show the Victorian homes. So we will set up twice. First at the grocery store by the park, then lunch at the Gatehouse, then up to the Victorian homes just past the Grand. Jim tells me the visuals will be outstanding. That done, we will have an open bar at the Grand, and then you have a free evening." A couple "yea's" at this point. She smiled and then continued. "Techs, follow your men down to the store. Actors, let's talk out here on the porch."

I started to leave, but Lisa motioned for me to stay where I was. Okay. She took a chair, and we all waited through the general chaos of a dozen guys taking equipment down out of the storage room and down all the stairs to the street. It sounded simple – set up in the store. There was nothing simple about all this gear. I checked to see how Jim's back was doing. I had worked on it again in the shower. Lisa saw me watching Jim and just smiled.

Eventually the men took the equipment down the street, the actors were settled near Lisa, and the publicists were standing around the fringes, listening, and taking pictures.

What they heard was a pep talk. Everything so far was fabulous. They all looked good. But, she wanted to "fine tune" their relationships. Angelica seemed a natural clown. She was to accentuate that.

"Angelica, in the store, I want you to go straight to the liquor aisle and load up a cart. Kat, always first sergeant, you will stand to one side with a list, ensuring that everything is bought, and forcing Angelica to put some bottled water in her cart. Jane, you will be a bit of a whiner. When they go to the sandwich area, you will ask if the breads are gluten free. Tamira and Imelda, I want you to buddy a bit. You were in the same unit at the FOB. When the group walks anywhere, the two of you walk closest. In the store, you will stand together and pick through the soups, and have fun together picking out chocolates. Shontae, you are the other natural leader in the group. You will push one of the grocery carts and check Kat's list as you fill the cart. You think you can do that?"

What were they going to say? Of course they could do that. Melissa passed out three pages of dialogue. The porch got quiet as they read their lines.

How do you film in a store? Not easily, but at least this one was reasonably sized. No supermarket obviously, but it had four aisles and a big deli section at one end, and three cash registers at the front. So there was room to set up cameras and to position mics. As a practical matter, they closed the market for an hour, with the manager standing at the doors explaining what was going on and when people could get in again. One woman was left for the cash register, and one guy at the deli. Each signed a release and got a one hundred dollar check. The manager got five hundred.

Lisa did a walk through, mostly to know where to position the mics, and twenty minutes after the actors arrived, they shot the scene. This one they filmed twice, but they were still done in a little over an hour. I stood out front and looked through the windows. It looked good both times to me.

The rest of the day went really well. Of course I didn't have to carry heavy equipment up the hill, past the Grand to the row of Victorians. But I was pretty sure that scene would make the film. First, the Victorians are astonishing. We are talking multi-million dollar mansions, sitting high above a cliff overlooking the lake. They are all large – three stories. But you don't admire them for size, you admire them for architecture – the porches, the windows, the roofs. You can imagine families sitting on those porches, dressed as they did in the last century, six or eight kids, several servants, the elite of Chicago up to spend the summer away from the heat and smells – and diseases \- of the city.

But what guarantees the inclusion of the scene is what you can see looking west – the lake, the bridge, the Straits of Mackinac. There is an asphalt road that runs in front of the homes, and then a thin strip of grass before a wooden fence to keep you from falling down the cliff. Lisa filmed the women walking up the road, staring at the homes, and then gathered along the edge of the cliff, looking west. Dialogue? They would canoe through that Strait, under that bridge tomorrow. It would be beautiful. And they would be ants on one of the world's larger bodies of water.

Funny, Lisa ended the filming, happy with how things had gone, but nobody moved. Yes, this was a movie, but the lake was real, and beautiful. The sun was getting close to the horizon, and while you couldn't look right at it, it seemed impossible to not look in that general direction. More and more of the water became a mirror as the sun reflected off it.

Shontae seemed to sum things up. "Marquette was on this island for months. Who knows how many times he stood up here and looked west. He probably dreamed of going through that strait to a lake that had yet to be explored. But he followed his orders, and waited. Finally, he got his chance to go through that gate. Tomorrow we get ours."

Chapter 20

The Surprise in St Ignace

How did our final night on the island go? Really well. Jim needed a couple hours to get all his equipment packed for shipment in the morning. I used the time back in our room to get ready. Shower, hair, makeup, and my sexiest dress. Spaghetti straps, flared skirt two inches short of my knees, scoop neck that showed what he would have waiting for him after dinner, that new soft, plastic material Keisha had found for me that Jim loved to touch, sandals with three inch stilettoes. I was a walking invitation.

When he came into the room he said all the right things, and put his hands in all the right places. I wasn't sure we were actually going to leave the room, but finally he changed, even put on a tie, and we went down to the basement restaurant. Fancy place, table cloths, quiet lighting, candles on the table. We sat side by side, he held my hand, he looked at the candle light reflecting off my chest. Nice restaurant. Nice night.

We ate something or other, drank a bottle of wine, and danced. There was a piano player. Dinner music. Quiet, mostly show tunes. There was no real dance floor, but there was room near his piano, and no sign that banned dancing, so Jim took my hand after dinner, and we stood by the piano dancing. Two songs: "As Time goes by", and "You look wonderful tonight." World's best foreplay. His hands never left me as we climbed the stairs up to our room. Back to that soft, soft bed and my hard, hard man. What a night.

The morning consisted mostly of me climbing all over him in the bed, in the shower, all over the room as we dressed and packed. I was unbelievable annoying as he packed. And he was unbelievably patient. Good man.

What's left? Breakfast, lots of equipment and luggage getting loaded on the ferry, a short ride back to St Ignace with my thigh pressed up against Jim's leg, and his arm around me. A longer ride would have been nice.

And then there was a surprise. There were half a dozen people waiting for us. Not local officials prompted by our publicity people. Friends. Two women and a man had driven down from Marquette to see Kat, and three had crossed the bridge from Lower Michigan, two women to see Imelda, and a man to see Jane. The people from Lower Michigan had been in contact with the actors, and so the meetings had been arranged. But Kat was completely surprised by the people from Marquette. They had seen something on Face Book, saw Kat's name, and just wanted to say "hello." They had served under her years earlier.

The publicists went crazy, taking pictures, having people sign releases, getting quotations. They were annoying, but I don't think anyone minded too much. Within ten minutes the publicists had done what they wanted to do, and were huddled together planning what to do next. Meanwhile, Lisa didn't pressure the visitors. She let them stand and talk. She even pointed everyone to a restaurant across from the landing, and invited them all to lunch.

I never got lunch. I had three groups of people I needed to deal with. I didn't see any RVs, hmm. But my charter captain was here. He was in a marina a few blocks away. I spent over an hour with him. We looked at charts and at weather maps. What did he look like? Sanderson (his first name was Tom, but everyone seemed to call him by his last name) was pushing sixty. Just under six feet, large belly, thick gray hair, deeply tanned skin, and maybe the biggest hands I have ever seen. He wanted to come across as a "people person," after all, he sold fishing charters for a living, but you got the impression he rationed his smiles. He didn't object to anything I said, but he was hard pressed to say anything good. It seemed his view of the world was if the sun shone, that just meant it wasn't raining yet.

The main problem he wanted me to be aware of? I had chartered him for a week. He thought it really unlikely canoeists would be to Washington Island in a week, much less Green Bay.

"I understand these are young women, and they have all served their country. I thank them for their service. I assume they are in good shape. But unless they were on the Olympic team, they are going to have trouble doing more than twenty miles a day. And that assumes storms don't keep them out of the water, and we don't have westerlies that pound them in the face all day. Washington Island is one fifty. Green Bay is another hundred."

"Okay." I said. "I understand that's a problem. But I have a bigger one. You know we want to put cameras on your boat. It will give us good footage from an interesting angle. But I also want you for a rescue boat. I look at that stretch from Fairport to Washington Island, and all I see is open water."

"Death's doorway."

"I want them across safely."

"They will be invisible to any container ship or ore boat coming out of Green Bay. That's your real danger."

"I am assuming that even if the canoes are invisible on radar, ships can see you."

"They can see me, but ships that size can't stop, and they can barely turn. If we get in their way, we are going to die."

"Then how do we stay out of their way?"

"We use my radar to see when trouble is coming. And we island hop. We are traveling along the Niagara Escarpment. Some of it is below water, some above. Some of the land above the water is big enough to have a name. Much of it is just rocks. Ships know where the rocks aren't, and that's where they go. We cross those routes very carefully. We wait by the rocks until it is safe to cross to the next rocks."

"And you will do that for us."

"Yes, but not in a week. Figure ten days minimum for this charter, and you would be much safer taking it for two weeks."

"Sold." I held out my hand and watched it disappear in his. I told him to expect at least one camera crew and all their equipment yet that afternoon. I shook his hand again, and went looking for anyone and everyone.

They were still all sitting in the restaurant, basically killing time until my RVs showed up. And, as luck would have it, the first of them came down the hill to the marina area just then. There was on-street parking, and surprisingly a number of open spots. So I just waved the first RV down and pointed to a parking spot. Once he parked, the rest settled close, sort of like ducklings.

What do I say about the next hour? I could call it controlled chaos, but I am not sure how much control I really had. We had forty people to get into fourteen RVs, two trucks (wardrobe and equipment), and one boat, plus we still had my car and Kat's van. Plus there weren't enough parking spots, so a few RVs parked around the corner, and one just seemed to circle the block over and over. Of course the drivers had their own problems. They needed to get home. Two minivans had followed along, but that meant those two drivers plus fourteen RV drivers in two vehicles. We ended up solving two problems. I gave them my keys and told them to drop my car at my hotel in Green Bay. They would have a problem with crowding once they left Green Bay, but they would be much more comfortable until then. Could I trust them with my car? They were trusting us with fourteen RVs. I figured we were safe trusting them with one fairly old Toyota.

While all this was going on, my kitchen crew was waiting patiently. Four women, all early twenties. All of them gave me names, and then work histories. Two were a year out of UW Stout's culinary school. Two had come up through the cooking program at the Green Bay Technical College. Okay. Skills. Simple question – we will be camping over the next hill tonight. What do you want to cook? I got four answers. All of them seemed reasonable, so I just pointed, "You tonight, you tomorrow, you the night after, and you the night after that. Find an IGA or Walmart, get food for at least a week, also buy at least one gas grill and enough paper plates and cups for two weeks." I gave the closest woman a credit card and told them they needed to be cooking in the campground by six. Their RV took off pretty fast.

Lisa was busy too. She had a list of who traveled with whom. She pointed to RVs and people went there, luggage rolling behind them. Eventually everyone was somewhere, and based on the blinking lights and engine noises, it appeared all drivers were getting an orientation.

So, we were almost ready to go, except the actors seemed immobile. All of them were standing outside the restaurant with the six visitors. Or did I miscount? It looked like several more had joined them. And then one more woman ran up, to be received by hugs and tears. I was watching a reunion. Okay. No rush. It was barely two thirty. The campground was maybe three miles away, and I know Lisa wanted to get a shot of the women pitching their tent and setting up camp, but all that could wait. We had time for this.

Lisa and Jim walked up to me. Which got me thinking. Where am I sleeping tonight? But Lisa had other things on her mind.

"I hadn't expected this." She was looking over at the actors. "The publicists are supposed to draw a crowd, but it is usually star struck girls. These are people they served with."

"I like it," I said. "And we have time for this. Why not get everyone else over to the camp grounds. They'll need time to get settled anyway. Leave me an RV, and I'll get them over in time for dinner."

"I'll leave you an RV and Jim." Lisa was staring at me, waiting for a response. "But that doesn't mean he gets you every night." To emphasize that point, she wrapped her arms around me, bent me backwards, and kissed me as hard as I have ever been kissed. She held me like that for a minute. I looked up and smiled.

"Do that again when we are on the red carpet."

"I'll do it lots of times between now and then." She pulled me back up, walked to an RV, and led the parade out of town. Soon it was just Jim and me standing on one side of the street, the growing reunion opposite us.

"I kiss better than she does." He had moved closer, and now had an arm around me.

"You are very good. But so is she. If either of you really wanted me, I think I would have a hard time choosing."

"We both want you."

"You both want me from time to time. And those are good times. But neither of you will marry me, and neither of you will hold still long enough for me to just take possession of your bed. But." I turned into him, put my palms on his chest, and rose up on my toes so my eyes were almost even with his. "I love you with all my heart. You make me feel so good I can hardly believe it. I'll take whatever you can give me – weeks, days, or hours." I kissed him of course, and was happy to feel his arms slide across my back and pull me tight against him.

There was a park bench nearby, and we sat there for the next three hours while the Iraq reunion went on in front of us. Eventually it moved to a bar farther down the block, but Jim and I didn't move. I liked being right where I was.

Around six I thought Jim and I might have to cross over to the bar and get our actors back on the set, but Kat came out, there was about fifteen minutes of hugging outside the bar, then the visitors went to their cars, and Kat led the actors to her van and the trailer with the canoes. There is a lot to be said for working with responsible adults.

Jim and I got in the last RV and followed Kat to the campground at the park. Lisa decided not to film that night. We would just settle in. Probably just as well. The actors would sleep in a huge dome tent which they had never erected before. Spending the afternoon in a bar did not add to their tent pitching skills. Assuming there was no wind or rain, the tent might stay up, but it was a near thing. They would be better with more practice and less beer.

On the plus side, my new kitchen crew was a success with their first meal – corn on the cob and small steaks. And Jim and I had a good first night in our RV. I put on a cocktail dress and heels, and we danced in the main room. I made him dance through three songs before I let him lead me back to the bedroom. I am not hard to get, but I am worth waiting for. He certainly seemed to feel that way once he got me where he wanted me.

Chapter 21

First Day on the Water

We had some basic logistical issues to face that first day. Who would get on the boat, who would film from the trailing canoe, and who would film from shore? That was quickly settled. The real issue was this – would the women actually paddle all the way to the Mississippi, or would we just put them in at various locations so it looked like they had done the whole route? The film was probably only going to show eight or ten brief segments of them paddling, so for the film, it didn't really matter if they paddled the whole thing or not.

But I was sure it mattered to Lisa. She was determined to be authentic. No more "Hollywood bullshit". But that would come at a cost. If we just drove around and put the women in the water here and there, the filming could be done in a couple weeks. If the women actually paddled the whole thing, it would take three or four times as long, cost far more for labor and other expenses, and it would be hard to see any differences when the film hit the screen. So why even consider paddling the whole route? I was sure some of this was about publicity. She would market the film showing how hard the actors were working. There would be more stops for pictures and more receptions for local news people. But I also had to wonder, how much of this was about the last film, which got six Oscars, but not Best Picture – and not Best Director. How much paddling would be done for the voting members of the Academy?

As for the actors, while none had said they wouldn't do it, I had sensed no real enthusiasm, especially from the one person who had done the most canoeing – Kat. It was two hundred and fifty miles to Green Bay. Was that even halfway to the Mississippi? It was already September. How many weeks would this take? What would the weather be like? And what about Death's Doorway?

I sat with Kat at breakfast. The park had a nice campground. Lots of trees, picnic tables, a view of the lake and of the bridge. The cars and trucks on the bridge seemed to take forever to climb up the rise to that huge open span across the strait. I didn't think it would be fun to have my Toyota up there. I had to wonder why cars weren't blown right over the side.

Here on the ground, Kat was on her third bowl of oatmeal. I had not seen her do that before. And while she would talk to me, she was also talking to the other actresses – not about the film, but about the route. She talked to them about the wind (not much yet), the waves, the distance she wanted to keep from shore. It occurred to me I wasn't listening to my friend, Kat the fishing guide, but to Kat the army major. I hope Lisa was ready for it, but this was no longer her show – this was now Kat's show.

I asked about her intentions for the day, and Kat the major answered me.

"This will be a good day for us to assess our abilities and set some performance measures. The route is almost directly west, so we will better understand the effect of the wind. Brevort is nineteen miles away. We need to see if we can achieve that distance. And if so, how many hours does it take, and what kind of reserves do we have when we arrive? We are going to learn a lot today."

I wasn't sure how to respond. I had never talked to an army officer before. Finally I just said the obvious. "You know you don't need to do this for the movie. You could just paddle for an hour in the morning, then bring the canoes in, we load them on your trailer, and take them fifty miles down the coast."

"Those people we spent the afternoon with yesterday?" She paused. I nodded. "They have some interest in us being in a movie, but they also have some concerns. They don't know if they can trust the movie people to tell our story. What interests them more is us paddling to the Mississippi. That shows real grit. I don't want to disappoint them."

Okay, so now I got it. Major Johnson was going to get her squad to the objective. I hoped she succeeded.

Of course there was also a film to make. Lisa had everyone ready to go by eight. Jim filmed the women taking down the tent and loading the two canoes (the third was out of sight). There was an interesting moment as they put on life preservers, and each of them checked the others to ensure it was arranged correctly (a re-enactment of preparation for a patrol?), then they boarded their canoes (much more expertly than they had just three days before), pushed off, and started paddling.

Back at the campground, people started moving pretty fast. Jim and two others got into the third canoe so they could trail and film the others. There was also a shore team that filmed as the canoes covered the first hundred yards or so, and then they and Lisa loaded everything into an RV and drove out of the campground, looking for the next location to film. The third camera would go in the boat still back in the marina. The others? Some packed up, some sat eating breakfast, several had computers in hand, pounding out the latest press releases. Everyone was busy. So was I. I drove the camera guys to the marina.

I was pleased to see that Sanderson already had his engines fired up when we got to the marina. There were three guys with the bags of camera equipment. There was some back and forth with Sanderson about where best to put the camera, but they got that settled quickly, and Sanderson was already backing out of the marina while they set up.

I drove back to the campground. Most of the RVs were already gone, as was the equipment truck. I helped the kitchen crew clean up, and then sent them off to Brevort. They were to find some place near the water where they could park and serve lunch and dinner.

Meanwhile, I did what I would end up doing most mornings for the next month. I needed to guess how far the canoes would get, and then make arrangements. The six actors could beach lots of places, and even just pitch a tent on the sand. But you couldn't just park fourteen RVs and two trucks alongside the road. I needed a place for them to park, preferably within a few miles of the canoes. But how far can canoes go? Was Sanderson right about twenty miles? Kat might surprise him. But storms or high winds might surprise her. So I spent an hour that morning, and most mornings, hoping I could get one or two bars on my phone so I could search the web for possible places to camp. Sometimes I got a lead, sometimes I didn't. Often, as it was that morning, it was easiest to just drive out twenty miles or so and see what was around.

As it turned out, Brevort had a small dock and several adjacent parking lots. So we would have a place for our RVs. My kitchen crew was already there. There was a sand beach maybe a hundred yards farther west, so that looked like a good place for the women to beach their canoes and set up their tent.

Now what? Now we waited. Gradually the other RVs and trucks arrived and parked near mine. The publicity people sat around on the dock enjoying the sun. It really was a nice day. And the water went on forever. This was the northern edge of Lake Michigan. Two hundred miles to the south was Chicago. Father Marquette had paddled a canoe all the way down there the year after his discovery of the Mississippi. And the following spring he had died there. I couldn't imagine even taking a motor boat that far.

I spent a little time with the kitchen crew, but I sensed pretty quickly I was just getting in their way. These people were trained cooks. They could make lunch and dinner without me. So I spent the afternoon sitting out on the dock, watching the waters to the east. Nineteen miles. Could they make it this far in a day? If not, would they give up on the project and just pretend to canoe the route?

About three o'clock I saw the boat first. It was maybe a hundred yards off shore, and moving very slowly. I looked closer to shore and finally saw the canoes. I stood and waved, and suddenly I could hear the women. They yelled, cheered, and one even waved a paddle. It was still too distant to make out faces, but I could certainly hear their happiness. They had made it. Or at least they would make it in just a few more minutes. Those who had been waiting around the dock area joined me at the end of the pier, and we cheered the canoes in.

What was highlighted for me as they beached their canoes near the pier, was not just that they had made it, and made it fairly early, but they looked good. They weren't slumped over in their seats, grateful to have arrived. They were sitting up, yelling to people on shore, obviously having a great time. They all needed a bathroom, so they quickly went into the nearest RVs, but once back by the canoes, they accepted a water bottle from the kitchen ladies, and well, bragged about the trip. They had made really good time, they had taken short breaks and twenty minutes for lunch, but basically, they just paddled. The wind wasn't bad, the waves weren't bad, the shore line was interesting, they had waved to some people they had seen, the day had been much better than they had expected.

Lisa let them talk, but you could see she was already looking around for a place for them to land – on camera – and set up their tent. I pointed out the shoreline to the west, and she began setting out the cameras. Half an hour later, they were ready for the canoes. Everyone got back in their canoes, backed away from the pier, and paddled the last hundred yards to the camping spot. The women didn't even break stride. They beached their canoes, pulled out their camping gear, and pitched that huge dome tent. Within an hour they even had a driftwood campfire going.

Lisa called it a wrap, and everyone came to the kitchen RV for food, and to hear more about the first day. The village had a few picnic tables near the dock, and we filled them all. What did we hear? Not much more than we had already been told. What I heard was pride.

Gradually people broke into groups. Lisa and the technicians went into the video truck to look at the day's footage. They had to decided how good the film was, and whether to continue the three camera approach, or try something different. The publicity people discussed what would be said on what venue. Since it appeared the women would be able to paddle the whole route, they started an ejournal of their route and accomplishments, and of course continued standard press releases plus all the social media outlets.

Several of us walked back to the tent and campfire of the canoeists. The sun was getting low, but there was still enough light so Kat could share a map, showing the other actors the ground they had covered so far. Each of them wanted to hold the map and look at it. Then they wanted to talk about the next day. They had done nineteen miles. Could they do twenty? Twenty two? The next little town was Naubinway, twenty two miles due west. That would be a good place to meet back up with the RVs. Why not make that the destination?

I did notice that when the sun hit the horizon, the campfire got a lot quieter. I guessed they would be in their tent sleeping soon. I walked the shoreline back to my RV while there was still light to see.

If the actors were tired, I guessed Jim would be too. Between paddling his canoe and filming the actors, he had every reason to be tired. Too bad. As I got into our RV he was just coming out of the shower. He had pretty big shoulders and arms to begin with. A day paddling a canoe, and his biceps bulged. I had my clothes off as fast as humanly possible and put on my most revealing satin nightgown. If there was a flicker of energy left in the man, I wanted it used on me. I got my wish. When he was done, I let him roll off me, but I spent the rest of the night tight against him, face to face, my hand sliding along his upper and arm and shoulder. I think I was massaging his muscles. Maybe I was just enjoying myself. He did wake up twice to kiss me, so he must have liked what I was doing.

Chapter 22

A Hundred Miles to Death's Doorway

It took five days to cover the hundred miles to Fairport. Five days paddling canoes out on a huge lake. How hard was that? Well, I was sharing my bed with one of the canoeists, so I had a pretty good idea. Morning would come, he would move, and he would groan. He was stiff every morning, (and not in a way I liked). The aim was to be on the water by eight. My kitchen crew did a great job feeding everyone by seven thirty, but then people needed to set up cameras and mics, and get the camera canoe launched, while the actors took down their tent and got their gear in their canoes. In short, people were pretty busy. And tired. And stiff. And cranky. The actors were wearing hats now, not just to protect themselves from the sun, but to hold down hair they no longer had time to mess with.

The second night I had a talk with Jim about his work. He was still paddling the entire route. Why? He could go out for an hour or so each day, get some footage against whatever background he found attractive, and then beach his canoe. There was no real need for him to follow the actors the entire way. His response? "I want to do it." Yes, he wanted to make a movie, but now he also wanted to paddle the route to the Mississippi. He seemed as determined as Kat and the others. Stiff back or not, he had decided he was doing it.

If I sat with Kat in the evening, that also seemed to be what I heard from her and the others. Determination. Were they tired and sore? Yes. Were they going all the way? Yes. So each day they went out and did their twenty miles. Some days there was more wind, some days less, but each day they did twenty miles. I massaged Jim's shoulders and watched the canoes move west on the map.

High point of that stretch? Manistique. Pretty little town. Small marina, several restaurants, neat and tidy. It is also just a few miles from the Seul Chax Point Lighthouse. Jim was really excited about the visuals as they paddled past it. And there were tourists on the grounds who waved. The light was right, the colors good, Jim was pretty confident footage he took from the water would make it into the film.

The publicity people were more excited by the town. Social media had become aware of the film. We got our RV caravan into the parking lots near the marina about noon. There were already about a dozen people waiting. By the time the canoes arrived around three, there must have been forty people there to greet them. And these were not local officials. There had been no meet and greet planned. These were mostly Iraq veterans, mostly women. Some of them the actors knew. Most they didn't. But people had seen something on Facebook or gotten an email from a friend, and here they were.

The three canoes beached near the marina, and the women walked up to the reception. Obviously, this was a surprise to them. They were happy, but you could see they were also a bit concerned about their looks. They were all sweaty, their hair was everywhere, they were all wearing shorts and t-shirts, and all their clothing was wet from being splashed by paddles or larger waves. Imagine you look about as bad as you ever did, and suddenly company comes to call. But still, how many times do you walk into a group of forty people who have driven long distances and waited for hours just to say "hi"? There were hugs all around.

The kitchen crew had already been to the Manistique IGA, so their RV was full. I helped them set up a couple tables and while they brought out snacks, I served beer and wine. Michigan might be one of the few states where I don't have a bartender's license, but I didn't think anyone would mind. The reception was now a party.

It was fun watching people interact. The actors all had matching Mackinac Island hats, so you could pick them out in the crowd. And all of them had a circle of people around them. Kat had the biggest group (two carloads had come down from Houghton), but all had people to talk with. Mostly, it seemed to be our actors describing what they were doing, but often it was visitors catching up. Do you remember so and so from our unit? What do you hear from X? Y is looking forward to talking with you when you get to Green Bay. You know, friends sharing.

Lisa also had a few people around her, as did several of the staff. Not everyone at the reception was an Iraq veteran. Some were just curious. They saw something in social media, or they just saw fourteen RVs parked in their town and wondered what was going on. Lisa was happy to explain the project, and of course the publicists were happy to take pictures of the crowd. Maybe there would be other receptions. Maybe there would be additional "buzz." And of course that is what publicists get paid for.

People can only stand so long, so by six some people were already drifting off. Kids at home, long drive, work in the morning. You know, the usual. But about half the group stayed. They even helped the actors pitch their tent and gathered driftwood for a campfire. Our kitchen crew made a huge pot of chili, and fed everyone. I kept the wine flowing, but made sure everyone also had lots of water. You spend a day paddling a canoe, and you know a whole new level of thirst.

About sunset I walked down to the campfire with a twelve pack of water bottles and two bottles of chardonnay. There were still five or six visitors sitting with the actors. All women, and apparently all veterans. I passed out water and shared the wine, and sat down. They were in the middle of a conversation.

"Parents. I am such an idiot." This woman looked late twenties, and sat nearest Angelica. I had the impression they had been in the same unit. "The comms were so good. I must have called every other day when I first got to my FOB. We even facetimed. Then one day they tried to call me, and all communications were blocked. You know, the forty eight hour rule." From nods around the fire, it was clear everyone knew the rule. "Finally the lines are open again and I call. They want to know why they couldn't get through, and without giving it any thought, I say, the forty eight hour rule. If someone is killed, all communication back to the states is cut off, so next of kin will be notified by a chaplain, not hear it in the grocery story from someone who means well, but walks up and says, 'I am so sorry for your loss.' Well, my folks just about flip. From that day on, any day I don't call is a day someone died, and that someone was probably me." There is some laughter, but also lots of nods.

"I bet every one of us had the same experience." Shontae is talking now. It is interesting looking at these women in the firelight. There's more color, more definition to their facial expressions. Shontae's hair looks huge. "You have the three day leave before you get on the plane. Mom cries. Mom cries a lot. But it's dad who is broken inside. His princess is walking away wearing camo and carrying a rifle. You can see pain like you have never seen before."

There was a pause, and then it seemed they decided to change directions. Worst food on base. Taco Bell. Suddenly every woman had a story to tell. I listened for a while, and then backed away. I almost tripped over Melissa. She was sitting about ten feet back from the circle around the fire. She had a tablet on her knees, and her thumbs were racing. I didn't interrupt her, but I thought I would ask later – how much privacy was she giving our actors? How much did she let them decide what dialogue got included?

We liked Manistique, and ended up staying there two nights. We might have continued following the canoes, parking our RVs in whatever the next town was, but when I did my Google search for Fairport, I found a town I didn't think Lisa would want in her film. I showed her what I had found, and she agreed. We would have them paddle to the town, but they wouldn't camp there. We would give them a night in RVs back here in Manistique.

I don't like Confederate flags. I am from Wisconsin. Our boys were killed by men with that flag. Google showed one Facebook page for Fairport. It showed a small cabin with a huge Confederate flag. We were about to send two Black women who had served their country to a place that celebrated slavery. No chance we would spend the night in the town or spend a dime there.

I think it worked out for the best. When they reached the town, we sent down an RV and Kat's van with the trailer. While everyone was loading their stuff, Jim got some footage of their water front. Basically it was a junk yard. Good place to get in your rear view mirror. Instead of Fairport, we all had dinner at a good Italian restaurant in Manistique. And yes, there was an open bar. We had lots to celebrate. The women had paddled one hundred and fifty miles in seven days. And Jim said he had gotten great footage. The film was going to be a visual explosion on the large screen. I helped Jim have a more personal celebration back in our RV.

Chapter 23

Death's Doorway

It was a forty mile drive back to Fairport to put the canoes in and make the crossing. I had two bars back in Manistique and had done lots of checking on weather conditions. You know a place is special when the National Weather Service has a specific forecast for the crossing. And NOAA has a "Data Buoy" off Fairport. Lots of commercial traffic comes through Death's Doorway and weather conditions matter. So far, what I saw looked favorable. Ten knot winds and one foot waves. So far. But as you can tell, I was nervous.

Sanderson had his boat docked at the end of a very rickety Fairport pier. He waited in his boat for us to arrive, and also waited while the boat camera crew boarded, then he came down to the beach where the canoes were being off loaded. If I was nervous, he was more so. He stood and waited until the canoes were ready to launch, and then he motioned for everyone to gather around him.

"The Weather Service says we should have a good day. The winds should be fine this morning, but they will increase slightly this afternoon. They say one foot waves. I think we will see two feet, but that's still better than it could be. You know the geography of the crossing. This is the Niagara Escarpment, or ridge. You will follow it all the way to Oshkosh. From here to the Door Peninsula, some of the ridge is above water – like the islands you can see." He pointed south to a large round island. "Some of the ridge is below water, but not very far. Light houses show the places where it is safe for commercial vessels to pass over the ridge. With me so far?" Heads nodded.

"There are three places where bigger ships go through the islands. We should not have problems with them elsewhere, but we have to be really careful when we are crossing those three places. You are so small and low in the water, they will never see you on radar. Even if they did, they can't stop. You get in their way, and you will be run over. So we need to make sure you don't get in their way. This last week, I stayed alongside you. If you went, I went. If you stopped, I stopped. Today it changes. If I stop, you stop. If I go, you go. I have radar. I can see the ships coming before you do. I need you to trust me, and stay with me. Okay?"

"Can we stay on the windward side of the escarpment?" Jim asked. "It will put the sun over our right shoulders as we film. We should get better footage that way."

"Yes, we'll stay on the west side, and if you like, we can keep the arrangement we have used this last week – the actors closest to the islands, you a bit farther out, me out another twenty or thirty yards. Okay?"

"This is twenty miles across?" Kat asked.

"Twenty miles to Washington Island, then several miles more to NorthPort and the actual peninsula. It was my understanding you wanted to stop on Washington Island."

"Yes." This from Lisa. "We thought twenty miles was plenty, and there is a campground on the island where we thought they could rest up." (I had called over yesterday and reserved several spots).

"Yes, twenty miles will be plenty." He stopped and looked at everyone. "Ready?"

"Give us ten to shoot this scene, and we will meet you out there." Jim positioned the shore camera and loaded his canoe for the off-shore filming. He pushed off and waited about twenty feet off shore. Lisa had them rehearse their lines, and then got out of the way.

"What do you say, first sergeant." Angelica's line.

"I say with your big ass on the back of this canoe, and my elegant ass on the back of that canoe, we should be perfectly safe. I don't care what they call this water. We are prepared, we are ready, we will be drinking beer on Washington Island by three." Kat walked to her canoe and everyone loaded up. The one visual that was different from every other morning? Every woman was looking across the water. You ever want to see determination? That's what you saw on six faces.

And off they went. Jim's canoe is backing away so he can film them coming away from the shore. Sanderson's boat is slowly backing away from the pier. All cameras are rolling. I'm guessing Lisa will make this crossing a major part of the film.

But I can't watch more than a few minutes of it. All of us have some serious driving to do. This launch point is at the end of a long peninsula. We have to drive back north along small rural roads to get to Highway 2, and then we have to go all around Big Bay de Noc to Escanaba, and then Marinette, basically driving down the west shore of Green Bay to the city of Green Bay, before driving back up the eastern shore of Green Bay – the Door Peninsula. I figured six hours easy, and that was before we took a car ferry across to Washington Island. I had work to do, as did all the other drivers.

Most of the drive was through woods, but there were some miles along the water, and I drove with one eye on the waves. One foot waves. The National Weather Service said so. Hopefully they were right. At least they were right so far about the weather. The sky was cloudless. So far, so good.

Our drive was uneventful. Six hours and thirty five minutes. It was the arrival that was a problem. At the very tip of the Door Peninsula is a car ferry. I had seen pictures on their website. Big boat. But not big enough for fourteen RVs, two trucks, and Kat's van. Well, maybe in three or four trips, but why take everything over there for just one night? So we parked in a field outside NorthPort and Lisa consolidated rides. We would take six RVs over. People grabbed an overnight bag and climbed aboard the six RVs that would go. Video and audio people (and Lisa) in two RVs, the kitchen RV (of course), two RVs for PR people, and me. Who did I take over? The leftover PR people (there seemed to be an endless supply), including Bunny. Guess who sat next to me the rest of the way?

Odd road leading to the ferry. It does a series of curves as if it were a snake. Just back and forth for no apparent reason. Drunk road crew? Left over asphalt? Someone's idea of art? Bunny decided it was a "serpentine sensation." Okay. Anyway, we came out of the last curve and got in line for the ferry. Lots of other cars making the crossing. Would there be room for all six RVs? Doubtful. So Lisa put us in order. Top priority? Video and audio (and Lisa). Second? Food. Third? PR. Last? Me. Okay. That made sense.

As it worked out, four RVs made the first load. If they were in time, the video crew could get the canoes landing. The kitchen crew would also be able to feed them, and a bunch of PR people would inform the social media world of the arrival. Meanwhile, I waited in line for the next ferry. Bunny was telling me one more time how excited she was to be part of this project, when I got out of the RV and walked to the edge of the water. Were those one foot waves or two? There's no escaping Bunny. She was soon standing next to me, telling me the waves were "an army marching before the wind." And the wall of clouds we could see building to the west were "fluffed pillows of menace." Thanks, thesaurus girl.

It took an hour for the ferry to make the round trip. I don't know how you measure waves. It's not like you can stand out there with a yardstick, but I was pretty sure they were now well over one foot. Even the huge ferry rolled a bit as we crossed to Washington Island. Bunny decided we had reached a "stable sanctuary" when we docked. I just hit the gas and followed the coast road along the western shore to the place we had rented. It was one of those old, classic motels made up of a dozen or so small cabins. We could camp there, we could park there, we could sleep in those ancient cabins. They were happy to have our business.

At the moment, I just wanted to park. I found a spot near one of the cabins, and then ran to the water's edge. And at least a dozen people yelled at me – "they're just around the bend. Get out of the shot." Okay. Stupid move. I looked around, saw where the camera was, and quickly got behind it. They were close, which meant they were safe. I could wait.

You have certainly seen their landing in the film. But by then you have also seen what happened out on the water. I had no idea what had gone on, so I didn't expect what I saw. They had left Fairport determined. They arrived at Washington Island like they had been at sea a week. Wet, exhausted, it took the last of their energy to paddle into the small lagoon that fronted the resort, and once they hit the shore, they just sat, heads bowed, shoulders slumped, paddles dropping from their hands. It was so hard not to run down there and help them get up and out of those canoes. But we couldn't. So we waited.

Finally it was Angelica who moved. She was in the back of her canoe, but she got out into about three feet of water, pushed the canoe farther up on shore, then climbed up onto the grass, dropped to her knees and kissed the ground. She was back up in a minute, and shook her fist back at the water. "Not this time, you bastard. Not this time."

That was far enough over the top that the others looked up and smiled. I think Imelda even laughed. Certainly the mood shifted. The others got out of their canoes, and both were pulled farther up on the grass. They all came together around Angelica and hugged. I thought I saw Kat staggering as she gathered with the others. Maybe forty five was past the age for challenging Death's Doorway.

They stood in a big knot, hugging for a long time, not saying a word. And then they broke up, and we began to see the depth of their problem. They started pulling their camping gear out of the canoes. Water ran off every item. Tent, sleeping bags, duffels, all soaked. They threw everything in a pile, and then worked together to roll the canoes over. Water surged out. It had to have been several inches deep in the first canoe. Kat's canoe was worse. It took all six of them to get one side up so they could roll it over and get the water out. They must have been just an inch or two from swamping. How far had they paddled like that?

The cooler had survived the trip. They dragged that a few feet up the slope, and then dropped down next to it. Angelica reached in and pulled out water bottles for each of them. The camera crew moved closer, and the audio guys hung a mic on a pole. They were just in position when Angelica said, "The next time someone says, 'one foot waves,' I'm going to punch his lights out."

"It was my fault for taking a header when my hat flew off." Shontae's pile of black straw was coming off her head in every possible angle.

"The fault was mine." Kat might have been exhausted, but she put some energy into that claim. "I needed for us to wait longer after that container ship passed. I should have expected the wake to go on as long as it did."

"We're not doing blame today. No sir." Angelica reached into the cooler again, and this time came out with a wine bottle. She screwed off the top, took a long pull, and passed it to Shontae. "A wind came out of nowhere. Shit happened. We pulled those stupid canoes together, held them together even in those waves, and got you back on board. You lost your hat, and your hair looks like hell, but we showed what a squad can do when it has its shit together. Your hair really does look like hell, by the way."

"I don't think any of us look real good. And enough with these hats." Imelda took hers off. A wet clump of hair immediately fell over half her face. She looked terrible, as did the others as they took their hats off. They looked at each other, pointed, and laughed.

"Here's to us." Jane had the bottle. She held it up with one hand, while the other hand struggled to get a wet strand of hair away from her mouth. "Shit happened, and we dealt with it."

"Amen."

Angelica started a second bottle around, and the conversation turned to who had the worst looking hair. Meanwhile, I was watching for canoe number three. Where was Jim? The women had finished the second bottle of wine and had started pulling clothes out of their duffels so they could spread them on the grass to dry in the sun. Finally Jim's canoe arrived. Lisa called an end to filming, and every person there gathered around the actors, applauding, and offering them dry clothes. The women immediately accepted and walked to the RVs to change.

Lisa and I walked down to the water to pull Jim's canoe on shore. He was every bit as wet as the actors, a fact I saw the PR people immediately get on camera. If anyone had earned another Oscar for cinematography, we were looking at the guy. But the man who got out of that canoe didn't look ready for an acceptance speech. He carefully handed his camera to one of the men on shore, and then put one arm around Lisa, and one arm around me.

"That was so close. When Shontae went in, both Sanderson and I started towards the canoes. We even shouted that we were on the way. But Kat handled it. She never looked at us. She just shouted as if she was talking to her people, 'We can do this. We need to link our canoes together so she has a stable platform, and then we can pull her in without pulling the canoe over.' And they did. It was amazing. That fucking container ship left a wake a mile long, and the wind came up, but the women did it. You could do a training tape on what they did. And they still had another four or five miles to paddle. Wait til you see the film. They were amazing."

"Let's get you dry." I took his hand and pulled him up to our RV. I got his wet clothes off. And then I got my dress off. And I got him warm.

Chapter 24

Door Peninsula has a Surprise

That sorry old motel had a small dining room. We used it. My kitchen crew did miracles out in their RV, and we had a feast. Steaks, baked beans, French bread, and all the beer and wine anyone wanted. Lisa did a great job of not turning the dinner into a banquet with speeches. People didn't want speeches. They wanted a moment with any of the people who had spent the day on those canoes. Over the course of the evening I had a chance to hug three of the women. Things were winding down when I finally got to Kat.

"You got them home, first sergeant." I had my arms wrapped around her, and I rose up on my toes to kiss her on the mouth.

"I got them home pretty wet."

"You got them home." I kissed her again. Then I went looking for Jim. I had sat tight against him all through dinner, but at some point he had gone to talk to the men from the other cameras. When I found him, he was with the guys from Sanderson's boat. All I heard was "we had an angle you will love. We got it all." That seemed to be what Jim wanted to hear. I took his hand and started pulling him away. I didn't have to pull too hard. He was as close to exhaustion as I had seen. My hand in his, back to the RV.

We had four other camera guys bunking with us for the night. One got the couch, one got the floor, two got the bunk beds in the second bedroom. I got Jim. I undressed him and pushed him onto his back. Then I put on my best satin nightgown and climbed on. I held him. I kissed him. I told him how much I loved him while I watched him fall asleep. I kept my arms tight around him, my face next to his, and my satin covered chest sliding against his as we breathed. I wanted that man. I had that man. I held that man. I held him tight.

There was a line outside our bathroom in the morning, so I stayed in bed while Jim and the others got going. Another day in canoes. Depending on when we got to the ferry, I might see them crossing to the peninsula. But my job at the moment was to stay out of the way.

I did get out of my RV in time to see them off, me and a line of other women, standing behind the shore camera crew, all of us in sundresses, the publicists taking notes on tablets or taking pictures with their phones. More content for the ejournal. More images for social media. Had the film gone viral yet? I guess we would know when we got to Green Bay. We watched the canoes disappear along the shore, and then went off to do what we needed to do.

Me? I needed a cup of coffee. The kitchen crew even poured it for me. Two more days and we would be in Green Bay, and they would be back to their regular job. It was a beautiful morning, and we stood talking for a while. They wanted me to know how glad they were to have helped with the film. I wanted them to know how pleased I was with their work. I really was.

Back at the RV, I started loading people again. Once again, Bunny took the captain's chair next to me. I waited for her to announce the morning was "magnificent with splendor" or something, but she seemed content this morning to just look out the window and smile. I got my requisite half dozen publicists on board and drove for the ferry landing.

The water was like glass that morning. I guessed it was about two miles from the island to the peninsula, maybe three. We would have a smooth ride on the ferry, and more importantly, the canoes would have an easy crossing of this last gap. I was able to pull right onto the ferry. I got out and stood by the side as we crossed. It was hard to see the canoes, but I could see Sanderson's boat. They were already about a quarter of the way across. Good for them.

I only had a short drive that day. First stop, the field outside Northport. All my riders got out and returned to their usual RV. All my riders except Bunny. She thought it would be fun to ride with me. Just "fun," not an "opportunity fraught with meaning?" Okay. I didn't mind if she hitched a ride to the park. Our goal for the day was Peninsula State Park. It was about twenty five miles down the peninsula, and it was huge. It had one camping area dedicated to canoes and kayaks. Getting there was an easy drive that took us through three resort communities – Ellison Bay, Sister Bay, and Ephraim. As you can tell by the names, the western side (or "bay side") of the peninsula had a series of small bays that had initially held fishing villages. Now they held small hotels and the usual collection of restaurants, antique stores, and t-shirt shops.

We had all the time in the world to get to the park, so I stopped in Sister Bay. They have a very attractive marina, and right across from it is a famous Swedish restaurant, complete with a grass roof. Goats stand up there and stare down at the tourists. Bunny and I walked through the town, stopped at several shops, and bought coffee to sit and drink under the trees by their very large beach. I liked the place. I imagined sitting right where we were when the canoes went past at the far end of the bay. But it would be hours before they made it this far south.

Eventually we got back in the RV and drove the last few miles to the park. It is a huge place, taking up a major area between two of these little tourist villages – Ephraim and Fish Creek. You enter at Fish Creek, and then drive forever along the shore. The park is heavily wooded, so you are looking out at the water through trees and under trees. I could see why the place was popular. Even in September and midweek, I had been lucky to get last minute reservations.

Our camping spot was near the water. I parked and got up to go look around. But Bunny stopped me. She stood with me and put her hands by my face.

"I have been looking at your earrings all morning. They really are cute." She put a hand behind each earlobe, looked at the earrings, and then looked straight at me. She paused, and then one hand slid behind my head, the other slid behind my shoulders, and she kissed me. Interesting kiss. She didn't mash her mouth into mine. But it was a good solid kiss, and she held it. While her mouth was on mine, both her hands were moving, one farther up behind my head, and the other tighter across my back.

I put my hands on her waist. She was about my size, and no athlete, so I assumed I could push her off if I wished. For the moment, I just stood there for her kiss. Then I noticed I was moving backward. In an RV this size, back any more than five or six steps, and you are in the bedroom. And pretty quickly I was in the bedroom and on my bed. My hands were still on her waist. Any time I wished to push her off, I was pretty sure I could. If I wished.

Her mouth never left mine, and now the hand that had been around my shoulders was down by my thighs. Her knees pushed my legs apart and that hand went up under my skirt. If I was going to push her off, now would have been the time. When her hand has slid all the way up my leg and slipped inside my panties, she raised her head. Now was the time to talk?

"Lisa says she is very sorry she has not been able to spend much time with you."

"And you're her relief pitcher?"

"No, I have wanted to be with you ever since I saw you in the Oregon film. But I wanted you to know I have Lisa's permission."

"Do you have mine?"

"That's what I am trying to find out." End of conversation. Her mouth went back on mine, and her hand... Well, her hand did just fine. My hands unzipped her dress and held her tight. Twenty minutes later, she had my permission to stay.

We had a long afternoon together. Eventually we both got undressed, slid into a pair of my nightgowns, and got under the covers. She seemed determined to be on top. I could live with that. We wrestled around pretty good, and had our hands pretty much everywhere. And I did like the way she kissed. She seemed to like my breasts.

As three o'clock approached we knew we were going to have to end this. But she didn't just get up and leave. She pulled me into the bathroom and started working on my makeup. I let her do it, hoping I didn't end up wearing as much as she usually did. But it was really less about the makeup, and more about standing close, eye to eye, touching each other's face. I had a bathrobe hanging from the back of the door, and she took the belt off. Just like Lisa had, she tied it tight around our waists. Hips to hips, breasts to breasts, we were tight together as she worked on my hair and put eyeliner on me for the first time in months. I put lipstick on her. She pulled that belt even tighter as we kissed. I could barely breathe, but I could still kiss.

Finally we heard some noises down by the beach, so we separated. We zipped each other back into our sundresses, put on shoes, kissed again by the door, and then stepped out and crossed the campground. Surprising afternoon. Me and Bunny. Not sure what to make of it. Maybe it was best to just move on. The canoes were getting close.

She was back the next morning. The canoes had left. Our next stop would be a state park just south of Sturgeon Bay. It was a long distance for the canoes, and they might not be able to get all the way there, but it made sense for the RVs to go there. There would be room for all of us, and the canoes would reach it tomorrow if not today.

But it was only about a forty five minute drive. So I kissed my man, watched the canoes leave, and then waited while the other RVs loaded up and left. When the last publicity RV left, Bunny walked over to me. We would have a day together.

The day would start in my bedroom. She had gone into Fish Creek the night before and bought matching silk nightgowns. Yellow and orange prints reminiscent of sunrise. Very nice. And clever. Whenever I wore it, I would think of her. I put it on, and we got into my bed still warm from a night with Jim.

Here's a question. When does the test come? Your decision that this might be serious. The first time together? Probably not. The second? The third? She was lying on me, kissing me, stroking my hair, when I felt my shoulders sag. My shoulders relaxed. My hands caressed her back and ass, but they did so slowly, confident that they were in the right places at the right time. I looked up and smiled at her.

"You have my permission to come calling any time you wish."

"Thank you."

"Wrestle with me for a while, and then let's go shopping." We were all over each other for most of the morning, but then we got up, did our makeup tied together again, helped each other dress, and then drove out of the park and to the shops of Fish Creek. We spent two hours looking at stuff. Mostly what we did was walk together, stand close, put a hand on the other's arm or back, and smile. I bought two tops for my girls. She bought me a bracelet. I had a new friend.

Next stop, Sturgeon Bay and Potawatomi State park. Nice enough little town, much smaller state park. I joined the other RVs parked in a field near the beach. The camera and sound people were already set up. Bunny walked over to the other publicists to do whatever they did all day. I walked towards the camera and Lisa. She was making everyone move again. Something about the light.

As the technicians moved, Lisa stepped over to me, wrapped both arms around my lower back, and then pulled my hips tight against hers.

"Be good to her, she's more fragile than she appears."

"She is the one who does the leading."

"That can be a good way to hide your fears." Her face was just inches from mine. There was a slight rise to the lawn we were standing on. She had taken the high side, even though she was already three inches taller than me. I looked up at her, which of course was exactly what she wanted. She made me wait, and look, and feel her hands on my ass. When she was ready, she continued. "I want to spend three nights in Green Bay. Go down there tomorrow and take a load of publicists with you. Bunny knows what needs to be done. When I arrive, I will share your room."

"And Bunny?"

"Aren't you going to ask about Jim?"

"I assume he's on his own for a couple days."

"So is Bunny. It's a big hotel. Find them rooms. You are mine while we are in Green Bay. I think you'll like it." She pulled me even tighter. I put both hands on the back of her neck and lifted myself up to kiss her. She held me like that for a very long time, in full view of everyone. She was making a declaration. Marking her territory, I guess. I was fine with that. Truth is, any time she wanted me, I was hers. I just wished she wanted me more often.

When she had done what she wanted to do, she let go of me and walked to where the camera crew had moved themselves. She bent over to get a good look through the viewer, then backed up a step so the videographer could do his work. I stood where I was, the front of my dress still warm from where she had pressed against me. I was out of the way, and I had a good view down the slight hill to the beach. They would all arrive soon.

As Jim and I lay in bed that night, I explained I would be leaving for Green Bay in the morning. I would help pack his things for the two nights he would be sleeping in some other RV. I also explained the situation at the hotel.

But. Before I explained any of that, or said a word, I enjoyed my man. By this point, Jim had paddled about two hundred miles. He had also shot some scenes that would win him his second Oscar, but to get those scenes, he had to paddle. He had a good man in the bow and a better man in the stern, but the women moved right along, so if Jim wanted to keep up with them, he had to do his share of paddling. He would paddle and watch. Maybe there would be something on shore that attracted him – a particularly scenic backdrop. Maybe it was an expression he saw on the faces of the women. Maybe it was just the way the sunlight hit or the clouds moved overhead. Then he would get his canoe into position, put down his paddle, and pick up that huge video camera. He might film for a minute, or for five, but then down went the camera, and up came the paddle.

What does a man look like who has paddled a large canoe two hundred miles? Jim was pretty muscular to start with. You don't carry a video camera for years without building your shoulders. Now? The guy was a rock. He had dropped weight. Five pounds? Ten? I don't know. But he had put on muscle everywhere. He had a legitimate six pack, and biceps that drew stares (well, I know I stared). In bed, I would put my hands on his back, and well, once my hands were there, I kept them there. I would pull him on top of me, open myself to him, and go a bit crazy. Everywhere I touched was warm, and solid. And everywhere he touched me was grateful.

So even though I had lots to say, I had my priorities. Jim in my bed, Jim on me, Jim in me, Jim in my arms. Then, sometime later when I had caught my breath, we would talk. Usually he did most of the talking. I got him started – what was your favorite shot today? And off he went. I wrapped my arms around him, and my legs around him, and interrupted his talk to kiss him long and hard, but eventually he got his story out. Usually he just described a scene. He would tell me colors, and lighting, depth of field, motion of the water, on the water, over the water. Each scene was crystal clear in his memory. He would tell me, and I felt like I had been there too. People were surprised by all the awards the film won. I wasn't. I had "seen" the film through Jim's eyes, and I knew it set a new standard for beauty.

That night I did the talking. Green Bay. Lisa. Events at the hotel. I was clutching him to me while I talked. I wanted to feel his response. Hell, I just wanted to feel him.

"So she gets you three nights?" I could feel him begin to rise up off me. I clamped down with both arms and legs. He wasn't getting away from me.

"Unless you say 'no'."

"And if I say 'no'?"

"For godsake, Jim. Can you feel how tightly I am holding you? I'd rather hold you than breathe." I felt him lower himself a bit.

"How tight would you be holding her, if she were here?"

"Pretty damn tight. I love her too. I love you both. I am waiting for one of you to claim me." You know the phrase, "the silence was deafening"? I held him as tightly as any woman has ever held a man, looking up at him, waiting, hoping to hear a few simple words. I got a kiss. I got him on top of me all night. I got to hold him until morning. I didn't get the words I wanted.

I helped him pack in the morning, and then I drove to Green Bay, still unclaimed property. I had a load of publicists with me. They had lots to say. I didn't.

Chapter 25

Green Bay Preparations

I should describe my Green Bay hotel. It is small, just four floors, eighty rooms. And old. It was from that era when all business was conducted in the city center. If this were Europe, it still would be. But this was America, so most businesses had moved out to the local highway exit. The hotel was left behind.

And then things got worse. Someone had a great idea. A mall. There were small, family-run stores around the hotel. A mall would be better. The little stores were demolished, the mall was built. It was the seventies. Malls were the rage. Thirty years later, the mall was empty. Time for another great idea. What was left to salvage from the last great idea? There was the little hotel, an old movie theater, a parking ramp, and several hundred yards of frontage on the Fox River. How about adding a conference center to the old hotel, and enticing smaller stores to build along the street where the mall had been (and the same smaller stores had been thirty years earlier)? The city would upgrade the walkway along the Fox and provide tax incentives for retailers.

It took a decade, but the street that had once had small retailers, once again had small retailers. They had entrances on the street side, and entrances on the river side. A non-profit arts group took possession of the old theater and refurbished it. Now theater groups did performances almost every week. The hotel? Three companies had put in legitimate efforts to make a go of it. The conference center went in. The restaurant added a riverside bar and outdoor seating. But mostly the rooms stayed empty, and unpaid bills accumulated.

I was owner number four. The mayor called me. The arts group promised room rentals. Ten local businesses promised convention business. All that was nice, but I actually bought it because I hoped Tiffany and Ben would see the place, like the place, and learn the business. How many parents have had the same false hope? But I kept the place anyway. Besides attractive financing, I had two advantages over prior owners. I had Bobbi and Andy. We turned a profit in our second quarter.

That morning I parked the RV out front of the hotel and waited for Bunny. She looked out the window, and before I had the transmission in Park, she announced, "classic, authentic, inviting, home to a thousand stories." Okay. Not bad. I left the vehicle where it was, and led the publicists on a tour. First stop, the manager's office for introductions, then downstairs, upstairs, outdoors, into and out of the conference rooms.

Kristi Baker was the hotel manager. I let her do most of the talking. Two things I always like to hear – accuracy and pride. She quickly gave them the exact seating capacity of each room, plus the AV functionality, plus the optimal number of bartenders. When they asked about riverside events, she even gave the weather forecast for the next week. She had been my first hire from UW Stout. I heard they had a hotel management program, went to visit, and gave a short talk in a class. When the class ended, three students cornered me out in the hallway and talked my ear off. Before the year was over, I had all three in management positions.

Early afternoon, the tour ended. Bunny and the others wanted to huddle. Now that they knew what the hotel could provide, they needed to plan. I didn't know what orders Lisa had given them, but I was pretty sure we would see local media and maybe something for local veterans. They would work it out.

I went off with Kristi. As we walked to her office, I said what I needed to say.

"First, thank you for the cooks. They have been phenomenal. They had to move almost every day, find groceries as best they could, and cover three meals plus snacks. Whatever hours they claim, I'll sign."

"You have no idea what you started." Kristi said. She led the way into her office and pointed to a pair of chairs by the window. "Those four have been texting back here every day. According to them, they are now experts on film making, canoeing, and French explorers. Oh, and since the film makers will be staying here, we are now Hollywood Hotel."

"You have to love pride." We both sat and laughed. I bet some old friends at Stout were hearing about Hollywood Hotel. If so, good for her.

"What do you want me to do?" She asked.

"Everything. I have worked with Lisa Lang before. She is a director, but also a sales person. Those five women she sent here today will plan a series of events. Bring in every employee you have, and give them all the hours you need. Two days from now, this hotel will be the center of Green Bay. They will be here three days. Assume overtime for those three days. Then do something nice for your staff when it is over."

"They get to mix with Hollywood people. Everyone will be begging for hours, just so they can be here to see and be seen."

"Good. Now. What do you need from me?"

"Can you introduce me to the actors?"

"Yes." Obviously she was just as excited as her staff. Good. I left her to work out her staffing schedule. Out in the registration area, I asked for a suite facing the Fox. A young man went out to get my bags and took me up to the room. I liked it. Prior owners had done the room upgrades, and they had done a good job. It had great windows, and a great view of the Fox. The hotel was on the east side of the river, so we would have sunset views every evening. Nice. Lisa was going to be happy.

My first evening in Green Bay I spent alone. Bunny and the others were in meetings until late. I actually liked the quiet time. I called the girls and told them where I was. Tiff put Jeremy on the phone for a few minutes. I can't say it was much of a conversation, but I learned he had seen a cat. Okay. Both girls said they would be down to see me tomorrow, kids for sure, husbands maybe. That done, I walked along the Fox, window shopped at the new stores, had a glass of wine in our outdoor bar, and had some pretty good pasta in our restaurant. I was up in my suite by eight and in bed by nine.

My girls came to see me the next morning. Husbands both stayed at work, but I got to see my grandbabies. Jeremy liked running up and down the river walk. It was another beautiful day. We had been so lucky with weather. In Wisconsin, September can change in a heartbeat. But we were still getting temps in the seventies, and beautiful, warm sunshine. The girls and I stood along the river's edge while Jeremy ran around and Patti did her best to keep up. Britney was well along in her pregnancy, and we got the latest on her due date – and the gender. She would have another girl. Tiffany had Robbi in a stroller, and he was getting to the point where he would sit up and look around. Curious kid. Maybe another scientist like his dad.

We did some window shopping, not real easy when you are constantly looking for which kid has gone where. And I bought lunch at the hotel. Patti liked the fish sticks until she saw that Jeremy didn't. Nap time rules with kids that age, so we said our goodbyes right after lunch. I told them I would introduce them to the actors if they came to the reception the next night. Could they? If they could find baby sitters. That's another rule for parents with little ones. Baby sitters determine your social life.

I spent part of the afternoon with Kristi. The publicists were still making a few changes, but she had the basic agenda. She had been right about the employees – no trouble finding people to work any and all hours. I offered to help bartend if she needed me. She just smiled.

I will admit I took some time that afternoon to walk all four floors. Kristi did a great job, but just in case... So I walked all the hallways and inspected all the public areas. I couldn't find one room that needed vacuuming or any windows that needed washing. The hotel was ready.

By late afternoon I was sitting at a table along the river walk, sipping a glass of white wine and enjoying the feel of sun on my face. Bunny joined me, schedule papers in hand. She gave me one sheet and we went over it. It was busy, and it surprised me. There would be two nights of media events – no surprise there. And a third night that would be cast party, but open to their guests. The surprise was the historical connections. They had decided the conference rooms would be used. There is a Marquette University in Milwaukee. Up from there would be two historians, one to talk about the Jesuit efforts in Wisconsin, and one to specifically talk about Father Marquette. A local anthropologist would talk about Indian tribes of the period. And a geology professor would talk about the Niagara Escarpment.

Would anybody attend any of these speeches? They would be late afternoon, and refreshments would be served. I just looked at Bunny. She smiled and said, "Yes, an open bar." Okay, so the profs would have an audience.

"So why are we doing all this? How do four professors help us put butts in the seats when the film is released?" I was pretty sure Lisa would ask the same question, and in the same way.

"We show we are serious about the characters by using Iraq War veterans in the parts. We show we are serious about the journey by making the link to real history."

"So the word for tomorrow is 'serious.'"

"And the word for the Academy." She let that word hang in the air a bit. "You have to know Lisa is driven. She wants Oscars. She has something to prove to the world."

I couldn't argue with that. I knew she wanted them. I hoped she got them. I took another look at the schedule. No improvements jumped out at me. I asked if Kristi had been given a copy. Of course.

Bunny and I had a second glass of wine, and then ordered dinner. We sat right where we were. Another characteristic of Wisconsinites. If you have been buried under snow for six months, come summer, you sit in every sunbeam you can find. We ate a whitefish stew and watched the boats go by on the Fox.

When we were finished, we took a walk along the river, and then stood and watched the sunset. Bunny's hand was in mine. The next move was obvious. We went up to my suite, and straight into my bedroom. She had good hands. I liked the way she took my clothes off me. She took her time, she held me close, she whispered nice things in between kisses. We spent some time selecting nightgowns. I had a good number with me. We ended up going with long white satin. We took our time pulling them over each other, our hands sliding with the satin.

One last thing before we got into bed. Bunny got the belt from my bathrobe. She pulled it tight around our waists, tying the knot behind my back. That made it a little clumsy getting into bed, but we managed. She got on top, and stayed there. We got our arms around each other, and our thighs tight. And her mouth stayed on mine.

And eventually we fell asleep. It's a little odd being tied tight together like that. And it was tight. I don't know whether to describe it as inconvenient but sexy, or sexy but inconvenient. It makes sleep a little odd. Every time she moved, I immediately felt it, and I would wake up. I am sure the same thing happened whenever I moved. About the third time we woke each other up, I offered to untie the belt. She just said, "Leave it." And we went back to sleep.

Morning finally come. I had gotten some sleep, but I had also spent long periods staring at her in the darkness, my hips and chest tight against hers, feeling her heat. I liked it, but it was now time to get up. The knot of the belt was behind me, and largely under me. I reached around with one hand, and could no nothing with it. Bunny had her eyes open and was watching me.

"Not yet."

"When?"

"You'll know." She positioned herself directly over me. Her eyes were just above mine. Her elbows were just outside my shoulders, her hands around my face. I could feel her thighs sliding against mine. She was pressing my legs farther apart.

"I like this."

"Good." She kissed me while she pressed her thighs tighter against mine. "You know they are leaving you."

"What?"

"Jim has already taken a contract for a film in Vancouver. Lisa has tickets out of Des Moines. We arrive in the morning. She flies out that afternoon. She has editing to do. She wants this film in theaters for Christmas – and in time for the Academy to vote." Bunny was looking down at me while she said all this, watching my face for a reaction. I didn't like that. And I didn't like what she was telling me. I had hoped Lisa would at least spend a few days with me in Galena. And Jim? I had hopes for, well, for something. A few days? A trip somewhere?

I lay there looking up at Bunny. I didn't see any satisfaction in what she was telling me. I thought I saw concern. Her hands lightly slid a few hairs from my face. And she waited. She looked, she touched my face, she waited. I got the message. I didn't have them. But. If I wanted, I had her. I put my hand on the back of her head, and pulled her down to kiss her.

"I like this. Let's stay together a while yet." And that's what we did.

Chapter 26

The Circus Arrives

I had lunch at one of our outdoor tables. I wanted to enjoy the sun, but I also had a chance to see the excitement build. And I think the excitement was genuine. Obviously the publicists had been active. I was certain they were all over every social media platform. And Bunny told me the ejournal was getting a wide reading. But this didn't seem to be all PR. The river walk was already getting crowded at noon, and I saw a number of hand-drawn "welcome" signs. I think people were interested.

Kristi was back and forth a dozen times. She would walk out to the railing and look toward the harbor entrance, then she would talk with this server or that, say "Hi" to me, and then disappear inside again. There was even more motion from Bunny and the other publicists. They talked amongst themselves, they wandered through the growing crowd to see if there were "influencers" they had yet to speak with, they kept a permanent smile on their faces, and of course, they joined the hotel staff in "welcoming" every person who came near.

Me, I had a second cup of coffee and relaxed. This would be Lisa's show. My only requirement had already been taken care of by Bunny. "You aren't going to wear that!" I had put on what I thought was a very nice sun dress. "Trust me. Even this afternoon, she will want you at her side." No question who "she" was. Bunny worked her way through my closet and came out with a silk dress, half sleeves, flared skirt, an attractive print in brighter colors. It was probably more appropriate for early evening, but, fine, if "she" would want me at her side, I probably should look a bit nicer. Bunny had also worked on my makeup and insisted I wear heels. Having accomplished all that, I could sit, enjoy my coffee, and watch the crowd build.

There is a huge arched bridge over the entrance to the Fox. People kept staring off in that direction, looking for the canoes. But everyone was within cell phone range now, so we (Kristi, Bunny, and I) had been getting regular reports and knew it would be at least two more hours before the canoes arrived. What arrived first was the last of the RVs and a gaggle of technicians and yet more publicists – and Lisa. At least that gave people something to look at. Kristi brought them straight back to the river, and within minutes Lisa had the camera and microphones placed. An area was quickly taped off, and people were pretty good about standing back out of the way. They were going to see a film being made. They had their phones out to take pictures, and of course the publicists had their cameras out to take pictures of the people taking pictures. Everyone was happy.

I got off my backside and walked to where Lisa was positioning camera and sound people. I arrived at the same time as Kristi, Bunny, and several other publicists. Lisa wanted to see all the venues, so off we went, for a quick tour of the hotel. Fifteen minutes later she seemed satisfied with what she had seen.

"I should change." Okay, new agenda item. Kristi explained Lisa's bags had already been brought up to our suite (Nice move, Kristi!). Lisa asked Bunny to send up wardrobe and makeup, then took my hand and got on the elevator.

"You look nice." Apparently I also felt nice. She had her hands all over me. I leaned into her and kissed her. She kept a hand on my ass while we walked to our suite.

It's not easy being seductive in just two minutes. That's about as much time as we had before the staff arrived and went to work on her. But Lisa used the time well. There was the obvious request that I unzip her sundress. She kept her arms wrapped around my neck while I did it, and kept her mouth tight to mine. Then her hands were in my hair, holding my head while she continued to kiss me. I had my arms tight across her back.

When the women knocked at our door, she held my face another minute and said "Three nights." I smiled. What I did not say was, "And then you are done with me."

Over the course of that evening I discovered why we traveled with a wardrobe truck and two makeup ladies. You would think neither would be necessary. After all, the film consists of six actors who spend the whole film in t-shirts and shorts. And they are wet most of the time, so makeup would just wash off and make a mess. So, why the truck and the people? Mostly Lisa. Lisa threw her sundress on the bed, and sat nearly naked on a chair while both women worked on her face. Once they had a good start on that, one of them spent a few minutes on me (eyebrows), and then went through a number of dress bags for Lisa's gown for the evening. What did they go with? Silk, of course. Very short sleeves to make her arms look longer (and thinner), flared skirt just at the knee, and a scoop neck that showed plenty of cleavage. Add four inch stilettoes, and you had exactly what people expected a Hollywood celebrity to look like.

We were getting updates on our phones. When we learned the canoes were forty five minutes out, Lisa went to work. We walked out to the elevators, the two makeup ladies trailing behind. "When the actresses have finished with the initial introductions, take them up to your room, one at a time. Dress them. Work on their hair. They have been wearing baseball caps. Get each one back downstairs within forty five minutes." She didn't wait for an answer.

We got off the elevator and met half a dozen publicists. "Introduce me to your ten or twelve main media contacts, and I will take them inside the ropes."

And that's what we did for the next half hour. Smiling publicists led us right to smiling media people. There were introductions, handshakes, a few comments about the project and the "marvelous actors who were doing a fabulous job bringing their Iraq War experience to their roles." And I was always included. "Of course you know Jessica Wilson, the owner of this hotel. She has been such a help on my last two films. It was she who suggested this whole concept." And then she would ask if the person and their camera crew would like a better position inside the taped off area. Of course they said "yes," and one of the PR people led them off while another publicist guided Lisa to the next media person.

She was so smooth, and so fast, she had all the media positioned exactly where she wanted them with about five minutes to spare. She used the time to explain the arrival.

"The women have now paddled over two hundred and fifty miles often through some pretty rough water. You will see a large boat first. It holds a camera crew, but it is also our rescue boat. We wanted to be sure our actors would be safe if a storm came up. You know how rough it can get out there. Fortunately, the women have not needed the boat, even after they were swamped by a passing container ship. We will show you some of that footage tomorrow evening."

"There they are. You can see the women in two canoes, and another camera crew in the third. The man sitting in the middle is Jim Thomas. I am sure you recognize the name. He won the Academy Award for cinematography for our last film. He has paddled the same two hundred and fifty miles, and had a camera on his shoulder for much of it. Now please give our people some room as we film this important landing."

The hotel had several small docks along the river wall so boaters could tie up and come ashore for a drink. Jim kept his canoe out some distance and filmed the two canoes pull up to the docks and tie up. Meanwhile, the PR people were pretty clever. There had to be two or three hundred people on the river walk. As the actors paddled the last few feet, two publicists removed the tape that was holding back the people, while several others started shouting "Welcome." The effect was instant. Two hundred people surged right up to the railing at edge of the river, shouting "Welcome" as the women landed. The women looked up and waved, obviously thrilled at the reception. And our three cameras caught it all.

The women slowly got from their canoes to the dock (not an easy task when leaving a very unstable canoe), stood, waved again, and then climbed the few steps to the level of the river walk. They immediately disappeared into a crowd of people that wanted to shake their hands and get a picture. Some of the people were old friends of the actors, so there were hugs and excited conversations caught on our cameras and on the cameras of eight different local news teams. There was excitement, and happiness, and all of it was going to be broadcast to the world at six.

The next three hours were my favorite of the whole time in Green Bay. The makeup ladies came for the actors after about forty five minutes, and each of them refused. They weren't going anywhere until they had spent much more time with friends they hadn't seen since Iraq, or since high school. The media people caught several of these conversations. Angelica seemed to get the most camera time. "Sure. I fixed MRAPs with this son of a bitch, and then we blew the damn thing up again when we hit an IED on a test drive." She had similar stories (and similar language) with several others, and had a large circle of people and cameras around her.

Kat also drew a crowd, both men and women saluting her and then drawing close for a hug. She did more listening. She wanted to know how they were doing. I saw her slip some cash to one young guy. Another woman hugged her, they talked quietly, and then both of them cried. The media people caught some of that on camera, but they did a nice job of staying out of the way.

All of the women seemed to know someone in the crowd. There was a guy who traveled ten hours to see Imelda, and Shontae, Tamira, and Jane all had family there. The smiles were genuine, the hugs long.

Jim came up the stairs and actually turned his camera so the curious could see some of his footage. He talked filming to the interested, and he motioned two of his sound guys to come over. They ended up doing a workshop for about twenty people, all of whom asked endless questions and took film of the film. If there was anyone on that river walk who was less than excited to be there, I didn't see him.

Lisa's problem was time. She had allowed ninety minutes for this shore greeting. It had been far more successful than she had expected. Good. But she had also promised a dinner in the conference center, with interview times for additional media. She could push that back, but sooner or later she needed to move people.

She started with the actors. One at a time she walked up, put an arm around them, and said "If you don't get out of those wet clothes, you are going to catch cold. This woman will take you up to a room to change. Would your friends like to join us for dinner?" She gave out a few tickets, and got the actor off to change.

Forty five minutes later, she had everyone up to the changing room except Kat. Kat wasn't going anywhere. She was with about twenty people. When Lisa mentioned getting cold, one of the women handed Kat a sweater. When Lisa mentioned dinner, another woman mentioned a bar down the street. That was it. The whole group walked off in that direction. No one saw Kat again that evening.

For those who made it to the conference center, I thought things went pretty well. The women came down from the changing room wearing silk dresses and professional makeup. They might have been a little sheepish about their new look, but after all, they were actors. I was sure family and friends were pleased. And there was always Angelica. When one of her old friends said, "You really are an actress." She said, "Yes, and I can still kick your ass."

The bar was open, the food was good. Media people seemed to get the quotations they wanted, and I was sure every family member felt proud. I spent a few minutes back in the kitchen thanking the staff for their contributions to a special evening.

I went upstairs to bed a little before midnight. Lisa came up sometime after one. We cuddled and kissed. I hugged her and told her how well she had done. She nodded once, and fell asleep in my arms.

Chapter 27

And There was Some History Involved

The primary purpose of the next day probably depended upon who you were. For the nine people who had just spent two hundred and fifty miles in a canoe, this was a day to not paddle, not balance, not have wet knees and not worry that some boat's wake would throw them into Lake Michigan. For the people living in RVs, it was a day not to worry about using too much water in the shower. For the kitchen crew it was a day to let someone else cook. For everyone, it was a chance to sleep in.

I had Lisa all over my chest. She had a knee between mine, and her head on my shoulder. She wasn't going anywhere, and clearly, neither was I. I kissed her forehead and ran my hand through her hair. I felt vague motions from her. Maybe she was waking up. Maybe she wasn't. In truth, I was fine either way. I loved this big woman. I loved holding her, I loved being with her, I loved feeling her warmth. Bunny was right, of course. There would be no time for Lisa to go with me to Galena. She would have to race to get her film through editing. So I would lose her. But that was then. This was now. I kissed her again, slid my hand across her hair, and whispered my love.

When she moved, it was to slide even more of her over me, and to wrap her arms tighter around me. She lowered her face over mine, and took me, thighs on thighs, breasts on breasts, hips on hips. She squeezed me so tight I just had breath enough to say, "tighter." If it were possible to be completely absorbed into another body, that's what would have happened, and I would have been eternally grateful.

"Three nights will not be enough," she said, her face just above mine.

"No. They won't." I hesitated. "I like LA. I could visit you there. I could stay as long as you liked."

"No. I'll visit you here. I like your hotel. I like your city. Is there a theater here?"

"Two blocks away. Newly renovated."

"We'll do the premiere here. You and I will wear matching gowns. I'll hold your hand as we walk the red carpet."

"I would like that." Mixed into that brief conversation was lots of kissing, lots of hands finding their way here and there, lots of deep looks as she talked and I tried to believe. She didn't want me in LA. Okay, that hurt. But she was probably being honest about coming back for a premiere. That was something, wasn't it?

I was able to hold her for another hour. This was a quiet day for most of us, but yet another busy day for her. She was good to me for that hour. We showered together, and held each other while we did our hair and makeup. We both wore silk again. And heels. This was a Hollywood production after all. I stood tight against her as I zipped up her dress. I stood tight against her as she kissed me good bye. She had a planning meeting with the publicists, then a production meeting, then... Well, she had meetings, none of which needed me. I was to relax and enjoy myself. I was to stand and watch her walk away. I stood and looked out my windows for a while, then went down to find a late breakfast.

I found a hotel that was busier than the day before. Of course there was the forty of us now staying there, but there were also more people on the river walk, and more people in the restaurant. I had to wait to get a seat.

Kat joined me while I was waiting in line. She looked good. She was wearing a yellow sundress and sandals with a low heel. Uniform of the day for the actors? I could see her hair had been worked on, and she might have had help with makeup again this morning. She generally wore far less. But I sensed mostly she looked good because she felt good.

"How was the bar last night?"

"It was hot, and loud, and it felt good."

"Those were people who had served with you?"

"Yes. Mostly from Iraq, but some from Afghanistan as well. And some who had done both. We had a lot to talk about."

"And the movie too." We had made it to the front of the line and were escorted to a table outdoors.

"Lots about the movie." We took a second to order coffee and omelets. Then she looked at me and I knew the subject had changed. "How well do you know Lisa Lang?"

"I have known her for about a year now, and well, we are lovers."

"Do you trust her?"

"Yes. She seems a serious person, and everything I have seen her do so far seems to be for the general good. Why do you ask?" I found myself glancing at the tables around us. We were off to one side, but we were hardly alone. There were at least four tables that could listen to our conversation if they wished. They seemed to be engaged in conversations of their own, but still. "Should we talk about this somewhere else?"

"Yes, I suppose that is best." Kat easily switched over to more casual conversation. We talked about the schedule for the day and a bit about the next section of the route. Canals and locks. It would be complicated, and probably slower than the past sections. It was enough to occupy us through our omelets and two cups of coffee.

We got up to leave, and I thought we could get back to our more serious discussion as we walked along the river walk, but two of Kat's old friends appeared, and she quickly went off with them.

Did I trust Lisa? Yes. But it wasn't clear Kat did. Why? Obviously I didn't have an answer to that. So I wandered aimlessly through the hotel for a while, then took a chair in the lobby and did the one task I had for the day. I called the hotel in Appleton. It would be best if the cooks for the next leg came up tomorrow. I would introduce them to the women who had worked the last leg of the route, and they could start shopping for the next leg. The manager, John, said he would have the men in the lobby up here by eight. Good.

Now what did I do with myself? I was tempted to check in with Kristi, but I thought the last thing she needed was her boss breathing down her neck while she was in the midst of all this. I would stay where she could find me if she needed me. But so far she seemed to be doing just fine. So I walked out behind the hotel and stood along the river.

Jim found me. He came up next to me, put an arm around my waist, and pulled me tightly to him. Okay. Good start.

"How did your production meeting go?"

"Mostly we looked at sequences we could show tonight. Do we show Shontae damn near drowning? Do we show a bit of the campfire scenes? Basically tonight is a tease. Lisa's got people back in LA already working on a trailer. That will come out in about two weeks. Tonight is just enough to make the local media people feel special. I have a guy splicing together segments we chose. The rest of us are about to take off and scout shooting locations for tomorrow."

"Oh."

"Before I go, I have a question to ask. I spent last night looking at the pictures I took of you up on Mackinac Island."

"And..." I liked everything he had said so far. I have to admit my pulse rate went up. He had a question?

"One of the larger galleries in LA has been after me to exhibit some of my photos. Could I include some of the pictures I took of you?"

Not the question I had been hoping for, but what could I say? "Sure."

He had a release in his pocket. I shouldn't have been surprised. The guys always kept a pocket full in case they needed to use extras along the way. I signed and gave it back to him. And finally I heard what I wanted.

"I'll work out the dates for the show, but I would like you to come out for it. I would love to have you stay with me for a few days, or..." Long pause. "Maybe longer."

Okay. That's what a girl wants to hear. Now we were getting somewhere. I was up on my toes in a second, and gave him a kiss for an answer. We'd be back together in our RV in two days. I would have a chance to repeat that answer many more times.

He left. I smiled. Time passed.

Around four I walked down to the conference center. I can't say the place was packed, but most of the seats were full. Good. Average age of the attendees? About ninety. No, that wasn't fair. But it was just four on a work day, so you had to figure most people here would be retired. There were also some younger people – maybe college kids following a professor here? And I noticed Shontae was there. I guess I should have expected that with her new interest in history. I went and sat next to her.

The format was simple – 30 minute lectures, fifteen minutes for questions, next guy up. Start at four, be done by seven so people can go to the banquet. Apparently the format had been created by someone who had never met a professor. Thirty minutes? They hadn't finished their first PowerPoint slide by then. The last guy – the geologist – never got up front, and I noticed the bar out in the hallway got much more business after the first hour.

Shontae and I stayed for the first two guys and then left. Guy number one explained how grateful we should be to the Jesuits. I would have been more grateful if he had explained that in less than an hour. Prof number two was the one we wanted to hear – the guy talking about Marquette. I will give the guy credit. I expected a cradle to grave biography. Instead, he talked about the Mississippi voyage, and even that, he condensed into three main events – the meeting with the Illinois tribe, the near murder at the hands of the Arkansas tribe, and the final entry in his journal – the baptism.

His point was that the French King and Canadian Governor had an agenda – find a way across this land. Find the Northwest Passage. Or, if not that, find a back way into the Spanish silver mines in the southwest. The Wisconsin, Mississippi, and Missouri rivers looked promising. It turned out that the rivers Marquette and Jolliet discovered were not going to get to the Pacific or help the French rob the Spanish mines. Oh well.

Second agenda? Make friends. The French had been fighting the Iroquois for decades, and mostly losing. Marquette's long description of the Illinois (far more of his journal is about the Illinois than about the river), showed they might be the military and commercial allies the French could use. At the same time, his description of the tribes to the south was a warning. The Iroquois weren't the only enemies the French would face. So he gave planners back in Quebec a much better sense of the politics of the Mississippi Valley.

That leaves the personal agenda. Marquette was a parish priest. What did he take away from this journey? It's at the end of his journal. The prof showed those lines on his PowerPoint:

Had this voyage resulted in the salvation of even one soul, I would consider all my troubles well rewarded, and I have reason to presume that such is the case. For, when I was returning, we passed through the Ilinois of Peouarea,[42] and during three days I preached the faith in all their Cabins; after which, while we were embarking, a dying child was brought to me at The water's edge, and I baptized it shortly before it died, through an admirable act of providence for the salvation of that Innocent soul.

The final words in his journal are not about discovering the Mississippi, they are about saving a child. An interesting point. Shontae copied some of the words down, even though I knew she had uploaded the original journal. She was suddenly sitting differently – straighter, taller, energized. I half expected her to jump out of her seat and question the prof. But she didn't. She got up and left, as did I. It was already after six, and time for us to change for the banquet.

I had to move pretty fast to catch up with Shontae. It was obvious she had enjoyed that last presentation, so I said the obvious.

"Good presentation on Marquette."

"Good presentation on the Iraq War." What? I had no idea what she was talking about. I wasn't even sure how to ask what she meant. We were down the hall, into the elevator, and up to our rooms before I could come up with any appropriate question.

The best I could do was "Maybe we can talk later." Then she was in her room, and I was in mine.

Once in my suite, I didn't have time to think about Marquette. Lisa had two women working on her, one of whom decided it was my turn. Apparently this was the night to go full Hollywood. Both Lisa and I were stuffed into red satin, floor length, strapless, and tight. The woman actually pulled my stomach in with one hand while zipping my dress with the other. I half expected her to demand I wear a corset. Another woman did my makeup and hair. I had colors on my face I have never worn before. And my hair? Well, it was up, held up by pins, sprays, and miracles.

All this was being done with blazing speed. I assumed they still had the actresses to do, so they got Lisa and me up on our heels, and out the door by six forty five. Down we went to the banquet room in the conference area (the geography prof was out in the hall waiting his turn and drinking what looked to be his third or fourth whiskey. It might have been for the best that his turn never came). For the next half hour we stood by the door of the banquet hall, smiled, shook hands, hugged, and then turned guests over to a row of publicists who would escort each couple to their table (each carefully assigned so that important people sat with Lisa, Jim, or one of the actors. Unimportant people got the back tables near the kitchen.)

Half an hour standing on four inch stilettoes, and my toes were getting numb. But I was the hotel owner, and it made sense to welcome people to my place. And Lisa wanted me there, so I was there, my shoulders and upper chest cool in the air conditioning. My ass and thighs immobile in that skirt. "Hi, welcome." I felt a bit like one of those Japanese greeting robots each time I said it. But I said it over and over until the room was full. Finally people seemed to be where they were supposed to be, and I followed Lisa to an eight-top table near a small stage. Apparently I was important enough to warrant the head table, but not important enough to be a table host on my own. Oh well.

We sat down and immediately the lights dimmed. Bunny took the stage and did the usual welcomes, and then did her real job – introducing Lisa. You can imagine where thesaurus girl went with this one. "Groundbreaking, inspiring, passionate, visionary narratives," etc. I am listening, and thinking the only adjective Lisa would like to hear would be "Academy Award Winning..." Maybe next year. But she did get the crowd stirred up. When she finally brought up Lisa (with the usual hug and kiss as if they hadn't just seen each other five minutes before), the applause was huge, and quickly followed by the entire audience standing. Nice job, Bunny.

Lisa smiled, nodded, waved, and finally motioned for people to sit. She needed them to sit, because she fully intended to get them on their feet again. Her lines?

"How many of you might be free December sixteenth? Not sure? Well, there is a beautifully redecorated theater two blocks from here. On December sixteenth, expect to see a red carpet and lots of limousines out front as we do the world premier for 'River of Stars' right here in Green Bay. Would you like that?" And of course they were all up and cheering again. The woman knew how to work a room.

She got the room settled again, and then did introductions so people knew who they were sitting with. She named each of the six actors and had them stand, had Jim stand (and of course mentioned his academic award), had me stand ("one of your own Green Bay business leaders who has been so helpful in this film"), and then had the technical and support staff stand.

Introductions over, she explained the schedule. We were to eat, enjoy the open bars, talk with people from the film seated at each table, and then we would all see the first excerpts from the film.

And that's pretty much how the next two hours went. Our table got the mayor and his wife, and one couple from the newspaper, and one couple from the TV station with the highest Neilsons. The food was good, the conversation pleasant, the bar popular. I got a few words in about our hotel feeding the actors and crew along the route, but mostly it was Lisa who drove the conversation. I was fine with that. She was good. She knew the names of all six people at our table, and used them as she directed comments to each. And the wives weren't just told how nice they looked. She appeared interested in their opinions of the waterways we would be using and the historical developments along the way. Put simply, she didn't talk at people, she engaged people. And they loved it.

Eventually tables were cleared and Bunny got back up, this time to introduce Jim. He of course thanked Lisa for the opportunity to work with her again, talked a bit about the Oregon Trail film and how meaningful it was to him, and then, how meaningful he thought this current project was. He wanted to show some scenes, but first, he asked if all veterans in the room would stand to be recognized. Nice touch. Our actors stood, as did thirty or forty others. More applause. More thanks from Jim.

Then he showed one of the campfire scenes. It was the women talking about going off to war and their parents' reaction. He only showed four minutes of the scene, but I swear there were tears all over the room.

Then he did four minutes of the Death's Doorway scene, with Shontae being flipped out of the canoe and her friends struggling to hold her and then get her back aboard. There were gasps. Real tension. The camera guy on the boat had been right. They had captured it all, and got it at an angle that practically put you in the water with her. Jim let that fade to black, stood silent for a full minute, and then asked Shontae to stand. The cheers for her were almost deafening. Just when they peaked, Jim added, "Specialist Shontae Jackson served three tours in Iraq." And the cheers turned into a standing ovation. Nice job, Jim. My man knew how to work a room too.

He also knew how to close on a high note.

"Ladies and gentlemen, we have been impressed by your lakes and rivers, and impressed by your history and hospitality. We hope you will be as proud of this film as we are. We hope to see you all again December sixteenth. Good night."

He and Lisa and I took one side of the door, the actors lined up on the other side, and we slowly funneled people out of the room. A million or so selfies later, the room was clear and we stood congratulating each other.

Lisa's last words? "Ladies, we will start filming at the canoes at nine. Jim tells me we will get you about fifteen miles up the Fox tomorrow. You will be happy to know we will not have you in a tent tomorrow night. You will be back here at the hotel. After that, we will have you in the hotel in Appleton. You get showers and beds. Now enjoy yourselves. I will see you in the morning."

Off they went. I went back to thank the people in the kitchen. Kristi was already there. Good. It gave me a chance to congratulate her in front of her staff. She had earned it. They all had. I stood and talked with them all for about fifteen minutes, and then went looking for Shontae or Kat. Both had left me with mysteries. But the mysteries would have to wait. I walked outside to the river bank. I didn't see Shontae or Kat, but I did see about a hundred people who were now gathered around the outdoor bar and wanted to talk to me. I spent the next hour doing hotel PR. Then I went up to bed.

I don't know what time Lisa joined me. It was late, but she was still excited. She was changed and in bed, and all over me quickly. For some reasons she decided she should bind my wrists behind me, and then wrap her arms around me, her body all over me so I couldn't move. She wanted complete control. Silly move. She already had that. She had to know I would do anything for her.

Maybe it was because I couldn't move, that I felt free to ask a question that had been building for several days.

"Lisa, do you understand what you are risking with this film?"

"Tell me." Her face was right above mine. She moved her hands so they were now on each side of my face. She held my head, kissed me, then raised her face to look at me again. I guessed I could talk, but she would decide when that stopped.

"You could have done the old sorority sister movie. All famous names. You put them in the standard comedy drama – they do silly things in the canoes, say witty things, maybe flirt with men they meet along the way. And then we learn one is at risk for cancer (probably breast cancer), and one is negotiating a divorce after twenty years of marriage. Ninety minutes later the movie is over and everyone leaves the theater happy. Two days later they have forgotten the whole thing."

"Your point?"

"I'm glad you didn't go that way. But. What you are doing now... If at the end of this, you have portrayed those women as victims, or show them as weak, you will never be forgiven. I know Kat is worried about that."

"Well, I have gotten at least a hundred calls or texts from people afraid I will glorify the war." She was running her fingers through the hair at the edges of my face. She just stared at me while she did that. Waiting for me to say more? I was done. "Jess, I'm not going to make a recruiting film for the army, nor am I going to bitch about how women are treated. For about a hundred and ten minutes I am going to show respect for these women. I know you think this is all about an Oscar, but the one thing I want is for Kat to see the film, turn to me, and smile."

She nearly crushed me as she lay on me all night, but I can't tell you how good it felt to be in her arms.

Chapter 28

Fox Locks

Nobody liked the next three days. The canoeing was complicated and generally unattractive. I guess we had been spoiled by our views along Lake Michigan. There were beaches, there were forests, there were small towns. Now there was a river that went through one of the more urbanized sections of Wisconsin. It was fifty miles up the river from Green Bay to Lake Winnebago, and there were cities, dams, and mills all along the way. They told me the first stretch wasn't so bad. They could paddle eight or nine miles before they got to a lock, and the first time they paddled into a lock and felt the water rise and lift their canoes, it was fun. But on the second day there seemed to be locks every couple miles, and there was one stretch of five locks in a row. It seemed less a series of locks, and more a series of barricades.

And whether you were in a canoe, or riding alongside like most of us, it wasn't like the view was outstanding. There were homes along much of the river, some of them very nice. But there were also factories, some dating back to the eighteen hundreds. This was Paper Valley. The trees they cut in Amberg came down here to be turned into paper. In the previous century trees cut up river on the Wolf and the Fox were floated down here to be turned into lumber, or ground into paper pulp. There was still one pulp mill in operation. Its stench hovered above the river for miles. And, as people used less paper, it needed fewer paper mills, so some of the plants along the river were now empty and decaying. I know Jim struggled with what to film. He needed something of the locks and the commercial corridor, but I was sure he would find less beauty here.

I had my own problems. Lisa and I both needed to get off to early meetings, so I barely got to say "Hi" to her as we quickly showered, dressed, and separated. Not a good way to start the day. It got worse. The cooks from Appleton were supposed to arrive at eight. I joined the Green Bay cooks we had been using, and we gathered in the hotel lobby to wait. And we waited. And we waited. Finally the five of us walked over to the hotel restaurant and had breakfast. Let them find us.

When we had finished breakfast and still had no Appleton cooks, I called John Maynard, the manager at Appleton. The woman in the office said he hadn't come in yet. She knew nothing about cooks for the film. It was already well after nine. It was time to work on lunch, and to get the RV to wherever lunch would be served. But I had no cooks.

At ten o'clock I asked the women with me if they could handle lunch. The film crew would be coming back to this hotel for dinner, but we did need to find the camera people and serve lunch, and maybe an afternoon snack. Two of the women were already scheduled to work lunch here at the hotel, but the other two were free. They would handle things. I thanked them and got out of their way. They needed to shop and then get the RV to wherever the camera people were.

I paced around the hotel lobby for a while, then finally took a seat. I had barely got my butt in the chair, when I saw the four cooks. I was looking for some sign of concern. After all, they were hours late for a new job. Surely they would have rushed the trip, parked quickly, hurried in to the hotel. Nope. They stood outside the main doors, took a good look around, and finished cigarettes before they came in. How did I know these were the guys? They wore white chef jackets unbuttoned over dirty blue jeans, coupled with chef hats perched so far back on their heads, I wondered they didn't all off. My best guess was these were four guys the Appleton manager wanted out of his kitchen. Good for him. Not so good for me.

I stood inside the main doors and waited while they smoked. Finally they dropped their butts in the middle of the sidewalk and came in. They breezed right by me, headed for kitchen.

"Ah, guys..." I stood and looked at them. They looked at me. I was wearing another silk dress. Lisa liked me in them, and we were likely to have additional media guests at the hotel, so I needed to look nice. The cooks had their own interpretation of my appearance.

"Sorry, lady. Maybe later." Another of the cooks said "She's too old" as they kept walking. I let them. I got out my phone and called the Appleton hotel again. This time Maynard was in.

"John, explain to me why I want these men in my hotel."

"I couldn't get anyone else to work the hours. Students can't be gone for a week. They would miss class. And the other cooks are busy."

"The Green Bay hotel had no trouble."

"Oh." That was his best response? "Oh?" I didn't want to get into an argument with him over the phone. He was a legacy manager, a holdover from the last owners. Sometimes that worked, sometimes it didn't. I would have to call Bobbi and Andy about this guy. Later. Right now I needed to feed a film crew. But not with this four.

"Have final checks ready for these guys when they get back to Appleton. I am firing all four." There was silence at his end. I guess he was deciding if he should argue with me. Actually I hoped he would stick up for his people. Maybe they had some virtue I wasn't seeing. But, no. I heard silence, and then "Okay." I hung up. I was pretty sure a fifth termination was coming fast. But one thing at a time.

I stood in the lobby and waited for the cooks. It took about ten minutes for them to walk to the kitchen, talk with someone, and then come back to the registration desk. They talked to one of the clerks who pointed at me. Here is where I might have expected to see some concern, maybe even preparations for an apology. Nope. What I saw was frustration, and even some anger as they walked to me.

"They tell us they need us up here, but no one seems to know what the hell is going on. Do you?"

"Things might have been easier if you had arrived at eight when you were supposed to."

"Well, we had some trouble with the car." This from the guy I had seen standing outside smoking.

"Here's what's going to happen. You are going to go out front and put your cigarette butts where they belong. No one should have to clean up after you. Then you are going to drive back to Appleton and get your final checks. All of you are fired."

"You can't do that." Three other angry heads nodded in agreement.

"Of course I can. I own that hotel, and I don't want you working there." Four angry faces stared at me. They waited until they had started walking away before I heard "Bitch." Outside the doors, they stepped past their butts while showing me a middle finger over their shoulders. These were the men who might have been around my film crew all the way to Portage? I was relieved to have them gone.

I went outside, disposed of their cigarette butts, and then went back to the kitchen to talk with the head chef. Could he give me four good people for two more weeks? He told me he had a waiting list. I told him I would prefer the same four, if they were available. If not, I trusted his judgment. He said he'd have names for me by dinner time. I gave him a hug, and left.

I spent the rest of the day wandering, sometimes with Kristi, sometimes alone. I walked a circuit – registration, lobby, restaurant, river walk. If I saw someone who looked like media, I explained where filming was taking place (up river somewhere). If I saw people who just looked curious, I explained when the cast would return. Yes, they would sign autographs and pose for selfies. Three publicists seemed to have been left behind, and they also dealt with the curious while taking more pictures and sending off an endless stream of social media posts.

I did take time to call Bobbi and update her on the Appleton manager. She said she knew he was interviewing with Marriot. They were such fools they might take him. In the meantime, she already had a new person to send over as an "assistant" manager. She was a music major at Stout, but had taken several hotel management courses. After a few sessions with Andy, she would do great things in Appleton. Sounded like a plan. If she got there in the next couple days, I could meet her.

Meanwhile, the outdoor bar started filling up. Filming ended around four, and the RVs returned. Jane was the first actor to get out to the bar. She was looking for an old friend, but she stood with me long enough for a quick update – canoeing up a river was different, the current, the locks, the buildings on both sides. They didn't mind it, but they didn't like it much either. Two more days to Lake Winnebago. Then she saw her friend, and was off.

Kristi had greatly enlarged the seating area for the bar, but it still filled quickly. It was an open bar for our crew, and they had come back to the hotel thirsty. They were also popular. There were at least a hundred people who had come to see the actors. Some friends, some just curious. Some sat or stood with the actors, some with the technical people or the publicists. There were some media people, of course. Lisa and the publicists absorbed them. Me? I held up one corner of the bar, nursed a white wine, smiled and said a few words to this person or that. This was to be a casual evening. I was casual. I had a couple slices of pizza at the bar, watched the sun set, and eventually went up to my room.

My third and final night with Lisa? She came to bed late, kissed me, told me she loved me, and went to sleep.

Chapter 29

Appleton

We would be in the Appleton hotel three nights. That had seemed like a great idea when we had done the initial schedule. But now I had concerns about the manager. This was a really bad time to have a guy I no longer trusted. Television media were all located in Green Bay, but there were radio stations and a newspaper in Appleton, so there would be media events here. And I wanted our hotel brand to look good.

So I drove over around nine. My manager? Not in yet. Your boss is coming, and you still show up for work late. Not a good sign. I walked the halls to see how well the custodians were doing. Room service trays were outside several rooms on each floor. Near the elevators on the third floor something had been spilled. It had not been cleaned. Meeting rooms, bar and restaurant were all on the first floor. I went there next. Coffee cups were sitting on tables in one of the meeting rooms. I guessed they were still there from yesterday. The bar was closed, but it had not been wiped down. The restaurant was mostly empty. All the empty tables still had plates on them from the last diners.

So, lady hotel owner, you have maybe six hours before people start arriving. What do you do? First step? Find out if anyone is working here. I went back to the young woman at registration. I guessed college student, finishing up the third shift. I checked her name tag.

"Denise, can you call the custodians for me?"

"I'm sorry." She was blinking hard as she looked at me. I recognized sleep deprivation. "Custodians arrive at noon. So does room service."

"When does your relief arrive?"

"She has an exam today, so I said I would cover her shift too."

"Do you have access to employee phone numbers?"

"Yes, we have a list."

"Good. I would like you to call every employee and ask them to come in to work as soon as they can get here."

"Mr. Maynard won't like that. He has been cutting hours for the last two months. He said our costs were too high."

"You know I own this hotel, right?"

"I thought you might, but I wasn't sure." I'll give her credit. She was in desperate need of sleep, but she was sitting up straighter and opening her eyes wider.

"Please make the calls."

She changed the screen on her computer and picked up a phone. I walked back to the kitchen. Things got worse. One of the men I had "fired" yesterday was back there. I backed out of the room and went back to the lobby. Maynard arrived fifteen minutes later.

"Good morning." The bastard had the nerve to smile.

"Do you have a cardboard box?"

"No."

"Find one. Put all your personal things in it. I want you gone ten minutes from now." I stared. He stared. Finally he nodded and went back into his office. He must have been partially packed for his move to Marriott. He was packed and gone in eight minutes. Meanwhile I was on the phone to Bobbi.

"I just fired Maynard. Can you get me that replacement you mentioned?"

"Andy and I will pick her up on the way. We should be there by six."

"Thanks."

Next call? Kristi. "I have some problems down here in Appleton. I could use some help."

"Tell me what you need."

"You and two of everything – custodians, room service, cooks, bartenders, dish washers, everything."

"Give me two hours."

"Thank you."

Meanwhile, a couple local employees arrived. A bartender and a cook. I thought through a timetable. Who would go where first? Lisa had a meet-and-greet before dinner. Okay. Conference center first. I explained we had a large group coming mid-afternoon. I wanted to clean the conference area for them. I took a couple steps in that direction.

"I'm a bartender." He was a cute guy. Mid-twenties. I guessed he did fine with cosmos and tips.

"We have a bit of an emergency here. I need your help."

"I am a bartender. I don't clean."

"Fair enough." I turned to Denise. "Denise, take this man's name and put him down for two hours pay. At least he came in. Then make a note that I terminated him." Then I turned to the cook. "Are you a cook or a hotel employee?"

"A hotel employee."

"Good. Then follow me. Denise, as others come in, send them to the conference room."

The cook and I needed a few minutes to find cleaning supplies, but once we got going, we got the room vacuumed and the tables cleared fairly fast. Finally one of the custodians came in. He said we were using the wrong cleaning spray for the tables, but he pitched right in. By noon we had the tables rearranged and even had the AV set up. I was feeling pretty proud of us.

Next stop? The bar. I had just gotten behind the bar when Kristi arrived with ten people. It felt like the cavalry coming to the rescue. We talked, and agreed on priorities. I explained Denise was working a double shift. She needed to be relieved. The kitchen? I went back there again. The guy I had fired was now gone. The other cook was still there.

"The man who was here with you, why was he here? I fired him."

"He's an old friend, so I hired him back."

"Denise is working the front desk. Give her your name, and the hours you worked today. We will mail you your final check." Once again I got stared at, but finally he took off his chef hat and coat, and left the kitchen.

By two o'clock I had nine hotel employees plus the ten Kristi had brought. We had at least the public areas on the first floor pretty presentable. We decided it was time to send a few people upstairs to clean the halls and check the guest rooms. I was behind the bar cleaning glasses and cutting fruit. I had fired the bartender. It seemed right to replace him. People came to me with progress reports. Lots needed doing, but it was getting done.

At three, Bunny and the first load of publicists arrived. They did a quick inspection of the first floor and made their plans. I had been right. The meet and greet would be in the conference area. Bunny requested snacks and an open bar starting at four. I smiled and said "of course." Kristi had been standing right there. She disappeared into the kitchen. I really needed to give her a huge bonus.

Can I sum up the three nights in Appleton? The canoeing went fine. I never saw any of it, but they tell me there was a crowd on both banks as the canoes came into town. Kristi brought her people down the next two days and made us look good. Bobbi and Andy and Adriana arrived at seven that first night. They started hiring permanent staff the next morning. The ten people from Green Bay, and the nine Appleton employees who stayed on got five hundred dollar bonuses and a round circle to put on their name tags. I said the circle was a life saver. They liked that, but I think they were more happy with the autographs and selfies they got with the cast.

Me? I tended bar all three nights. I made over two hundred dollars in tips!

And after I closed down my bar? Bar time in Wisconsin is two a.m. But that is for drunks. Everyone working on the film needed an early start in the morning so I closed the bar at twelve. For the regular customers, they could either go to bed or go up the street to any of the other forty bars on College Avenue. I served my last drinks and started cleaning and restocking.

And I waited. That first night in Appleton I thought maybe Lisa would come for me. No. Jim? No, I didn't see him either. I hadn't seen either all evening. Apparently neither had plans for me. Bunny came for me. She sat at the bar and waited patiently while I washed glasses and then cleaned the bar. She even helped me bring some twelve packs in from the stock room as I prepared the bar for the next day. She sat, and watched me, and waited. And when I was done, she took my hand and went up with me to my room.

She spent all three nights with me. She was patient with me. She took her time undressing me, standing close to me as she unzipped my dress and slid it down my body. She took longer with my slip and bra. She put her mouth on my breasts before she pulled my nightgown over me. We washed off our makeup, and then she sat with me in bed. She sat behind me, her legs wrapped around me as she brushed my hair. It had been decades since anyone had brushed my hair for me, and she was good at it. One hand was in my hair, one on the brush, and as she slowly slid the brush, she leaned into my back. After every third or fourth brush stroke she would slide my hair to one side and kiss the back of my neck.

When we finally laid down under the covers, she was mostly on top of me, and stayed that way every night. It occurred to me she wasn't trying to dominate. If I was on top, I might roll away from her. With her on top, she would hold me all night, her face by my ear. Sometimes she would kiss me. Sometimes she would whisper to me. But she would always stay tight against me. Sometimes she would slide her thighs against mine, and we would get hot, but mostly we just slept together, holding each other.

She woke me with kisses, and pulled me into the shower. She liked showers as much as I did, and she was just as good with her hands. We would come out kissing and giggling. She would take forever drying me and getting me partly dressed. Then she would do that thing with the robe of my belt, tying our waists together, pulling us tight against each other from thighs to chest as we did each other's makeup. I could imagine nothing more intimate, our faces nearly touching as our hands brought color to each other's features. She gave me more makeup than I usually wear, I gave her less. I liked what I saw in her face, and kissed her when I was done. She smiled and put a little more lipstick on me.

The third morning we finished, and were standing staring at each other. She had put down her lipstick and had her hands around the small of my back. One hand wrapped around the knot that held us together. The other hand was slowly stroking my ass. One hand made sure I couldn't untie us, the other hand made sure I didn't want to.

And she stood looking at me. She didn't say a word. I was confident she would stand like that for hours, holding me, fondling me, waiting for me. She was right. It was time for me to say something. About us.

"I will be in Jim's RV tonight." Nothing changed. She continued to stare at me, her hand still in motion on my ass. I saw no change of expression at all. Of course. I had said the obvious. I had said nothing.

"When this is all over," I brought my face even closer to her and whispered, "I want there to be time for us." I put my hands on both sides of her face and kissed her. She hugged me and undid the knot holding us. She helped me with my dress, and we went down to breakfast hand in hand.

Chapter 30

A Whole New River

While I tended bar and got my hotel fixed, the paddling and filming continued. By the end of our third day in Appleton, the canoes had made it up through Paper Valley, and were on Lake Winnebago nearing Oshkosh. The route was going to change pretty dramatically after they got past Oshkosh, so Lisa decided to give them one more night in my hotel before they went back to sleeping in a tent. So at the end of the day she had them load their canoes on Kat's trailer, and brought them back to Appleton.

Lisa wanted to add some historical elements at this point, so she set the women up in a room with a map spread across the bed, and Shontae sitting with a print out of Marquette's journal. She had Shontae do the talking.

"You see how this works. We get about halfway down Lake Winnebago, and hang a right at Oshkosh. The river is wide there, and flows into Lake Butte des Morts. French for 'Hill of the Dead.'"

"Wait a minute." Angelica interrupted. "We made it through Death's Doorway, and now we are going through 'Hill of the Dead'? What's wrong with these people?" They all laughed, and then Shontae continued.

"We aren't on the lake very long. We turn off to the south about halfway across. But notice how quickly the river narrows. Look to the west. You see the lakes and the river. That's the Wolf. The Wolf is actually the larger of the two rivers. It provides most of the water we have been paddling through. On its own, the upper Fox is small, shallow, and flows through a series of marshes. Marquette complained about in his journal. He said "But the road is broken by so many swamps and small lakes that it is easy to lose one's way, especially as the River leading thither is so full of wild oats that it is difficult to find the Channel. For this reason we greatly needed our two guides."

"They stopped at a village here," she pointed to the map. "Near present day Berlin, and got two Mascoutin men to guide them."

"Were they big, good looking men?" Angelica again.

"Angel, [Angelica's name in the film]" Imelda said. "When we get to that little town, see if you can scare up two men for each of us."

"Will do."

"Ladies." Shontae paused until the laughter ended. "Just a heads up. If Jolliet had trouble finding the route through the swamps, so will we. In the eighteen sixties steam boats came right up the Mississippi through the Wisconsin and Fox to Green Bay and the Great Lakes. The Fox was kept well marked and free of debris. That ended in the nineteen fifties. Now it has gone back to its original condition. We are going to need patience and gps to get through."

The scene ends with them all staring at the map.

Was it really that bad? Oh yeah. They were back in their tent, we were back in RVs, and those six days on the upper Fox seemed to last forever. I could imagine Jolliet and Marquette paddling day after day thinking – really? This little gutter running from swamp to swamp gets us to the Wisconsin and then to the Mississippi? They had to wonder if it was a huge waste of time.

Making a movie of their progress was not easy. Jim did most of the filming from his canoe while the other two camera guys tried to find places along the way. Sometimes the Fox came through a small town or along a road, so they could get shots then, but often it disappeared into shallow lakes and marshes. One of the guys thought he could wade out into a marsh to get a shot. He ended up having to be rescued as he sank in mud past his knees.

Those of us in RVs tried to follow along as best we could. Sometimes there were roads close to the river, sometimes not. Several days we just drove to any town near the river and hoped we could feed the actors as they paddled by. I was grateful to my kitchen crew. It ended up being the same four women as we had used before. Now they had to not only make the food, but drive up and down back roads looking for a way to get to the river. I was glad I could count on them. Lots of times we only had one bar on our phones, but fortunately, we never lost cell contact totally. Still, it was hard to be sure who was where. I think Lisa considered hiring a helicopter one day, it was that bad.

Mostly the women pitched their tent each night at the edge of a tiny town – Eureka, Princeton, Montello. If necessary, we paid to use someone's field. Two nights they just took a high spot next to the river. RV's parked where they could, and the camera people walked to the canoes and tent. I'll give them credit. It wasn't easy, but they got film.

The third night we were a little ways short of Montello. The women had spent much of the day paddling through a lake/marsh/swamp. While they set up camp, several of us carried food down to them. It was obvious they were tired, after all, they had been paddling all day. But I think as much as anything, they were confused.

Even Kat. I handed her a water bottle and a large bowl of stew.

"Are we still in Wisconsin?" She asked. "I am used to flat land. Amberg is flat. But this... We do see farms from time to time, and roads, but there are sections where it is just trees or marsh, and I think we are in some Louisiana bayou. I had no idea any part of our state was like this."

"We have trouble getting to you. I see past Montello there is a road that follows the river, but for the last three days we have been driving down one road after another, hoping to get close to you."

"A couple times the river bends back on itself so much I felt like we were paddling in circles."

"I think you are past the hallway mark."

"Good. This stopped being fun the second day on the river."

Jim didn't try to get any filming done that evening. Instead, Lisa invited all the women into her RV. She broke out some wine and they had a bit of a party. I was in my RV with Jim. He wasn't faring much better than the women.

"I normally shoot a hundred minutes hoping I have three minutes that warrants use. For the last three days I have shot maybe fifty minutes, and I am not sure any of it is useable." I had his shirt off, and I was massaging his back. He needed it. Well, maybe I needed it, but I was confident I was doing some good. "It's hard to line up a shot. And backdrops don't have enough color or contrast. I think the only good shot I took was yesterday when I pulled ahead of them in a marsh and got them coming at me, pushing reeds out of the way as they paddled. But I'm not sure if the light was right."

What was I going to say – change the f stop on the iris? And no, I only have the vaguest idea what that means. The point is I was in no position to give him professional advice. But I did use the position I had. He was face down on the bed. I was sitting on his ass as I pushed forward with my hands. I rubbed his back, I rubbed his shoulders, I rubbed his biceps (those huge, huge biceps), and gradually I laid across his back, kissing the side of his face, my hips now reminding him what hips were for. He let me play on his back for a while, and then he finally rolled over and let me do what I really wanted to do.

Two more days we followed the Fox. It was a better river after Montello – straighter, a bit wider, and it stayed close to a road, so we could follow along, get the film we wanted, and keep the women fed. Nice river. Good river. We all felt better about the Fox. We camped one last night in a county park, ready to make Portage the next day. Portage – and the Wisconsin River.

Chapter 31

Portage

The Fox actually bends to the east as it approaches the Wisconsin. It stays about two miles distant. How did those Mascoutin guides know where to beach the canoes and walk the two miles to the Wisconsin? Who knows? But it's clear Jolliet would have just kept paddling. We didn't have that problem. In the 1850s a canal had been built between the two rivers. No need to carry ("portage") the canoes between the rivers.

Jim and the other camera guys halted the canoes at that point so they could get film of the entrance to the canal. It is up in some woods, and actually fairly attractive. I think they also took a lot of film at the start of the canal because they could finally all get cameras at the angles they wanted. They spent at least an hour shooting. And the women had some lines as they made the transition. That made the audio guys happy.

Good thing they got their footage there. Once the canoes got into the actual town of Portage, they were traveling through backyards – older homes, and older businesses. The canal was maybe twenty feet across, and looked like a large drainage ditch. Canoeing along its length was about as attractive as walking the alley through a very old neighborhood. You saw trash cans and old cars. Lisa halted the canoes for almost an hour at one point so the cameras could find some place – any place – that would look attractive. It wasn't easy.

But then you come to the lock. There's a bit of a park around it, so that's where all three cameras were set up. The women couldn't use the lock. It had been closed for decades. It now blocked the end of the canal. On the other side was the Wisconsin River. The women came close, then beached their canoes on the side of the canal closest to the Wisconsin. The sides of the canal were steep, and it took all six women working together to get each canoe up on top of the ridge, ready to drop down into the Wisconsin.

This was obviously going to be an important part of the film – not just reaching the Wisconsin, but the history that went with this location. Melissa had been working on the script and had passed out the last version two days earlier. Lisa walked the women through their parts, and did three rehearsals before any filming started. There was a state highway just a block away, and the audio guys grimaced every time a truck went by, but the Wisconsin had to be two hundred yards across at this point, with woods on the other side, so the video guys were happy with the backdrop they would have.

Two hours went by. Then the makeup ladies came in to work their magic while the video guys put up more of those silver light shields. All of this was attracting plenty of attention from locals. Portage is a town of about ten thousand. We didn't get all ten thousand, but we got quite a few. Lisa's people had called ahead, so we had permits and even one cop to keep people backed away, although his first act was to get us to move our RVs. There was a park along the river maybe ten blocks away. RVs, trucks, and Kat's van all went there. Meanwhile, the publicity people put up some tape to keep people back. But what they really wanted was a way to privilege any media people by letting them stand just inside the tape. Two women from a local radio station finally arrived so they got the undivided attention of eight PR ladies.

I spent all this time standing behind Lisa and Jim. I watched the six actors, sensing they were getting impatient. Yes, they were making a movie, but they were also paddling to the Mississippi, and here they were, no more than ten feet from the river that would take them there. Moreover, they could watch the river move. It had a current. Once they got their canoes in there, they were going to go like hell. If they ever got their canoes in. If the lighting was ever set right. If Lisa was ever satisfied with their lines.

In the end, they shot the scene five times, and the women never did get their canoes in the water that day. In the film, the scene takes maybe three minutes. But shooting it took all afternoon. Let me see if I can explain.

First, the location is tight. The lock is surrounded by a grassy area, maybe twenty feet on a side. Not real big. If you are facing the lock so that the canal is behind it, you have the river to your right, and a street (Lock Street) with older houses to your left. You have two large canoes, and six women. They need to pull the canoes out of the canal, then walk on the river side of the lock to the end of the lock so it is behind them while they talk. Not a lot of room for them and the camera and audio people. On the first walk through one of the guys with a mic at the end of a long pole actually slid down the side of the hill and almost went into the river.

Second, the cop was able to keep cars from coming down Lock Street, but he wasn't about to close the state highway that went past just a block away. A loud semi caused one retake.

Third, and I say this kindly, it had been a while since the women had done any real acting. They had been on camera paddling their canoe, and setting up camp, but delivering real lines in front of a camera? Not for over a week. And here they may have had the most lines in the film. They rehearsed and rehearsed, but still they muffed some lines. With pieces of five tries spliced together, here is how the scene went:

The women pull the second canoe up out of the canal, and stand catching their breath, then walk around the lock to where it would have emptied into the river back when it was in operation. That end is all grassed in now, and a fence surrounds the lock. The women stand at the end, facing the lock and the long canal behind it.

Jane – How old is this thing?

Tamira stands by a small plaque and reads – It says here this canal was dug in 1851. The lock was put in in 1857.

Jane – what do they need a lock for? The canal and river are almost the same level.

Tamira – It doesn't say, but it looks to me like the canal is a few feet higher. Anyway, the whole thing was shut down in the 1950s.

Imelda – If the canal was built in the 1850s, it was done by hand. Two miles of dirt dug out one shovel at a time.

Tamira – It says the canal was so important, it was guarded by Union troops during the Civil War. They must have moved troops and supplies up and down through here, Green Bay all the way to the Mississippi.

Shontae – Does it say anything about the French?

Tamira – No.

Shontae – Marquette makes an interesting point about this place. [She pulls some paper out of her pocket and reads.] He says, 'Thus we left the Waters flowing to Quebeq, 4 or 500 Leagues from here, to float on Those that would thenceforward Take us through strange lands. Before embarking thereon, we Began all together a new devotion to the blessed Virgin Immaculate'. His point is that all the distance they covered before, all that water flowed back to their homes, back toward the St. Lawrence and Quebec. The Wisconsin is the first river that flows away. The difference is so important, they stop to pray about it.

Kat – It's a completely different watershed. Standing where we are, if a raindrop falls on our left shoulder, it flows into the Fox, and then into the Great Lakes and out through the St. Lawrence Seaway to the North Atlantic. Rain falling off our right shoulder flows into the Wisconsin, then into the Mississippi and on down to the Gulf of Mexico. Six or eight inches of difference up here, maybe three thousand miles of difference at the end.

Angelica – I have broader shoulders. It's probably fourteen or sixteen inches difference on me.

Shontae – Joke if you want, but they prayed for a reason. The minute they launched into that river, they were entering a whole new phase of discovery.

The lines needed to be perfect because they came back to them two more times in the film - the first time that evening as they pitched their tent and talked around their campfire. In the film, that scene takes place farther down river after the women have launched their canoes again and enjoyed a great day paddling like crazy as they race with the current pushing them on. In reality, the scene was shot about ten blocks away at a city park (Poquette Park) they let us use for the night. It was almost six by the time the final taping was done at the lock, so rather than try to move everything somewhere down river, we just moved everything the ten blocks to where the RVs had been parked. The city was pretty good about letting us have the park, and the cop was pretty good about stopping folks at the entrance.

Actually the park worked pretty well. It was large enough for all of us, and it was along the river, so the cameras had their backdrop for the campfire scene. The women pitched their tent, then started a fire to heat up some canned stew. In reality, we were all fed out of the kitchen RV – a good salad, grilled fish, and baked beans, with lots of ice cream for dessert.

This was another scene with lots of dialogue, so Lisa rehearsed them several times. By the way, campfires don't give off nearly as much light as is needed, so several lights were set up around the campfire, and the sound guys had trouble getting mics on poles over the scene, but not over the fire. They were always grumpy after a campfire shoot.

What was said when they finally started shooting? Here's the dialogue.

Shontae - I was thinking about that lock in Portage. A little distance here, makes a huge distance later. It's what drives college freshmen crazy. You take this course instead of that, end up in this major instead of that, and now you end up a social worker instead of a software developer. Your life is completely changed by one choice.

Kat - Or you sit down in a recruiter's office and end up in Iraq instead of Sheboygan.

Tamira – Every one of us felt like that when we got on the plane to Iraq. It was like holy shit. This plane is taking us a long way from home.

Shontae – Marquette had them all pray before they entered that new water. I bet all of us prayed too. We just did it silently.

Tamira – not the guy in the seat next to me. He was praying plenty loud. You should have heard him when the plane started spinning its way down over Baghdad. We dropped down plenty fast and tight to avoid missiles. I'm not sure how clean his shorts were.

Angelica – No question, that was a butt clencher.

The scene ends with them all staring into the fire, presumably thinking back to their arrival in Iraq.

At this point all the technicians were putting equipment into boxes and folding this and that into items one tenth the size they had been. The actors got up and stretched. I waited until things cleared out a bit, and then I took a seat next to Kat.

"You guys did some serious acting today."

"I feel like I'm back in basic getting chewed out by my DI. I lost track of how many times it took us to get that shot by the river."

"For what it's worth, the last shot looked pretty good to me. And I'm beginning to see how this all comes together. I think you're going to be proud of what shows up on the screen."

"So you trust her?"

"You don't?" They had let the campfire burn down, so I could barely see her. Right now I wished I had a clearer vision of her.

"She's making a movie about women in combat. There have been a few attempts at that, but not many. And she's describing a war that just goes on and on. There's a lot that could be said. I don't know how much of it she will say."

"I think she's making a film about women. You're not at war, you're not at peace, you are women. What I have seen so far, makes me proud.

"Thanks, Jess. Thanks for getting me involved."

We held hands for a minute, and then I wandered back to my RV. Jim was there, slouched back on the couch like he had just run a marathon. He looked like a man who could use a beer and a cigarette. I decided he was better off if he took me instead. I took his hand, pulled him up on his feet, and led him back to our bed. He was asleep before I could get his shoes untied. Okay, he owed me one. I put on my best nightgown and pulled the covers over us. I would get my payment in the morning.

Chapter 32

Finally Some Fun

I woke up with a very horny man in my bed. It was the river, of course. Well, maybe the incredibly sexy babe he shared a bed with was part of it, but I knew it was mostly the river. After a week of paddling through dead water, he was going to be in some water that moved. I'm sure he could already feel it – the current pushing his canoe as he raced alongside the women. He was going to have a great day. And he was ready to start – with me.

We woke in the spoons position. He had an arm under my head and up tight across my breasts. His other arm played with my hair, mostly just to wake me (as if I wasn't already awake), then slid down to my hips. I could feel him getting hard against my ass, and then he pulled me tighter against him. I slid back against him and moved a bit to tease him. A second later he had me on my back and was in me. I clung to him and felt my temperature shoot up.

He was done far faster than I wanted. And he was barely done when I felt him make the first motions toward rising from me. But I would decide when this was over. I wrapped my legs around him and kept one arm tight to his back while the other hand grabbed a hand full of hair. I held his head directly over mine.

"You're not going anywhere until you have held me for a full five minutes, kissed me twenty times, and told me how much you love me. And if you look at the clock, I will beat you." He did take a look at the clock, and I did punch him once in the shoulder, which just meant that he wrestled with me, and got my arms pinned against me while he kissed me. I struggled to free myself, which just meant he squeezed me tighter. Good man.

I am not sure if he did hold me for five minutes, but I know I got plenty of kisses, and he said exactly what I wanted. When he wasn't kissing me, he was looking down at me telling how beautiful I was, one hand sliding the hair out of my face, and running his fingers over my lips. I kept my arms locked across his back. I couldn't keep him much longer, but I did enjoy the time I had.

Finally I let him get up to shower. I padded across cold floors to the kitchen and made him a cup of coffee. I stood there in my night gown, one shoulder strap hanging down, my hair tangles around my face, the woman he had ravished, and, if I was lucky, the woman he would ravish again that night.

He came out of the bedroom wearing shorts and a black t-shirt. I am guessing he was wearing a shirt much too small for him, but I didn't mind. He was bulging out of it, his huge biceps pressing veins to the surface of his deeply tanned skin. I stood and let him come to me, his ravished lady. He took the coffee in one hand and wrapped the other hand around me, grabbing a large chunk of my ass and pulling me against him. I wrapped me arms around his chest, and lay my head against his shoulder. The coffee was hot. He wasn't going to be drinking it fast, or going anywhere fast. I kissed his neck. He moved his hand across my ass, keeping me tight against him. Did I mention he's a good man?

When he finally finished his coffee, he set the cup down and then dug his hand deeply into my hair and held my head while he kissed me. He told me he loved me, but it seemed silly to say it. I could feel it in his hands. Finally he left to go racing with his canoe.

Bunny must have been waiting outside my door. He was just barely down my steps when she was up them.

"I like that look on you." She played with my hair a bit, mussing it even more, and then she kissed me. She was wearing a bathrobe over her nightgown. The bathrobe came off as we walked to my bed.

I had never been to a sleep-over as a girl. After all, I was just trailer trash, and girls weren't lining up to be my friend. But it had that sort of feel to it as we lay in bed. We lay side by side, talking. Granted, she kept one thigh between mine, and her hand was all over my breast as she kissed me, but mostly we just talked. It had been a week, how were things going, that sort of thing.

Somewhere in the talk about the Fox and the canal and the new river, it occurred to me what this conversation was really all about. This project was almost over. How fast would they really go on the river? Who knew? Certainly faster than the twenty miles per day of the past. It was a little over a hundred miles to the Mississippi. They would have no trouble doing that in five days. Could they do it in four? Three? Some of that would depend upon stops for filming. But anyway you looked at it, we were nearing the end.

Bunny had told me Jim would be off to Vancouver, and Lisa would fly straight back to LA and an editing booth. Bunny had not told me about Bunny.

"When we are done with filming, I plan to go back to Galena. Would you like to go there with me?" Our faces were no more than three inches apart, so we could each study the other. She smiled and then rolled over on to me. She wanted to hold me. She wanted to be sure of me. A woman who lived from film contract to film contract wanted whatever control she could get. Both her hands went to my face, framing it.

"Yes, I would like that." She kissed me several times, her fingers playing in the hair at the edge of my face.

We didn't say much more after that, and she didn't stay much longer. She put her robe back on and ran the four or five steps to her RV. Much was left unsaid. How long would she stay in Galena? What would our relationship be? We would work that out. For the moment, we needed to finish this film.

It took me about an hour to get ready. I chose to wear yet another sun dress. It was now late September, but if you live in Wisconsin you need to pretend it is summer as long as you can. As I walked down to the lock I noticed all the other women were wearing sweaters, and most of the men had light jackets. I guess there's a limit to how much pretending you can do.

The actors were gathered in the same spot as yesterday, near the end of the lock. Lisa was having them reshoot the same scene. The canal history, two water sheds, Marquette said this... Same lines. Maybe the lighting was better. This time when they finished with the dialogue, they walked down to their canoes and launched them. They paddled out a few feet, no doubt waiting for Lisa to call them back for another shoot. When she didn't, you could see them dig in and start riding the current. Four or five strokes with the paddles, and they were really moving. All the cameras at the top of the landing followed them until they were tiny specks on the water.

"That's the shot I wanted." I couldn't tell if Lisa was celebrating, or challenging. Either way, she stood up from behind Jim and sent the three cameras off to locations she had already marked on a map. Everyone else was to go to Merrimac. Farther downstream, the river is damned up to form Lake Wisconsin (so named just in case anyone might get confused and think they might be in Kansas or Nebraska). Merrimac has a car ferry that crosses the lake. I guessed she might want some background shots of that. If nothing else, the landing provided ample parking for all our vehicles. So, off we went.

That was the start of a pretty interesting day. I felt a little sorry for Jim. He and his guys had to load up the third canoe and then try to chase the women down. As I watched them disappear around the bend, it seemed clear to me the women weren't waiting for him or anyone else. At this point they were strong canoeists, and now they had a chance to prove just how strong. Maybe Jim would catch them, maybe not. I had the sense he was just as anxious to get into that current as they were.

The rest of us drove back roads to Merrimac. Corn fields, cows, hills, curves, farms, occasional glimpses of the river/lake. It took less than half an hour to get to Merrimac. Too bad we got there so fast. It would be hours before the actors came down the river. In the meantime, we had time in Merrimac – two bars, a gas station, and a tiny shed selling ice cream to people waiting for the ferry. Not a lot to occupy our time. We all parked, stood around looking at the lake for a while, and mostly got back in our RVs and spent the time on our phones. I rode the ferry over and back (it's free), but mostly I took pictures for the kids and enjoyed being out in the sun.

The actors came down the lake about one. Jim had largely caught up, but was hanging back about a hundred yards to stay out of the frame as others got shots of the women approaching the landing. One camera had boarded the ferry, so there were pictures from that perspective, plus now the women waved at the ferry, and a few people on the ferry waved back. Not exactly riveting drama, but a pleasant scene.

The kitchen crew fed the women and all the rest of us. We sat on benches and watched cars load and unload. The ferry took fifteen cars at a time. Not a big boat, but big enough for the demand. I sat with Kat and Imelda. These were happy women. Yes, they admitted, they knew Jim would try to catch up, and yes, they just kept going. There was a good current, and even before they got to this lake, the river had been a hundred yards wide. Big and moving through rolling hills and forests. Marquette had said almost nothing about his time on the Wisconsin. That was a shame. So far, they liked what they had seen.

They were partway through their description when Jim walked over, a sandwich in one hand, wagging a finger with his other.

"All I got was your backs."

"If you can't paddle any faster," Imelda shook her head, "That's all you're going to see between now and Dubuque."

"No fair. I have to paddle and use the camera too."

"This is embarrassing." Imelda stayed riding him. "A big strong man whining. What do you think, Kat. Should we slow down for poor, sad, Jim?"

"I think it would break faith with the film. We need to show how women like us would respond to water like this. Our response is to go like hell. But if you need to, feel free to leave before us. That way you can see what we look like from the front."

The banter went on for a while. They were having fun. Obviously, if Jim wanted them to slow down for specific shots, he could. The fact that he didn't, helped give the day the feeling of recess. There had been exams the last week, here might be exams in the next couple days. But there weren't exams today. The sun was warm, the river was wide. It was a great day to be on the water.

Before we moved on, Lisa gathered everyone.

"A few miles ahead is a hydroelectric dam that has created this lake. You will have to beach and portage around it. There is also a town. It is called Sauk Prairie on one map, and Prairie du Sac on another. Whatever the hell it is called, we will spend the night there. Just before the dam is supposed to be a huge flock of bald eagles. I want those in the film. Jim, stay back from the women like you have been, and get both them and the eagles. The rest of you get the same shots from the shore. Ladies, if you see eagles, paddles down. You are in awe. If we have to sit out there an hour waiting for the perfect eagle shot, we will do it. Got it?"

Eagles. That sounded interesting. We loaded up and convoyed down to the dam. It took all of twenty minutes. Eagles? Yes. Not exactly a flock of them, but we could see eagles in nests in trees along the river, and eagles riding winds up above the river, watching for fish. The first time we saw one dive on a fish, we all shouted. There was barely a splash as the eagle's talons grabbed some unlucky fish near the surface and then carried it wriggling back to its nest. I had seen such things in TV shows. This was the first time I had actually seen it for myself.

We sat and stood along the shore for about two hours before the women came into view. An eagle skimmed right over their heads within minutes of their arrival. I could imagine Jim getting that shot. Assuming the sun was right and the backdrop worked, he already had a keeper. But there were lots more shots. The women looking up and pointing, the women watching an eagle hunt, Angelica laughing and shaking her fist at an eagle that came too close. Three cameras got every motion. The women sat out there for an hour watching the eagles, and then Lisa motioned them over to the shore. Enough for today.

We never were real clear on the name of the town, but Lisa had sent her assistants ahead to speak with the officials of whatever town this was, and they let us pitch a tent right above the dam. The spot they gave us happened to be right below a large brewpub (after all, this was Wisconsin). Lisa declared that to be the perfect spot for a meet-and-greet, and a good day got even better. My compliments to Prairie Something or Other.

Chapter 33

Campfire Stories

You want an odd image? Imagine six women carrying a canoe across four lanes of traffic. That's how we started the next day. There was a major highway over the top of the dam. So, to go over the dam required crossing the highway. There was a stop light in town, and even a pedestrian crossing light, but still the canoe was big and bulky and the women had to practically run to get it across that big road before the light changed. Then of course, they had to go back and get the other canoe. Not your normal start to a day. Certainly nothing Marquette and Jolliet ever did.

Once they got across the road and below the dam, they were back in the water, and back to a pretty good pace. The river basically took a right turn at the dam and then took a straight run to Minnesota. Even with stops for filming along the way, they would be at the Mississippi in three more days.

That changed some things in my RV. First Jim got less sleep. He was proud of himself. If I mentioned the river at all, you could see his face begin to glow. He had paddled all the way from Mackinac Island to the Mississippi, and he had the shoulders to prove it. I knew he would be bragging about it for years. And it was a huge accomplishment. Let him brag. But I wanted him to remember something else from this trip – me. So I was all over him every evening and all night. I would start with a massage of his back and build up from there. I rocked his world – or at least tried.

And he did lots of good for mine. Whether we were on the couch, in bed, or in the shower, he knew how to hold me. I got everything I could want from him. I got it those last three nights. Would there be more? He told me the gallery had changed the dates of his show. It would now be the first week of December. He still wanted me to come out for the show and be with him "for a few days." That seemed dramatically shorter than the first invitation. And more distant. Would it happen at all?

I didn't pout. Whatever did or did not happen in LA, I had him now. I enjoyed him now. Each morning I stood with him at the front door, my nightgown barely on, my hair mussed by his hands, my face there for his kisses. We looked at each other. I was happy with what I saw, and I was pretty sure he liked what he saw. I would get a final hug and kiss, and then he would slowly take his hands off me, looking at me as he left. It was that final touch of his hands on me as he left that made me feel not only would I have him again that night, but I would have some kind of future with him.

And for each of those final days, when he left, Bunny arrived. Sometimes dressed, sometimes with a bathrobe over her night gown, she took my hand, and we went back to my bed. She was also thinking about the future. Her conversations mostly consisted of – when we get to Galena this, and when we get to Galena that. She wanted me to talk about our time there, to make it more real. I wondered what there was about LA that made people so alone, so desperate. She was attractive, and talented, and had the world's largest vocabulary, yet she was clinging to me.

Her clinging took the odd form of climbing on top of me to assure herself I would be there, would stay with her. But she also studied me. As she touched me, she remembered when I had shown pleasure – where I liked to be touched, and how I liked it. And she would add each spot to her mental list, growing the list each morning as she explored my body. Then the next morning she would touch all those spots and then feel for more. She had to be the hardest working lover anywhere.

She knew I liked it when she brushed my hair, so now that became a daily thing. She tied our waists together, somehow tighter each day. She did my makeup, and then she took the brush to my hair. My face was against hers the whole time, so she could see the pleasure in my eyes. I would often interrupt her to kiss her while she brushed, and other times, I just laid my face down on her shoulder and wrapped my arms around her while she brushed. It felt amazing.

Would there be a future for her in Galena? Yes. She had her own profession to pursue. Maybe she would pursue it in Galena, maybe she would just come to Galena between contract work in LA. But I would have a place for her. I tried to make that clear as I held her and as I added color to her face. We stood tight against each other, and I made sure I also said – when we are in Galena, we will do this, and we will do that.

So much planning in those last three days. But still there was work to do. Jim went out each morning to paddle after the women. The other camera men would find good spots along the river. Almost every spot was attractive. The river was fifty or a hundred yards wide and flowed through fields and forests, and through valleys. The cameras could go high and shoot down at the women, or stay low and show the hills rising behind them. So many choices, and all of them good.

And the women had gotten very good. They stroked in unison, taking easy breaths, their backs straight, their paddles dipping to the same depth and rising with a gleam of water on them and a row of drops falling as they swung the paddles forward for another stroke. They were going to be very proud when they saw the film.

This was rural Wisconsin. It could be the backdrop for cheese commercials. There were a few small towns, and we had a few spectators when passing through Spring Green, but otherwise, we were on our own. Various parks and conservation areas lined the river banks, so we had easy access to camping. Lisa would point to a place on the map, and we would all gather there for lunch, and then she would point to another place, and we would be off to set up for the night, down some gravel road to an open spot where they could pitch the tent and we could park all our vehicles.

The days were photogenic, but it was the evenings that mattered. Lisa and Melissa had scripted campfire scenes. There was much that needed to be said yet. Character development yet to unfold. So the canoes were off the river by three, and the real work started – building a camp and getting lights and microphones where they should be. For the women, this would be the hardest part of their day. They had small canvas camp chairs that would have been fine if used for their usual purpose – an hour or two during a meal and some conversation. But the women would be in those chairs for four hours easy as the lighting and sound was set up and they rehearsed their lines two or three times. There isn't much give to canvas. I was sure there were six sore butts each night by the time Lisa was through.

What did Lisa want? Iraq. She wanted more, she wanted different, she wanted something. Each day at lunch I would see her huddling with Melissa. She had pen in hand and wrote all over Melissa's script. Then she would call one or two of the actors over, usually Kat or Shontae, and read the lines with them. Then there would be more changes. She was working to get this right. It had to be right about Iraq, about their experience, and it had to be right for a film. It had to be presented in the right way. Serious, but not lifeless. It needed to fit with the rest of the film. It needed... well, I have no idea all it needed. I am just a bartender from Amberg. But obviously it needed a lot because Lisa was an expert, and she was struggling mightily with these final scenes.

Lisa ended up shooting one of the big scenes three times. It was our first night past the dam. It felt really rough the first time, but I thought it was pretty good the second time. But Lisa wasn't happy. So she shot it all over again with some additional dialog the second night. One more day and we would be at the Mississippi, so she was running out of time. On the other hand, I could imagine her spending yet another night and even another night on the river if that's what it took. This scene was key to the film, and she would keep at it until it was right. But. With the new dialogue and some really good acting, she got the scene on the first try that second night.

You've seen the film, so you know how it starts. They are passing a bottle of wine (actually just water). This is one of the additions to the scene. Angelica starts it off.

"Okay, campers. We have talked about everything else. No offense first sergeant, but let's hear about the dumbest NCO you had over there. I'll start. It's about million degrees one day, and we have busted our asses for eight solid hours trying to get a bent axle off an MRAP. We've got jacks all under it, but it weighs a ton. Finally we get it out, and we are all collapsed on the floor, catching our breath."

"In comes Sergeant Dummy. He pays no attention to what we have done, doesn't care we are exhausted. He has been ordered to inventory the replacement parts for our HUMVEEs. We need to get on it right then. Okay, this is my last tour, so most patrols went out in MRAPs, not HUMVEEs. Why ride a deathtrap if you don't need to? We do a few repairs on HUMVEEs, but not many, so our inventory is not going to be much different than it was last month. We could just supply the same numbers as last month, and not be off any amount that matters. And that is exactly what any good NCO would have done. Not this jagoff. He wants an actual count. It took us six hours to fill in some forms that were just going to go into some filing cabinet or computer database. Idiot."

They laugh and pass the bottle, and then Jane says "I've got worse." There's a pause, and everyone looks at her, because up until this point in the film, she has been mostly invisible. She has just said what may have been her third line in the film. She waits for the bottle, takes a long pull, and then starts.

"I had to go out on night patrols. I hated every one of them. I'd be at the tail end of the squad. Up front someone had picked some door to kick, so we lined up along the compound wall, the door would come down with a bang, and we would all rush in, weapons ready. Maybe we would get shot at, maybe there would be an IED. Who knew? In we went. I'm controlling my breathing and hope I don't puke." She paused here and looked around. There's several nods.

"We go through the courtyard and into the house. Lots of shouting. Eyes in every room. Almost every time, there's no shooting, but you never know. After a few minutes, things settle down, and there's talk. There's a translator, and he and the men gather in one room and go through the basic routine – bad guys, where? I go to where the women and kids are. Usually they aren't armed, but you have to be sure. A man can't go in there. Everyone goes ape shit. No man can touch a woman. You know. So in I go. And every kid screams. Every time. Every damn time.

"And I can't blame them. I walk in. At five six I am taller than any woman there. I am wearing full battle rattle, I've got a rifle, helmet, and night vision, so I look like a damn cyclops. I am certain every kid who saw me had nightmares. I am the boogeyman to them. I try to calm things down. I try to keep a reasonable distance while looking things over, but these are kids, and they have totally lost it.

"One night it gets so bad, I sit down on the floor, my legs crossed, and I take off my helmet and goggles. I want them to see I am a woman. I even rest my rifle across my knees, and I talk to them. I know about ten words of Arabic, so I do the 'Salam Aleckem' thing, and then I point to myself and say my name. The women and kids aren't saying a thing, but at least they have stopped screaming. I nod, I smile, I search through my pockets for some candy or gum. I say my name again, and I think one of the kids is about to say something, when my sergeant comes in. He grabs the back of my pack and jerks me up into the air while shouting at me.

"'Gruenig, you dumb fuck' he screams. 'You will stay combat ready at all times. If I ever see you not ready to defend your dumb self, I'll shoot you myself.' I get my helmet and goggles back on, and I stand by the door. And the kids go back to crying. That was me in Iraq. The woman who made kids cry."

"No it wasn't." Kat is practically shouting. Jane is sitting on the other side of the fire from her, and Kat is leaning toward her. Kat's face starts glowing from the extra light of the fire. "That wasn't you." Kat is talking loud and fast. "You were the woman who guarded the back of your squad. You were the woman who went into the room they needed you to go into. You were the woman who never hurt a kid. You were the woman who reached out, even at risk to yourself. You were a good woman, and a good soldier."

"Fuck yes." I don't know who said that. Probably Angelica. The other women also say good things, minus the profanity. It gets quiet for a minute, and then Shontae starts.

"I'm going to tell you a story about Iraq, and then a story about Marquette. This is going to take a while, so you might want to start another bottle." Imelda reaches into the cooler, twists the top off the bottle, takes a long drink and passes it.

"You first." She gives the bottle to Shontae. Shontae drinks, then starts talking.

"I did three tours, all of them flying drones. Shadows. No weapons. The first tour they didn't even have laser pointers to show targets. But great optics. Fifty grand for the bird, a million for the camera riding the belly. First tour, about three months in, I am sending it out in front of a patrol. I can see trouble. There's a guy doing something in the street. I am guessing IED. And I spot three guys on a rooftop. Ambush, right?

"So I call it in and give the coordinates. I tell the intell weenie his unit is about five minutes from an ambush, and I give him the coordinates. He tells me there is no unit near those coordinates. I give him the coordinates again, and he tells me again – no unit there. I start shouting. Four minutes left. I can see our guys walking into it. I yell, 'Put someone on who can read a fucking map.' Now he's mad, enlisted can't talk that way to an officer. I scream even louder, hoping someone in the room can hear me and deal with this second louie. Two minutes left. I'm shouting, he's shouting, finally I hear another voice from another location. I hear, 'Lieutenant, stand down.' More importantly, I see the patrol freeze in place. A minute later a Black Hawk comes into my view and I can see him open up on the rooftop. End of bad guys."

"But for months, that's my nightmare. Night after night I have it. I see some problem, some patrol, and can't do anything about it. I even went to counseling about it when I was stateside."

She motions for the bottle and takes another drink. "Now for Marquette." She passes the bottle and looks at the others.

"You missed the guy in Green Bay. He gave a talk about Marquette the afternoon after we arrived. A professor, but I thought he had it all squared away. Two main points. First, this river we are going to see tomorrow. It had meaning to the King and the Governor. They wanted Jolliet and Marquette to find either a way to the Pacific or to the Spanish silver mines. Fine. The guys on top have their own goals. No surprise. Jolliet and Marquette have their own experience. One tribe, the Illinois, is a little ways down the Mississippi, and they treat Jolliet and Marquette well. Farther downriver is another tribe, the Arkansas, and they want to kill the explorers and almost do. The guys make it out of there, get back to the Illinois and up to Lake Michigan and the route home. Along the way, Marquette baptizes a dying baby. It's the last line in his journal. To him, it is the whole thing. He has saved a baby from Hell and damnation." Long pause. "Now, you are wondering what any of this has to do with Iraq."

"You got that right." Angelica again. "Where's the bottle?" She gets it and takes a drink.

"It's the same damn thing." Shontae pauses. "King Bush the younger has his own agenda. Maybe he's right, maybe he's wrong, maybe he's keeping bad guys away from here, maybe he's just handing Iraq over to Iran. His agenda, his problem. Us? We have good days and bad days. Sometimes we run into the Illinois, sometimes the Arkansans. Sometimes we make good moves. Sometimes we screw up. But in the end, before we get back on the plane, or maybe after we get here, paddle for five hundred miles, and drink two bottles of bad wine with good friends, we find our baptism – the one thing we felt good about doing, and that's the last item in our journal. We make that our focus, and let the other stuff just fade away."

"Shit, Shontae." Angelica pauses. You know she is going to find a joke in this. "I should have gone to that lecture. Instead, I was sitting in a bar."

There's other comments and some laughter, and the mood gets lighter. And I think that's what Lisa was trying for in all those takes over two days. She wanted the words, but she wanted the words said in the right way, at the right time. I think she got it.

But there was more. They pass the bottle and there are some jokes about the wine. Then Imelda has her line.

"Don't laugh, but there has been something I wanted to do. I wanted to take a canoe out at night just to sit on the water and look up at the stars. Anyone else interested?"

They all are, so there's a general movement to the shore and to the canoes. It's night, of course, so I don't know how Jim is doing this, but he films them as they launch their canoes. They paddle out a few yards and wait. Of course now Jim has to get in his canoe, and he goes out with them. Two sound men go out too, so that canoe is pretty full, but they get it out on the water, two younger guys paddling to basically hold the canoe against the current while Jim and the audio guys set up for what they need. It takes a while, and all this time, the women are also paddling a bit, trying to hold their position against the current, waiting for the shot.

Finally Jim tells them to go, and you get the women slowly paddling, all of them looking up. It's still Imelda's line.

"It's interesting the way you just see a band of stars through the break in the trees. It follows the line of the river, like there is a river of stars matching the river below."

"That's deep," Angelica gets to be the clown again. "Real deep." There's laughter, but all the heads are still looking up. I'm watching from the shore, watching the women, but also watching the stars. There's no lights on the ground, no competing light, so the stars look exceptionally bright. And even from shore you can see there is a shape to what you can see in the break beyond the tree branches. I have no idea how Jim can film in this light, but I can see his camera is on his shoulder, and it is pointed up.

As you know, he does get the scene, even in the dark. Pretty amazing, and a nice addition to the film. After about thirty minutes they all came back to shore. The women went straight into their tent. I am sure they were exhausted. Jim and his crew went straight for Lisa's RV to review the film they had shot. I never heard him come to bed. It must have been late.

Chapter 34

On to the Mississippi

Jim did something pretty sweet the next morning. He just held me. We were lying face to face and he had his arms around me. He held me tight to him, lay his face just an inch or two from mine, and continued to hold me. I couldn't move, nor did I want to. I liked being right where I was. I could hear people in the other RVs beginning to move around, a few people walking to the kitchen RV for breakfast. Jim didn't move. He held me tight, looked at me, kissed me from time to time, but mostly he just held me. There was something in his face that told me he would happily hold me like this for hours.

"Should we stay like this all day?" I asked.

"Yes." And he held me even tighter. He was one strong guy.

"You don't want to move."

"No. I want to stay with you, just like this."

"Thank you." My turn to kiss him. "I take it you are happy with how things went last night?"

"The scene was perfect. But this isn't about that. This is about you."

"Jim, hold me as tight as you can, as long as you can. I love it. But I know you are going to Vancouver for another film."

"I leave in two days." He continued to hold me tight and look at me. Why did I sense he had more to say?

"And..."

"There will always be another film. But not like this one. For this one, I had you. I want you to know I am grateful. You are a special woman. I intend to hold you every minute you will let me." And that's what he did. We lay together for another hour, smiling, kissing, being together. I know it sounds silly, but I can't begin to tell you how good that felt. Eventually he got up, showered, and dressed. I made him coffee and stood close while he drank it. We didn't say much of anything. We just stood together, our bodies touching. Before he left, he held me again. He is such a good man.

Bunny didn't come by that last morning on the river. She had work to do at the finish line. So did half the crew. RV after RV was already leaving. I wrapped a bathrobe around me and walked down to the river to see the canoes push off. They were so good at it now. One quick motion and the canoes were in the water and moving. I waved to them, and then waved to Jim as he loaded his camera and then pushed from shore, off to chase the women for a final day.

It seemed like just a few minutes later, I was almost the last RV remaining. Just me and the kitchen. I had coffee with the ladies, and we talked for a while. Favorite moments, favorite settings, favorite actors. That sort of thing. They had a long list of all three. They had been away from home a lot longer than they had expected, but they were going back with stories to tell. Four very happy people.

I showered and changed while they packed up, and then I followed them to the lunch location.

Lunch was rushed a bit. We knew from the map the Mississippi was just five or six miles farther down river. All of us wanted to get there. So it was sandwiches, bottled water, and coffee, the sandwiches eaten while standing. The two camera crews that would be on shore ate first, and ate fast. They had locations to get to. The publicists were already at the Mississippi. The actors were barely on shore for five minutes, still chewing the last bites of their sandwich as they walked back to their canoes. Like I said, everyone wanted to get moving.

To explain the next part, I need to explain Wyalusing State Park. It is a very large state park right where the Wisconsin and Mississippi rivers meet. And it is all hill. It easily rises a hundred feet above the two rivers. It is on the south shore of the Wisconsin, and the east (Wisconsin) side of the Mississippi. If this were a road intersection, we would call it the southeast corner. There are hiking trails and lots of camping spots and plenty of room for us.

The room mattered. The publicists had been busy. By the time I got to the park, there were people everywhere, and not just our crew. There had to be hundreds of spectators. I slowly drove through the park to our camping area, going carefully because there were people walking along the road. There were people in amongst our RVs. I had to honk my horn to clear people out of the way as I backed into a spot. We had drawn pretty good crowds in Green Bay, but there were many more here.

There was a general flow to the people – down a trail to the Wisconsin. Some people seemed headed for the shore. But this was a hillside, so some sat on benches or on the grass and looked down at the river. How they knew the canoes would land below them, and not around on the Mississippi side, I don't know. But it turned out they were right. By the time I got my RV settled and had started down the hill, I could see the canoes in the distance.

Here's where the PR people outdid themselves. They had two canoes in the river, one near shore, and another maybe forty feet away, both paddling like crazy to stay in place. In between them was a red ribbon. They were setting this up like the finish line of a race. You could tell when the women were close enough to see the ribbon -- they immediately sped up. For about a hundred yards they raced each other, laughing as they paddled, then, about fifty yards out both canoes slowed. They took some time to carefully align themselves, and then they broke through the red ribbon together.

Based on the cheer from the hillside, you would have thought they had raced all the way from France. But you could see the women were thrilled. They raised their paddles and waved up at the crowd. Then they turned their canoes and beached them right into a group of people who immediately grabbed their bows and pulled them fully on shore.

I stood about halfway down the hill and counted cameras. Jim was still out on the water. He stayed out there for at least another half hour getting everything from that angle. The second camera was on shore, apparently doing close ups of the landing. Third camera? It took me a while to find it. Up at the top of the hill was an overlook – a low brick wall at the edge of a steep decline. The camera was up there, getting crowd scenes. And of course the publicists had cameras out. I learned three of them were live-streaming. Others were texting and getting images and text out on Instagram and FaceBook. I saw Bunny sitting on a bench, her laptop on her knees, busily typing. They were all earning their pay that afternoon.

Of course you can't just have people standing around cheering forever. There has to be a focus. And that was all worked out. Lisa led the actors and the crowd up the hill to the RVs. The kitchen crew had set up several tables and brought out boxes of paper plates. But it was the publicists that had prepped for this celebration. I could see why they had left early in the morning. Out of their RV came several cakes, each carefully inscribed. One said "River of Stars," another had the names of the six actors, and a third was decorated with a map of the route we had taken. Obviously they were all huge. The next thing out of their RV was a case of champagne.

Words need to be spoken at moments like these. I was unclear if these words would be in the film, or just used for publicity, but there were plenty of words either way. The nearest town is Prairie du Chien. The mayor was brought up to say a few words of welcome. Then there was some old guy from the State Historical Society thanking the women for increasing interest in the "important three hundred and fifty year history of Wisconsin's waterways." Lisa thanked everyone for coming to welcome the film crew, and then she called up the actors and introduced each, including their service history. There was sustained applause after each, and the usual comments about "thank you for your service."

The women probably had the best comments. They stood facing the crowd, with the tables between them and the spectators. Kat got a laugh when she said she was a major in real life, because "no one would trust me to be a first sergeant." But each of them said something clever or endearing. And they all knew to keep it short. Angelica finished the talk, staying in character as group clown – "you have all driven a lot of miles and listened to a lot of talk. I assume the cake and champagne aren't just stage props. Whataya say, folks?" There was a cheer, and Bunny and two other publicists jumped in to cut the cake and pour the champagne. Angelica didn't wait. She took one of the bottles from the case, popped the cork, and drank straight from the bottle before passing it to the other women. The crowd cheered that too. Friendly bunch.

The cake and conversation lasted into the evening. As in past gatherings, some of the people were old friends or family of the actors. And again, Kat seemed to have the largest number, but everyone had at least a few. But the actors knew to reach out to everyone. It seemed to me Shontae and Tamira worked hardest at that, signing autographs and posing for selfies until dark. Clever women. They were building a fan base.

Slowly people left. Clean up began. The canoes were loaded onto Kat's trailer. We were done with them. The cooks brought out a couple pots of stew and lots of bread. We ate and talked. The actors were told which RVs had room for them, but they decided they would take the tent one more night. They set it up on some grass near our RVs. Slowly people disappeared into their RVs and our campgrounds got quiet.

I walked over to the lookout where the camera had been earlier. There was a great view. The moon was up and it shed enough light to see both rivers. Both had a series of islands and channels, a real mixture of land and water, with the water looking a bit like a mirror in the moon light.

I heard steps behind me, and then felt a hand on my ass. Lisa.

"You were right about the bear movie. I might still make it, but this was better. I assume the critics will be all over me. Was this a war movie, an adventure movie, some new kind of women's movie, or couldn't I make up my mind? But I think people will pay to see it, and they will walk out of the theater glad that they came."

"Lisa, what you did was astonishing. Did you see Kat look at you? She was smiling. They will all be proud of this film, and I know you will be too."

"I was serious about doing the premiere in Green Bay. Not exactly a media hotspot, but a nice enough town. And I want you on the red carpet with me. Wear that purple ruffled number I bought for you, and I'll give you a kiss that will shock your grandchildren." As she's saying this she has wrapped both arms around my ass and pulled me tight to her. She practiced kissing me for a while.

"I look forward to that." I was up on my toes kissing her. She had to be wearing heels. Even being three inches taller wasn't enough for her. I had my arms on her shoulders to help with my balance. "Will I see you before then?" It was kind of a pathetic question to ask, but I asked it anyway.

"Probably not. And to answer your next question, will you see me after that? I would like that, but I can't promise anything, Jess. Maybe one day I will just show up in Galena again. But no promises. You don't even get me tonight. Jim has demanded you. The guy loves you. But then, so do we all." I got another kiss, and then she was gone.

I spent a few more minutes looking down on the rivers. It had taken a long time to get here, but it was worth it. The view was unbelievable. On the other hand, I had a man waiting for me, and that was nice too. I didn't quite run back to our RV, but I did move pretty fast.

Chapter 35

Parting Shots

We spent the night tight against each other, my head never leaving his shoulder, his arms always tight across my back. There was some sex. Very. Good. Sex. But mostly it was what I wanted most in the world, his big arms around me, holding me to him. Tight to him. All night. He didn't say anything about my coming to LA and the gallery exhibit. And I didn't ask. I have my pride. Well, some pride. And I had what I wanted. Him. Right here, right now. Him. I pressed my face against his neck and enjoyed every moment.

I knew what was left in the script – the closing scene. It would take somewhere from two to four hours to shoot, and then everyone would scatter. Most of them back to LA. I had offered my hotel in Dubuque as an ending point (and a chance for me to be with them a little longer), but I had already heard what was going on. Most had arranged transportation from one source or another, and would be up in the Twin Cities by nightfall, and on a plane back to LA.

This film was just about over. But for a little longer, I had his arms around me. He was such a good man. He held me tight as long as he possibly could. One of his assistants even pounded on our RV. Still he didn't move, didn't let go of me. Then, finally, I got a very long kiss, and he was up to shower and dress.

I made coffee in the kitchen. I wanted that to be his final view of me – barefoot, my nightgown sweat soaked, one shoulder strap down, my hair over much of my face. Let him remember me as his ravished lady.

He's a man. He was out of the shower, dressed, with his bags packed, by the time the coffee was ready (Don't ask me how they do that). He threw his bags out on the grass, and then came back to hold me while he drank his coffee. Cup down, one hand behind my head, the other under my ass, he held me up so my toes were barely touching the floor. His kiss went on forever. He finally pulled the hair away from my face and said, "December first. The world will know just how beautiful you are. I'll send you plane tickets." And he left. There's a man who knows how to make an exit.

Except I wasn't quite done with him yet. I spent the next two hours in the bathroom, carefully doing my makeup, then working on my hair. When I was comfortable with that look, I pulled a silk dress from my closet that would have been far more appropriate in an elegant dining room than in a campground. But. The neckline scooped just where I wanted it to scoop, and the flared skirt would move every time I moved, or every time the slightest breeze touched it. Add in three inch heels, and I had one more look I wanted Jim to think about between now and December first.

Where was my man? Up at the same lookout they had used yesterday. It was the perfect place for the closing shot. Put the camera about five feet away, stand the actors near the brick wall, let them talk, and let the viewers see the river behind them. There was good sun. A few distant clouds for contrast. It was the kind of setting where you could imagine the scene itself shouting – take my picture.

All three cameras were up there, spaced to make different angles available. The six actors were standing along the wall. They were dressed slightly better than they had been when canoeing, but still very casual – jeans and cotton tops. Sneakers. Traveling clothes. Their hair and makeup had been worked on. Nobody looked that good after sleeping in a tent, but after all, this was a movie. Microphones dangled overhead, and several of those silver light reflectors crowded around the edges.

How were things going? Not well. I could see that in every face up there. The scene was to take maybe two minutes. It should have been done while I was getting dressed. I should be up here while Jim packed up his equipment, free to hold me and tell me one more time how beautiful I was. But they were still shooting. Lisa and Melissa and Jim were huddling to one side. I couldn't hear what they were saying, but I could see frustration.

Finally Lisa stood straighter and said, "Let's try that." She walked back to where the women were waiting.

"Ladies. I appreciate your work this morning, but the scene just doesn't work. So, new dialog. Jane, most of this is on you. Stay over on the end like you are – like we would expect you to be, but turn more towards Kat. Melissa will give you all your new lines. Let's walk through it and see if it gives us the visuals we need."

Ten minutes later came the first walk through, then the first rehearsal, then the first take of the closing everyone remembers. All six are standing in a line looking down at the river. Jane, somehow looking smaller than usual, is standing at one end. There is silence before Jane begins.

"This is worth every backache we had. This, and being together again."

Kat's line - "I bet you can see ten miles from up here. And all of it beautiful." There's a long pause before Jane talks again.

"The guys in my unit, some were good guys, some were bad. One guy I know wanted to rape me. But even the good guys, it wasn't the same as it was when I was with you guys."

"Yes." Kat was smiling. "We clicked the first night in the shelter. Angel did it, bless her."

A pause, then Kat again – "The six of us tight together in a corner. Mortar rounds landing closer and closer. And Angel says, 'I know it's dark, and I have the sexist body in Iraq, but if any of you cop a feel, there's going to be trouble.'"

"True," Angelica shouts, "Best bod in Iraq."

Kat - "I laughed so hard, I thought I was going to puke."

"Me too." Jane paused again. "You guys are the best thing from Iraq. The rest of it, I think will fade. You guys I always want in my life."

"So, next year we find another river to conquer." And they hug. The camera slowly backs away and then fades to black.

Everybody froze for a full minute after that take. Was the light right? The sound? Any problem with camera angles? Lisa stands behind Jim, headphones giving her access to the audio channels. She stares at his camera, then slowly straightens and takes off the headset. She looks at the women, smiles, and everyone there starts applauding. It all worked.

There's still the chance she will want to reshoot the scene, so everyone stays in place. Jim quickly rewinds what he has, and the two of them look at the video. She looks at him, he nods, and now we know it is over. They got the final scene they wanted.

Once it was clear the scene was done, there were hugs all around. Several technicians also came over and shook their hands. "As good as anything I have ever seen" was the comment from several of them. Nice. We were ending on a high note.

And we were definitely ending. There were already half a dozen airport limos mixed in with our RVs. The publicists were the first ones to climb into the limos and leave. Meanwhile the technicians got all the equipment into the right boxes and cabinets, and then that truck left. The wardrobe/makeup truck was already gone. Both trucks still had long drives back to LA. Kat said she would drive all the actors up to the airport in her van. They could just as easily have taken a limo, but I think all six liked the idea of spending a few more hours together. Kat would be pulling a trailer full of canoes through the Twin City airport, but this was Minnesota. Surely it wasn't the first time canoes had been through there.

I stood and waved as people left. Lisa gave me a hug and a kiss and damn near molested me in the parking lot. She whispered a lot of things I won't repeat, and won't forget. We would have our time in December. She got in her limo, and waved to me with one hand while her other hand was already turning on her phone. Busy lady.

Jim was one of the last to leave. He stood in front of me and said, "Jess, that dress isn't fair."

"This dress, and the woman in it, are yours any time you want."

Poor guy. I was sure he had a plane to catch, but he looked at me like he wanted to just pick me up and get back in our RV. Good. It certainly wasn't my job to make it easy for him to leave. He did pick me up, and held me so tight I couldn't breathe. He whispered in my ear, "December first, Jess. It will be worth the wait. I promise." He put me down and practically sprinted for his limo.

I noticed Bunny was still there. She, I, and the kitchen crew seemed to be all that remained. Well, us and fourteen RVs. I called RV Wonderland (or whatever it was called) and explained they would find their RVs in Wyalusing State Park, not Dubuque, and the keys would be at the park headquarters. He told me there would be a surcharge for the extra distance. I told him we would not require a discount, even though Wyalusing was closer to his business than Dubuque. He hemmed and hawed, and apparently found a map. He agreed. End of that.

Almost done. Bunny and I loaded our baggage into the kitchen RV, then I locked up the other thirteen, and left the keys at park headquarters. I guess that officially ended the project. Five hours later we were back in Green Bay. All the leftover food went into the kitchen. I bought the cooks dinner, and then Bunny and I took a room. We were in bed by nine and asleep by nine oh five.

Chapter 36

So What Happened After?

Bunny dumped me pretty fast. It shocked the hell out of me. That night in Green Bay was pretty good. We slept tight against each other, touching each other, kissing, and then drifting back to sleep. She was all over me in the morning, in bed, and in the shower. She was exceptional in the shower. And when we got dressed, she did that thing with the bathrobe belt, tying us tight together while she worked on my face. I think we both liked that. I know we both had our hands all over each other, and I never got tired of kissing her. I bet we stood together like that for an hour.

Where did things start coming apart? In my car. We had that one last RV to return to the dealer. My car was in the hotel lot, so after breakfast, I drove the RV down to Fond du Lac, and Bunny followed in my car. No problem. I park the thing, give the salesman the keys, and get behind the wheel of my Toyota. Off we go to Galena.

For the next five hours, I get questions about my car. What year is it? Does it really have a hundred and eighty thousand miles on it? Why am I driving an eight year old car? Have I thought about something a bit nicer? BMW has some models I would really like. Have I thought much about my image?

I'm getting less and less comfortable every mile. Maybe I should have told her more – what they call the "back story." How do I explain ten years as a waitress, then ten years as a bartender? My vehicle? An old Dodge truck I had bought because people told me when you live up in northern Wisconsin, you drove a truck. How else did you get through the snow? So I bought that Dodge Ram guys recommended, and spent every day wondering if it would start, and every month trying to cover whatever the latest repair bill had been. How do you describe the feeling of walking out to your truck at the end of your shift hoping you could turn the key and hear the engine? And the times when you got enough in tips to finally buy the girls the new coats you had promised, only to need a new generator or brake shoes?

And then I get the management job at the new water plant, and I have enough money to buy another car. I don't listen to the boys, I read Consumer Reports at the Wausaukee Library, and I get a Rav4 coming off a three year lease. And it's not like a new car, it's like a new species of car. Every single time I turn the key, it starts, and every single time I step on the brakes, it stops. I change the oil twice a year, and buy new tires every three years. And it just keeps going and going and going. And something important has changed. A major stress has gone from my life. At the end of my workday, I am not nervous as I walk to my car. I am confident. I am relaxed. I feel completely different. Do I explain that to Bunny, or do you have to be born poor to understand car stress? Do you have to feel it year after year? And then feel the incredible exhilaration of having a car that you can count on. Yes, it was eight years old, but I loved that Toyota in ways she would never understand.

She spent the last two hours of the drive describing the Beemer she had parked outside her condo in LA. I really should get one. I would like it so much. I just drove.

She managed a week in Galena. The first four days she talked on and on about the gardens and the music and the beautiful weddings. Then it was three days of talk about the customers. Did famous people really come to the resort, or was it just, you know, ordinary people? She had run into one man who did commercials in Chicago, but he seemed to be the only one in "the industry." Could she look at our reservation list to see if anyone important would be arriving soon?

The next day she asked me to driver her to Ohare. She told me she loved me dearly and would be back soon, but she had agreed to help with a new TV project, a sequel based on some show I didn't remember. I never saw her again.

I did see Lisa again. She did the premiere in Green Bay, just as she had promised. She arrived two days early, complete with entourage. There were at least twenty -- wardrobe and makeup people, video and audio folks, and lots of publicists. More importantly, she brought back all of the actors. Everybody stayed at my hotel, and I got to talk to all of them at meals and at an endless series of meet-and-greets. Wardrobe dressed all the actors in gowns by famous designers, and they all looked beautiful. I guess I was a bit surprised by Kat, not that she wouldn't look great – she did – but that she didn't seem a bit uncomfortable with the look. It was like, why shouldn't an Army major wear a strapless gown and four inch stilettoes? There were media there from all over the Midwest, and she stood and bantered with them with real grace and style.

Lisa and I shared a room the three nights she was in town. Each of those nights, she made me feel like I was the only one. When we were together, I had her complete attention. The evening would grow late, she would take my hand, and we would walk away from that night's party and go up to our room. I never had the sense she was tired. I never had the sense she wanted to rush through our time together. Every single time she would look directly at me, with an intensity that was almost hypnotic, as she slowly removed my clothes, put a nightgown on me, and played with my hair in between kisses. She would get me into bed, lower herself on me, still staring into my eyes, and take command of my body. She had me gasping and moaning and begging for more. One night she used the belt of my robe to tie my wrists behind my back, but that was silly. She owned me completely. She could do whatever she wanted with me that night, or any night.

I had her hands on me, her arms around me, and her kisses for three nights. I knew those would be my last nights with her. But those were incredible nights. I still feel warm when I think of them.

The actual premiere was fun. The theater lobby was too small for all the red carpet events Lisa wanted, so the premiere began in my hotel with about two hours of drinks, pictures, autographs, and selfies with the actors. There were media people there from all over the Midwest, plus all the local elite. The theater held just under four hundred. Tickets were a hundred dollars and sold out in under two days. If you were cool you were there. Lisa comped me five tickets for my daughters, sons-in-law, and dad. I bought twenty more tickets for my employees. I wanted the four women who had staffed the kitchen RV there, plus all the employees who had helped salvage the Appleton stay. Add in Bobbi and Andy and Kristi, and twenty tickets went fast.

One of Lisa's people decided there should be red carpet all the way to the theater. I have no idea where they found that much carpet, but they did. The irony would have been if it had snowed all over that carpet, but the weather was on its best behavior. It was low thirties with little wind – pretty fabulous for mid-December in Wisconsin. So we all walked to the theater in relative comfort. The street had been closed down, so it was filled with people taking pictures of us, and of course the publicists took pictures of the people taking pictures, all of it being live streamed to show how excited the Green Bay population was to host this event.

Lisa declared that I should wear my purple ruffled dress from the last movie, complete with multiple petticoats that pushed my skirts out forever (but kept my legs warm during the walk). And she held my gloved hand all the way to the theater. There at the door, she bent me back and gave me the kiss she promised.

The theater looked really good, after all it had just gone through major remodeling two years before. But now there were flowers everywhere, a string quartet performing on a landing, and huge stills from the movie hanging on every vertical surface. Ushers all wore rented tuxes or formal gowns. And there was more champagne, and more opportunities to meet the actors. It was easy to be excited just walking around and talking to people before finding our seats. I got hugs from dozens of people, and kisses from my daughters.

It took some work to get people to their seats (I wasn't much better, there were so many people to talk to), but finally the ushers got us where we belonged. When the lights dimmed, Lisa stepped in front of the stage and did the usual thank yous and introductions. Maybe the highlight of all that (for me at least) came when she introduced the "four marvelous women from here in Green Bay who stayed with this film production every mile and fed us well, no matter how remote our location might have been." She had them stand and even pronounced their names correctly. Talk about a class move.

But we were here to see a film, and finally she talked about it, the key word being respect – respect for the explorers who had first traveled the rivers, respect for the veterans who were currently serving all of us at locations all around the world, and respect for women who were facing their military duties with hope, and fear, and love.

And then she showed the film.

Jim wasn't at the premiere. Probably just as well. I would have been all over him. His visuals were amazing. The footage along Lake Michigan, well, there was the lake I had seen, and now the lake that he was showing me. I had seen nothing before. Then there was the Death's Door near drowning. You felt like you were going under each time Shontae's head disappeared. I heard gasps all over the theater. The marshes of the upper Fox reminded me so much of Bogie pushing his way through the reeds in The African Queen. And those scenes contrasted so well with the campfire scenes. You felt you were right there with the women, the camera doing close up after close up of their faces as they talked about Iraq. And there were the joyous moments – the silly race to the tape as they reached the Mississippi, and the moments up on the hill. And then the closing. You wanted to applaud those women, but also give them all a hug.

When the screen faded to black, the audience instantly rose for a standing ovation that went on and on. Lisa came back on stage and brought out each of the actors. The audience stayed on its feet. The actors held hands, hugged, and waved to the audience. Lisa knew to leave the crowd asking for more. She led the actors off the stage and out to the lobby. They stood in line and shook every hand as people slowly left, walking out into the December night.

I stayed in the theater longer, talking to employees and family. We joked a little about my two lines, and then my daughters and their husbands were off to rescue their babysitters. I had a room at my hotel for my father, and he and I walked back there together. The red carpet was still out, and he shuffled along it, holding my hand.

My father went up to his room. We promised to have breakfast together. I did another hour at the after party in the conference area. It was hard to get close to the actors, but I caught Kat's eye and waved. She smiled back. To me, that was the film's seal of approval.

I finally went up to my room, happy to get out of my heavy dress and high heels. Lisa came to bed sometime after three. She didn't climb onto me, but lay next to me. I wrapped my arms around her and held her tight. She was exhausted, thrilled, scared, hopeful, fearful, too tired to talk. I whispered, "I have no idea what critics will say, but audiences will love it. It's a beautiful film. You should be very proud." She actually cried, and laid her head on my shoulder. I stroked her hair while she slowly fell asleep.

In the morning, everyone made a quick exit to LA. I had a long breakfast with my dad and waved to people as they left. Lisa and most of the actors came to me for a quick hug before they got into their limos. Lisa was pulling up review after review on her phone as she walked out the door. My hotel felt empty for a little while that morning, but then it started filling up again. A major local cheese manufacturer had its annual show and tell in our conference center. One more group of happy people.

As for the film, you know how that went. Big box office and seven Academy Awards, including Best Picture, Best Cinematography, and Best Director. And everyone's big surprise – Kat for Best Supporting Actress.

In the seventy five years of the awards, there have been many highlights, but I am sure everyone remembers Kat. She came up, thanked the audience, and said she would have more to say when the rest of her squad came up on stage – and she called down the other five actors. They were allocated seats back in the second balcony, so it took time for them to get down to the stage. As they walked that center aisle, Kat gave their name and military rank. And the audience stood and cheered. Her line once they were lined up behind her?

"We went where they told us to go, and we did what the leaders of this country told us to do. Some things felt right, somethings didn't, but all we did, we did for you, the people of America." She saluted, the women behind her saluted, and they held the salute. The audience? Obviously not sure what to do. Do you applaud while being saluted? Salute? Most stood and waited. Finally Kat and her "squad" turned and left the stage while the audience gave them a loud and long standing ovation.

The women didn't go back to their seats. They walked off stage, and then found an exit. Two blocks away was a bar they had selected, a bar filled with family and friends and lots of veterans. The rest of us from the film went over there after the award show was over. And yes, it got so crazy I even got behind the bar and helped serve. Lisa picked up the bar tab. No one left before three. That was a damn fine night.

What about me and Jim? Jim had called me the previous November. The gallery show had been postponed. And you can guess what I am thinking – this man is saying "good bye." So I am listening, and nodding, and waiting – waiting for words I don't want to hear. Instead I hear – "April. Soon after the Oscars. They think there will be more interest."

And that's how it worked out. A few weeks after the Oscars, he picked me up at LAX. I had asked how to dress for a gallery opening. He said formal might be nice. He had sent me a first class ticket, so I had unlimited baggage. I took eight floor-length gowns, six cocktail dresses, and four silk dresses that I was sure would be appropriate at some time of day in some location. It was a bunch to take out to his car, but I heard no complaints.

So, finally, after all this build up, let me describe the show. First, the gallery was huge. And it seemed to be in a very nice neighborhood. When in doubt, I have a very nice baby blue off-the-shoulder gown with small train that had worked for me before. That's what I was wearing when we pulled up to the gallery and a valet came to open my door. There was a red carpet, and a dozen photographers. Jim stood with me as they took several pictures, and then he stepped away as they took more pictures of me. Why were they taking pictures of me? I really didn't know. He had told me nothing.

Inside were a hundred or so people, most with a glass of wine in hand, and the instant I walked through the door, they all turned to look at me. I froze. Jim put an arm around me and said, "Ladies and Gentlemen, I would like you to meet Jessica Wilson." And they applauded. Now I was really confused. I smiled and gave a half wave, but I was lost. Then Jim gave me the program for the exhibit, and I saw my picture on the cover. This was not a show of Jim's photography. It was a show of Jim's photography – of me. The program was labeled "A Woman's Day."

I looked around the room and saw a sequence. Me, first thing in the morning, just out of bed. Me looking at the camera through mussed hair, my nightgown rumpled and uneven. Me gradually getting dressed. There had to be sixty pictures of me on the walls, taking me through the day. Many of the pictures were taken of me working at the hotels in Green Bay and Appleton. I had no memory of him taking those. There were pictures of me in the evening, and then pictures of me ready for bed. At no point was I naked, and in fact at no point could you see as much as my breasts, but the pictures were so intimate, so revealing, I felt naked.

I was stunned. Jim had his arm around me, and I felt it get tighter. Was he afraid I would turn and run? I looked up at him, but I had no words.

"When I look at you," he had one arm still around my back, but the other hand took a lock of hair a bit farther from my face. "When I look at you, this is what I see."

"I thought one or two pictures, like the ones you brought me in Galena."

"I brought in five pictures, and the gallery owner asked for five more. I brought in those, and he said we should do this. Four of these pieces have already been acquired by major museums. All of them will go into important collections. A portion of the price, by the way, goes to you."

"I feel naked."

"Walk with me. Let's look at each one. I will pull any piece that makes you uncomfortable."

We spent two hours slowly sliding along the walls, staring at each picture. I was certain in each case that if I came back three or five or ten times, I would see more each time. More of me. Sort of me. He had done things with light and color that I know changed me. My face took a slightly different shape. My hair took a different hue. I seemed closer or farther away depending on something happening with the background.

But there was an essence to all of them, despite any changes in shade or color. Openness. It was in my face. In every picture, my face was relaxed, composed, vulnerable. I was looking at the world, and letting the world look at me – the essence of me. The real me.

"They show too much."

"That's you, Jess. You show all you are. Every day. That's how you encounter the world. You are the most open and vulnerable woman in history. You are not a little girl. You are not someone who has escaped trouble. You have faced much. Yet, look at you. See yourself in these pictures. You are still open to the world. Every expert who has looked at these pictures says the same thing – 'they give me hope.'"

"And what do you say?"

"I say I am honored to know you."

"I'd rather hear that you love me."

"I have sixty pictures that say that."

"Yes, I guess you do."

I looked at the pictures again. Jim held me with both arms as I turned my head to see the sequence yet again. Sixty pictures of me. His arms were warm. His chest was warm. People were looking at us. I suppose they had been the whole time. I ignored them.

My gaze focused on the garden sequence – the pictures he had taken in the garden of the Grand Hotel. I remember it had been almost sunset. Shadows had been long. I was studying the flowers, even reaching out to one. The colors were muted, less intense in the shadows and the fading daylight. They seemed fragile. My fingertips almost looked like I was reaching out to help them in their distress. Those pictures weren't just about me, they were about me in the world. I rested my head on Jim's shoulder as I continued to look.

An odd thought occurred to me as I looked at those images. The plane ticket Jim had sent me was one way. There was no return ticket, no clock ticking. He had brought me here without a plan to send me away. I might be with this man a while, a man who looked at me and saw those women on the wall. I loved this man, and I could see he loved me. I would stay with him. I didn't know how long I would be here. But I knew I would find love while I was with him.

Author's Note

Both Jolliet and Marquette kept journals of their trip. Jolliet's journal was lost when he capsized on the return trip to Quebec. Marquette's journal was incorporated into the Jesuit Relations, a chronicle of the Jesuit efforts in New France. That journal has been translated into English and is available on-line through Creighton University. Here is the URL:

 http://moses.creighton.edu/kripke/jesuitrelations/relations_59.html

Marquette's journal is about a third of the way into the volume. It can be read in an hour or two. I hope you find it as fascinating as I do.

