by Carolina Mac
George nodded and stood up. “Let’s give it a shot.”
I took Angel outside and sat in one of the Muskoka chairs in the sun while the men maneuvered the craft down to the water, serviced the motor, and did all the nautical and mechanical things that needed doing.
“Come on, Annie,” George was waving to me from the dock.
“I’ll wait here,” I said, waving back, hoping against hope they'd leave me on dry land.
“Not happening, little girl. I can’t go without you.”
I locked Angel in the Hummer with the windows down far enough for her to get lots of air and scuffed my way down to the dock.
“I’ve never been in a boat before,” I whispered to George. “I can’t swim.”
George whipped a life preserver over my head and tied it up. “Just don’t stand up, and nothing will happen, baby girl,” he said, touching my face. He lifted me off the dock and plunked me down on one of the padded seats.
“This is goin’ to be fuckin’ amazing,” he hollered, giving Charles Senior a thumbs-up. “What size motor did you put on ‘er?”
“Two hundred, Merc,” Charles Senior said, and George broke into a grin.
We backed up slowly from the dock, turned around, and I was thinking I could handle it, when Charles Senior cranked the gas and we blasted out into the lake with water spraying up behind us a mile high. The front of the boat was up in the air and we were flying. I screamed and hung onto the side of my seat.
George laughed and put his arm around me tightly. “Hang on, baby girl.” Covered in spray, his tanned face looked so handsome I wanted to take him to bed. And I would . . . if I ever got back to shore alive.
Charles Senior slowed the boat and motioned for George to take the controls. Without him to anchor me, I froze in my seat with no intention of moving a muscle. George made a wide circle around the lake and then headed back towards the marina and aimed for the dock. Senior jumped out, secured the line, then George lifted me up, placed me on the dock and followed me out.
He wrapped his thick arms around me in a bear hug. “What did you think of that wild ride, Annie?”
“Exhilarating, to say the least,” I said smiling and trying to untangle my hair.
“What the hell does that mean?’ George asked.
“I was pumped.”
“Me too,” he had a grin pasted right across his face. “Let’s go make a deal, Mr. Senior.”
George and Charles Senior headed for the office, while I went back to the Hummer and let Angel out. I walked down to the landing dock so she could get a drink and then joined the men in the office.
“How are the negotiations coming?” I asked.
“We have a deal,” said Charles Senior, as he finished writing up a legal-sized document in triplicate. “You’ll need a boat license and a fishing license, all government money grabbers, of course. I’ll write down where you can obtain those readily. He turned the contract around and made an X where George was to sign. “This is your total here at the bottom, Mr. Ross.”
George dug in his pocket, whipped out his bankroll and started peeling off bills. Charles Senior raised his eyebrows as George made neat thousand dollar piles on his desk.
“Is it safe to carry that much cash?’ he asked.
“Never had a problem,” said George. “I don’t do fuckin’ plastic.”
Charles Senior nodded.
“I don’t have any coin, baby. Can you do seventy-nine cents?”
“Forget it,” said Charles Senior, standing up and offering his hand. “Close enough. Enjoy your boat, sir. Any questions, here’s my card.”
George shook his hand, shoved the business card in his jeans and looked towards the dock. “Can you give me a hand to get ‘er on the trailer?”
“Of course, back your vehicle down and we’ll get you all hooked up.”
I threw George the Hummer keys and walked outside with Angel to watch. In less than ten minutes, the boat was secured on the trailer and the trailer was hooked to the Hummer. George stopped for Angel and I to get in and we headed for home. The smile on George’s face never faded the whole way back.
“I can see that you’re happy,” I said, rubbing his leg.
“Keep that up, I’ll be even happier. I asked that marina guy where I could launch the boat closest to us and he gave me directions to the public access. We’ll put ‘er in, then I’ll drive across the lake to our dock.”
“The dock isn’t much of a dock, and the boat house is even worse. Broken boards and the roof might be leaking. I think a reno is in order if we’re going to be boat owners.”
“Maybe I’ll get some lumber, have the boys come up and help me fix up.”
“Maybe you should start over, might not be worth saving if the wood is rotten underneath.”
“I’ll have a close look when we get home.”
“You’re so wise.”
“I’ve never had a fuckin’ wise thought in my entire life.” He chuckled and turned down a road that was signed for public launching.
I dropped George and the boat off and hoped he could find his way across the lake. When we arrived back home, Angel and I made straight for the path down to the water. There were no boats anywhere on the lake, but I was squinting and looking into the sun. From the end of the dock, I saw a tiny speck starting to come nearer and nearer. As it grew larger and larger, I heard the roar of the engine. George was driving standing up and sending up a twenty foot rooster tail of spray behind the boat.
He cut the motor and steered the boat close to the dock. “Tie this rope around that post, Annie,” he shouted as he tossed me a line.
The new rope was stiff and thick, and I had trouble tying a knot with it, but I managed. George stepped out onto the dock and hugged me. He stamped his foot and splintered one of the boards. “Yeah, this dock could use a little help, all right.”
“The post I tied the rope around is wobbly. I hope it holds.”
George wiggled the post. “Holy hell, I better get a hammer and fix that thing.”
“How was your trip across the lake? Was it hard to pick out this one little dock? ”
“It was. The shoreline looks so different from the water,” he said. “Looks like a solid mass of green and brown until you get closer. Let’s go find some tools. I don’t want to lose the boat.”
We trudged up the hill, and George was breathless when we reached the cabin.
“I haven’t had a chance to look in the garage yet,” I said.
George struggled with a broken handle on the side door, wrenched it open and I followed him inside. “Look at all the shit in here. The old guy that lived here must have been a hoarder.”
“Quite a collection of stuff,” I said, looking at the walls hung with tools of every size and shape. “What are those things hanging all along that wall?”
“C-clamps,” George shook his head. “Why anybody would need that many clamps is a mystery.”
“Wonder where these stairs go?” I said, “Maybe there are more treasures in the attic.”
George rummaged through piles of tools on the workbench and came up with a hammer and nails. A thick blanket of sawdust rained down onto the cement floor as he unearthed pieces of scrap lumber. He blew dust off pieces of two by four and nodded. “I can use these to shore up the post.” He headed back down to the lake while I went to the kitchen to make lunch.
George breezed through the kitchen door and kissed me as I was finishing up the burgers. “Just in time,” I said.
“Never been on vacation before—a lot of eatin’ to do.”
“Want a drink?” I said, opening the fridge.
“Sure. I tightened up that post at the end of the dock. I think it will hold the boat unless there’s some kind of a shit storm. Do you want to go fishing if we can find some tackle?”
“Is it fun? I’ve never done it before,” I said. “I think I saw rods in the barn last time I was here, but they may be too old.”
“I want to see what’s
in that barn anyway. Might be some good shit.”
“What do you consider ‘good shit’, George? Maybe there’s a whole load of it out there with your name on it.”
“We’ll see,” he said, finishing his second burger. “I think these are better than Buck’s,” he said wiping his face with his napkin. “Come and poke around in the barn with me, little girl.”
I finished clearing the table and followed George out towards the barn. Over to the right, a stump with an axe buried in the middle of it sat askew with a few pieces of split wood on the ground. “That’s where Mr. King died.” I made a face and pointed at the stump. “He was chopping wood when he keeled over from a heart attack.”
George frowned. “Who’s Mr. King?”
“The old hermit that lived here before Matthew bought the property.”
“So that’s all his stuff in the garage?”
“Guess it must be.”
George propped the one working barn door open so that we had enough light to see. “I can fix that other door if there’s a shovel in here,” he said. “Where did you see the fishing rods?”
I squinted and pointed to the back wall. “I think, over there.”
“Right, I see them,” George grabbed a couple and took them outside to examine them. “The reels work. Let’s see if there’s a tackle box with some old lures in it.” He propped the rods against the door and raised some dust in the far corner of the barn. “Fuckin’ jackpot,” he hollered and walked towards me with a green metal box in his hand. “We’re good to go, Annie.”
“What about worms? I thought worms were the weapon of choice for fishing.”
George laughed. “Could be—frogs would be better, but lures are okay too. Wow. Look at that fuckin’ old John Deere. Love to get that baby running.”
“Do you think it would start? Looks like it’s been there for years.”
“I’ll give it a go when we come back.”
I moved the rods so that George could close the barn door. “Angel’s still in there.”
“C’mon, girl,” George called her. “We’re goin’ fishing.”
“Will she be okay in the boat?” I couldn’t picture her sitting still for any length of time.
“We can train her. You can train a good dog to do anything.”
This could be stressful.
“I’ll put some drinks in a cooler to take with us,” I said, heading for the kitchen. “Take your meds before we go, big guy.”
“Good call, baby girl. You’re the brains of this outfit.”
George and Angel were waiting for me in the boat when I got down to the dock with the drinks. “Angel give you any trouble?”
“Nope, told her to sit, and she did.” He held out his hand and helped me step down from the dock into the boat. The boat rocked a little and I almost lost my balance. As quickly as I took a seat at the front, George whipped a life preserver over my head. “Don't worry, Annie. I'll never take you out on the water without your life jacket on.”
“Thanks, honey,” I said.
George started the motor and backed away from the dock. He turned the wheel and headed out into open water and gave it more gas.
“I picked a spot this morning on my way over here.” He pointed out to a spot, shaded by trees growing almost horizontal from the bank. “Might be worth a try.” He got the rods ready and handed me one.
I dropped the line over the side and watched the lure sink into the dark water. “How long does this take?”
“Longer than five minutes,” George said and chuckled. “We might have to troll if we don’t get many bites.”
“What’s troll?”
“Means start up the engine and go slow dragging the lures through the water.”
“Uh-huh. Want a Coke?” I asked, uncapping two and handing one to George.
“Thanks, baby. Perfect day with a perfect woman.”
I laughed. “I’m writing that one down.”
I screamed and George jumped to his feet. “What the fuck?”
“Help me. Something is jerking my rod out of my hand.”
“Give ‘er some line.”
“What does that mean?” My hands shook. George took my rod and let more line out.
“Here, turn your reel like this, wind it slow and bring in your fish.” He handed back my rod and I started winding. “We don’t have a net, so I’ll just grab the monster when you get it close enough.”
I laughed as I reeled in my first fish. As it came closer to the boat, I could see it thrashing in the water. “Wow, it looks big.”
“It’s a prize winner for sure.” George grinned from ear to ear. He leaned over and put his hands on the rod and helped me lift the fish into the boat. “Son of a bitch, baby girl. Look at the size of that mother. Must be a five pound bass.”
“Let’s take a picture,” I said groping for the little camera in my jacket pocket. “Hold it up, George.”
“Your fish, Annie, your picture.” He gave me the fish to hold and snapped a couple of pictures.
“Maybe we should throw the poor thing back in the lake.”
George glared at me. “Don’t you want to eat it? Or stuff it?”
“I feel kind of sorry for it.” Angel’s head was cocked to one side as she watched it flop around in the bottom of the boat.
“It’s your fish, so it’s your call.” His smile dissolved as he worked the lure out of the fish's mouth. “Wish we had a scale.”
Oh, what the hell.
“This is your first day of fishing, honey, so let's cook that monster for dinner to celebrate.”
“Shit. You’re the best, Annie.”
We sat out on the lake in the sun all afternoon, fishing and by the time we headed back to shore, my head was nodding.
George touched my arm and I jumped. “We’re back, Annie.”
“I must have dozed off,” I mumbled.
Splash! Cold water landed on my sunburned skin and I squealed.
“Angel,” George hollered, “you’re supposed to jump onto the dock, not into the water.”
She swam back to shore and shook herself. “I’m glad she didn’t jump out in the middle of the lake.”
George stowed the rods and the tackle box in the dilapidated boat house and carried my fish up to the cabin. He was breathless at the top of the hill.
I touched his arm. “Are you okay?”
“It’ll take a while for all that crap to get out of my lungs, I guess, but I’ve only had two butts today.”
“You’re doing amazingly well. I can’t tell you how impressed I am.”
He held me in his arms. “Well, you’re the only one that matters.”
After we sat on the porch for a bit, George cleaned my fish and I cooked it for dinner with fried potatoes and green beans.
“Good meal, baby girl. You sure know how to cook fish.”
“One of my many talents.”
“I’m in love with some of those other talents. I was thinkin’ about some of them today in the boat.”
I giggled. “Maybe I’ll show you one or two of them later.”
CHAPTER FIFTY-NINE
GEORGE’S week of rest and relaxation was going well. He was getting up early, eating a good breakfast, catching a few frogs and retrieving the minnows from his trap down at the shore before going out in his boat. Most mornings, I did a few chores in the cabin or in town, and then we would go fishing together in the afternoon. Today, I had gone to the hospital, had my leg checked and the dressing changed. The doctor on call said it was coming along well.
The boat was now outfitted with a net, insect repellent, a cooler and two new rods tricked out with Shimano reels. I wore my ball cap on the lake to avoid sun stroke, but the rest of me was tanning darker each day. There was no way my tan would ever rival the dark coppery glow that George was sporting. He tanned quickly and never burned.
He weighed himself before breakfast and proudly announced that he was down five pounds from the hospital scale. He was counting
the smokes that he had through the day and had cut back considerably. Getting up the hill from the water was giving him fewer problems and he assured me that his breathing was improving.
“That trout was cooked perfect, little girl.” George said after dinner. “I bought a proper filleting knife and a ‘mister-twister’ lure today. See what I can catch with that tomorrow.”
“Are you getting bored up here in God’s country?” I asked.
“Don’t think I ever would in the good weather,” he said, “so much to do. The winter might be a different story.”
“I’ve been giving that some thought. Want to hear my idea for the cold weather?”
“Stay in bed all winter?”
“That’s my second choice.” I laughed. “How about we trailer the bikes to New Mexico and buy a little shack in the desert—somewhere up near Santa Fe. Ride all over Arizona, Nevada, Texas and California like gypsies.”
“Holy hell, I would love to do that. I’m in,” George said with a grin. “Nothin’ worse than a Toronto winter.”
“Okay. I’ll take you with me.” I laughed and hugged his neck. After cleaning up the dinner dishes I said, “I’m taking my coffee out on the porch. You coming?”
“Calling Jackson to check on things and then I’ll be out.”
I finished my first cup and went back into the kitchen for a refill. The air inside the cabin was not the same calm, warm atmosphere it had been earlier.
“Hey, you still talking?”
George scowled at the phone in his hand. “No. We’re finished for now. Fuckin’ cops have been cruising the gun shop and my place on a regular basis. Makin’ the boys nervous. They were in Buck’s last night starin’ at everybody again too. Bastards.”
“What do they want?”
“How the hell should I know? They put pressure on sometimes, hoping to make something happen. Fuckers probably need more arrests for the month of June.” He pulled out his cigarettes, put one between his lips and fished in his vest pocket for his lighter. “Forget about it. The boys can handle themselves.”
“What does Jackson want you to do?”
George slammed his phone on the table. “Nothin’, just letting me know. Now, let's get back to our vacation.”
