Skates on the Shore of Lake Huron

She tried to fasten her thick leather straps for the fourth time. "I'm so tired of these things", she thought as she took her hands out of her muff and exposed her small hands to the windy, frigid air.  Again she slowly pulled out the buckle and tightened the strap around her brown boots, catching the strap on the boot's little hooks as she did.  She pulled the strap sideways as hard as she could. It wasn't easy to pull and keep from falling off the slippery rock she was leaning against. She forced the leather to stay still until she fastened the buckle.  "There", she groaned.  She quickly pushed her hands back into the soft rabbit fur before she adjusted the strap on her other ice skate.

Heidi's father was postmaster in the small town of St. Ignace.  She had lived there her entire life. She had six brothers, she was the only daughter.  Her parents still treated her like a baby.  She was fourteen and had been skating since she was three. She was told over and over never to skate alone.  But, when she woke up this morning she knew what she was going to do. This would be the last day for good skating. February winds were changing temperatures daily and this perfect reflective skating palette would never be the same after a light rain.  Lake Huron only provides this perfect rink every few years and she wasn't going to miss this one.  She'd be too old to enjoy it the next time it came. Besides, with the sun out from behind the clouds she wasn't worried about a fog or storm drifting in.  She'd be able to see a storm in plenty of time.

Carefully, she stood up with her legs apart and her skirt hitched up with a belt she borrowed from her brother Jim's black chest.  Her ankles were strong and steady. "Remember to start out slow and watch for cracks and holes from the fisherman," she mentored, thinking how exciting it was to be alone with this vast reflection to fly on.  "I'll only skate for a couple of hours.  By then I'll be frozen stiff."

She knew the Catholic Church bells would ring out the time at noon.  Her mom would be more than busy hanging up the wash in the cold wind, and her dad couldn't see this spot from the post office. He was usually busier in the morning with the mail coming through on the train, anyway.  She was suppose to be running errands for Mrs. LeCount. Luckily she was asked to come back another day.  Mrs. LeCount wasn't feeling well.  

As long as she was headed out toward the island, no one in town would know who the crazy person was, skating alone in this weather. She couldn't afford to lose what little independence she had acquired when she turned thirteen!  Getting caught would be a disaster. Her brothers were always taking off and doing what they wanted. Whenever they wanted. She had to follow rules and be a "Young Lady", as her mother insisted.  Her father just shook his head in agreement whenever there was a question about what she could or could not do. 

The newly sharpened blades cut neatly into the thick ice.  She was off.  The only sound she could hear was blades sweeping a path for her to travel.  The same familiar sound she heard when her dad was sharpening his filleting knife before cleaning whitefish.  She felt her hands warm up. She was tired of her hands being stifled by being in the muff.  She took them out and was surprised at how warm they stayed as she skated further from the shoreline.  Only once in two hours did she have to slow down when she adjusted her scarf over her chin and cheeks. A few times she was startled by the deafening sound of the ice shifting and cracking.  It never ceased to surprise her how nature always had the last word.  

It made her think of the time she was out in the little skiff with her younger brother Timothy.  The angry waves were tossing them around in an autumn squall.  They were safe for the time being, but vulnerable to the Great Lakes power to turn on them at any moment. She remembers her brother knew how to tack in and out to head to shore.  She thought he was ridiculous and screamed at him to go straight into shore. "Timmy, for God's sake, quit fooling around!" She learned later at the dinner table she was wrong.  "Timothy, you should never have been out that far with your little sister," her father said, as he looked him right in the eye, "but you handled the boat like a man. Nobody could have come to shore any better than you did, son."  Timothy gave her a sidelong glance after father picked up his fork again and continued eating.  She was relieved father hadn't given her a sermon about leaving Mom early with the baking that day.  He looked very tense on the shore watching them come in from the storm, with his large arms clenched across his chest.

Heidi kept gliding and pushing across the clear, snow-free ice.  She had a terrible thought about the ice fisherman that disappeared last February when the ice broke off and drifted.  She lost her nerve and decided to turn around so the wind was at her back and retrace her tracks.  "What will I tell Mother when she asks about the wind burn on my face? I hope she doesn't have a chance to talk to Mrs. LeCount at church on Sunday."  She put her head down and started skating the way she saw the boys practicing last week. She made her feet push out to the side of every stroke instead of behind her.  It felt strange but it was making her heart beat faster and she laughed out loud as she flew across the ice.  She'd make shore in double time.

As she came nearer to shore she saw Mr. McGrath wave to her. He was up the hill from the huge rock she had started from a few hours ago.  At the same time the church bells made a arrow-piercing sound through the cold air.  It helped her put her thoughts together.  She immediately decided to pretend to be walking.  It was difficult, but she had practice doing it once when the ice was bumpy in an attempt to be careful. Her knees came up with each step and she placed herself behind the huge rock as she neared the shore so he couldn't see her feet.  Or her skates!  She undid the belt holding up her dress smoothly and pretended to fall down on the ice.  She was blocked from sight and quickly undid her skates from her small boots and stood up, brushing the white dust from her dress and acting very upset at falling down.  She approached the rock and leaned on it as if she needed support.

Mr. McGrath rushed down the hill to assist her.  "Heidi, what are you doing walking out on the ice all alone?  You're lucky you only fell and hurt yourself.  Didn't your Ma and Pa tell you never to go out on the ice alone?"

He continued his chatter and walked her up the hill to her house, holding her elbow so she wouldn't slip in the deep snow. She used her other hand to hold up her dress and keep her balance.  Her legs felt wobbly from her excursion across the bay.

He made sure he told her a few of the Lake Huron ice accidents.  Those horror stories she had already heard a dozen times. She wasn't really listening and cringed to think her ice-skates were still sitting on the ice.  She silently apologized to them for abandoning them.  She wouldn't be able to go back for them for quite some time.  "I hope no one sees them there. Those stupid stray dogs love the leather on them, ARGH," she swallowed the voice of her self-recrimination.   She forced a smile when Mr. McGrath said, "See you at church on Sunday."

She looked back on the bay before she opened the front door of her home on Truckey Street.  She saw the blue sky blackening and noticed a small freezing mist settle on her coat.  Swinging the heavy oak door open she said, "Mother, I'm home."