|
(After Death On The Rocks, we revisit Jake and Mildred, some months later...)
"Dangerous, that's what it is," opined Nick Watson. "No good will come of it. You mark my words, there is going to be trouble."
"I suppose you could be right. That truck last night almost went off the road. Of course he was going was too fast for this corner anyway." Jake Grady tried to be diplomatic in giving his opinions.
"Yeah, and the first thing we know we'll have the staties parking here again. If they caught those guys in the trucks it would be one thing, but we'll all end up with speeding tickets while the trucks sail through scot-free. No good will come of it," the man repeated.
"But it is hot," put in Grady. "I suppose they've got to do something."
"Hmph. They ought to find something better than that. Nothing but trouble will come from it."
The two old men were discussing the swimming hole that the young teens of the neighborhood were using. It was a big pool in the stream formed by an old dam. Over the dam was the bridge for the road, and there was the problem. The kids liked to dive from the bridge into the cool waters below. That was dangerous in itself, but they tended to ignore the traffic and there was a potential for an accident. Especially if the blond girl in the light blue bikini was preparing to dive.
"In my day it wouldn't have been allowed. Even the ladies underwear didn't show so much skin. It took a while, but I've got used to it now," Nick admitted.
"Yeah, I can see where you might," answered a dry Grady. Watson gave him a sideways glance to measure him up. A lot of people were never sure if Grady were serious or not. He had a way of telling a joke that made people ask if it was a true story. His usual answer was "They all are."
"Well I'm going to see the owners of the dam and see if we can't get it drained. That will put a stop to this nonsense."
Their neighbor David Allen joined them. He was in his thirties and had two sons that were just shy of being in their teens. "You guys hashing over a plan for world peace, or are you just staring at Melody?" She was the girl in the light blue bikini.
"We're looking at the scene of a disaster. It just hasn't happened yet," replied the cross-tempered Watson. "Aren't you worried about your boys?"
"Nope, 'cause they don't go over there. They're shy and just watch the blond from the loft in the barn. In a couple more years they'll get the hang of things."
"I'm going to see the owner," repeated Watson as he drifted off
When he got home he asked Mildred her opinion of what he had heard. After all, she had lived here a lot longer than he had.
"I see Nick's point, but the kids have got to go somewhere. Why, I used to swim there when I was a little girl. Of course the suits were different and there wasn't as much traffic. And people said it was dangerous then. Come to think of it, Nick Watson never joined us. He said it was foolish to go swimming. I'm not sure, but I think he always has been an old man."
The next day Jake and Mildred went shopping for groceries. Jake had come to look forward to these expeditions, to comparing prices and smelling the alluring aromas wafting from the deli. He always got so hungry his price comparisons went out the window and he started putting snacks that were quick and tasty into the cart. Mildred always gave him a "Now, Jake," but she smiled when to turned back to look for more treats. In some ways he was much like a little boy, and she loved him the more for it.
Mildred looked in a clothing store and Jake visited a sporting good emporium and suddenly Mildred exclaimed, "Oh, my gosh! The frozen food!"
They jumped into the car and sped off toward home, but somehow it struck them funny and they laughed and teased each other all the way back. The laughter stopped when they passed the swimming hole. A couple of forlorn kids sat on the edge of the bridge, flicking pebbles in what was now just a trickle in a streambed.
By the time they salvaged the frozen food and put away the rest of the groceries it was getting late and as they often did on Friday nights, they went to Moody's Diner for supper. Mildred always proclaimed that she could cook better than any restaurant but Jake noticed she never complained about going out. To make her feel better Jake always made mention that the mashed potatoes weren't as smooth as hers or her gravy was more flavorful.
The diner they chose has a nice homey atmosphere and is no place for secrets. The booths are much too close for that. If someone forgets to wash the back of his neck or partakes a little too heavily on the beans; well, it is not a secret for long. Since Mildred was a life long resident a lot of people stopped by their booth to greet them and Jake was introduced to so many people that he didn't have a chance of remembering them.
After they ate they took a ride around the cove and out on a peninsula. It was low tide, and in the last rays of the setting sun was a clam digger working with his back to the rolling Atlantic Ocean. Jake shut off the car and they watched the man work for a few minutes.
"You know, clamming is just like being a newspaper reporter," Jake said after their silence. Mildred was used to his ways and her eyes merely darted sideways to him to see what he would come up with. Finally her curiosity got the better of her.
"How is that, Jake?"
"Well, in both jobs you turn over the dirt and hope you come up with something juicy."
"Thank you for sharing that, Jake. Perhaps now I can sleep tonight. It's been a good evening hasn't it? There is nothing better that summer on the Maine coast." Then with Mildred leaning her head on his shoulder, Jake drove home.
"Well, Caught you!" Jake stopped dead in his tracks. The clock read 2:45 AM, and Mildred had caught him trying to sneak out of the kitchen. She gave him no chance for an explanation. "I might have known. And you a grown man. Honestly, I don't know what you're thinking of. You...you..." She stomped off four steps; then turned and rushed back and kissed him on the cheek.
"I love you, Jake."
"Why, I love you too, Mildred." He sounded like the idea had just come to him. Actually he was relieved that she wasn't mad.
"Go get 'em, Don Quixote," she whispered, then turned and went back to bed.
The streetlight was his biggest problem, but he slipped from oak to oak on the front lawn and then made a dash across the road to the shelter of a row of lilacs. In back of these he was safe from any watching eyes and he went to the bank of the stream and descended. His hands were actually on the wheel of the water gate when he sensed he wasn't alone.
Looking up he found himself face to face with Nick Watson. Nothing was said for long seconds, and then Watson shrugged and grabbed the other side of the wheel. The century old gate slowly closed and water again began to fill the pool. Then each man turned and went his own separate way, his motivations unspoken.
The End
©2002 StoriesByEmail.com
|
