by Nat Burns
Pausing at the first overlook, she walked her bike to the podium-style platform. Pulling the field glasses from her pack and, leaning her elbows on the platform, she gazed out across the marsh. Few animals seemed active in this particular area of the marsh. When only one black skimmer passed her by with a disdainful squawk, she moved on.
Just as she was about to wheel her bike from the pull-off area, a second bike and rider whizzed by at dangerous speed, almost colliding with the front wheel of her bicycle.
Nina watched his retreating back with disgust. “Your black helmet suits you,” she called after him. He was certainly a bad guy. Mounting her own bike, she followed at a more leisurely pace.
At the next overlook, she discovered a large lagoon filled with black ducks and Canadian geese. Watching through field glasses, she was pleased to see the ducks play at mating; females following and dipping their heads almost shyly as they proved their interest in this or that male.
The bathing ritual the ducks displayed was also a treat. Nina watched with fascination as one duck dipped its head into the water with a serpentine motion then used the wet head to smooth its back feathers. Plucking and grooming the feathers all along its sleek body was the next motion on the agenda and the duck accomplished this in a small flurry of flying down feathers.
A mother duck following a small brood of half-grown ducklings was winding her way through the tall marsh grass. Holding her head high with pride, she approached the other ducks, soon losing herself, and her adolescent babies, in the dark crowd.
The geese were very noisy as they flocked in a large group that reached all the way across the small pond of water. These large birds didn’t seem to be in any kind of social order or pairs, although Nina knew they mated for life. They were lazily milling about, calling with their noisy honking voices.
Rugged Chincoteague wild ponies were grazing off in the distance and every now and again a young white-tailed deer strode into view, warily eyeing the highway that passed within a half mile from its grazing range.
Enchanted, Nina traded the eyepieces of the field glasses for the viewfinder of her camera and started to snap numerous photographs.
Though she never claimed to be a real photographer, Nina’s photos were well appreciated by friends and family. She considered them a personal pleasure and derived great satisfaction from isolating a remarkable specimen or scene from background clutter. She seemed to have a natural eye for color and balance.
Sighting one of the tiny Sika deer, really a miniature elk brought to the island by way of the Asian continent, Nina focused and clicked the shutter, excited to locate one of the shy creatures so quickly.
An hour or so later, after a short break for a lunch of peanut butter sandwich, fruit and water, and several more photographs, Nina rode her bike all the way around the wildlife loop and back onto the main road heading south.
Soon she came to the highway that traveled past the beach parking areas. Following it, she spied the wooden walkway that led into the Tom’s Cove Nature Trail, something she had wanted to explore for a long time.
Parking her bike in the weeds alongside the road, she hefted her pack and set off along the wooden plank path through the marsh. Fiddler crabs scurried frantically as her footsteps sounded on the boards.
She remembered the time her grandfather had teased her with a handful of the frantic little crustaceans, finally dropping them right in her lap, causing her to shriek and run away, only to be pulled back to them by avid curiosity. A smile touched her features as she relished the memory.
After walking for some time, she paused for several gulps of lukewarm water and to read the informational plaque placed by the forest service. It told how the two-mile hook of land encircling Tom’s Cove had been growing larger over the years, gradually providing more and more land to the southern tip of Assateague Island.
Looking out over the land and sea junction with her field glasses, she noticed blue crabs and horseshoe crabs sprawled across the sand. Seagulls and other buff-colored birds were feeding on some of them.
Moving along, Nina left the walkway and took a number of photographs in the marsh, mostly close-ups of the elusive fiddler crabs which required enormous patience and perseverance.
Finally, hours later, exhausted and dirty, she made her way back to the main road near the beach.
As she neared the road she spotted a great mass of brown. Squinting her eyes into narrow slits, she peered toward the trail entrance, noting movement in the mass. As she approached even closer, she finally realized it was a small herd of wild ponies.
As she realized where the ponies were standing, Nina’s heart lurched.
“My bike!” she cried, racing full tilt along the path, her footsteps like gunshots in the still island air.
The ponies backed away at her approach, nervously twitching their long, rough tails.
“Shoo! Shoo! Get away!” she told them firmly as she waved her arms.
Her bicycle, once a beautiful, shiny, metallic-green speedster, was now a trampled wreck. The sturdy little ponies were short but they weighed enough to do serious damage. As she inspected the much-abused bicycle, she also discovered they really would eat almost anything, as her heavy-duty tires had been nibbled to the point of uselessness.
“Oh no,” she moaned, flopping to the sandy ground. Her cottage was at least five miles away—a very long walk on a hot day.
She raised her head to discover that the ponies had formed a semicircle around her and were waiting as if to see what she was going to do. She had to laugh at their expectant faces.
“Thanks a lot, guys, you’ve really made my day,” she told them, half-heartedly pitching a handful of sand at the cluster of muzzles.
One grizzled old fellow snorted loudly and tossed his pale mane as if telling her to pull herself up by her bootstraps and quit complaining.
“All right, I’m going,” Nina replied, rising and dusting off the seat of her shorts.
The ponies moved back, stamping their feet and grunting, breath echoing in their lungs like a bellows. Greener grass beckoned and they began to disperse, prehensile lips and flat teeth ripping mightily at a new plot of drying marsh grass.
Nina plucked her twisted bike from the sand and stowed it behind a clump of bushes at the entrance to the trail. She would retrieve it later this evening in her car. She hoped it could be repaired. She glanced at the long stretch of highway curving off into the distance. If she ever made it home, that is.
She had walked only a few yards when a whizzing noise sounded behind her. A sudden gust of wind buffeted her as a biker, the same one who had passed her before, sped by.
Nina was thrown off balance by the passage and stumbled onto the sandy shoulder of the road. She cursed the biker soundly, her temper finally reaching the breaking point.
He must have heard her. To her dismay, he slowed and made a wide turn to come back to her.
Standing still, she dubiously watched his approach. She eyed the parking lot, about a half mile away, and wondered if anyone would hear if she screamed.
“I thought that was you.” The biker stopped before Nina and stripped off his helmet. He was a her. And the her was Hazy.
Nina’s mouth fell open in amazement and relief as she saw the familiar blond hair, now plastered to Hazy’s skull with sweat, emerge from the hated black helmet. Nina’s eyes took in the sweat-soaked, sleeveless T-shirt and the snug black Spandex shorts which hugged her lower body like a second skin. Surely this wasn’t her temporary landlord. She seemed so young.
“What are you doing riding a bike?” she said, almost accusingly. “I thought boats were your favorite mode of transportation.”
Hazy laughed and carefully hung the helmet on one handlebar by its chin strap. “Only at sea. On land I use whatever’s handy.” She added thoughtfully, “Although I guess I’ll use whatever’s handy at sea as well. I once floated on a barrel for four hours when my brother’s science experiment failed.”
Nina eye
d her with doubt, afraid to ask about the experiment.
“The question that should be answered, I think, is why you are out walking in this heat.” Hazy smiled as if she already knew the answer and Nina’s anger began to rekindle.
“I don’t see where that is any concern of yours, Ms. Duncan. I might be walking for exercise, you know.” Her nose lifted just a smidgeon.
Hazy studied her coolly. “Hazy, I told you, or Hazel, if you feel a need to be formal. Well…if that be the case, I’ll be off.”
She placed one foot on a pedal and paused to study Nina again.
“Is your car nearby? I thought I saw it at the cottage when I left.”
Nina was abruptly afraid Hazy would leave her here to make her own way home, but pride reared its head again. She always had a hard time asking for help.
“I was on a bike.”
Hazy looked around. “Where is it then?”
“The ponies ate it.”
Hazy became very still, as if her mind were turning over what Nina had told her.
“The ponies did what?”
Nina’s face began to color as she realized how ridiculous she must sound. “The ponies ate my tires while I was on the nature trail.”
Hazy began laughing then and Nina wasn’t sure she was going to stop. She turned her back on Hazy and resumed walking along the road.
Finally the guffawing slowed and Hazy pulled up alongside Nina, balancing her weight easily on the well-maintained ten-speed. Stray chuckles still escaped every few seconds but she had herself under control.
“I’m glad some of us find it amusing,” Nina told her in a frigid tone.
This almost set Hazy off again but she choked back the laughter and planted her feet on the ground so she could swipe at her weeping eyes.
“I’ve heard of a lot of strange happenings in my time, and the islands are full of strange happenings, but I’ll admit this is a whole new one for me.”
“Well, just zip on home and give the local newspaper a call,” Nina snapped as she walked along, her stomping feet creating small dust clouds in the sand.
Hazy, rolling the bike slowly behind her, spoke softly. “I think it’d be best if we got you home first, don’t you?”
“Do you have a car?” she asked, finally stopping to catch her breath. Walking along in the thick sand of the shoulder in this heat was making her heart rate increase.
“Yes, a Jeep. Why?”
Her eyes widened in exasperation. “Would you consider going to get the car and then coming back to pick me up?”
“Why? I’ve got the bike right here. Hop on.”
Nina’s dark eyes roamed the sleek, streamlined machine. “There’s no room.”
“Don’t be silly,” she replied. “You’re a slip of a thing and will fit right nicely up here on the handlebars.”
Nina looked at the place she indicated, a small scooped-out area between the two handles, and shook her head. “Nope. Won’t work. You won’t be able to see.”
“Of course I can see. I’ll just look around you. It’s not but a few miles, gull.”
Nina stamped her foot. “I am not a girl. I’m just small because I’m Irish. Don’t call me a girl!”
Hazy spread both hands in defense. “All right, all right, I’m sorry. Don’t get your feathers riled.”
Nina glared at her. Hazy finally closed her eyes and sighed. “Look here, there’s no sense fighting about this thing. You need a ride and I am offering one. You’ll just have to trust me to know what I can and cannot handle on my own bike.”
Nina was tired and common sense told her what Hazy was saying was the truth. Nevertheless, her superior attitude annoyed Nina and her pride smarted at being forced to accept her largesse.
“Fine. If you think you can control it and not kill us both then I guess I’ll just have to take your word for it.”
“Right,” Hazy agreed. Throwing one smooth leg over the crossbar, she dismounted, handed Nina the bike and roughly pulled the pack from Nina’s shoulders.
“Ow, that hurts,” Nina cried, jerking her arm from the last loop. “Can’t you be a little more gentle?”
“Well, it’s not easy when you have to deal with women-shaped cacti who specialize in spitting you with spines every time you come near.”
Nina turned to face Hazy, her features drawn into a scowl. “I haven’t done a single, solitary thing to you. You just stay in a bad mood all the time and expect everyone to accept it as a matter of course. I personally don’t like being around bad-tempered people.”
“Then stay away from them. Besides, you’ve been pretty disagreeable today yourself.”
“I guess so! Here I am, minding my own business, taking a few photos and wham! A herd of stubby horses tramples and eats my bike, leaving me to walk in hundred degree heat. This is not something guaranteed to make you shout with joy.”
At the mention of the ponies Hazy’s lips began to quiver and laughter threatened.
“Don’t you dare!” Nina cautioned her.
Hazy ducked behind the bike and began deftly tying the pack onto it with elastic cords stowed in a compartment above the chain. When she stood, she was no longer laughing but her blue eyes were wet and gleeful. She buckled the straps of her sweaty helmet around the pack, apologizing for not having a dry one for Nina to wear.
“All right then, up with you,” she said as she took the handlebars from Nina’s hands. “I’ll hold it steady.”
Awkwardly, Nina hoisted herself onto the handlebars and settled her bottom into the middle. She fit well.
Hazy, with an alarming wobble, mounted and began rolling the bike forward slowly. She raised up and pushed hard on the right pedal and they were off.
Nina had ridden roller coasters. Nina had ridden sleds. Nina had even been skiing. But nothing could have prepared her for the reckless speeds Hazy Duncan attained on the trip home.
The small fresh- and salt-water ponds on either side of the road passed by in a frightening blur as she held on for dear life with both hands clenched around the handlebars at her sides and her hiking boots tucked back and around the bottom frame. Her hair felt as though it were being ripped from the top of her head and her eyes dried out as quickly as her eyelids could moisten them.
Though frightened to her wits’ end, Nina found the ride exhilarating, leaning with Hazy as they rounded curves and laughing out loud in spite of her terror.
Hazy didn’t slow appreciably until they started across the causeway onto Chincoteague where traffic was heavier.
“Wasn’t it fun?” Hazy asked against her ear. She was breathing heavily but Nina could sense she was smiling, though whether from sheer enjoyment of the ride or glee from scaring Nina half to death she couldn’t tell.
“I do this for exercise two days a week; spend half the day racing about the big island. Supposed to be good for me,” she panted as they rounded onto Church Street.
“Yeah,” Nina replied when she could catch her breath. “If you survive it.”
Hazy chuckled and Nina found herself smiling.
They were at Channel Haven. Hazy held the bike steady as Nina dismounted, her legs shaking.
“What will you do about your bike? Leave it for dessert?”
Nina was uselessly trying to straighten her windblown hair but the words caused her to turn and eye Hazy angrily.
“You’re making fun of me, aren’t you?” she challenged her. “I didn’t ask for any of this to happen and I think you’re pretty rude to make jokes about it.”
A familiar scowl darkened Hazy’s perspiring face as she loosened the pack and handed it to her. “I think I deserve a few laughs after rescuing you.”
“Rescuing me! You half-killed me. I thought I was dead when I saw you come within an inch of that red car making a turn.” She was still shaking with fear but it had changed to a trembling of indignation.
“Why, you scared little ninny! You act like I’ve been riding for only a few months. I’ve been riding since before you were
born and haven’t had a spill yet.”
“It’s only a matter of time. Sooner or later your luck has got to run out. And you are careless about other people, you almost ran me down earlier today as well, on the main road.” She fixed her in an angry stare.
Hazy studied her, turned away. “Perhaps if I’d done so, I wouldn’t have had to waste the time bringing you back here.”
Hazy swung onto her bike and pedaled off, leaving Nina standing in the driveway, infuriated.
Chapter 15
When Nina went to the office to fetch her mail the next morning, she was pleasantly surprised to find an unfamiliar middle-aged woman sitting at the big metal desk.
The woman, who possessed long dark red hair and snapping blue eyes, was big in body and big in smile.
“Hello there,” she greeted Nina as she rose to shake her hand, “and who might you be?”
“Nina Christie,” Nina responded quickly. So this must be Hazy’s partner. “And you must be...”
“Carrie Newcomb, but everybody just calls me Mama New and you’re to be no exception, hear?” She touched one forefinger to her chin and rolled her eyes as if searching the ceiling. “Christie, Christie. Seems I ’member the name. Didna’ I talk to you on the phone once, some time ago?”
“Yes, this past week,” Nina supplied, feeling comforted by the woman’s island dialect. “I asked to rent a cottage while I waited for my house to be finished. I inherited Tom Burley’s old place over on the North Channel.”
“Oh, ta, I remember now,” Mama New said as she resumed her seat, all the while talking amiably. “Sorry I wasn’t here to tend to you and you had to deal with the madam Hazel. Ignore her right enough and you’ll be the better for it.”
She took a deep breath and jumped in again. “I suppose it could drive a body mad sitting here day after day dealing with the tourists and the business. So anyways, off I goes to get a little rest and relaxation at my sister’s house in Stafford and she stays here and minds the phone and the baby. So off she goes now for the day, just to get in a bit of fishing and I fill in for her. After all, it’s the least we can do, you know? The hardest part,” she lowered her voice and leaned forward conspiratorially, “is keepin’ the housekeepin’ staff in line. When they see she’s gone for the day, they like to be slack-abouts and not get their work done. The idiots should know her temper by now and how she’ll bellow when she comes in an’ sees the work left undone.”
