The Reunion

by Newman, Summer

  “They won!” Rebecca yelled triumphantly, jumping up and down and hugging her father. “They’ve done it! They’re in the final! They’re in the championship race!”

  Again the men were greeted like champions, even though they still had the most important race remaining. But with the final race almost two hours away, Rebecca thought it was a good idea for everyone to go home and relax. Ethan and Ebony agreed that it was a good plan, but they wanted to stay. No one tried to dissuade them, and Jenny went to stand with Bill, McKenzie, and their friends.

  “Want to go for a walk?” Ethan asked Ebony after their friends left.

  “Is that what you want?”

  “I want to be alone with you. There’s a nice little beach down the shore. Would you like to see it?”

  “All right.”

  She stood up, brushed some dirt off her slacks, and followed Ethan. Numerous spectators, knowing their history, mumbled and pointed as they walked off alone, but the couple paid no attention. Soon they were out of sight and strolling along a path paralleling the shoreline. During the walk, neither of them said a word. Nor was there any eye contact, even when Ethan helped Ebony climb over huge boulders covered in brown seaweed, or around jutting trees that had fallen across the trail. Though silent, Ethan continually glanced at Ebony, almost as if to confirm that she was actually there with him. At the beach, they sat side by side on a huge piece of driftwood, but seldom spoke, choosing instead to enjoy the quiet of the place, the seagulls and kingfishers overhead, and the occasional roar of spectators watching more heats being contested.

  “Bleak kind of day, isn’t it?” he finally said.

  “Yes, but I’m really enjoying it, especially the races. You did so well.”

  “Thank you.”

  They sat quietly side by side on a big rock, talking in a relaxed way, laughing together. Ethan skipped rocks in the water, and Ebony watched him, just as she had done many years ago.

  “Time is a funny thing,” Ethan said. “It’s steady and consistent, like math. One minute is always the same as the next. But time can crawl so slowly when you’re not enjoying yourself, or it can whiz past quickly. When I’m with you, time always flies by so fast.”

  They sat quietly together for a long time and then, after glancing at her watch, Ebony told him it was time for them to go back.

  “Good enough.”

  She turned to him with a solemn look. His face was covered with a softening mist, and his eyes glowed like a lighthouse on a foggy night.

  “There’s something I want to ask you,” he said.

  “Go ahead.”

  “Next Saturday is my birthday. I was wondering if we could do something special.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’d like to go for a picnic.”

  “Where?”

  “I’d like to walk back to the Stillwater.”

  She thought about it for several seconds. “I’d like that. I’d like that very much.”

  “I haven’t seen it for a long time,” he told her. “I’ve wanted to go back ever since I came home, but I only wanted to go with you.”

  She nodded and started walking back to the marina.

  Just before rounding the final corner, Ethan touched Ebony’s arm. “How about a good-luck kiss?”

  “You can win without one.”

  “One kiss?”

  “I’ll kiss you when you learn humility.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?” he asked, flustered.

  “Maybe it will happen at the dance. When we walk onto that floor together, I will have to push away every shred of my pride and embrace a humility I have never even imagined. When you understand what I’m sacrificing, and when you honestly know in your heart that you could do the same for me, then you will learn humility.”

  “Teach me,” he said. “I want to understand.”

  “You will understand everything when we dance. It will become clear.”

  “I’m ready, Ebony. I’m ready to go all the way.”

  Ebony did not know exactly what he was thinking, but she was sure, absolutely sure, that at this precise moment he came to understand something deep and profound. She had experienced the same kind of clarity when Father Thomas read that psalm: “Look upon mine affliction and my pain; and forgive my sins.”

  * * * *

  The marina was jammed with hundreds of people. Red, white, and green banners hung from loosely strewn ropes, flapping slightly in the damp breeze. In the middle of the grounds was a small white truck with black loudspeakers affixed on top of it and two men inside checking names on sheets. Men collected in small groups and debated strategy for the big race, while the women checked on their youngsters and discussed the upcoming dance. Even though it was a wet day and the wind had come up, an air of excitement and festivity buzzed through the crowd. It was a special time. People smiled and nodded to acquaintances or talked over old times with friends they had not seen for years.

  With a little time remaining before the race, Ethan and Ebony sat on a rock behind some bushes near the shore. Nearby, a number of men and women formed a haphazard group. Though they could not see Ebony and Ethan, the quiet couple could see them through the foliage and hear every word they spoke.

  “Who’s gonna take her, Harley?” an elderly man asked a friend.

  Harley put a pipe in his mouth and lit the tobacco. “Hard to say. Harrington and Thompson could challenge, but Bill and McKenzie grew up fishing. They could probably row a mile before they started going to school. In that second heat, they rowed the course in just over three minutes.”

  “That’s a helluva row,” noted another man. “What was the time for Harrington and Thompson?”

  “They crawled in the first race,” said Harley, “but they went in three minutes in the second.” He turned to another older gentleman who was dressed in blue jeans and a plaid coat. “What do you think, Jim? You sold Ethan his practice dory, didn’t you?”

  “Yeah, that was back in March, and he’s pretty much rowed it every day since we put her in the water. I’m impressed with him and Ron. They might not be fishermen, but Ethan has always been a natural athlete. He trained his butt off. I’ve been watching him from my wharf. The man’s on a mission to win this thing.”

  Harley nudged him. “Maybe Harrington will pay the others to throw the race. The Harrington name is on everything else around here. It might as well be on the Rowing Cup.”

  Ethan and Ebony glanced at each other with embarrassment.

  “Young Harrington would never do that,” Jim snapped with an offended tone. “He’s every bit as proud as his father was. We’re going to see a dogfight out there today.”

  “But who’s going to win?” asked Harley.

  Jim thought for several seconds before speaking. “There’s a lot to consider. Bill and McKenzie have rowing in their blood, but they haven’t been practicing together like Ethan and Ron. Teamwork is everything in rowing. And I’ll tell you one more thing they have going for them. I used to watch Ethan play ball when the Prospect Road team was going for all those championships. He is the kind of man who will win or die trying.”

  “Killer instinct,” noted a young, burly man. “I saw him in action in a few parking lots back in the day. The guy could really go. Knocked Bern Baxter out cold that night, and I ain’t never heard of nobody else ever doing that.”

  Several of the men nodded in agreement, and Ebony could feel Ethan’s overwhelming discomfort, but they were unable to get up and leave without everyone realizing they were there all that time.

  Harley stared at Jim. “So, tell us, who’s going to win?”

  “I know exactly who’s going to win.”

  Everyone stared at him and hung on the master boat builder’s every word.

  “The more you compare the two teams,” Jim said, lighting his pipe, “the more you realize you can’t pick a clear winner. The thing could go either way. It would take something special to tilt the scale in one team’s favor. But what
?” He paused and looked blankly forward, as if contemplating something, his weathered face sporting a mischievous smile. “I couldn’t for the life of me think what it could be. Then Kate hit the nail on the head.” He turned to his daughter. “Tell them, Kate.”

  “The dance,” she said, her eyes glinting. “The winners’ waltz.”

  The men looked at her with puzzled expressions.

  “The winners’ waltz!” Jim exclaimed, lifting his pipe into the air as if he had revealed a great secret. “Young Harrington wants to dance with that beautiful Evans girl.”

  Ethan and Ebony looked away from each other, as if pretending not to hear the conversation.

  Kate pulled herself close to her husband. “It’s so romantic. They make such a handsome couple.”

  “I don’t think she ever got over him,” said another woman. “I know she never so much as looked at another man in those five years.”

  Ebony cringed, and Ethan gazed silently at the ocean.

  “If a man deserted me like that,” added a younger woman, “I’d never take him back. And I certainly wouldn’t dance the winners’ waltz with him in front of all those people. Especially not at the White’s Lake Legion. That’s where they were supposed to have held their reception.”

  “He’s not asking us,” Kate noted, “so that’s up to her.”

  “Good thing, too,” the young woman exclaimed. “I just can’t see it. If she dances with him, she hasn’t got any pride at all.”

  Kate shrugged. “If you truly love someone, you can forget your pride.”

  “Would he?” the young woman challenged in a bitter tone. “Would Ethan Harrington dance with her in front of all those people if it was his pride on the line?”

  “If he truly loved her, he would.”

  “Fat chance.”

  Ebony, mortified to the extreme, was rescued by the loudspeaker. “Will the four teams competing in the championship race please report for the drawing of the lots?”

  The crowd dispersed toward the bank for the best viewing areas. To her great surprise, Ethan spontaneously hugged Ebony, and then the two of them worked through the throngs and found their friends. Ron, Bill, McKenzie, and the other finalists were already at the judges’ van, milling about, chatting nervously, and wishing each other good luck. McKenzie, seeing Ethan, narrowed his eyes.

  “Bring it on, Silver Spoon,” he mumbled, walking past Ethan toward the wharf.

  Ethan glared at him but said nothing.

  “Time to draw lanes and boats,” Ron noted in a nervous voice.

  A judge motioned for the rowers to approach the open doors of the van.

  “Where were you?” Jenny whispered to Ebony.

  “We just went for a walk. Your brother wanted to show me a beach down the shore.” Ebony frowned at Jenny’s self-satisfied smirk. “I couldn’t very well refuse, could I?”

  “Of course not.”

  “No, I can’t see it,” Doc mumbled. “Our boys haven’t got a hope.”

  “Yer right,” Bern Baxter agreed, suddenly appearing behind Jenny. “They ain’t got no hope.”

  “We’ll see,” Jenny said, though her voice was subdued.

  “They’re gonna lose,” Bern said with a growl.

  Bill, who had seen the whole thing, caught Bern’s eye and stared at him. Though a big man, Bern was obviously not keen on alienating a well-respected and able-bodied fisherman like Bill and his family of six brothers. He moved away without further incident.

  The loudspeaker suddenly announced the lane positions of the four teams. People murmured for a few moments, debating who had drawn the heaviest dory, or the most wind, or the toughest current.

  “Gentlemen,” called the loudspeaker, “man your dories!”

  Ebony, her heart pounding wildly, walked to a good vantage point with her friends. Ethan walked up to her.

  “Wish us luck?” he asked Ebony.

  “Good luck, Ethan,” she returned warmly, glancing into his eyes for a split second. “You’ve trained hard for this, so remember the old expression, ‘The harder I train, the luckier I get.’”

  He laughed and nodded, unconsciously flexing his fingers. Ron, as pale as if he was about to undergo major surgery, worked through the crowd. He found Rebecca.

  “This is it, honey,” he said, his voice cracking. “Wish me luck.”

  Rebecca hugged and kissed him. “You don’t need any luck, sweetheart. Just do your best. That’s all anyone can ask.” She kissed him again. “I know you can do it.”

  “Thanks, hon.”

  “Here, give me your coat.”

  When Ron handed his coat to Rebecca, Ethan seemed to snap out of a trance. “Jenny, could you hold my coat?” he said distractedly.

  “I’ll hold it,” Ebony offered. “It’s cold, and I’m feeling a little chilled.”

  Ethan handed his coat to her, which she put on over hers. Then Ethan’s expression changed. Game face. His eyes, distant and icy under his dark brows, were full of determination. He turned toward the wharf and started working through the crowd. Ebony, looking like a little girl in his huge coat, jumped up and, with all eyes on her, caught up to Ethan and clasped him by the arm. He automatically turned to her. She lightly squeezed his hand and wished him luck again. Although she touched his hand for only a second, everyone, including her, was surprised. People pointed, smiled, mumbled. Without a word, she retreated back to her seat, but a woman caught her by the arm and said something. Ebony was so flustered she didn’t hear the words, but smiled back.

  As Ethan stood there, he glanced at her a final time. He smiled. She returned that smile, and then he walked toward the wharf. Ebony intently watched him, studying every movement he made. When he reached the wharf, Ethan shook the hands of his opponents and wished each of them luck. Only McKenzie avoided him. A few minutes later, all the teams were in their dories and rowing to the start line.

  It was a cold, miserable afternoon, and the wind, which had been rising steadily, was blowing hard. The farther out they rowed, the worse it got. At the starting line, the waves were being whipped into white-crested chops. Because Bill and McKenzie had drawn lane four, they were at the greatest disadvantage when rowing back in the most turbulent section of the strait. But the first leg to the buoy, with the wind pushing them, was a great advantage.

  After some jockeying and gamesmanship, all four dories approached the line simultaneously, and the starting gun sounded. Spectators bounded to their feet, and Ebony jumped up too, trying to see around a tall man. A huge cheer rumbled like thunder as people screamed for their favorite teams.

  As in the previous races, Ethan and Ron got a tremendous jump, pulling out to the lead. But within a short time, Bill and McKenzie, using the wind to their advantage, pulled even and soon opened a small gap. The other two teams immediately fell back but continued rowing as hard as they could. Ebony could see Ethan and Ron breathing deeply with looks of studied concentration etched on their faces. By the time they reached the halfway point, Bill and McKenzie, making a brilliant turn, led as Ethan and Ron rounded the buoy. The other two teams, pacing themselves too slowly, circled their buoys at the same time and, caught in a gust of wind, collided, knocking each other out of contention.

  It was now a two-dory race.

  The final half was sheer agony for both teams. Against strong winds and steady waves, the dories seemed to plod along in slow motion, flopping up and down on the choppy water and sending spray into the air. Ethan and Ron were now obviously straining, as if they pushing the limits of their strength and endurance. Bill and McKenzie were also struggling, but years on the water held them in good stead.

  “Give it everything you’ve got,” Ebony said under her breath as she watched breathlessly. “Come on. I know you can do it!”

  It was almost as if the men heard her because the dory pushed forward and gained momentum. Ebony could see both men gasping for breath. With one hundred yards to go, the leaders drew even. This gave Ethan and Ron the spark they neede
d. They increased their stroke rate, and were making their final pull to victory, when Ron, with a mere fifty yards to go, lost the grip of his left oar. On two consecutive strokes, it entered the water sideways, uselessly skimming through it. McKenzie looked over, immediately noticed this, and started shouting to Bill. A loud, dull roar, constantly increasing in volume, rose from the shore as they closed the gap. The spectators, caught up in the spirit of the race, moved about in a swarming mass, some running along the shore for a better vantage point, others screaming at the top of their lungs.

  “Pull, Ethan!” Ebony shouted, jumping up and down and watching the final seconds of the race. “This is it! Do it!”

  Only fifty feet remained.

  Bill and McKenzie pulled with everything they had, inching ahead. Ethan glanced at them, and Ebony could see fear in his eyes. He was losing the race. He was losing his chance to dance with her in the winners’ waltz. But then he dug down and grew incredibly intense. Ron obviously felt this and exerted himself to the maximum. With every stroke, one team edged ahead of the other. Yet Ethan and Ron reached down a little deeper and found that hidden pocket of determination. Maybe it was luck, maybe winning meant more to them, whatever the reason, Ethan and Ron nudged the bow of their dory ahead at the finish line. The crowd erupted as people cheered, clapped, and whistled. For some, it was the pleasure of having seen their favorite team win. For others it was the joy of having just witnessed the best race in the history of the event.

  “They did it!” Rebecca shouted with a look of disbelief. “They really did it!”

  At the end of the race, Ebony was filled with so much emotion that she had to get away for a few minutes and collect her thoughts. She worked through the crowd and stood beneath a high embankment. It was quiet and sheltered there, a far cry from what was going on inside her. What had just happened? Ethan had won the race, yes, but that was only part of it. There was more, much more. Everything was happening quickly now, and she felt totally overwhelmed.