Edgar's Gift

Getaways

Photo by Anne Nygård on Unsplash

I met Edgar Lourde when his mail started piling up, jutting out of the little slot in the brass mailbox, starting to make it hard to swing open my own box.

His dog yapped at me when I knocked at the door. 

Edgar had trouble getting around.

I told him I’d bring him his mail every couple days.

Then I started walking Fritzy for him, started making sure he took his medicine, started to wonder who was going to go first, the wiry haired old mutt, or the dog.

I knew if Edgar went first that the dog would be my responsibility.

I was tired of walking him, tired of saying hi to neighbors I barely knew, tired of traffic.

Edgar and I weren’t what you’d call friends, not by my definition, but it was easier to help him out than fight the guilt of not doing it.

Fritzy did go first, and Edgar sobbed, and thanked me for walking him, thanked me over and over.

The next time I delivered Edgar’s mail he said he had something for me.

I told him it wasn’t necessary, that I was happy to walk his dog, which was a lie–I liked his dog but I hated our neighborhood–that I didn’t expect anything in return.

Edgar handed me an envelope, and I handed it back.

“I don’t need your money, Edgar, thank you.”

Edgar smiled. He hadn’t smiled since Fritzy died, and he said “Open this at home. I won’t take no for an answer.”

Edgar gave me an island.

The island came with a small boat.

I didn’t go to see the island–it was six hours away–and I always assumed that either I wouldn’t take it, or one of Edgar’s relatives would claim it belonged to them.

Edgar died.

I wasn’t home when the ambulance came, and he was gone before I could say goodbye.

At the nearly empty funeral home a woman asked my name, and when I told her she began to cry, told me she was Edgar’s niece and thanked me for being so nice to Edgar.

She mentioned the island.

I asked her if she wanted it.

“Ohhh, nooo,” she said. “Uncle Edgar would haunt me if I took that. He was adamant that it was his gift to you. Besides, I live three states away and can’t swim. I hope you love it. It’s peaceful.”

The boat is a little outboard, the island is a postage stamp on a lake not much bigger than a postcard.

The island has trees, and a small cabin and outhouse. It looked, as I expected, like no one had been here for years.

Three houses surround the lake. Only one, the closest one, had lights on.

I made a list of things I needed to do.

Did I want to keep it or sell it?

Edgar’s note suggested that he thought I would love it so much I would keep it until I died.

When a strange voice said “Hey!” 

I didn’t love it that much.

“You’re not Edgar,” the man standing on my island said.

“Edgar passed away,” I said.

“Who are you? You Lindsay’s husband?”

Edgar’s niece.

“No, I…I’m Dan. I’m just a friend of Edgar’s.”

“He give you permission to be out here?”

I didn’t feel like telling this guy anything.

“Who are you?”

“I’m Nick. I keep an eye on Edgar’s place for him.”

“It’s my place now, Nick. Edgar’s gone. You missed the service, or I missed seeing you there.”

It wasn’t likely. Nick looked like his parents were siblings who conceived him in a meth lab during a batch cook.

Nick folded his skinny arms.

“It’s my place now, Nick. Edgar left it to me. I have it in writing, it’s legal. Lindsay knows.”

I turned back to go into the cabin, finish the list, which was already longer than I wanted it to be.

“It costs fifty bucks a month for me to keep my eye on your island.”

I turned and walked back toward Nick. Right up to Nick, whose left hand was now holding the rope to his rowboat.

“If it’s gonna cost me fifty bucks a month, Nick, don’t keep an eye on it.”

“Something bad could happen if I don’t keep an eye on it,” Nick said with a sneer.

“I’m going to live here year round, Nick,” I said. “Do a little fishing, maybe build a little gun range. I think it will be just fine.”

Nick spit on the ground.

“And I’m going to make some rules, Nick. One of ‘em will be no spitting on the island. Which you won’t have to worry about because my island is going to be invite only.”

Nick got a pouty, childish expression on his face. 

“You’re an asshole,” he said and waded to his rowboat rather than tug the rope toward him.

I watched as he rowed the boat toward the house with the lights on. It was a nice house, well maintained.

I had no intention of living here year round. I had no intention of building a gun range or even owning a gun. I wasn’t even sure Edgar paid a guy named Nick fifty bucks a month. He never mentioned it. Didn’t matter, because I wasn’t going to. 

I flicked off the one bare lightbulb, connected to a small solar panel.

Figured Nick could get something for the solar panel, maybe the outboard motor of the boat, not much else.

Thought about Fritzy. 

Thought about how much I grumbled about walking him. 

Been on my own island for less than an hour and I already hated it. 

Missed the old dog.

Missed Edgar.

I took the boat back to the little dock.

Realized the motor had started on the first try. 

Was that what Nick meant by keeping an eye on the place? Keeping the boat in working order?

I tied up the boat and walked over to the closest house.

I didn’t feel like apologizing to Nick, but maybe I could make it…better. 

Knocked on the door. Older guy answered the door, portly, ruddy faced.

“Hi, I’m Dan. I’m the new owner of the island out there. Is Nick home?”

“No Nick’s here son.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Which house does he live in?”

The man shook his head. “No Nicks anywhere on Button Lake. Mrs. Cassady is only here a couple months out of the year, and the Urlemores are just Bob and Jennifer.”

“Do you know the man who keeps an eye on Edgar’s property? He said his name was Nick.”

The man shook his head. 

“I wasn’t aware that Edgar was even selling the property.”

I didn’t want to tell this guy Edgar gave me the property for walking his dog for four months.

“You’re aware Edgar passed away, right?”

“No, I wasn’t,” the man said. “That’s a shame. Nice man.”

“Yessir,” I said, “He was.”

The man looked up, presumably at the heavens. “Last time I talked to him he said he was contemplating coming out here, asked me to gas up the boat and give it a spin.”

I wondered if Edgar did that anticipating I’d come up here the minute he gave me the title and the directions. 

“If you don’t mind me asking,” the man said, “how much did you pay for Edgar’s Island?”

I thought to say “Nondisclosure was part of the arrangement.”

Before I could, Nick’s face peered down from the center stairway of the home.

The neighbor, who hadn’t introduced himself, must have seen the shock on my face. He turned.

“I have everything under control, Alex. You’re supposed to be in your room.”

I wanted to tell the man that Alex identified himself as Nick. I wanted to ask the man why he was speaking to someone who was obviously in his thirties like a child.

 The man on the stairs glared at me.

“I don’t like the dogwalker, Ron!”

“Shush! The man at the door said, annoyed, but I thought he also looked embarrassed.

I didn’t tell Nick…Alex…I didn’t tell the guy on the stairs I walked Fritzy. Edgar must have. But still…

“That’s the man who identified himself as Nick,” I told the guy at the door. 

“How much did you buy the island for, Dan?”

“That’s not really any of your business, Ron.”

“My name,” the man said with an exaggerated sense of indignance, “is not Ron.”

I walked away without a word. The man at the door called out, politely, but urgently “Please sell me the island, Dan.”

I walked to the gravel road where my car was parked. When it started, I felt relieved.

Back at the apartment, Edgar’s mailbox was overstuffed again. 

No one, to my knowledge, had rented the apartment.

I let myself in, flopped on the sofa, and pulled the island cabin to-do list out of my pocket.

I read it twice, then wadded it up and threw it toward the trash, missing by a few feet.

I didn’t need an island.

I didn’t know what I needed, but somehow I felt like a dog being walked by a stranger.

***