Candles guttered fitfully in the Falls household kitchen.

Emmy and Sally Ann sat at the battered butcher block table listening as Georgie recounted the details of how a desperately damaged dentist from Dearborn was currently on the verge of the here after in her premium Nightlark B&B room.

This was the second stop on the conspiracy circuit which explained why the lovely Irene sat on the other side of the table.

The 2 brothers, Josh and Jerry, were at that moment going eyeball to eyeball with the representatives of the earthly law back at the B&B. Where Ed was nobody seemed to care – but for those who are interested he had made his way back over to the Sink Hole for a shot of liquid courage – or in other words, a visit with his friend Jack D.

A similarly branded form of solace currently sat open in between 4 deadly serious ladies and 4 equally formidable glasses. Emmy had quickly decided this was a 4 finger problem.

“So the plan is to create a scuffle, a distraction, so we can get the poor sod out of here and off to the Jackknife Emergency Room,” said Georgie, “currently he’s ‘exhibiting signs’ of being exposed to a bioterrorism agent!”

And in quick answer to the eyebrows raised in unison, “that’s all bullshit of course!”

Collective reset of the tensed shoulder blades.

“Sally Ann, Posie wants to know if  you’ll you go with him on the sled?”

Unbeknownst to just about everyone except Posie and Emmy, Sally Ann was well into the training to be a full EMT. It had taken a good deal of sneaking around but so far it had been successfully hidden, or so she thought, from the men, (so called), of the Falls household. Otherwise it would have a) been the source of much ridicule and caustic comments, and b) would probably have resulted in her being bullied to cease and desist.

Emmy had been a great co-conspirator – coming up with all kinds of cover stories as to where Sally Ann was when she was actually off at training classes. It was her goal to get Sally Ann out of ‘this Goddamn shit hole, this Goddamn bastard family, this Goddamn useless life’ and off to a real life as far away as possible. It was too late for Emmy, she was trapped as surely as the raccoons her sons loved to catch and torment. Though life was one endless source of regret for her, Emmy was determined to save the one shining light in her life, Sally Ann.

“If you do this Sally Ann I will be so proud of you,” said Emmy, touching her hand,” and if you go I want you to do something for me?”

She got up and went to the dresser and opened the top cupboard door. Taking out a hideous old fiesta ware salt crock she took out a bank pass book. “Here, take this.”

Sally Ann looked from one face to another as she opened it to find a savings account for the Jackknife Savings and Trust, in her name, with $18,000 as the current balance.

“Go. Leave. Take this with my blessing, and go where your heart takes you. It’s time you have a life Sally Ann not get stuck here like I am.”

Once upon a time Edson Falls had seemed like the perfect catch, a soul mate even. But the years and the lack of anything really in common had left Emmy with a shell of a life and no real escape plan for herself. With this simple act she could reclaim her sense of self worth, send her daughter on her way – and have the ultimate pay back on the excuse for a husband she was shackled to.

Tears welled up, but Sally Ann nodded. And so did Emmy.

“So what’s the plan?” said the lovely Irene.

…………………………………………………

Swaying almost to the point of falling off the bar stool, Edson Falls had visited far too many times with his friend Mr. Daniels.

In the solitude of the half light bar, the remembered past of good times with ‘the guys’ came flooding back. Too much liquor when drunk alone has a tendency to do that to a person.

He looked around and familiar faces stared back at him from the discolored frames wedged in between the bowling trophies and Budweiser mirrors.

Where did it all go? What happened to all of us, he thought, recalling Vern who disappeared somewhere off the Tonkin Gulf, and Fred who came home and eat his rifle one solitary night back in the 80’s.

What the hell am I still doing here? Should have left years ago when Emmy first got pregnant. Had a chance then, too late now.

His mind naturally turned to Sally Ann. He knew she wasn’t his but it really didn’t matter a damn – he adored her. It was watching her turn into something special that kept him here – not those 2 worthless lumps he had sired. Poor Emmy, I could have, should have, done better by her.

Sometimes in the half light of late evening, he caught sight of the stunning beauty she had been once upon a lazy summer County Fair afternoon when he’d plucked up the courage to ask her. He could do the math, he knew why she said yes so quickly, but no indeed back then he was a happy man.

Should have left years ago – living in this half shit vindictive little boil on the backside town had screwed up all their lives – and he just couldn’t see a way out. The realization had made him bitter of mind and bitter of demeanor – the overall opinion of both Falls and his fellow Whipsaw Lake constituents was a mutual flob in the spittoon bowl sitting at the end of the Bar.

Out of the window he could see the lights blaring out from the mega generator fueled Whipsaw Hardware, Plumbing, Agricultural Supply and Gas & Go – quite unsuitable words tumbled round his head, mostly in reference to Bill Hodson’s parentage and sexual proclivities. He rounded out the final thought with a well aimed flob right into that resonant brass spittoon.

This is the last God damn winter here, he vowed, time to head south and try to get Emmy to remember she loved me once. Time for Sally Ann to find a real life. Time for those two shit heads to buy their own beer for a change.

And all at once it was if a light bulb came spluttering to life in the old generator of his back burner brain – what the hell are we doing here? This is just nuts. 

All alone in the Bar, being left by Cliff to ‘watch the store’ while he wondered over to join the happy band of patriots at the B&B, he became suddenly aware of the utter stupidity of how this had escalated.

He could hear low voices whispering from the beer cooler behind the bar and, fully expecting to hear dire plots against the civilized order of things, slumped off the stool and eased over to listen.

The look on his face was priceless when what he heard was a heated exchange about who had been a better Red Wings captain, Yzerman or Lidstrom…….