Adirondack Audacity (39 page)

“You what?!”
“Ummmm, you know, what I just said.”
“I know what you just said.” Vic’s voice sounds grim

“It’s no big deal, over and done with, let’s forget I
even mentioned it.”
“Forget!” Oh boy, now he sounds agitated. “Forget!
How the hell do I forget my girlfriend almost kills herself
by skinny dipping on a forty degree night, gets locked out
of the house, and if that is not enough, she’s found by the
cops, naked, half frozen and nearly arrested for assaulting
an officer.
“Oh, that cop was such a big baby, I just slapped his
hand away, he wanted his jacket back and I was cold.”
“Ellen!” Now I know he’s really mad, he
never
calls
me, Ellen.
“What!”
“How the fuck did you lock yourself out?”
“It’s not my fault!”
“So you’re saying some woodland creature came
along and locked the door on you.”
“No!”
“Enlighten me.” His voice low and flat, I can feel the
volcano about to erupt. Suddenly, I’m thankful for the
thousands of miles separating us.
“I was hot from cleaning the boathouse…”
“
Cleaning
the boathouse?” His voice sounds
exasperated, and I hear him heave a sigh that sounds like
a moan. “Go on, I won’t even ask why you were cleaning
the boathouse.”
“It was filthy.” I say defensively.
“Yeah, I’m sure it was….”
“Anyway, I was hot and tired and the lake looked so
inviting, I wanted to take a swim.”
“And forgot about the timer for the locks?”
“Y-yeah, it’s not my fault, stupid idea locking all the
doors and windows.”
“And you forgot the code?”
“Yeaaahhh……..I threw Cyrus in the house, grabbed
a towel and forgot about the code.”
Thunk, thunk, thunk…….
and nothing but silence on
the phone connection.
“What are you doing?” I ask, fearful of the answer.
Thunk, thunk, thunk…………..
“Vic?”
“I’m bashing my head against the wall.”
“What! Why?”
“Because how could I have been so stupid as to leave
you and Cyrus in the middle of the woods and not expect
you to find trouble.”
Thunk, thunk, thunk……
“Stupid, stupid, stupid.”
“I resent that.” I say, defensively, knowing fully well I
don’t have a leg to stand on.
“I’m coming home.”
“No,no,no! I can do this, I have the code memorized,
everything is fine, no need to worry.” Famous last words.
“You know, I’m not getting any younger. My father
had a weak heart and I think I just had three heart
attacks.”
Jeez.
“Ike was coming up for a visit, he can come early. I’ll
feel better if someone is with you.”
“No!” While the idea of someone staying in the house
with me is attractive …….the
last
thing I need is the
incredibly hot Celtic Warrior Cowboy, who will be bored,
moody and brooding following me around like an
overprotective nanny. No thank you.
“Please, promise to be more careful.” He pleads.
“Absolutely.”
…
Saturday, the day of the kayak clinic with Josh
dawned cloudy and overcast. Temperatures hover in the
high fifties. Armed with my camera, lunch…… and a
watch
, my stomach is aflutter with nerves at the prospect
of seeing Josh again. A swing by the bakery for a dozen
cinnamon buns and I’m on my way to the river.
A flotilla of brightly colored kayaks bobbles along the
water’s edge. A few people are kayaking up and down the
stream, practicing their paddling skills, eager to start the
day’s adventure. The rest of the boats remain lined up on
shore, patiently waiting.
Jogging down the launch ramp, a quick glance
reveals an eclectic group of people, mixed ages, physical
characteristics and a host of probable personalities. Josh
takes a moment to introduce everyone. Two middle-aged
men dressed in hiking gear, listen intently as Josh explains
the kayak route. Engineer types, all fact and no fiction.
George and Irene Irish, recently retired college
professors, confide their eagerness to learn the basic
elements of taking good pictures. They look the part of
retired academia, lean to the point of thin. Routine and
proper decorum defining their lives, most likely breakfast
consists of oatmeal and yogurt, lunch, a turkey sandwich
on whole grain bread, the indulgence of the day is a
tumbler of scotch on the rocks enjoyed while relaxing on
their veranda overlooking the manicured garden of their
one acre home…. I like to make stuff up about people.
They have a trip to South America planned in the fall,
where they hope to climb Machu Picchu and bring home
some amazing photos. Brag bait, they call it. “Most of our
friends scoff at the idea of retirement.” Irene said. “We
want to show them there is life after retirement, in fact, a
very adventurous life.”
“Keep the bow pointed downstream.” Josh instructs
as we push off from the shore. “You can paddle, but also
use the paddle blade as a rudder.” I set my paddle to
water and the kayak follows the river as it meanders
through cattails and reeds, the current slow and lazy. A
kingfisher calls off in the distance and we pass a blue
heron, its body still, standing in knee deep water, silent,
watchful.
At our first stop, Josh explains the differences
between contemplative photography and conceptual
photography. Rather than focus on the conceptual
discipline of photography where the emphasis is on visual
texture, color, and play of light, he encourages us to focus
on taking pictures that appeal to us, looking at life from a
different angle. Don’t worry too much about technique,
he suggests.
The next half hour is spent wandering through marsh
grasses and combing the shoreline for just the right angle.
Instead of capturing pictures to share a view with the
world, take pictures to inspire meditation and
contemplation.
My personal favorites on the trip are Dick and Midge
Hamish. Slightly overweight, dressed in matching jeans,
sweatshirts and sneakers, they look like a pair of
oversized twins. And they don’t have a clue about
photography or kayaking….and could care less. Their
children bought them a camera and the class for their
fortieth wedding anniversary. But they’d rather tell jokes
than take pictures and after almost rolling their double
kayak, they launch into a series of jokes about canoeing.
As Dick talks, Midge passes around a Tupperware
container filled with the best oatmeal cookies, ever. I’m a
sucker for homemade cookies……I love this woman.
When I decide to let myself go, this is how I want to
be….plump, happy……with a cookie in my hand.
Completely unashamed of the fact that less than an
hour ago, I polished off a cinnamon roll with Claire, I
unabashedly ate one, okay two, and…stashed a third
cookie in my pocket for later. Hey, a girl has to keep up
her strength.
Watching from the edge of the group, I notice two
younger women, hugging close to Josh’s kayak and
hanging on every word he says. It’s difficult to decide
who has the bigger crush. The local librarian trying to
conceal the fact she wants him. Or the beautiful leggy
seventeen year old girl……..who hasn’t quite mastered
the sophisticated art of seduction. And she is beautiful,
face it, it’s difficult to find a seventeen year old girl who
isn’t gorgeous. It’s part of the master plan to tempt stupid
young males away from the lure of sports and beer. Her
name is Veronica and she takes his advanced placement
biology class. Long chestnut brown hair caught up in a
twisted knot at the base of her neck, and soft brown doe
eyes. She dragged her equally long legged, skinny
stomach, beautiful girlfriend with her. And in
theory……..I think I hate them both…it’s called middle
age female envy over our lost nubile bodies.
Veronica’s girlfriend shows no interest in taking
pictures. It’s doubtful she knows where to find the
camera lens and apparently has no desire to learn. Her
short-cropped black hair is tipped with shocking pink
ends. A nose ring and layers of black mascara are the only
adornments to her attire. She’s wearing a rock band tshirt, faded jeans, and a pair of scruffy red high laced
sneakers.
Squinting at the t-shirt, I wonder if she wears it to
school, the name of the rock group is rather offensive.
Hmm
...she is interesting to watch. She spent the first part
of the trip floating down the river with her legs hanging
over the gunnels of the kayak, filing her nails between
burst of dogged paddling to keep up. Veronica, on the
other hand, smitten with Josh, keeps within a paddle’s
reach of his kayak, hanging onto his every word. I
remember those painful high school crushes. Where you
walk by a boy’s house, in hopes he was outside mowing
the lawn, squeak out a brave hello and he….looks at
you….like you have three heads. I shudder in sympathy
for Veronica, looking at Josh with Vic’s dark good looks,
who could blame her….except for the fact……he’s
married!
Jen the librarian; admits to a recent divorce and wants
to improve her photography skills, hoping to give freelance work a try. Looking closely at her hand, there is a
faint pale line of flesh on her ring finger. Obviously, a
very recent divorce, her face has the predatory look of a
love starved female. Husband probably cheated on her.
It’s tough to meet a man in the mountains. For one, the
year-round population of males is sparse and not many of
them interested in discussing literature classics on long
winter nights. She’d be considered plain except for her
vivid green eyes and the voluptuous figure spilling out of
her hiking shirt.
Gee
….if I angle a little closer….give that
kayak a shove, it’s going over. Serves her right……..she
knows better.
The clouds scuttle across the sky and occasional
bursts of sun break through the diaphanous cover, jackets
get stuffed in rucksacks and winter pale skin warms in the
basking rays of spring sunshine. I wish the day to last
forever, skirting the edge of the group, I take utter delight
in watching Josh.
Growing up on Fourth Lake, he fell in love with the
mountains, choosing to make his home here. A natural
teacher, he possesses a wealth of knowledge about the
local area, photography and the flora and fauna of the
Moose River. How ironic, I muse, he was so close….
Patient with the girls, he maintains a safe distance
between them, obviously well versed in holding young
women at bay. With the older couples, he swaps jokes
while munching on Midge’s cookies, brushing away stray
crumbs as he points out aperture settings on the camera.
Midge is more interested in feeding him than learning
about the workings of her camera. The golden light of his
dark brown eyes twinkle with mischief and humor over
the fumbling of Dick and Midge. Dick repeatedly
questions the wisdom of their children for not purchasing
a fully automatic digital camera. “What were they
thinking?” He asks with a baffled look on his face.
As I lounge on the riverbank feigning interest in the
class…it’s Josh who holds my attention. And I fall in love
with our son more and more with each passing minute.
He gives forth the quiet grace and ease of someone who’s
spent time in the woods…..there is a serenity about him.
And the edge of pain and longing I’ve worn over the
years lessens; he is everything I could ask for in a son.
Poised, self-assured, gentle with an amazing sense of
humor. Maybe this is how life was supposed to work out.
Maybe he was meant to be raised by his adopted parents.
Vic and I were so young; maybe God had a better plan
than mine. I shake my head as a very small shard of
hatred falls away, having my own children and watching
them grow and make mistakes enlightened me to the
horror our parents felt when they discovered I was
pregnant at such a young age. But I will
never
forgive how
callously they handled us, there was no love involved.
I can’t wait for Vic to meet Josh. Just knowing our
son has turned into an accomplished young man will help
dispel his anguish over the past.
And…
I even picked up
a few photography tips….
…
The damp cold of a spring evening settles over the
water as we glide up to the shore, shoulders aching and
tired from the day’s paddle, it’s good to see land. The
kayaks bump against the dock as everyone unloads their
gear, careful to exit the shaky crafts without tipping.
Quiet laughter and groans of pleasure float across the air
as cramped muscles are stretched and massaged. Names
and email addresses are exchanged as the group prepares
to depart for the comforts of home, a hot shower and
dinner. I hold back, not wanting the day to end. All I
have waiting back at camp is a cold empty house and the
prospect of a lonely dinner. Thank goodness for Cyrus, I
can’t wait for Vic to return on Monday. I long for the
warmth of his arms, the feel of his lips against mine, but
mostly I just….miss…him. This time apart has been a
reality check of life without Vic.
I bob contently on the water watching the others
disembark from their kayaks, waving goodbye, one by
one, departing as the sun sinks slowly into the horizon. I
secretly hope to be the last one on the dock, maybe even
help close up, just to gain a few extra minutes. I don’t
want to let go of him, enjoying the sweet pleasure of my
son. Is that too much to ask…
Finally, I can wait no more, I’m the last one left on
the water and he’s standing there a tall silhouette against
the setting sun.
“Y’all coming in?” He calls out in an amused voice.
“Sun’s setting and I’m getting hungry. Or are you hoping
to meet the search and rescue team? Saturday night, the
boys will be down at the local bar just champing at the bit
for some action.”
Good Lord, no! That’s all I need; the blue light
bennies charging out in full force searching for me.
“No, not necessary.” I say. “Sorry, I was just waiting
for everyone to finish, I’m in no hurry.” My kayak moves
smoothly across the water, bumping into the dock with a
thunk.
I hand him my pack and camera bag. Accepting his
hand I exit the kayak being mindful of not tipping it over.
As I lean into his arm, my dragonfly necklace swings
away from my shirt. Josh looks at the necklace quizzically,
than at me. A dawning light of compression causes his
eyebrows to arch up in surprise and a look of
astonishment crosses his face.