When Georgia turned her head to her left double window, she observed that the grass in the pasture was quite tall. Spencer would come by soon to cut it down and bale it up for his cows; it was an arrangement, which suited both of them. The tall blades were topped with seed florets that had collected a sparkling top layer of dew, and the low rising sun reflected off the water droplets. She was fascinated by one shining spot that shone as if a mirror had been placed out there. It shot a beam of light through her windows and cast a flickering apparition on her dark green bedroom wall. Georgia watched the little spirit dance, and she smiled.
This was a perfect Vermont summer day. The air blowing in was cool and, therefore, denser than that contained inside the house. She could almost see it pour across the sill, into her room, and down onto her bedroom floor. Georgia got up, opened the hinged glass doors, and dove back into bed. The morning air swirled in; she loved its coolness against her face and arms. The rest of her was cozy, hunkered down under her summer quilt as she savored her dark roast coffee.
When she went out into the kitchen, she opened the front and back doors of the house, too. Now was the time to fill her home with chill because, in a few hours, she would close some of the windows and doors to trap it. It would be a full, sunny summer day. The forecast had projected temperatures to reach eighty-six degrees. For now, though, she was as comfortable as a person could be, propped up by three pillows watching the golden light rise from the east and shimmer over her gardens. Below Georgia’s double window was a weeping cherry tree. A variety of birds liked to light on the top branches. Georgia was treated to the sight of two hummingbirds warming themselves in the rising sun.
Whatever I did to deserve this moment, I’m sure happy I did it.
She took another contented sip and put the cup on her bedside table. Georgia’s laptop was resting on the other side of her bed. She reached for it and woke the computer from its “sleep” setting. A ping sounded, prompting her to check her email. There was a message from Linda, and Yvonne was copied. The “in reference to” simply read, Walk? There was no message.
She hit reply and typed in, What time?
A hurried exchange began between the three of them. Yvonne responded, Let’s start early because it is supposed to be so hot.
Linda wrote, Where do you want to go today?
Georgia answered, I’m sitting here in bed looking at Alese Peak—do you want to go up to the beaver ponds?
Yvonne added, I could be ready by 8:30.
I have to feed Dolly Parton. Can we make it 8:45?
It turned out that Yvonne had a hankering to walk the trails out by Millhouse Pond. Linda agreed that it would be cooler out by the water. In a matter of minutes, it was decided they would all meet at the dirt clearing that served as an improvised parking lot for the trails at 8:35.
With a sigh, Georgia prepared to give up her luscious lounging nest. She inhaled the rich scent from her mug, took another drink, and watched the hummingbirds preen. Already the illuminated diamonds formed by the dew were shrinking in size as the birdsong grew louder and more varied. The sun, now high enough to shine directly through the glass panes, warmed her skin, signaling that it was time to close the shades and feed Dolly Parton her breakfast.
An hour later at the parking spot, the three women hugged as if they hadn’t seen each other in months. Georgia snapped the hook of Dolly Parton’s leash on her collar, and they stood for a moment to look out across the water and breathe in its verdant scent. The basin of Millhouse Pond had been gouged out of the bedrock beneath it by glaciers. Ahead of that ice floe, till made of rock and gravel was forced forward. When the glacier melted, the till formed a dam that proved strong enough to hold the water that ran up out of the sand-and-boulder bottom from underground springs. Four streams also fed into the body of water where the surface runoff drained down across the mountains. This lake was surprisingly deep in spots, and clean enough to support a population of rainbow trout. There was no public area posted, but fishermen claimed a spot near the parking area to cast lines. They were respectful of the fact that most of the waterfront was privately owned. It was enough the owners allowed a right-of-way for the walking path through their property. No one wanted to push their luck.
The three women started down the road. Almost immediately, they noticed a man waving his arms and moving toward them. He wore a friendly smile on his face as he approached. It was Kenny Simmons. He had been a district representative for a major granite quarry before he retired, and he retained much of his salesman’s charm. The first thing he did was kneel down and offer the back of his hand to Dolly Parton. She was taken with him and jumped up and put both of her front paws on his chest while he scratched behind her ears.
“Dolly! No jumping. That’s just rude,” Georgia lectured her dog. Kenny and Georgia’s eyes met and there was a flicker of recognition.
“It’s fine, I’m a dog person. Hey, ladies. I’m Ken Simmons. Can I ask a question?”
He always introduced himself as Ken, but once people got to know him, they invariably called him Kenny instead. His late wife told him she thought it was because he was easy to like, and people felt they’d known him all their lives.
“Nice to meet you, Kenny. Yvonne Paquette,” she said as she stuck her hand out for him to shake.
“Paquette? Wasn’t your son that star athlete who was in the papers all the time? When I moved here, I wondered if you were the same family who owned the big hardware store.”
“Yes, my son used to play sports and the store is my husband Rolland’s. His family has had it for sixty years. Rolland’s grandfather built the original hardware store, and his father added onto it. Rolland expanded into building materials. We live at the old Carpenter Farm.”
“You farm, too? Wow. You guys are busy.”
“Well, we keep some cows. My son is obsessed with cheese making. We also raise a few horses for riding.”
“I hope I can count on you for some advice. We’ve been talking about getting a horse for a long time.”
“Sure. Please feel free. Kenny, these are my friends and partners in crime. Linda Kingsley . . .”
“My husband is Peter Kingsley. We’re both retired now, but we used to work at the hospital in Berlin. We live up on Bragg Hill.”
Georgia interjected, “She’s being modest as usual. Both Linda and Peter are doctors. They volunteer their time now.”
“ . . . and this is Georgia Best.”
Georgia extended her hand, looked him in the eye, and shook his hand firmly. “Hi, Kenny. So nice to know you, but . . . I really have to ask . . . have we met before?”
His eyes were an unusual color, somewhere between hazel and brown, an olive green layered over with flecks of copper and gold. Although he carried a few extra pounds, the man had an angular, handsome face. Georgia thought that his wild, curly brown hair was adorable. She tried to place him.
“Thanks Georgia. I have that feeling too; you look so familiar. Maybe it will come to us later.” He hesitated for a moment. “My question for you three ladies is about the walking trails that go up from the pond here. Turns out, my primary care physician thinks I should be walking at least three miles a day. I usually stroll around the water’s edge, that is, if I exercise at all. Is there a map for all the logging roads up there?”
Georgia was amused by the thought of such a thing. “Good lord, no.”
“Well, how far do you folks usually go?”
“Today, we are doing our most challenging loop. We clocked it once at six and a half miles. We take the path that skirts around the pond, and then we head uphill on the logging road you can see from here. After a steep climb, there is a deer and moose run veering off to the left and . . .”
Linda interrupted Georgia. “Kenny, do you want to go with us?”
“I wouldn’t want to intrude.”
When they reassured him it wasn’t an imposition he said, “Well, the truth is, I don’t think I should start with such a difficult climb. I�
�d love to join you for something less rigorous. And time is an issue today; I have to bring my stepdaughter to an appointment.”
Without consulting the others, Linda spoke for them all. “We walk together almost every day. Why don’t we plan on coming back tomorrow, and you can accompany us. We’ll show you the way up and around a shorter loop that we like. The views are breathtaking.” She slipped a tiny backpack from her shoulders that Georgia referred to as Linda’s magic bag of tricks. Over the years, it seemed every possible need could be met by its contents, from a Band-Aid to a calculator. Linda found a pen and notepad and handed it to him. “Write down your email, Kenny. After we’ve had our first cup of coffee, we email each other and pick a time to meet for a hike. I’ll include you on the email. Did you notice where we are parked by the water’s edge down at the end of the road? We’ll meet you there.”
“That sounds great. Thank you all so much.”
“Do you have a dock here on the water, Kenny?” Linda asked. She and her husband Peter loved to kayak.
“I do. Would you like to see it? Let me show you. It’s only a short walk down the road.”
They rambled along until they stood before and admired the tiny pier with its gray, weathered decking supported by metal posts and large boulders. On the shore, lying fallow, was a huge square swimming platform that was meant to float.
Linda was thrilled. “Kenny, you are going to need help getting that big piece onto the end of your landing. Peter and I would love to pitch in. The only catch is that we’d bring our kayaks with us, and after the work was done, we would go out for a paddle. I heard you have two pairs of loons here and a beaver dam at the far end.”
“That’s what they tell me, and your offer sounds like a great deal, Linda. Do you think I could borrow your rig for a few minutes after you two finish? I’ve never kayaked before, but I’ve been looking at them online for my daughter and me. It’s a big investment. It would be nice to try it before I buy.”
“Absolutely. That would be no problem at all. We’ll make it happen.”
Georgia looked at her watch. “Look for an email tomorrow morning, Kenny. I have to get started because I have a class to teach at one.”
“Byyyyyyeeeee!” They all chorused as the three women walked away from Kenny and toward the trail.
True to their word, the three friends included him in their group email the next morning. He was there waiting with a small roll of bright green surveyor’s tape when they pulled in. Along their way, he marked any turns that were a bit overgrown or difficult to spot, as he wanted to make sure he could find the trails when he walked this way alone.
During their hike, they decided that launching the floating dock onto the end of the stationary decking required a celebration. Yvonne announced, “We’ll bring a boxed lunch and all our kayaks. This weekend is supposed to be gorgeous. Shall we do it then? Rolland and Peter will join us. It will be fun.”
“That would be incredible,” Kenny replied. He pointed to his temple with his right index finger and made a face like he had a thought. “Somehow, I wound up with two picnic tables. I’ll load one into my truck and move it down by the dock.”
Linda asked the women, “Does anyone have an extra kayak that Kenny could use?”
Georgia blinked, “I have my late husband Jack’s. Kenny, would that be too weird for you? Using his kayak, I mean.”
Kenny was unexpectedly moved by her disclosure. “Well, first, please let me say how sorry I am for your loss. I didn’t know you were a widow. My wife died six years ago, so I have some idea what you are going through. You know, I found some small comfort when my Sharon’s things served a useful purpose. It wouldn’t be weird for me at all.”
Georgia slowly nodded as she looked into his eyes, attempting to show him how much she appreciated his candor. “All right then. It’s a plan.”
On Saturday, they met by the water at ten. The men made quick work of moving the floating dock into position. Peter and Rolland stood in the chest-deep water and worked hard to hold it still while the lapping water pushed back and forth. Kenny had carefully organized the nuts and long pipe bolts required to fasten the T-connectors together. Once they got them in, all three took a turn at tightening the fittings. When the work was done, the little group paddled around the perimeter of the entire pond.
Yvonne, Georgia, and Peter brought covered dishes for the occasion in a cooler stored next to the picnic table. Their lunch consisted of egg and potato salad, coleslaw marinated with herbs in vinaigrette, thick-sliced cold ham, and a green salad. To pair with their meal, Kenny filled a huge container with homemade lemonade.
After their kayaking adventure, the air grew warm enough that, although Kenny offered his home for the women to change in, they ducked into the bushes and put their bathing suits on. Georgia took a long swim out toward the island to see how far she could go before she became apprehensive. It was something she had loved to do since she was a girl. Peter and Rolland took turns showing off by jumping as high as they could from the floating dock. They were in a contest to see who could make the biggest splash with a cannonball. Linda soaked up the sun, and although she kept closing her eyes, the guys enlisted her as judge. When Georgia grew tired, she swam back and scrambled up the platform to lie next to Linda.
It was shocking how the time flew on that perfect afternoon. When the light shifted low in the sky, Kenny, acutely aware that no one was in a hurry to leave, drove up to his house to scrounge around for a snack and a drink. Yvonne volunteered to go with him and help. They brought down plastic cups, two bottles of wine, and a hodge-podge of cheese, cold cuts, and crackers. It was eight o’clock when they finally broke up the party.
Rolland summed it up best: “I can’t remember the last time I didn’t want a day to end. Thank you so much, Kenny, for your hospitality.”
As Linda and Peter drove home, Linda put her left hand on Peter’s tanned leg and stroked it, “Oh, monsieur, vous etes si tan et fort.”
He pick up her hand and kissed it tenderly, “Tan and strong? You might get yourself in trouble handing out compliments like that.”
“Maybe I want some trouble.”
They should have worn sunscreen, but even though each felt the sting of sunburn, they felt a glow of satisfaction as well.
When Georgia got home, she took Dolly Parton out for her last time before bed. She checked the timer on the coffee machine, shut out all the lights, and crawled under her covers where she reached for a book that was on her bedside table. The paperback was a guilty pleasure that she would have been embarrassed to have anyone see, as the cover was downright steamy. It was well-written, but Georgia usually read to improve her mind, and this was nothing more than a love story.
Eight
“There is only one kind of shock worse than the totally unexpected:
the expected for which one has refused to prepare.”
—Mary Renault
After the wonderful time they all had together, Kenny felt comfortable calling Yvonne for advice about horses. “I’m not ready to actually buy, honestly I don’t think Zelda is ready yet either, but I would like to start doing some research.”
“You know what, Kenny? I think you should start by coming out to our farm. I’m going to ask my son to show you around and answer some of your questions. He’s really kind of a natural teacher.”
A few days later, Spencer was giving a tour of the farm to Kenny and Zelda. Neither of the young people gave any indication they had met before. Kenny did think it was a coincidence that this nice young man had lost a limb, just like the boy in the car accident, but farm accidents were legendary in dairy country, so he pushed the thought to the back of his mind.
Zelda experienced a jolt of surprise when she saw him, but he acted like he was meeting a stranger. She knew Spencer had suffered a traumatic brain injury, and she assumed he didn’t remember her at all and had been left with some kind of amnesia.
She felt sick to her stomach when she first laid eyes o
n him standing inside the barn. He had been stacking hay bales and wore a sleeveless undershirt. The stump of his lost arm was a shocking aberration on a young man, fit and in the prime of his life. As they came closer, she noticed two ragged diagonal scars that cut across his face and part of his scalp, and intense shame rushed through her. It was an injustice that she had no marks on her at all. She thought, I am the one who should have been disfigured. Not wanting to cause trouble or make any commotion, Zelda followed Spencer and Kenny around and listened politely to all the information Spencer shared with them. She made a quiet resolve to tell her stepfather everything the second they got home.
Though high emotions were roiling inside her, Zelda forced her attention to what Spencer was telling them, “Yep, this is where we milk the cows. Have you ever seen a milking machine? It all goes into this holding tank. Just over here is the cheese room. I’m still experimenting with the products. When I’m sure about the types I want to produce, we’re going to buy more cattle. Aren’t you curious about feed and how it affects the flavor of cheese? I sure am. It’s part of my experimentation.”
There were pastures to see with different kinds of grass, a silo filled with corn, a second silo filled with a different kind of corn, and finally the horse barn.
“We only have three horses right now, but one of the mares is pregnant. They are good steady animals, nothing fancy. Mom says you should come out and ride them, Zelda, and then see if you might be interested in one. At the very least, it’s a start, a point of reference for you. Big decision buying a horse. Maybe it will help you to begin thinking about the differences in the breeds and what you can expect from them. Although ours are really mutts because they are a mixture of Morgans and Paints.”
The Opposite of Never Page 5