Lineage

“What about the rocks in front? How did the ships navigate between them?”


“Well, son, the ships you’re thinking of weren’t nearly the ships that are today. They could fit in smaller places than most. Although, they didn’t need to since those rocks you see out there were actually part of the port itself. They helped make up a gangway that stretched out over two hundred yards from shore.” John must have seen the questions arising in Lance’s face because he added, “Oh, the pilings are all gone now, rotted off and either floated away or sunk like anything else in that lake. No, they shut this port down and moved the harbor a few miles south of town. That’s only just a small recreational port now; the real shipping dock is in Duluth, of course.”

Lance imagined a bustling scene of activity and ships entering his small bay years ago in a time that felt like a myth. The only traces of what had once been were now between pages of a local history book and in the handed-down words of the oldest residents.



When his phone rang beside him one Thursday afternoon, it startled him from thoughts of sunken goods covered in wet moss and pilings that a man couldn’t reach both arms around in the cold waters below the window. Andy’s frowning face stared back at him from the screen, and with a flick of his thumb, Lance answered the call and tilted back in his chair.

“To what do I owe this momentous occasion?”

“Really? That’s how you answer?” The irritation was palpable even through the speaker of the phone. “You haven’t called me in over a week.”

“Hey, the phone works both ways, buddy, I’m just saying. Plus, it’s been closer to two weeks.”

“Ass. I haven’t called because you sounded angry in your last text.”

“You texted me at four in the morning!”

“I was just leaving a party—horrible ordeal, by the way. I haven’t had such shitty food since St. Cathy’s. And the condo it was being held in was atrocious. I can’t fathom why these celebrities insist on going to an obscure location and having a fucking cocktail party in a second cousin’s living room.”

Lance listened to his friend rant as he gazed out at the lake, which held streaks of the setting sun among its rippling blue waves. “I’m sorry you had a terrible time at a get-together with the who’s who of Hollywood while I’m up here alone in the wilderness.”

“You’re the one who was ostentatious and bought a house without consulting anyone else first. I’m not going to feel sorry for you.”

“I don’t expect you to. Besides, the place is really growing on me. I’m getting settled in here. I’ve even met some people.”

“I don’t believe it for a second. You don’t meet people, they run into you and realize they’ve read your books and want to be friends.”

“Not up here. There are some people that have read my stuff, but mostly I’m an unknown.”

“Yeah, an unknown from out of town that shows up and buys an enormous house in the middle of the community.”

“It’s not enormous. And how would you know, you haven’t even been here,” Lance said, leaning forward in his chair with a bemused smile.

“That’s actually why I was calling. I’d like to come up and stay for a couple of days. Maybe read what you’ve written so far?”

“Oh, I see. Checking up on me so you can throw the wolves at the door a bone?”

“No, I’ll tell them to get fucked, which is exactly what I’ve been doing since you up and disappeared.”

“Thank you for giving me some space. It was much needed. You don’t know how great it feels to be writing again.” Lance rose from the chair and meandered through the living room, toward the front entry. He had heard the now-unmistakable sound of John’s truck approaching.

“Don’t mention it. So can you text me directions, or does this weekend not work?”


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