on the breakwater, near the lighthouse on the right side. It looked like Chief Austin. His hands were on his hips and he seemed to be gazing out to sea. Perhaps in a reflective mood. He had a lot to ponder. A lot to sort out. She watched him start to pace back and forth as if waiting for something. Elizabeth slowly stood from her lawn chair, a squeak reminding her of its age. Reaching her left hand forward to grasp the railing, she furrowed her brow. What was he up to?She watched for a while longer, with a feeling she shouldn’t take her eyes off the scene. Suddenly, the chief started to make his way down toward the water. Elizabeth shifted her gaze slightly and noticed a figure emerging from the water. Someone in a wet suit, complete with an oxygen tank, mask and flippers. In the frigid waters of coastal Maine, such an outfit was necessary in order to spend any time underwater.
Elizabeth was holding her breath, waiting to see if the diver had found anything. The black rubber skinned individual was speaking to the chief, gesturing with his or her hands. From the distance, she was observing from on the bluff, it was hard to tell if the diver was a man or a woman. Suddenly, she took in a quick breath and started breathing again.
It was time for a closer look. She couldn’t tell what was going on from way up there. But she couldn’t very well lug all of her paraphernalia with her so she shoved the drawing pad and pencils in the portfolio and folded up the gaudy yellow and white striped lawn chair. Grabbing one in each hand, she glanced down and noticed the remnants of her lunch; the parchment paper from her sandwich, the clear plastic take-out box from the fruit salad, the green water bottle and the white cardboard picnic box in which they all had traveled. Absentmindedly, she shook her head. There was no way she was going to leave that mess behind. That would violate what was, in her mind, the eleventh commandment; thou shalt not litter in the pristine state of Maine. She put down her load and quickly gathered her litter, placing all the loose items inside the box. Tucking the box under her left arm, she picked up the chair and portfolio again and looked around, assessing the area near her to see where she could stash her stuff for the time being. A large tree on the far side of the clearing, just a few feet into the woods, would suffice. She quickly stepped behind the towering conifer and leaned her things up against it, freeing her to move quickly and quietly, down the trail to the lighthouse.
Elizabeth headed back onto the path. She wished she could break into a light jog to get there more quickly. Unfortunately the trail did not lend itself to that. You had to be careful where you stepped. After the bluff, the path became narrower and was riddled with tree roots that could easily catch a toe and send you airborne, landing you on your face. There were also branches that protruded into the path to grab onto when navigating down the steep slope that descended to the breakwater.
Elizabeth paused for a moment to peer through the pines toward the lighthouse. The diver was no longer talking to the chief. He was not even in sight. For that matter, the chief wasn’t there either. Suddenly, she heard voices below her on the path. They were heading up the hill! Elizabeth quickly slipped off the path to the left into the trees growing on the side of the hill. She grabbed onto the trunks of small pine trees as she went. Each step put her further away from the path. She could hear the voices getting closer. They were both male. Maybe she could glean something from their conversation as they passed. She squatted to try to stay out of sight and took hold of the trunk nearest her to steady herself. She looked down to find herself on a steep incline huddled up to a small pine tree. There were footsteps on the dirt path. They were close. She held her breath and listened, hoping she was successfully concealed. It would be embarrassing
Elizabeth was holding her breath, waiting to see if the diver had found anything. The black rubber skinned individual was speaking to the chief, gesturing with his or her hands. From the distance, she was observing from on the bluff, it was hard to tell if the diver was a man or a woman. Suddenly, she took in a quick breath and started breathing again.
It was time for a closer look. She couldn’t tell what was going on from way up there. But she couldn’t very well lug all of her paraphernalia with her so she shoved the drawing pad and pencils in the portfolio and folded up the gaudy yellow and white striped lawn chair. Grabbing one in each hand, she glanced down and noticed the remnants of her lunch; the parchment paper from her sandwich, the clear plastic take-out box from the fruit salad, the green water bottle and the white cardboard picnic box in which they all had traveled. Absentmindedly, she shook her head. There was no way she was going to leave that mess behind. That would violate what was, in her mind, the eleventh commandment; thou shalt not litter in the pristine state of Maine. She put down her load and quickly gathered her litter, placing all the loose items inside the box. Tucking the box under her left arm, she picked up the chair and portfolio again and looked around, assessing the area near her to see where she could stash her stuff for the time being. A large tree on the far side of the clearing, just a few feet into the woods, would suffice. She quickly stepped behind the towering conifer and leaned her things up against it, freeing her to move quickly and quietly, down the trail to the lighthouse.
Elizabeth headed back onto the path. She wished she could break into a light jog to get there more quickly. Unfortunately the trail did not lend itself to that. You had to be careful where you stepped. After the bluff, the path became narrower and was riddled with tree roots that could easily catch a toe and send you airborne, landing you on your face. There were also branches that protruded into the path to grab onto when navigating down the steep slope that descended to the breakwater.
Elizabeth paused for a moment to peer through the pines toward the lighthouse. The diver was no longer talking to the chief. He was not even in sight. For that matter, the chief wasn’t there either. Suddenly, she heard voices below her on the path. They were heading up the hill! Elizabeth quickly slipped off the path to the left into the trees growing on the side of the hill. She grabbed onto the trunks of small pine trees as she went. Each step put her further away from the path. She could hear the voices getting closer. They were both male. Maybe she could glean something from their conversation as they passed. She squatted to try to stay out of sight and took hold of the trunk nearest her to steady herself. She looked down to find herself on a steep incline huddled up to a small pine tree. There were footsteps on the dirt path. They were close. She held her breath and listened, hoping she was successfully concealed. It would be embarrassing
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