feel.
“And this is the R-r-ruff Dog,” said Dwight with a little ta-da move.
Edith’s knees crackled as she went down to his level. Jellyroll wagged his entire back end and licked Edith’s face in long laps. She moaned with delight and petted his back. Dwight was smiling with the happiness of it all.
“Edith, goddamnit, take it up!” bellowed the Commander from atop his sub.
“Just a moment”—she winked up at Dwight and added— “Sparky.”
Sparky must have thought Edith was still up in the crane. When he looked down and saw her on the float, he did a big take and bellowed, “Goddamnit, Edith, what are you doing!”
“This is the R-r-ruff Dog, dear.”
“The R-r-ruff Dog? Celebrity dogs? Do you know what celebrity dogs represent, Edith? A culture in decline! Decline, Edith!”
“Good luck with the launching, Commander,” called Dickie.
“You, goddamnit! Are you still alive?”
Dickie wilted.
Edith stood up, with a boost from Dwight. “How’s Phyllis?” she asked him.
“Fine. She told me to bring you her best.”
“Well,” said Edith, “we’ve been kind of busy what with the launching and…all.”
“She knows that, Edith. You’ll be back in touch soon’s it’s done.”
Edith squeezed Dwight’s forearm before she started up the steps with much less energy than on her descent. Jellyroll looked kind of sad to see her go.
Dwight started the engine after giving it another sniff for my edification. “Well, there you are. Ready to go.” He may have sensed my hesitation—the boat was pointing up the Crack; I didn’t see how there was room to turn around without hitting the rock or Alistair’s boat—because he said, “Hop in. You can save me a trip back up the steps. Plus you want to get your chart off my boat—” He took us backward around Alistair’s boat and out where therewas room to turn. He brought us up against his boat with the gentlest of taps, my bow pointing out the Crack toward open water. He climbed into his own boat and passed me my chart. “Now you feel okay about the trip back?”
“Oh, sure,” I said. Did I?
I cleared the mouth of the Crack feeling good. I felt good all the way back to the cove. I was stoned on crystalline air.
I turned us into the cove. Remember the sunkers, I told myself. I saw them on the chart as well. It took me a couple of tries to pick up the mooring line. I overran it the first time, jerked it out of my hands. But I got it on. I didn’t know what kind of knot to tie, so I tied a lot of them.
I didn’t notice I was tired until I sat down at the picnic table on the porch at dusk. That long sweep of falling light, lengthening shadows, would have been a time of peace and introspection at the old summerhouse with the loved ones.
I’d brought a cellular phone. I used it to call Clayton to tell him I love it, thanks a lot, but he wasn’t home, and then I remembered he had told me he was going to California. I left the message on his machine. Then I called Shelly, but he wasn’t home either. And Crystal was en route to Memphis. Jellyroll, who seemed to have strong inner resources, had found his place. Dogs always need a place. His was against the wall near the bedroom door on a small hook rug with concentric rings of earthen colors. I unpacked our gear, finished putting away the food, and explored the boathouse more closely.
Its internal frames made a lot of horizontal surfaces. They were used as bookshelves and for displaying knickknacks. There were guides to reptiles, birds, mammals, mosses and lichens, mushrooms, butterflies, tide pools, marine invertebrates, wild-flowers; the knickknacks were mostly things from the sea or from the woods collected over the years. Sea urchin skeletons, glass net floats, horseshoe crabs, round rocks, flotsam and jetsam. I didn’tsee much that clearly belonged to Clayton. Guests like me could have collected these things and left them as thank-yous.
Jellyroll had already gone to sleep. Maybe that
“And this is the R-r-ruff Dog,” said Dwight with a little ta-da move.
Edith’s knees crackled as she went down to his level. Jellyroll wagged his entire back end and licked Edith’s face in long laps. She moaned with delight and petted his back. Dwight was smiling with the happiness of it all.
“Edith, goddamnit, take it up!” bellowed the Commander from atop his sub.
“Just a moment”—she winked up at Dwight and added— “Sparky.”
Sparky must have thought Edith was still up in the crane. When he looked down and saw her on the float, he did a big take and bellowed, “Goddamnit, Edith, what are you doing!”
“This is the R-r-ruff Dog, dear.”
“The R-r-ruff Dog? Celebrity dogs? Do you know what celebrity dogs represent, Edith? A culture in decline! Decline, Edith!”
“Good luck with the launching, Commander,” called Dickie.
“You, goddamnit! Are you still alive?”
Dickie wilted.
Edith stood up, with a boost from Dwight. “How’s Phyllis?” she asked him.
“Fine. She told me to bring you her best.”
“Well,” said Edith, “we’ve been kind of busy what with the launching and…all.”
“She knows that, Edith. You’ll be back in touch soon’s it’s done.”
Edith squeezed Dwight’s forearm before she started up the steps with much less energy than on her descent. Jellyroll looked kind of sad to see her go.
Dwight started the engine after giving it another sniff for my edification. “Well, there you are. Ready to go.” He may have sensed my hesitation—the boat was pointing up the Crack; I didn’t see how there was room to turn around without hitting the rock or Alistair’s boat—because he said, “Hop in. You can save me a trip back up the steps. Plus you want to get your chart off my boat—” He took us backward around Alistair’s boat and out where therewas room to turn. He brought us up against his boat with the gentlest of taps, my bow pointing out the Crack toward open water. He climbed into his own boat and passed me my chart. “Now you feel okay about the trip back?”
“Oh, sure,” I said. Did I?
I cleared the mouth of the Crack feeling good. I felt good all the way back to the cove. I was stoned on crystalline air.
I turned us into the cove. Remember the sunkers, I told myself. I saw them on the chart as well. It took me a couple of tries to pick up the mooring line. I overran it the first time, jerked it out of my hands. But I got it on. I didn’t know what kind of knot to tie, so I tied a lot of them.
I didn’t notice I was tired until I sat down at the picnic table on the porch at dusk. That long sweep of falling light, lengthening shadows, would have been a time of peace and introspection at the old summerhouse with the loved ones.
I’d brought a cellular phone. I used it to call Clayton to tell him I love it, thanks a lot, but he wasn’t home, and then I remembered he had told me he was going to California. I left the message on his machine. Then I called Shelly, but he wasn’t home either. And Crystal was en route to Memphis. Jellyroll, who seemed to have strong inner resources, had found his place. Dogs always need a place. His was against the wall near the bedroom door on a small hook rug with concentric rings of earthen colors. I unpacked our gear, finished putting away the food, and explored the boathouse more closely.
Its internal frames made a lot of horizontal surfaces. They were used as bookshelves and for displaying knickknacks. There were guides to reptiles, birds, mammals, mosses and lichens, mushrooms, butterflies, tide pools, marine invertebrates, wild-flowers; the knickknacks were mostly things from the sea or from the woods collected over the years. Sea urchin skeletons, glass net floats, horseshoe crabs, round rocks, flotsam and jetsam. I didn’tsee much that clearly belonged to Clayton. Guests like me could have collected these things and left them as thank-yous.
Jellyroll had already gone to sleep. Maybe that
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