Adventures in Reading

by Debra Chapoton

  Chapter 2

  March

  Missy had been doing her favorite thing: watching reruns and eating chips. Not potato chips, chocolate chips. She didn’t have any friends, not here anyway. She had friends back home but it wasn’t home anymore since her mom and she had moved from the nice warm south to this cooler state. Cold actually. When they arrived in January it had been snowing and a blizzard had closed school on the first day she was going to go. She probably shouldn’t have complained so much about the cold and snow to her new classmates, or rather, she shouldn’t have bragged about the 75-degree weather she had just left. She had gotten off to a bad start but a few of the girls were starting to be friendlier, now that her tan had started to fade. She was just thinking how her life was like this rerun she was watching, boring, predictable, when her mom came into the den and sat down next to her.

  “Missy, this weekend we’re driving up north to visit someone,” her mom said.

  “You mean there’s someplace more north than here?”

  “Yup, don’t you want to know who we’re going to see?”

  “Who?”

  “Your father’s grandfather.”

  Missy’s father died when she was four and she only had warm, fuzzy memories of a big, strong, nice-smelling man reading her stories. She had met her grandparents lots of times but she didn’t even realize that she had a great-grandfather.

  “He must be ancient.”

  “Very,” her mother replied, “he must be almost a hundred, but he still lives all by himself. Your dad didn’t get to know him because your grandfather had had a big fight with him a long time ago and they quit speaking.”

  “That’s stupid.”

  “I know, but anyway, your great-grandfather got in touch with me after your father died and I’ve been meaning to take you to see him for the last eight years. It was always too far and we couldn’t afford the trip, but now it’s just a four or five hour drive away. We’ll leave very early Saturday morning. Sound like fun?”

  “Not exactly,” Missy said and then saw the disappointed look on her mother’s face. She quickly added, “but I’m sure it will be interesting.” Yeah, right, she thought, some hundred-year-old stranger/relative is going to be interesting and fun.

  Early Saturday morning they ate breakfast and packed sandwiches and drinks for a picnic along the way. Missy looked over her mother’s shoulder and they both studied the road map that was unfolded on the kitchen table. The majority of the trip would be mostly expressway but the last forty miles or so it was going to be tricky. Not all of the smaller roads’ names appeared on the map. There were lots of lakes, state forests, and campgrounds. There were other odd looking symbols on the map and Missy was just about to ask her mom what they meant when her mom said, “Well, I have a general idea of where we’re going, and he does have a telephone, so we can call if we get lost. He may live in the sticks but it’s not like someone in the area wouldn’t know where Big Pine Lodge was and who Mr. Stark is.”

  “Mr. Stark?” Missy just realized that she hadn’t even considered that her father’s grandfather would of course have the same last name, a name that had caused her a little bit of grief when some older boys had teased her and called her Stork. Hey, stork, what long skinny legs you have. Hey, stork, deliver any babies recently? Name-calling could be so mean. “What was, I mean, is, his first name? And what do I call him? Great-grandpa?”

  “His name is John Washington Stark and I guess you can call him Great-grandpa. You’ll have to ask him. I really can’t tell you much more. I’ve talked to him on the phone a couple of times. He seemed nice, not a crotchety old geezer. He said he especially wanted to give you something.”

  “What?”

  “He didn’t say.”

  Hmm. A mystery. What would an almost hundred-year-old person have to give to a twelve year old girl he had never met? Money? That would be good. Jewelry? Maybe the lodge itself! No, it was probably some dumb worthless heirloom like his wife’s wedding ring. Sentimental value only. Missy sat staring out the car window trying to think of any other possibilities. She was so completely lost in thought that she didn’t even notice it had started to snow.

  Her mother laughed and said, “I should have checked the weather report for up here. We might need boots and warmer jackets.”

  Missy came out of her trance and gasped, “My gosh, I didn’t know it would still be snowing in March! It’s so pretty.”

  Large fluffy flakes swirled down and started to cover the brownish-green shoulders of the expressway and the median between the north and southbound lanes. No flakes stuck to the highway, though, they just seemed to dodge away from the tires of the cars in front of them, as if they were playing a flying game of tag. Missy was hypnotized by the sight and soon fell asleep, her head bobbing forward until her mother applied the brakes and slowed the car to exit.

  “Ow, my neck hurts. How long have I been sleeping?”

  “Half an hour.”

  “Wow, there must be two inches of snow. Where are we?”

  “We are at the hard part. Spread the map on your lap so I can see it.”

  Missy opened the map and found the exit number her mother had marked. “Looks like you turn right here and we go about a half an inch to Gunther Road,” Missy said.

  “Half an inch, huh? What’s that, about two or three miles?”

  “No, the legend says one inch equals ten miles, so it’s about five miles from here.”

  They drove on slowly over the now white and slippery country roads. They had no trouble finding Gunther Road or the next six turns but they both agreed that it was taking too long and they were hungry. Since they hadn’t seen any other cars for the last ten minutes they simply stopped and ate their sandwiches in the car with the engine running. The snow stopped and the sun came back out. There was a sign on their right that they couldn’t read before because it was covered with sticky, wet snow. Suddenly it all slid off and revealed a startling truth: Welcome to Starkville, population 125.

  “Starkville!” Missy proclaimed. “Mom, there’s a town named after us!”

  “After your ancestors, I guess. I had no idea. It’s too small to be printed on this map.” They looked at each other and laughed. It was only five more miles but they missed the last turn and had to double back. There was a sign at an unmarked lane that said, “Seasonal road, not plowed by road commission” and they both agreed that this was most likely their last turn. The car moved slowly down what seemed to be a disappearing road with heavy woods on either side. They couldn’t see very far ahead because the road would either dip or turn. The snow clinging to the evergreens gave it a very picturesque and Christmassy feel but Missy’s mother seemed more than a little nervous about driving on the snow. If another car came toward them there was nowhere to go but backwards. Missy, however, was thinking that she would like to come back in the summer and explore the woods.

  “Look! A fort!” At the side of the narrow road was an old wooden structure. Real logs had been set vertically into the ground and their tops had been cut into points. There were small slit-like window openings on the two sides that could be seen from the road. Missy was enthralled with the crude structure. It was about the size of a kid’s playhouse. It would be a neat place to spy on visitors, she thought. And just as that thought crossed her mind she noticed footprints in the snow at the far side of the fort. She looked again at the small windows. She couldn’t see anyone there but she was sure that she felt someone looking back at her.

  They made a sharp right then a sharp left turn and saw a large brown sign with green lettering: Big Pine Lodge. The sign was very rustic and yet seemed to Missy to be promising something very special ahead. One more turn through thick pine trees and the promise was revealed. Big Pine Lodge was enormous. It was a dark brown log building three stories high. It looked like Paul Bunyan had used giant Lincoln Logs to build it. There was a huge porch across the entire front with two large porch swings to the right and the left of the do
uble front doors. The swings were gently swaying and the snow had blown little piles of downy drifts onto the seats. The windows on the second and third floors were evenly spaced and the steeply pitched roof guaranteed an attic. Missy jumped out of the car and ran up the four wide steps to the lodge’s porch. The front doors were larger than normal and carved with a scene of fish jumping out of a lake. There was a large old-fashioned keyhole. There was no knocker or doorbell so Missy started pounding on the door. She even jiggled the doorknob and tried to look through the keyhole but something was stuffed in the other side.

  “I don’t think anyone is going to answer, Missy,” her mom said. “Look.”

  Missy turned to see her mother pointing off to the left. Now that she was on the porch she could see a dozen small cabins nestled in the pines at the side of the lodge. It looked like the lodge had had twelve identical babies. They were cute little mini-lodges, same style, same color. Each one had a stone chimney but only the first two had smoke, and, she now noticed, footprints.

  Her mother motioned for her to follow and said, “He probably lives in the cabin during the winter and closes the lodge.”

  Missy intently followed exactly in her mother’s footprints in the snow but out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw a flash of red. She stopped still and turned her head. She only saw more pine trees and leafless oaks and maples. It would be impossible to see very far into the woods when all the trees leafed out in the summer, she thought. A person could really sneak around then. But where would someone hide now? Behind that fat pine? Maybe. Her eyes followed the lines of the bark up the tree. There were no lower branches to climb on but there was what looked like a platform on the strong upper branches high up. Another flash of red up there! She was definitely being spied on. Missy ran to the base of the fat pine tree and circled it. On the back side there were pieces of two by fours nailed at one foot intervals making a ladder up the old tree. But from this side the platform above wasn’t visible.

  “Missy, come on!” her mother yelled.

  Missy crossed back over to her mom’s side, determined not to give the “spy” the satisfaction of a backward glance at the tree fort. She kept her eyes straight ahead and was surprised to see that the lodge and all of the cabins were facing a beautiful little lake. She could see a stone house on the far side but that was the only other residence on the lake.

  They came around to the front of the cabin and knocked on the door. They could hear a TV set go from loud to mute and then the door opened. Missy was half expecting an old Santa Claus or else a gruff old Scrooge type but what she noticed first was a big grinning smile. His teeth were white and probably false but the smile was so genuine and happy that she couldn’t help but grin back at him.

  “You must be Kimberly,” he said to Missy’s mother.

  “Yes, I’m Kim, Mr. Stark, and this is my daughter, your great-granddaughter, Missy.”

  “Oh, call me John. And you, little Missy, you can call me Great-Grandpa. Or just Great for short. Ha, ha, ha, ha!” His laugh was as infectious as his grin and Missy liked him immediately. His eyes, behind large glasses, were watery but friendly. He had two hearing aids that were half hidden by a fringe of silver gray hair. The top of his head was bald but he had a long gray beard and no mustache. He had been a big man once but now he was a little bit stooped over. Such an old person should have a walker or at least a cane, but he moved away from the door and gestured them into the cabin quickly and smoothly. They closed the door behind them and sat down on a green loveseat that was facing the fireplace. The room was cozy but cramped. Besides the loveseat there was an old rocking chair, an easy chair, a TV, a computer desk and a hutch. The room was open to the kitchen, which was just a wall with a stove, refrigerator, sink and a short counter. A coffee pot, microwave, and toaster limited the workspace on the counter. A small table and four wood chairs divided the kitchen and living room. There was a door that led to the bathroom and bedroom but it was closed.

  “Can I get you some coffee or hot chocolate? It’s already made. I just have to stick it in the microwave.” He was already moving toward the kitchenette so they both agreed to hot chocolate.

  They spent a half an hour getting acquainted and Missy was actually thinking that this was fun and interesting. She had learned that her great-grandfather and great-grandmother had built Big Pine Lodge sixty years ago. The original lodge was much smaller and had burned down many years ago but they had rebuilt it and added the cabins. There was an owners’ apartment in the lodge that her great-grandfather used when the lodge was open, April to September, but he said that as soon as the weather turned cold he would always move into the first cabin for the winter. He got very sad sounding when he spoke of her great-grandmother whom he referred to as “the Mrs.” Missy was curious to know what her name was and so she asked.

  “I called her Missy,” he said with a smile, “but her real name’s a mystery.” He laughed that funny laugh of his again and Missy laughed too.

  She turned to her mom and asked, “Was I named after her?”

  Her mom looked puzzled and answered, “Maybe. Your dad and I had an agreement that I would get to name you if you were a boy and he would name you if you were a girl. I always thought that maybe he had an old girlfriend by that name but I never asked.”

  Old Mr. Stark just chuckled and said, “Another mystery. We have lots of mysteries and secrets around here. I’ll tell you a secret I’ll bet you never knew. I knew your dad pretty well. Even though I haven’t spoken to my own son, your grandfather Jacob, in forty years, his mother would bring him here when Jacob went out of town on business. Sometimes they would stay for two weeks at a time but we would have to keep it a big secret. It was hard to deceive Jacob but your grandmother felt really strongly that your dad should know us. Now don’t you go getting your grandmother into trouble by spilling the beans.”

  “I never knew this,” Kim Stark said. “Missy’s dad sure was a loyal secret keeper.”

  “Yes, and when he was Missy’s age he had a boxful of secrets,” he laughed again and leaned forward in the easy chair, his beard nearly touching his lap. He looked at Missy and said, “I want to talk to your mother a bit but you can go and explore the lodge if you’d like. I’ll get Kevin to show you around.” Without waiting for a reply or explaining who Kevin was Mr. Stark eased out of the chair and opened the front door. There was an old black triangle on a stand just outside the door and he took the metal gong rod and with a circular motion hit all three sides of the triangle a couple of times. It was quite loud and echoed across the lake and back. It wasn’t ten seconds before a boy in a red jacket and jeans appeared at the door. Mr. Stark introduced him as Kevin Jackson whose parents he employed as the lodge’s managers and general caretakers.