Lake Dreams

by Lee Ann Sontheimer Murphy

  “So what do you like?” Cole asked Kiefer as they picked a flat box to hold their selection and began making the circuit around the stand. “Firecrackers, smoke bombs, or what?”

  “I don’t really know,” the teen said. “We’ve always gone to California as long as I can remember and my grandparents never let us shoot off anything. We always went to a big public display.”

  “Man,” Cole said. “You really missed out. Your mom and me shot off all kinds of stuff back in the old days.”

  “Really?” Kiefer asked with a skeptical quirk of one eyebrow.

  “Oh, yeah,” he answered. “Come on, we’ll get some good stuff.”

  They ended up with firecrackers, smoke bombs, bottle rockets (which Cole hoped were legal and wouldn’t ignite any fires) and a packaged selection of night fireworks including fountains large and small. He skipped the snakes figuring Kiefer and Kaitlin were too old to find any enjoyment in the stinking ashes and almost didn’t buy sparklers for the same reason. A memory of Maggie waving a sparkler in the dark as she spelled out his name surfaced so Cole added a couple packages of the colorful morning glory style sparklers to the pile. The attendant tossed a bundle of punk on top and they were set.

  On the drive back to the resort Kiefer chattered about fireworks for the first few minutes and then switched to another topic. “Hey, Cole, what is it with my mom and water? She’s never let me go swimming or boating or anything.”

  “She’s just worried, buddy,” Cole replied. “Maggie says you can’t swim so she’s cautious.”

  “Yeah, I figure,” the teenager returned. “But she goes way overboard with it. I’ve always wanted to go to White Water and I still want to do one of those little paddleboats out on the lake sometime.”

  Cole remembered them well, the small boats which ran on nothing but peddle power. Each one fit two people and he’d ridden them around Taneycomo with Maggie. If his memory served, Lake Dreams used to have one or two and he knew they’d paddled one around over at Rockaway Beach too.

  “They’re fun,” he said. “But I guess they might be dangerous if you don’t know how to swim. Does she let you splash around in the pool?”

  Kiefer snorted. “Once in awhile but not very often. And she has to be there and screams if I get past the rope dividing the shallow and deep ends.”

  “Sorry, man,” Cole said, uncertain what else he could say without griping about Maggie. “Can your sister swim?”

  “Oh, yeah, like a fish,” Kiefer told him. “I used to call her ‘Ariel’ when we were little, you know like the little mermaid.”

  “But you never learned how to swim?”

  “I tried,” the boy said. “I don’t know why but I couldn’t get the hang of it. I always just sank like a rock. I wish I could swim, though. Mom always said she would send me for lessons somewhere but she never did. My grandpa in Joplin always threatens to toss me in Shoal Creek, says I’ll swim or sink but he never did. I think he’s afraid of what Mom would do if she found out.”

  “Probably so,” Cole laughed. “Maybe there’s hope yet.”

  “Yeah, right,” Kiefer said. “I thought if I went to Dustin’s party maybe I’d learn but Mom nixed it.”

  “Another chance might come up sometime,” Cole said as he started down the home stretch around the curves. He enjoyed their conversation, surprised but pleased Kiefer opened up to him.

  “There will be but I bet Mom doesn’t let us go,” the kid told him. “Every July the Tatum family has a big reunion over on Indian Point, you know, close to Silver Dollar City? My grandpa’s brother hosts it and comes down from Kansas City. Almost everyone connected to the Tatum bunch in any way shows up but not us. Me and Kaitlin are usually out in California so Mom stays home. They have it at a snazzy resort over there, not an old one like this but newer with condos and fancy cabins, the works. There’s a big swimming beach with real sand, paddleboats, the works. It’d be totally awesome.”

  A vague memory stirred and Cole thought he remembered the Tatum family attending when he was a kid because he sat on the swings, morose until Maggie got back from the family reunion. Back then, she liked the annual event. “Why doesn’t your mom go?”

  Kiefer shot him a confidential grin. “Well, don’t tell her I said anything but she got mad because none of the visiting Tatum bunch would stay here when they come.”

  Cole laughed. “It’d be reason enough, Kiefer. Let’s get the grill going and you can shoot fireworks. I’m surprised your mom doesn’t worry about the dangers there. You need to be careful – people do get hurt. Back in St. Louis, that’s one reason why fireworks are outlawed except to people with special permits for big celebrations.”

  “I guess she figures I can stop, drop, and roll if I catch fire,” Kiefer said with a dry tone. “Nothing much but swimming and water freak her out.”

  Cole rolled through the gate into Lake Dreams and almost hit the brake. Donald’s Lincoln sat across the driveway from the office near the pool and his city pal leaned against the car, smoking a cigarette and checking his watch.

  “Crap,” Cole said, low and fierce. “What’s your mom think about pain in the ass uninvited guests?”

  “Unless they’re paying guests, not much,” Kiefer said. “Wasn’t he here yesterday?”

  “Yeah,” Cole said “And now he’s back.”

  He wondered just what the hell Donald wanted this time.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Cole pretended not to notice the visitor as he pulled up beside Maggie’s car and gathered bags from the trunk. Just as he started toward the rear entrance behind the office Donald hailed him. Cole stopped, swearing under his breath. He hoped Kiefer couldn’t hear his vulgar words but Donald’s reappearance annoyed him so much Cole said them.

  “Hey, Colester, are you up for a game of golf or something?” Donald shouted as Cole shut the trunk lid with more force than necessary. “I figured you’d be free, alone and at loose ends for the holiday.”

  “Wrong on all counts, Donald,” Cole said. His hands dangled grocery bags. “I’ve got a full day lined up. I figured you’d be off with your family.”

  Donald snuffed out his smoke and rolled his eyes heavenward. “They went back to the amusement park. I tried to tell them it’ll be crowded and crazy but no, they had fun so off they went again. I figured you’d be loose for a round of golf. I’ve played at Thousand Hills but since you’re going native I thought you might know some other golf courses. Or if you’re not into golf, I’ve rented a big Chris Craft 29 Express so we could go out on the lake. I’d rather golf, though so what do you say?”

  He seldom played golf, not with Donald or anyone else although Victoria had enjoyed a few rounds at the country club. Cole didn’t care much for the sport and found it tedious. “I haven’t played down here at all,” he told Donald. “I’m not much into golf these days.”

  Or ever if truth was told, Cole thought. As he looked as his one time friend, someone from a circle of people with whom he once socialized and shared moments with, he saw a stranger. Cole realized how precious the freedom he reclaimed now really was. Although Donald might be considered well known if not famous as a radio commentator in St. Louis, he felt sorry for the man. On the surface, ol’ Donald owned it all – the nice suburban home, the wife, the family, the fine vehicles and the lifestyle but if he sought out a sometimes pal, more of an acquaintance like Cole during a family vacation, he couldn’t be happy. Cole’d been almost rude to Donald yesterday but he’d come back out of desperation.

  With a perplexed look, Donald asked, “What are you into now, Cole? You don’t seem much like the guy I know back home.”

  “Maybe you never really knew me,” Cole answered, knowing it was the truth. “Since I’ve been here, more than a month now, I’m rediscovering who I am. I like this me a lot better.”

  “Man, I don’t understand a thing you’re telling me,” Donald said. “I don’t get it. Hell, I’m hung over though and maybe that’s why. So are you going to pla
y golf with me today or not?”

  “Nope,” Cole said. “No golf. Look, maybe we can get together another day. How long are you staying?”

  “Another two weeks,” Donald told him.

  “Do you have my cell number? It’s the same one,” Cole said. “Call me and maybe we’ll have lunch or a drink. Right now, though, I’ve got charcoal to get going and cooking to do. Take care, Donald, and I’ll talk to you later.”

  As if on cue, Maggie came outside and walked straight to Cole. “Hi, I’m glad you’re back,” she said with a smile. “Are you coming in? I worried the food might spoil out here in the heat.”

  “I’m just about to,” Cole said. “Donald, this is Maggie. Honey, this is a guy I know back in the city, Donald Schmidt.”

  “Hi,” Maggie said with about as much welcome as barbed wire. For whatever reason, she didn’t like his city friend and although he didn’t mind, Cole wondered why. Maybe she didn’t want his other life creeping into this reality and if so, he liked that.

  “Hello,” Donald said back. He sounded about as thrilled to be introduced as Maggie.

  Maggie took one of the bags out of Cole’s hand and kissed him, fleeting and light with just enough intimacy to send a message loud and clear. “Let me take one of them. I’ll see you in a minute.”

  “Sure,” Cole said.

  Donald’s eyes widened and when Maggie vanished inside, he whistled with appreciation.

  “My God, she’s fine. Cole, you’re a sly dog. I thought you were down here, wrecked and half dead with grief and you’re romancing a local. Now that’s a way to forget the past and you’ve got my approval. I won’t say a word back in St. Louis either. Your summer fling will be our little secret.”

  Cole stiffened. If he hadn’t been holding supermarket bags in his right hand, he might’ve decked Donald. He hadn’t wanted to hit anyone in years but he ached to punch the big mouth square in the face. Instead, some of the Polish he’d learned from Pop, something he hadn’t used in years poured out of his mouth with force,

  “Pocałuj mnie w dupe,” he said. Words from the old country, one he’d never known, tasted sweet in his mouth. Cole realized Donald wouldn’t understand so in English he said, “That means, kiss my ass. Get out, Donald. Maggie is an old friend and a very close one. She means more to me than I could begin to explain to a dickhead like you.”

  “What an asshole you’ve become,” Donald snarled, his face flushing crimson. “Or maybe you always were. Victoria said you’d never got past your raising in Bevo Mills.”

  His casual reference notched up Cole’s rage and he marched toward Donald, “Get the hell out of here and don’t come back. I’m proud of who and what I am. I almost forget for too damn long.”

  Rage blinded his vision and Cole decided Donald wasn’t worth ruining the holiday. Without another word he wheeled around and stalked to the office without looking back. Just as he opened the back door, he heard the Lincoln’s engine start and the tires crunch over the gravel as Donald departed. One of Babka’s sayings popped into his head, one she’d learned in English, good riddance to bad rubbish.

  “Is he gone?” Maggie asked with a wide grin. He could tell from the sparkle in her eyes she’d heard the exchange.

  “Yeah.”

  “Good,” she said and when he put down the grocery bags on the table she put her arms around him in a big hug. “I didn’t know you could still speak Polish.”

  Cole laughed out loud with delight. “I haven’t in a long time but I’m glad I didn’t lose the knack for it. So you heard what was said?”

  “I did.”

  “And?”

  “I liked the part about what I mean to you,” Maggie said with tenderness in her voice. Her head rested against his shoulder and he felt the warmth of her breath against his throat as she spoke. “Cole, I…”

  Maybe she’d say it, he thought, the words he longed to hear but before she could finish, Kiefer burst into the room. “Cole, can we shoot the fireworks now?”

  The moment vanished like a wisp of smoke into the wind and Maggie stepped back with a smile. Cole turned to her son, “Sure, go ahead. I need to get the charcoal fired up on the grill anyway. Maggie do you mind getting the chicken ready?”

  “No problem,” she said.

  So instead of hearing what might have been a declaration of love, Cole went outside to the big grill, identical to the one at his cabin, a Weber kettle style with more than a little age. He arranged the charcoal and fired it. As the heat spread over the black briquettes, he soaked some hickory chips bought at the supermarket in water and when Maggie carried out the chicken everything was ready. She’d split the fryers the way they’d talked about and seasoned each one with a dry rub. Cole put them meaty side down above the white hot coals and covered the meat.

  “I’ve got the corn ready too,” Maggie said. “Let me know when you’re ready.”

  “Anytime, honey.”

  From down by the lake they heard the small explosions as a string of firecrackers went off accompanied by Kiefer’s whoops. Kaitlin shrieked like a whistle and Cole laughed. So did Maggie.

  “Thanks, Cole,” she said. “They’re having fun.”

  “That’s the idea,” he told her. “We always did, didn’t we?”

  Her grey eyes locked with his, steady and certain as she said, “We still do, Cole.”

  They feasted on barbecued chicken, the meat smoky and tender accented with the tang of the barbecue sauce he’d mopped on near the end of the cooking time. The succulent corn on the cob Maggie wrapped in foil and Cole grilled turned out delicious too. Maggie served the cake she baked to end the meal on a sweet note.

  Some of the cabin guests used their grills too until a smoky pall hung over the resort and the smell of grilling permeated everything. Cole would’ve enjoyed another dip in the pool but from noon onward guests filled it, splashing, swimming and sunning. Even the little playground with the old swings and slide stayed busy. Although Maggie didn’t have any posted rules about fireworks, most of the guests didn’t set off any but her kids stayed close to the lake shore shooting the ones Cole bought. Cole suggested they move operations up to his cabin and so by early evening the kids played on the slope slanting down toward Taneycomo. Cole and Maggie sat on his porch, watching and enjoying a glass of wine together.

  At dusk Maggie made sandwiches and they ate outside. Before full darkness arrived Kaitlin and Kiefer used up the rest of the smoke bombs, the colorful smoke wafting with grace on the slight breeze. They shot the last two dozen bottle rockets toward the lake and amused each other chasing lightning bugs, caught up in the fun enough to act like little kids for a short span. Cole set off the fountains to everyone’s delight. A few giggles and excited cries down the hill alerted him some of the guests were watching too. At the last, he lit the morning glory sparklers for Maggie’s kids and offered her one. She accepted it, her face beautiful in the shadows thrown by the flaring light and even waved it around. Cole tried to follow the pattern she drew in the air and if his eyes didn’t deceive him, she made a heart and put their initials inside.

  Then they all sat there and watched bigger fireworks explode over the lake, the glorious blossoms reflected in the still waters of Taneycomo. Distant but still audible Cole heard music he figured must be choreographed with the light show, patriotic tunes by Gershwin and Sousa.

  Afterward, Cole watched as one cabin after another went dark. Kiefer yawned and started a chain reaction until Kaitlin stood up. “I’m going to bed,” she said. “I’m worn out. Thanks for the great day.”

  “I’m glad you had fun,” Cole said, feeling a little awkward when Maggie didn’t answer. He’d assumed the girl directed her words to her Mom.

  “I had a total blast,” Kiefer said. “But I’m turning in myself. Night, Mom.”

  “Good night, kids,” Maggie said.

  Kaitlin paused in mid-step. “Aren’t you coming home with us?”

  “I’ll be there in a little bit,” Maggie replied
. “Don’t wait up for me.”

  Her two kids, Kaitlin as auburn haired as Maggie and Kiefer, with blonde hair kissed with red highlights, locked eyes and giggled. They took off running, leaping like two young deer bounding through the forest. Cole couldn’t make out their words but he listened to their voices until they went inside. Neither he nor Maggie spoke as they watched a series of lights illuminate the windows of her home until two upstairs windows were all that remained lit.

  “They’re in their bedrooms,” Maggie said with a long sigh.

  “Do you want to finish the wine?” Cole asked and when she nodded, he stood up. He brought the bottle out onto the porch and refilled their glasses. She moved from the old porch chairs to sit on the top step so he squeezed down beside her. They fit into the small space, touching. He handed her a glass and they touched the rims with a toast.

  “To good times,” Maggie said and he repeated it.

  They sipped the pleasant, full-bodied wine in complacent silence and when they finished, Cole put the two goblets behind them on the porch floor. He put an arm around Maggie and she snuggled against him. As the moon moved overhead on its path toward setting in the morning hours the air chilled and the wind blowing across the lake caused them both to shiver.

  “If you’re cold we can go inside,” Cole said.

  She shook her head. “No, it’s too pretty. I’d rather stay out here. I love the way the moonlight sparkles over the water and turns the trees all silver.”

  The moon wasn’t quite full, he noted, but just beginning to wane. In St. Louis, too many city lights hid the lunar glory and he liked this. “Its eretheal,” he said. “I like it too. Did you enjoy the holiday?”