North on Route 23

“We’ll check out the next rest stop in Ohio near the border,” she called back over her shoulder.

“I’m not sure I can hold it. Those turkey waffles were the tipping point, ma.”

Shelia rolled her eyes. “They were chicken waffles. I mean, chicken and waffles, and they were great.”

“Maybe they’re good in the middle of the day,” groaned Bethany. “But at midnight from some greasy shack, they weren’t the best choice.”

She knew her teenage daughter was right. Her own stomach was feeling the effects of overeating at such an irregular hour. Shelia also knew their timetable was limited if they were going to make it to Oscoda before sunrise.

She thought even getting this far from Florida in such a short time had been a miracle.

Looking to the box on her front seat, she silently cursed herself for putting this trip off for so long.

Dad would be so disappointed that I procrastinated about this.

* * *

“When I’m gone, pumpkin, I want my ashes scattered off the pier in Oscoda. You know the one.”

“Where you met mom. Pier 41. But that’ll be a long time from now, daddy.”

Smiling, he rested his hands over her own. “Just promise me, please.”

Shelia nodded and made her promise.

Two short years later, he was gone and Shelia, devastated, couldn’t find the courage to make sure the ashes made it to the pier in Michigan.

Her behavior was suddenly spurred by news from Tracy, her childhood neighbor who still lived back in Oscado.

“You know, with the runoff water contaminating Huron, the city council voted to demolish all the public waterfront hangouts.”

“Does that include Pier 41?”

“Yeah. I think it’s supposed to be the first to go.”

* * *

With the rest stop just behind them, Bethany said, “Mom, did you read about spreading ashes and stuff?”

“What?” she called back, looking at the screen-lit face in the rearview mirror. For a moment, Shelia was back at Camp Whittemore, listening to Bobby Firth tell the story about the killer in the nearby woods with a flashlight under his chin. She learned later that same night that she preferred kissing a smoker like Bobby but still didn’t like smoking herself.

Bethany continued talking, forcing the memory back to wherever it came from. “It says you can’t just throw ashes off a pier. You have to go out into the water to do it.”

“In the water?” She frowned. “Like, swim with the ashes and get them all over you?”

“No. Like, take a boat out, away from the shore. You have to be so far out before you can do anything.”

“How far?”

“It says three nautical miles.”

“And that’s…?”

“Just over three regular miles.”

Huffing, Shelia said, “Well, we don’t have time to charter a boat or anything. And it’ll be early morning, before sunrise. No one will be there. We’ll be fine.” But a pit started forming in her stomach, causing Shelia to wonder if she would be able to successfully carry out this final wish of her dad’s.

Just making it to Oscada before Pier 41 was to be destroyed was a challenge by itself. There was the setback near the Pisgah National Forest in the Carolinas. They were given some bad directions at a diner called the Pisgah Pitstop. The whole time Shelia frantically tried to make their way back to Route 23, Bethany was shouting from the backseat that they were lost and most likely about to die. Shelia never understood where her daughter’s dramatic flare came from.

Then when Shelia and Bethany were approaching the U.S 23 Country Music Highway Museum in North Carolina, they knew they had to stop. Shelia’s mom had been a stagehand to Winonna Judd when she met Shelia’s dad, and they thought it would be respectful to stop in. They never knew her mother had been in so many background shots of the museum exhibit. It was slightly overwhelming to have seen how young and vibrant her mother once looked.

* * *

As she slowly pulled into the Oscado city limit, Shelia felt like a criminal sneaking into a bank: Bethany’s words from the backseat had made her second guess if she was doing the right thing.

Thinking about the wishes of her father and the apparent laws of the government, she decided she would break the rules and do what her father asked.

As she neared Lake Huron, the landscape thinned and flattened, exposing nothing but the vast lake before them. She remembered it felt the same on her first drive down to the coast. They had left one coastline, driven through a variety of environments, and were back on a completely different coast with the same type of geography.

After parking near the pier, Shelia opened her car door as Bethany unbuckled her seat belt. It was almost sunrise in Oscoda, Michigan with their journey nearly complete.

“I know grandpa met grandma here, but why does he want his ashes here?”

“Your grandpa grew up poor. Worked hard to just get by for years. He said he knew his life changed the very day he met your grandma there on that pier.” She pointed to the small white and blue archway clearly indicating the entrance to their final destination. “The only reason your grandma was in town was because of Winonna giving a concert.”

“Here at the beach?”

“I don’t know. But he said when he saw her, his life had been changed for good. And I don’t know about you, but for me, I feel like they’re both here with us.” She smiled down at her daughter, meeting Bethany’s gaze. “Now let’s go be rebels and dump his ashes.”

Going around the car, Bethany reached through the window and picked up the tin. “I didn’t realize how light ashes are.”

Immediately, Shelia broke into a sweat which mixed with the cool morning air to send a convulsive shiver throughout.

“Relax, ma. I’m kidding. Let’s go.”



Word Count: 996