Page 21

Journal

The weather was terrible today, rainy and definitely cooler than normal. The guests have been cooped up inside for the past two days and are getting restless. We normally offer them side trips around the property, but it isn’t safe to be out on the ATVs in this mess.

My ever-present buddy, Brock, suggested we invite one of the local shaman’s over for “story time.” It would be awesome to show the guests some of the Native customs, traditional garments, and stories passed down from generation to generation.

I didn’t think that old man Atka would make the trek over in this weather, but somehow Brock convinced him.

You should have seen it. We’d gathered all the guests into the lobby and sat them around the fire.

The sound of rain, pelting the windows and roof above, had perfectly set the mood for the evening.

Our chef, Doris Chamberlin had prepared hot cider to drink along with finger foods and fresh pastries.

Everyone sat and enjoyed the treat, soft conversation taking place amongst the guests.

That was until, as if on cue, a loud thunderclap and flicker of the soft lights, preceded the front door opening with a crash.

Rain came down in torrents in an almost deafening white noise.

Everyone gasped and turned to face the front door with wide eyes, agape mouths, and silence.

I tell you, it was something out of a movie.

In walked, Atka wearing his full shaman garb.

His fur coat, covered with ancient symbols and two large handprints on the chest was absolutely breathtaking.

Atka stepped inside and walked toward our guests, who remained in stunned silence.

He sat before the fire and said nothing for what seemed like an hour but was probably just a couple of minutes.

I looked over at Brock, who stood near the entrance to the lobby and smiled.

Brock was proud of himself, as he’d managed to pick Atka up and bring him safely here in the dark of night and under such tough weather conditions.

I mouthed thank you and he nodded. My belly fluttered.

It was the first time since Sarah left that I felt anything other than sad loneliness.

Was this hope? Happiness? Whatever it was, it felt good, and I knew for the first time I was going to be okay.

Anyway, Atka entertained our guests for two hours.

They listened as he recounted stories of long ago, a time before white men.

A time beginning with the arrival of his people to this land.

The harsh conditions. The struggle for survival.

Once he was complete, the guests were able to ask questions, and ask they did.

Every person had a hand in the air, anticipation on their faces.

Had the rain been a blessing in disguise?

When the evening came to an end, we offered old man Atka some food and whatever he wanted to drink.

He gladly took the offer and stayed another hour or two.

I told him he truly saved the day and offered him some money, but he refused it.

He said, “It was an honor to help entertain your guests. I was able to tell my stories to eager faces who learned something important about my people.” I told him he was always welcome back and he agreed to come on a regular basis as long as his strength and health remained good.

I pulled my buddy to the side and gave him a hug.

He hadn’t been expecting it, but I could tell he needed one too.

Two divorced men trying to make our business work, struggling through the highs and lows of failed relationships, and still succeeding.

It was at that moment I knew Brock and I would make Wildwood a place where people looked forward to going year after year.

They’d come back like family and make traditions of their own along the way.

I looked my friend in the eyes and said, “I can’t imagine anyone I’d rather do this with than you.

” I couldn’t believe I’d said it. It wasn’t but a week ago my stomach ached for Sarah to be here.

Not that Brock could take the place of my wife, but his partnership and support was exactly what I needed.

Anyway, he nodded like he always did and excused himself. He needed to take Atka back to his home before the weather got any worse.

What a truly amazing day. I can’t imagine ever leaving this place. This has been the most successful business I’ve ever been a part of, and I have Brock to thank. I feel a closeness to him and this lodge that I cannot describe.

May you always keep this place as close to your heart as I have, Finn. If things ever get hard financially, do what we did and try and think outside the box. There’s no telling what you’ll discover about this place and yourself.

I love you, son.