Adirondack Audacity (44 page)

He’s stan
ding on the dock holding out his hand, “I
thought we’d take a picnic lunch and head down the
lake.”

“No, woodland fairies.”
Vic says, his mouth
twitching. “I keep a crew on standby.”
“Really? I thought Ike was visiting his sister in
Montreal?”
Vic snorts, “Ike’s been called a lot of things, but I
want to be there when someone calls him a fairy.”
He beckons me toward the boat. “Hop in.” He nods
at the canoe. “Sit in the middle seat.”
“I can’t paddle from there.”
“That’s the plan.”
“What if I feel like paddling,” I whine. “I’m well
enough to paddle a canoe. Oh, come on! It’s not like I’m
an invalid or something.”
“No.”
“Just a little bit.”
“You have two broken fingers and a bruised rib.”
“So?”
“You need to take it easy for a while.” He shakes his
head. “Besides, this way I can keep an eye on you, make
sure you stay out of trouble.”
“But I feel like moving, I’m tired of being cooped up
in the house. I can only read and do puzzles for so long. I
need to move before I go crazy…….and I think I’m
ready for
other
activities.” I waggle my eyebrows at him in
a suggestive manner.
Vic rests his head against the paddle, muttering in
rapid fire Spanish, shoulders heaving, head shaking back
and forth in agitation. A smart woman would know better
than to argue with him once he gets going, but then
again, no one has ever accused me of being smart.
“Hey, I don’t understand much Spanish, but I think
you said I’m driving you crazy.”
“I did.” He lifts his head from its perch atop the
paddle and peers at me, his eyebrows drawing together.
“Ella, Ella, mia. I love you but I can’t keep up this pace,
I’ll be an old man before my time.”
“You keep doing that with your eyebrows, and you’re
going to need Botox.”
“Buttercup, there won’t be enough Botox in all of
Hollywood to put me together if your antics continue.”
“Very funny.” I say, lifting my chin. “It wasn’t my
fault.”
“It never is, darling, it never is.”
…
Large puffy clouds scuttle across the sky. A light
breeze kicks up small waves, riffling the water’s mirror-
like surface, and the sun plays peek-a-boo with the
clouds. My fingers dangle in the water as I watch Vic
paddle down the lake……. being lazy does have its
advantages…...being able to enjoy the scenery…..mainly
him……. and realize the enormity of my good fortune.
Kidnapped by a mentally deranged man, I came away
with only minor injuries and a brief hospital stay. Due to
the quick thinking of Juls, Vic’s assistant, we escaped the
media spotlight and after a short investigation by the
police, the hospital released me… home to the care of my
family, who literally tried killing me with kindness
…seriously…...the lodge house turned into a three ring
circus of well-meaning helpers, tripping over each other
to please me, to the point I didn’t have a moment of
peace.
Vic tried organizing a routine, but chaos ensued,
everyone thought they knew what I needed. Finally, Ike
fled to his hide-out in the boathouse and placed an
emergency call to Bridget. Within 24 hours she was at our
doorstep…. she flew in…….rumor has it she came by
broom. Standing at the entrance to the kitchen, she dared
anyone to cross her threshold. She had that Wicked
Witch of the West look on her face, the one that says, I
have flying monkeys and I’m not afraid to use them. And
we believed her. Soon she had a schedule of family visits,
meals and like a well-adjusted happy family, we played
cards in the evening, shared books, watched movies, and
popped popcorn over the fire. She even coerced Izzy and
Ansel….the children loved her……..they thought she
was Mary Poppins with attitude. I’m sure the kitchen
table laden with crayons, markers, stickers and just about
any kind of craft supply desired….along with milk and
warm cookies from the oven didn’t hurt.
And through the grace of God, Josh, Claire, and the
children became a part of our family. At first it was
awkward, but sometimes blood is thicker than water.
Ancestry and personality quirks passed down through
generations prove to be the glue holding the fragile web
we know as family together.
Although Josh’s adoption parents never hid the fact
he was adopted, he was shocked to learn the
circumstances behind his placement. He always wondered
if he had another family somewhere, and was delighted to
meet his new siblings.
And as much as Vic and I suffered when we lost
him; I could not have chosen better people to raise my
son. The Westlands loved him unconditionally and were
very supportive of him reuniting with us…as long as they
got Christmas, seriously, generosity only goes so far.
So under Bridget’s direction, for seven loud, amazing
days we hosted all four of our children and grandchildren.
Everyone had a grand time. Hanna claimed she had the
best time of her life.…even if Cyrus ate her cell
phone…..the cellular reception in the mountains isn’t
very good anyway……then Ansel spilled red wine on a
blouse Lani designed as part of her fashion week
collection…….personally it looked like a tattered bed
sheet, best put out of its misery before it went to the
runway at Fashion week. Ike taught Josh how to ride a
motor cycle……..a Harley Davidson….every mother’s
dream.
Jason and Josh enjoy reading mystery novels, Claire
and Lani are alma maters of the same college, Vic and
Trey share a passion for football and Claire taught me
how to knit.
Sort of…..is it knitting or knotting.
And it is
freaky scary how much Josh and Vic are alike…..
freaky
scary
….who ever said blood is thicker than water was
right. So all and all, we’re on the way to being a
delightfully, quirky dysfunctional mixed family.
…
Vic pulls me out of my happy memories of the past
week by pointing out a loon diving for a fish. I notice the
canoe is drifting into a small cove, the boggy shoreline
ringed with shoots of pickerel mixed in with yellow and
purple water iris. Pond lilies poke through the water’s
surface, buds held in tight floating orbs, ready to burst
open as the lengthening days bathe them in sunlight.
Turtles perch on a fallen log while fish float near the
water’s surface, basking in the morning sun. Taking two
sweeping strokes through the tea-colored water, he glides
the canoe into the center of the cove and we drift, lulled
by the warmth of the sun and serenaded by the call of a
hermit thrush off in the distance.
Vic leans his paddle on the canoe gunnels, and he
gazes at me for a long moment, the wind riffles through
his hair. Looking up, squinting into the sun, he seems to
be thinking. I tilt my head watching him, waiting,
enjoying the tranquility of the lake, the birds calling back
and forth across the cove. An ovenbird trills
teacher,
teacher,
from the forest floor. And from the muddy shore
a bullfrog bellows
jug a rum, jug a rum,
followed by the
familiar banjo twang of the green frog. Sensing the need
to be quiet, I wait…. and wait…… and wait. He hasn’t
brought up his marriage proposal since my rescue on the
mountain…. maybe
…
he’s changed his mind. Life with
me can be pretty chaotic to say the least. When I saw the
canoe I thought…….well, I thought maybe……..you
know.
“Is this the picnic spot?” My patience wears thin.
“Nope.”
“Oh…..it’s so beautiful.”
“Yep, but the shoreline is that spongy sphagnum
moss, a little damp for a picnic. I just wanted to stop here
and enjoy the view.”
“I see, but you seem to be looking at me as much as
the scenery.”
“Yep.”
“Why?”
“Making sure you don’t get into trouble.” With a sigh,
he rakes a hand through his hair.
“How can I get into trouble?” I huff indignantly. “I’m
sitting in a canoe with a life jacket underneath me in
water that barely reaches my waist. We have a picnic
basket full of food, sunscreen with an SPF of 80 and a
lifeguard watching over me. There is a canister of bear
mace in the pack along with two bottles of wine, so if
something should happen, I can die happy. And I’m
wearing granny panties.” I finish with a flourish. “What
could possibly go wrong?”
“Trust me,” he says, shaking his head wearily. “I’m
not letting my guard down for a second, I’ve learned the
hard way.”
“You can’t stand guard over me for the rest of my
life.” I fume. “That’s crazy, I wouldn’t be surprised to see
Ike positioned on that ridge armed with a satellite walkietalkie.”
“I think he’s just a little to the right of the white
pine.” Vic chuckles as he points to the line of trees.
“Very funny.” I mutter, thinking so much for a
marriage proposal. See what happens when you wait too
long.
Oh no…….
what if he brought me out here to
dump
me, telling me he can’t take it anymore. The price of
bodyguards and S.W.A.T. teams are too expensive, even
for him. Maybe he wants out, maybe that’s why he picked
out the granny panties…he doesn’t want to be tempted.
Oh, God.
In a state of confusion and dread, a host of questions
breaks free, fluttering through my mind like confetti in a
parade. I barely notice the canoe enter a narrow channel
leading back into the main part of the lake. Trying to
tame my runaway thoughts, I nervously tug on my lower
lip, searching for a topic of conversation to dispel my
anxiety. “Hungry?”
“Yep.”
So much for opening the lines of communication, I
try again. “Maybe we should peek in that picnic basket.
Did Bridget make lunch before she left this morning?”
“Yep.”
Oh, come on, toss me a bone. Why won’t he talk?
I’m confused;; no one has ever broken up with me…
because I’ve only had two boyfriends and a pathetic love
life.
Vic stops paddling and points over my shoulder.
“We’re here.”
“Here? Where?” I crane my neck to catch a glimpse
and nearly tip the boat.
“Look.” He angles the canoe so I see a small island
dotted with pine trees where clumps of blueberry and
hobble bush hug the rugged shoreline. A bank of
woodland ferns lead down to the water’s edge and a lone
columbine pokes its pink head through the green fronds.
Nestled in the pines with a view down the lake sits a leanto, constructed of freshly cut lumbar, the clean surface of
the wood gleams against the dark pines.
“Oh, what a darling little island. I wonder who owns
it?” I ask, enchanted by the sight.
He places the paddle inside the canoe pointing to the
island, and nods at me. “It could belong to you.”
“Me?” I look between him and the island in
confusion. “What do you mean…..me? Only the
Rockefellers and Donald Trump own islands.”
“I would like to give it to you.” He says.
Oh, no, this is
it.
He’s going to leave me on this island like the lepers on
Moloki. I’m a menace to society, a person to be
ostracized for the safety of the general public. But I don’t
like being alone, I’m afraid of the dark. What will I
eat…….how long can a person live on blueberries?
He clears his throat and starts to speak, oblivious to
the turmoil running through my head, he hesitates and
starts again. “I screwed this up the last time. I want to get
it right. You deserve to have this done properly.” He
takes my hand in his, looking deeply into my eyes, he
says, “Elle,” He stops and smiles. “Ella, Ella, my mia
bella.” And reaching into his pocket, he takes out a ring
and slips it onto my finger; an exquisite sapphire set in
woven strands of silver surrounded by diamonds
shimmering like tiny rainbows in the sun.
“Will you marry me?”
What did he just say? Did I hear him correctly?
“Elle, marry me, I promise there will be benefits.”
Marry
……he definitely said marry. Thank goodness,
the uncertainty was just my imagination running away
with me….
how unusual
. I open my mouth to speak,
nothing comes out.
He stares down at his feet and mutters something
indiscernible, probably in Spanish. He holds up a hand.
“Don’t say anything, let me finish.”
His thumb caresses my wrist, “Elle, I promise you a
lifetime of Twinkies, a full-time cook, no matter where
we live-and that may be selfserving on my part.” He
chuckles, shrugging his shoulders. “I promise to be true
to you in good times and in bad
,
life is full of ups and
downs but let me be your constant.” I try to speak but
only croak.
“And I spoke with the owners of the lodge,” he
continues, “And if we want the camp, it can be ours.
They are moving to Seattle to be closer to their daughter
and grandchildren. They fell in love with Puget Sound
and the San Juan islands. The lodge no longer works for
them. It could be our summer home, close to Josh, and a
place for the family to come and visit. The property
comes with this island. I told them the final decision was
up to my wife. What do you say, will you be my wife?”
He cocks his head, smiles at me, his white teeth blazing
against his bronze skin, and he says, “Come on, how
many people can say they own an island?”
Me!! I can own an island and live happily ever after
with Vic. Even after all the insanity, he still wants to
marry
me! I launch myself full bore into his arms, yelling, “Yes,
yes, yes! I will marry you.” And in the blink of an eye, the
force of my catapult causes the canoe to roll to its
side…….tilt and tip over
……
into the water
….Splash!
Oh my God…..
they say when you’re drowning your life
flashes before you……..but flashing through my mind is
the thought, if he lets me drown…he’d never be
convicted, no judge or jury in its right mind would
pronounce him guilty, it would be ruled justifiable
homicide. She had it coming.
Coming to the water’s surface, gasping for air, I see
him draped over the canoe. “Elle, buttercup, are you all
right?” His voice edged with concern.
“I’m fine, oh Vic, I’m so, so sorry;; I’ve ruined
everything. Again! You can change your mind. I
understand. How could you possibly want to marry me?
I’m a disaster.”
He starts laughing, his body shaking and heaving with
the force of it, causing the canoe to rock in the water.
“Elle, I can’t imagine a life without you, what would I do
for adventure and drama?”
“But I’ve ruined the picnic, we have no food, and
we’ll freeze to death in these wet clothes.”