The End of the Line (34 page)

“Isn’t
it nice?” Latesha asked.

“It’s
beautiful,” Mrs. Elsworth agreed. She turned to Latesha. “That felt so good. I
forgot how nice it was to go swimming.”

“Dad
can’t come down anymore and I don’t like swimming alone. You’re welcome here
any time, Mrs. Elsworth.”

Mrs.
Elsworth seemed perplexed. “How can you say that?”

“Say
what?”

“How
can you be so nice to me when I’ve been so cold toward you?”

“I
want us to be friends, Mrs. Elsworth.”

Mrs.
Elsworth, for some reason, was deeply moved by these words. “Ol’ Man River
doesn’t judge, does he?” she said in a humble way.

“No,
he doesn’t. Maybe we could all learn something from him.”

“You
must think I’m an old witch.”

“I
don’t think that,” Latesha replied, walking into the high bushes. “People get
set in their ways, that’s all.”

Mrs.
Elsworth paused to admire the river, then thoughtlessly walked into the bushes
to retrieve her things. Latesha was already there, her bathing suit on the
ground. She stood as naked as a Michelangelo sculpture. Mrs. Elsworth stopped
short and looked at her in awe. Latesha was not the least embarrassed to be
seen by Mrs. Elsworth.

“Women
in Beechwood change in front of each other,” Latesha explained, recognizing
Mrs. Elsworth’s discomfort. “We’ve always done that down here.”

“I’ve
never changed in front of another woman in my life,” Mrs. Elsworth replied.

“Do
what you want to do, but you know what they say, when in Rome.”

 
Mrs. Elsworth did not turn away and leave. On
the contrary, she spontaneously slipped the straps of her suit over her
shoulders and slid it down over her ankles. She looked at Latesha, but Latesha
had turned away to lift her dress off a branch. Suddenly Latesha turned to her,
the dress in her hand. The two women stood a few feet apart, not a stitch of
clothing shielding either.

“You
told me you do not want to lose your son,” Latesha said, “but I don’t think you
should look at it that way. When he does choose a partner, instead of losing a
son, maybe you will be gaining a daughter. In time, maybe a granddaughter.”

“Yes,”
Mrs. Elsworth said, gazing at Latesha’s body, her skin the color of black earth.
“You look very, um, healthy.”

“You
mean fertile?” she said, still as naked as a jaybird.

“You
look like you could have lots of babies,” she said.

“I
want children,” Latesha assured her.

“I
want grandchildren,” Mrs. Elsworth replied with a meaningful look. “In fact,
there’s nothing I want more than grandchildren.”

Latesha
smiled and the two women slowly and without shame dressed in front of each
other.

“Would
you like some lemonade?” Latesha asked, bending her head and drying her hair
with a towel.

“Yes.
Thank you.” Mrs. Elsworth took a pen and paper and wrote down her phone number.
“Here, keep this handy. If you ever want to talk or anything, I mean. I don’t
have that many real friends, you know. And I’ve never had a daughter, even
though I always wanted one.”

Latesha
smiled warmly and put the phone number in her pocket. The two women then walked
up the bank and emerged from the path, noticing that Deon had left and Mr.
Thomas was sitting under the beech tree talking with Peter. The elder man still
cradled the football.

“Lemonade,
Dad?” Latesha asked.

“Yes,
dear.”

“Peter?”

“Yes,
thank you.”

Latesha
brought out four glasses and a pitcher of lemonade.

“You
have a beautiful property here,” Mrs. Elsworth said to Mr. Thomas.

“Thank
you,” he responded, obviously wary of the stranger. “It’s been in my family for
generations.”

“I’ve
never been to Beechwood before, but I’m pleasantly surprised. Rural life has a
charm all its own.”

“I
like it here,” he said. “I’m comfortable.”

After
their lemonade, Mrs. Elsworth thanked Mr. Thomas and Latesha for their
hospitality and asked Peter to walk her to her car.

“Now
that you’ve really met her,” Peter said lowly, though Latesha could hear him,
“what do you think?”

“She’s
a treasure,” Mrs. Elsworth conceded in a rush. “She’s an absolute treasure.”

“I
love you, Mom,” Peter said.

“I
love you, too, honey.” Her face contorted suddenly. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I
had no right to speak ill of her. I will never do it again. I give you my
solemn promise.”

“Thank
you, Mom,” he said, hugging her and kissing her on the cheek. “Can I take you
out for lunch?”

“I’d
like to, but I can’t,” she said. “I’m going to Yarmouth today to stay the night
at Shirley’s.”

“When
you get back then,” Peter said.

“It’s
a date, sweetheart.”

Latesha
and Peter carried the pitcher and glasses into the house as her father wheeled
into the shop. “It’s more than six hours until the game,” he said. “Would you
like to go for a boat ride with me? We could have a picnic.”

“Sounds
like fun. Let me tell Dad.” She walked to the workshop and informed her father,
who, concentrating on his work, was delightfully disinterested. “Just let me
get changed,” Latesha told Peter when she returned, walking into her bedroom.

Five
minutes later Peter perked up when she emerged wearing blue jeans and a yellow
top. “You look really nice,” he said.

Latesha
smiled, pleased by his admiration.

“I’ll
buy some food at the store on the way down,” Peter noted.

They
quietly walked to the truck and headed down the road. “So, where are we going?”

“Shad
Bay. It’s a little village on the way to Peggy’s Cove.”

“I
know of it, but I’ve never been there.”

“There’s
an island not far from the shore,” Peter said, “that they call Treasure Island.
Apparently Captain Kidd buried treasure chests on it.”

“You
make everything so much fun,” Latesha said.

“Glad
you think so,” he returned, struck by the comment. “I called my buddy and he
said he’ll wait until we get there before he leaves for town.”

They
stopped at a grocery store where Peter bought orange juice, apples, grapes and
two sandwiches, then drove to Shad Bay, coming down a big hill and seeing the
beautiful bay on the left. There were several boats moored, a little island and
a bigger island out farther in the ocean. The sun was shining on the deep blue
water and a large group of people were lying on a beach or swimming next to it.

“It’s
pretty,” Latesha said.

“Very
pretty,” Peter agreed.

They
came to a flat section and drove a short distance beside the ocean before
turning into the driveway of a house that overlooked the bay and the two
islands. A middle-aged man immediately came out of the house and greeted them.
Peter quickly introduced his friend to Latesha.

“He’s
taking you to Treasure Island, is he?” Chris asked with a good-natured laugh,
opening the garage.

“I
guess that’s the plan,” Latesha answered, also laughing.

“Listen,”
Chris said with a humorous look, “if you find any gold or rubies, we split the
proceeds right down the middle, all right?”

“Guaranteed,”
Peter said with a chuckle.

Chris
brought out two oars. “The oar locks are in the boat and it’s tied right there
at Jimmy’s wharf. I’m going to a jam session, so if I don’t see you when I get
back, have a good time out there. The treasure is apparently buried somewhere
on the north end. Do you want to take a shovel?”

“Maybe
next time,” Peter said with a laugh. “I’ll think we’ll just enjoy the row and
the picnic today.”

“Good
enough,” Chris said, walking to his truck. “Nice to meet you, Latesha.”

“You,
too, Chris.”

As
Chris pulled out of the driveway, Latesha and Peter walked across the lawn,
waited for a few cars to pass, then strolled to Jimmy’s wharf, seeing the small
red dory tied to the side. Peter laid the oars on the wharf, climbed down the
ladder into the dory, then took the oars and picnic gear as Latesha passed them
to him. She climbed down and Peter held her by the hips as she got in, making
sure she did not slip. He untied the stern and was just about to untie the bow
when a woman of sixty came hurrying across the road.

“Don’t
forget these,” she said, holding up two life jackets.

“Thanks,
Lorraine,” Peter said, accepting them. “Latesha this is Lorraine, Chris’s
sister. She works at the local church.”

“Oh,”
Latesha said, smiling. “I’m involved in my church a lot, too. Have you ever
been to the Beechwood Church?”

“Just
once,” Lorraine said. “Father Timothy gave Beechwood our second organ last year
and I helped carry it in. Beechwood has a beautiful church. I love the way they
built the ceiling with all those neat beams.”

“Thank
you,” Latesha said, liking Lorraine’s friendly manner. “That organ gets used
every Sunday. It has a lovely sound.”

“Oh,
it’s an awesome organ,” Lorraine noted, “but we had two and it was just going
to waste.” She shook her finger at Peter. “Now you be careful out there. Some
of the bigger boats that go by make waves. You don’t want Latesha falling out
of the boat. You’re responsible for her, you know.”

“I’ll
make sure she’s safe,” Peter assured.

“When
you get back just put the oars and life jackets next to the garage. Chris will
put them away later.”

“Thanks,
Lorraine.”

Lorraine
left and Peter untied the bow rope, sitting on his seat and pushing the boat
away from the wharf with an oar. Once they were clear, he put the oars in the
locks and started rowing. Latesha was amazed at the smell of the ocean, the
sound of the creaking oars and the feel of the boat skirting across the water.
She could hear kids laughing at the beach and she could taste salt from a drop
of water that flew off the oar and landed on her lips. It was incredibly warm
and almost windless as they rowed by a long reef and out of the bay. Once they
passed the little island and emerged in a strait, she could see two big rocks
several hundred yards away, then two much bigger ones farther out in the ocean.

“Do
they have a name?” she asked, gesturing at them.

“The
two closest ones are called the Cannon Rocks,” Peter said, “because when it
storms and the waves crash into them it booms like a cannon. The ones farther
out are called the Gull Rock and Shag Rock. They’re full of sea birds.” He pointed
to the big island one hundred yards to their right. “This is Treasure Island.”

“Do
you think there really is treasure on it?”

“For
sure,” he said, “but they just don’t know where. It’s a mile long, half a mile
wide and totally covered in trees. They can’t just cut down all the trees and
start tearing it apart. The government wouldn’t let anybody do that, so the
treasure will sit here undisturbed for all eternity.”

“You
remind me of a little boy sometimes,” she said, gazing at him.

“Why?”
he asked, amused.

“You
have an innocence about you. It’s charming.”

“I’ll
take that as a compliment.”

“It’s
meant as one.”

Peter
rowed the entire length of the island until they came to a reef covered in
medium-sized rocks that looked as if they had been stacked there by men. “This
is Indian Island,” he said.

Latesha
stared at it as they rowed just a few feet away. “Why do they call it that?”

“It’s
a sad story.”

“Tell
me.”

“Hundreds
of years ago, before the white man, the native people lived here, but there
were two tribes at war. The chief of one tribe had a beautiful daughter and the
chief of the other tribe had a handsome son. The first day they saw each other
they fell hopelessly in love, but the chiefs forbid them from meeting. The
tribes were both fishing these waters and one was on Treasure Island and the
other one was on the shore. The young man and young woman could see each other
and their hearts pined. Then, one night, during a terrific storm, their
separation became so unbearable that they tried to swim to each other and ended
up drowning right here at this reef. The chiefs were so devastated that they
pledged never again to fight and their children are buried side by side under
this hill of rocks.”

“Sounds
like Romeo and Juliet,” Latesha said with wonder.

“It
actually happened hundreds of years before Shakespeare wrote his play,” Peter
said. “There are historical records.”

“For
real?” she asked, looking at the rocky mound in awe.

“For
real,” Peter assured her. “The two spirits live together under those very rocks.”

Peter
turned the corner and rowed the dory to a small inlet where he got out and tied
the boat to a tree. He helped Latesha out and they took their picnic supplies
up an old path, climbing to the top of a hill from which they could see the
entire area.

“Gorgeous,”
Latesha said.

Peter
spread out the blanket in an open area and took the food out of the basket.
They talked animatedly, ate their food, drank the juice, then finished with the
two apples. Peter lied down on his back and looked at the clear, blue sky.
Latesha lied down on her stomach and pressed close to him.

The
next thing they knew they were kissing. Their lips slid over each other’s with
a warm dampness and the pressure felt intoxicating.

“I
love you, Peter,” she whispered as he held her tightly.

“I
love you so much,” he whispered back. “I can’t imagine living without you. The
world would seem so bleak.”

“It’s
happened,” she returned. “I don’t know why or how I fell in love, but it’s
happened. I never expected it, but I wouldn’t change it for the world.”

They
rested together for a long time and stared at the sky, wispy clouds floating
past. Finally, realizing it was time to go, they begrudgingly rose and rowed
the dory back to the wharf. They took the oars and life jackets to the garage,
left a thank you note, then drove back to Beechwood, arriving half an hour
before the big game.