Discovery on Little Hog Island, Part 19

Friday, May 13, 2005; 10:19 PM I am alone in the shed behind Tom’s house in Falmouth Foreside, Maine. The only light in the shed comes from the screen of the computer and a tiny flicker of firelight from the holes on the top of the stove. Tom built the fire for me. It’s cold outside. I might not have bothered, because I have a warm sleeping bag.

I left my headlamp in the house and my waterbottle in the car (and I’m thirsty!) I’ve been thirsty all day because of my cold.

This morning, in Hancock, New Hampshire, I walked with Heidi around the marsh loop trail. We were looking for interesting waterfowl but saw only mallards and Canada geese. And lots of sessile bellwort, red trilliums, columbines and other spring wildflowers. This afternoon I walked along the shore at the Town Landing with Tom, Rita and Oreo. Later, we watched part of Finding Nemo but first Rosie left, then Rita and the VCR quit.

I was hoping to “be on retreat” at least briefly while I was here, but I don’t have a copy of m story to review, so it will be impossible to pick it up exactly where I left off.


Discovery at Little Hog Island, part 19

part 1, part 19

Dana rolled over in her sleeping bag, looked up at the camouflage skin of the tent. The dappled browns and greens of the nylon were lit by dappled light. The sun, she thought, must be low to be coming through the few bushes ringing the site in the east. Mostly, there was just rock. She closed her eyes, rolled back into the bag, and opened them again. It had just occurred to her that she was in a different site, a site she hadn’t seen in the daylight. And there were footsteps outside. Male footsteps, by the sound of it.

She turned back over, sat up, and rubbed her eyes. She unzipped the tent and peered out. Someone was crouched over her crumpled kayak. She remembered it had been wounded by gunshot. The whole previous evening seemed like a dream The man turned toward her. It was Buck. He was rubbing the kayak material with sand paper. He glued on patches.

“Let me take you to breakfast,” he said. “Then we can come back and test the kayak after the patches dry to make sure she is seaworthy.”

Dana hesitated.

“And don’t even think of saying ‘no,’” Buck said. “I won’t take no for an answer.”

“No,” she said, laughing. She pulled on her jeans and crawled out of the little tent. She ran her fingers though her hair, splashed some water on her face, and staggered over to the outhouse.

“I brought a second helmet,” he said, “and another BMW.”

“Yours?”

“Yup.”

“You never mentioned having a bike. If you did, I probably would have tagged you for a Harley man.”

“That’s because you’re still thinking of me as Buck. Why don’t you call me Ross? Then it will be easier to remember I drive a BMW.”

“Okay, Ross, I’ll try.” Ross looked different than Buck. He was cleaned up, his hair was combed, and he was shaved. Dana worried that it might be because of her. Perhaps it was just as well they were riding separate bikes.

part 20