Skinny Dipping Season

by Cynthia Tennent

  Cherry wiped her hands together. “No-o.” She added an extra syllable to the word no in disgust.

  “We’re just friends,” I told Luke.

  “What are you guys up to this summer?” Ellie asked. Cherry tucked her chin into her chest, embarrassed by Ellie’s question.

  Luke lowered his head, debating whether to condescend to answer a little girl. “We’re just hanging out. Connor, Brian, me, and Kaitlyn.” He nodded to two other kids exiting the ice cream parlor. The boy was dressed like Connor and Luke. But the girl was wearing white shorts and a pink-colored clingy V-neck T-shirt with a ruffle at the neck. Like the other three kids, her clothes were J. Crew all the way. I gazed across the table at Cherry, who was wearing cutoff jean shorts and a black T-shirt with a pink and white cartoon character on the front. For a moment I sympathized. I didn’t miss the age where everyone judged you by what you wore.

  The others walked up to the table and handed Luke a cone. “Yo, Cherry—what’s happening?” asked the one who must be Brian.

  “Nothing much,” Cherry said, putting her elbow on the table and resting her head in her hand as if she were perfectly content with nothing much.

  Ellie sat next to Cherry, eyeing the library books that were stacked on the table. “We got a bunch of b—”

  “Bracelets!” Cherry chimed in, interrupting Ellie. Bracelets must be cooler than books in the young-adult crowd.

  “And we—”

  “We taught Ellie how to make special bracelets . . . you know how it is in the summer—little kids need something to do . . .”

  Kaitlyn eyed the bracelet around Cherry’s wrist.

  “Hey, those are cool! How do you do that?” asked Kaitlyn, leaning down to get a better view.

  “It’s pretty easy if you have the right type of yarn. We actually call it floss.”

  “That looks kind of fun! Can you show me sometime?”

  Cherry kept her face expressionless, but I could tell she was pleased with Kaitlyn’s reaction.

  “Sure. It’s easy.”

  “Hey, dude, this sounds like girl talk—maybe we should get out of here,” said Connor to Luke.

  Cherry lowered her eyelids and shrugged her shoulders. “No problem. But you know, lots of guys wear this stuff. They just make it different; they use black or brown or gray . . . or even hemp.”

  “Hemp . . . cool,” said Connor with a half-smile. She sat a little straighter and I noted the way her eyes lit up.

  Luke shook his head, trying to get his bangs to move to the side without the use of his hands. “Hey, we’re going out on the boat for the Fourth of July boat parade. Do you want to come with us? ”

  Cherry shifted and almost fell off the bench. She recovered well. “I don’t know.”

  When the girls had been describing the Fourth of July boat parade, they had told me how everyone decorated their boats and played music as they circled Echo Lake, the largest lake in the county. Cherry had added that she had never been on a boat in the parade herself. The longing in her eyes had made me wish I had a boat just so I could take her.

  “Come on, it’ll be fun. My dad’s got a sweet new Sea Ray.”

  “What about me?” asked Ellie, who had given up trying to tell everyone about the books and was now bouncing up and down on her knee, the milkshake on the table almost gone.

  “You can’t go,” Cherry said. Her eyes read Do not embarrass me!

  “What?”

  “Mom has something planned for you, Ellie.”

  Ellie started whining.

  “Show me your books,” I said, trying to refocus her.

  The teens talked while Ellie pulled books one at a time to the top of her pile. I heard Connor promise to send Cherry the information via some new app that I had never heard of. Cherry bit her lip and asked him to send her a text instead. She didn’t own a smartphone. I had heard all about it from Cherry. And then I had heard all about it from Sandy, who just couldn’t afford the monthly fee.

  After the teens roared out of the parking lot, leaving a trail of shouts and laughter in their wake, I turned to Cherry. “So, are those good friends of yours?”

  “Not really. They kind of hang with a different crowd at school.”

  “Oh, so they didn’t take the Y off Colony Cleaners with you, huh?”

  She rolled her eyes. “Those were just kids I hung out with in middle school. They don’t even drive yet like Luke.”

  “Drive, huh? Is that what Luke was doing when he gunned his engine and almost hit that telephone pole?” I stared at the cloud of dust the vehicle left behind.

  “His dad owns the ATV dealership and got him that car for his birthday.”

  “I guess they seem pretty cool,” I said.

  She shrugged. But I could tell she was pleased they had noticed her.

  “The girl was pretty. Is she nice?” I asked.

  Cherry opened her mouth to say something, then stopped. Her lip turned down as she spied J. D. standing across the street. He adjusted his sunglasses and stared at the kicked-up dust and the empty road. Then he turned our way.

  “Look, Ellie, it’s the law. Quick, hide the books before he arrests us for larceny,” I whispered loudly as J. D. approached us. I gave him a saucy smile and watched his reaction. His nostrils flared and I knew I was going to pay for my comment later. I couldn’t wait.

  He put a hand on his belt and stopped in front of me. “The library and then Booties? What an interesting morning you have had.”

  “Keeping tabs on me, Officer Hardy?”

  “It’s a small town . . . and Sandy told me.” J. D. nodded toward Ellie’s cup and removed his sunglasses, tucking them in the pocket of his shirt. “Too bad I came too late to buy a round. I would have let Ellie have an extra-large shake instead of that puny thing!”

  “If you were paying, I would have waited and ordered a banana split. And maybe I could afford the new stove I need,” I said. Grandma’s electric stove had gone on the fritz after I made J. D. fried tortellini for dinner a few nights ago. He couldn’t fix it. And neither could the local repairman who I was getting to know very well: Marva’s husband, Joe.

  Cherry’s eyes traveled back and forth between J. D. and me. I hadn’t told her anything about the change in our relationship, of course. I knew this must seem confusing to her.

  J. D. saw the remains of my ice-cream cone and grabbed it from me, taking a big swipe at the melting sides with his tongue.

  Cherry’s eyes opened wide.

  “Eeew!“ Ellie said.

  J. D. pinched the back of Ellie’s neck and she giggled. “You’re not letting Elizabeth eat too much junk food and ice cream, are you?”

  I beamed at him. I couldn’t help it. His smile did that to me. I guess both Cherry and I were dealing with our crushes at the Dairy Cow today.

  “Uhhh, did the sun melt your brains?” Cherry asked.

  J. D. climbed over the picnic-table bench to sit between the girls. “I’ll have to check out these library books just to make sure Elizabeth isn’t corrupting you.”

  We ignored Cherry’s look of disgust. She sat speechless as J. D. leaned down and turned his head sideways to read the title of Ellie’s library books. They both laughed at one of the funnier pictures of a superhero in underwear. Ellie flipped the pages to show him how the story went. I couldn’t help but giggle at the potty humor coming from J. D.’s mouth as he read aloud. He had removed his hat and a piece of hair waved across his forehead, making him look boyish.

  “—Officer Hardtack-Wedgie Pants? So this is where you get your inspiration, Cherry? Wow. I wish they had books like this when I was your age.”

  “What did they have when you were younger, J. D.?” asked Ellie.

  “Stone tablets,” grumbled Cherry.

  Ellie kicked her under the picnic table. I knew how Ellie had spent hours coloring with crayons on the corner of her mother’s desk at the sheriff’s office. She loved being near J. D. Right now, she had hero-worship written all over her fac
e. J. D. grinned down at her and my heartstrings felt a major tug.

  J. D. paused. “Stone tablets aren’t too far off. I’m a little late to the pastime of reading. I don’t think I even knew where the library was when I was your age.”

  Ellie kept asking questions. She was fascinated to think J. D. hadn’t been a reader. “Didn’t you have to do book reports or anything in school?”

  “If I did, I never turned them in. I’m afraid I wasn’t much of a student. I wish I had been. My life would have been a lot easier if I had listened to my teachers and actually made an effort. I guess you think nothing bad will ever happen to you when you’re young.” He sent a meaningful glance Cherry’s way.

  She drew circles on the table with her finger. “School is really overrated, if you ask me. I mean, who really cares about the Pythagorean theorem and the French and Indian War. That’s just crap that grownups force on kids to keep them from finding out that none of that stuff matters in the real world.”

  J. D. sent me a meaningful glance. He wanted Cherry to get in a counseling program. But I wasn’t convinced. It was very possible she was just going through a phase. Not everyone needed therapy.

  She reminded me of Elliot.

  If I were honest, I would admit that part of me was reaching out to Cherry because I missed my little brother. I was worried about him. I spoke with him on the phone every week. But the conversations were brief. He shut down when I approached the subject of the marijuana in the Lincoln. I didn’t understand how to reach him. Every question I asked was met with a one-line answer. I was so frustrated that I threatened to tell Dad the truth if he didn’t start talking to me. The silence on the other end of the line had hurt.

  Maybe J. D. was right. Perhaps I should tell my parents or my lawyers the truth. On the other hand, who would believe me?

  I stared at Cherry and wondered if anyone ever had a normal childhood.

  Chapter 13

  If the local weatherman mentioned the possibility of rain, everyone chose to ignore him. The national guy predicted blue skies, and that was what people wanted to hear. Except for a few cumulus clouds gathered on the horizon, the Fourth of July was just about perfect. The temperature hovered in the mid-eighties, and we reveled in our luck. Now that the warmest part of the summer was setting in, windows were thrown open and boats swarmed the lakes around town.

  All the action in Truhart was on Echo Lake in anticipation of the boat parade. Cottagers sat on their docks and front lawns, picnicking. Boats lined the water just off the sandy shoreline as far as the eye could see. A gentle breeze blew from the east, keeping the sails aloft for the sailors near the western shore, and in the festive holiday atmosphere people from all over the county spread blankets and folding chairs along the public beach.

  I walked Nestor out to the public dock and helped him settle into a folding chair. The dock was filling up, but we managed to find a good spot for parade-watching. I sat down beside Nestor and let my bare legs hang over until my feet disappeared beneath the water’s surface. The cottage next to us hosted a large party and the smell of barbecued chicken drifted our way.

  It didn’t take long for Nestor to engage the woman next to him in an animated conversation about flowers. She had recognized him from the garden club and he took great pride in bragging. He told her about the rare lady’s slippers and trillium wildflowers he nurtured beside his lily garden.

  I waved at Sandy and Ellie sitting with several other young families on the shore. Behind them, clusters of kids threw Frisbees and footballs back and forth. I wondered how long it would be before Ellie would ask to join them.

  A loud clanging of bells signaled the official beginning of the parade, although some boats had already been at it for hours. The crowd watched eagerly as the traditional first boat passed. George and Regina Bloodworth dressed in red, white, and blue waved to the crowd from their lavishly decorated pontoon boat. Red, white, and blue streamers and bells of all sorts trailed down the railings. A handmade Uncle Sam statue stood at the bow. A very real, very well-endowed blonde bobbed up and down at the stern, wearing an American flag bikini.

  “I thought that was you for a moment.” The sound of J. D.’s low voice in my ear sent a tingle down my spine.

  In honor of the Fourth I had opted for a red sleeveless blouse tied at the waist and white shorts. My hair was pulled up in a ponytail and I wore a baseball cap to keep my skin out of the midday sun.

  “Hey, Sheriff, what’s going on?” I said in my best Marilyn Monroe voice. I may not have the same cleavage as the bikini blonde, but J. D. made me feel just as sexy.

  “Do you want to go out to the dock after the fireworks tonight?”

  I fanned my face with my hand, trying to tamp down my excitement. “Sure. Just don’t work too hard, J. D. I would hate for you to get too worn out. . . .”

  “It isn’t the work that wears me out,” he whispered again.

  How could he look so controlled, leaning over me like that in his finely pressed uniform and shiny shoes? Just the sound of his voice was making me sweat pheromones.

  “Go weed out the bad guys, J. D. Nestor and I are just sitting here being fine model citizens.” I didn’t add, If you don’t, I might attack you right here in front of all of Truhart.

  As he drifted back into the crowd, I brought my hand to my throat. Every time we parted I felt a strange flutter of something that was almost painful. I shifted my attention to the parade, never completely losing track of J. D.’s whereabouts in the crowd.

  For the next half hour I enjoyed the antics on the water. Quite a few boats blasted all-American pop music and other boats raucously chanted lyrics and honked their horns to patriotic songs. The people on shore sang along either way. Occasionally rowboats and kayaks skippered by younger kids joined from the side, enjoying the contagious fun of the occasion. A local Coast Guard boat floated some distance from the revelers and I knew J. D. had them on radio, as did several other deputies.

  I searched for Cherry and her new friends, but I didn’t see them yet.

  “Hey, Elizabeth!” Marva approached, looking like a walking American flag. She wore white-framed sunglasses, a bright red T-shirt covered in stars with a royal-blue scarf tied at the neck, and white capri pants.

  “Want to come have a drink with us?” she asked.

  I smiled and gestured to Nestor, who was enjoying the antics of a particularly rowdy group of boaters. Marva cupped her hands over her mouth. “Nice hat, Nestor!”

  He tipped his old straw hat her way and grinned. “Go see your friends if you want, my dear. I’m happy to stay here,” he said to me.

  I shook my head and patted his knee. The ladies understood. They teased him about his secretive recipes and gardening techniques, but it was obvious that they were immensely fond of Nestor.

  As Marva walked away, she paused and stepped back in order to let a short man wearing a Grateful Dead T-shirt escort a very pregnant younger woman onto the dock. He struggled to balance two folding chairs and a picnic basket. Marva stuck her nose up in the air and moved past them without a greeting. I sprang up and offered to help him since he had his hands full.

  “Hi, Mr. . . . ahh . . . Bootie.”

  “Hello again. I appreciate your help,” he said, handing me a folding chair. The woman smiled shyly and looked for a vacant spot to settle in. But no one moved. In fact, if I didn’t know better, I would say several people expanded their space so there was no place for the two newcomers to sit.

  I gestured to Nestor. “There’s room with us.”

  “I hate to take your spot,” the woman said.

  “Oh that’s no problem. We have room.”

  The man nodded and set his load down. “This here is Lori, my wife,” he said, opening the chair next to Nestor, then placing the other one beside it.

  “Elizabeth,” I said, shaking her hand.

  One of the men on the other side of Nestor called out, “Hi, Bootie.” His wife elbowed him in the ribs and he turned away.r />
  Nestor nodded at Bootie. “Hi, Bill.”

  They shook hands and Bootie smiled my way. “People around here just call me Bootie, but my real name is Bill Ute.”

  “He’s twice her age. That baby’s gonna be calling him Grandpa,” a lady whispered nearby. Color suddenly flooded the young woman’s face. I was embarrassed for Lori and ashamed of the people who were being so rude. Within moments I was leaning toward Lori, blithering on about the weather and the boats, trying to make small talk.

  Bootie watched us from beneath his long eyebrows. I knew love when I saw it.

  There was no mistaking that softening in his eyes when they rested on the younger woman.

  “So, you’re new in town?” Bootie asked me.

  “Yes. I’ve been corralled into helping out with the Timberfest. The ladies really appreciate your support. Your—ah . . . restaurant . . . seems really nice.”

  He snorted. “Don’t work too hard thanking me. I know how it is.”

  I felt heat crawl up my neck and hoped I wasn’t turning red.

  “We do a lot of good business in this town,” Bootie said. “But some of the people don’t want to admit we are an important part of the economy around here. I employ thirty people in the county. And I’m looking for more, if you’re interested.”

  Now I knew I was blushing because my face was on fire. “I don’t think I—I mean, I—”

  “Stop teasing her, honey,” said Lori. She turned to me. “Not everyone wants that kind of work. Poor Bootie has to fill my own shift.” She patted her belly and smiled. “I can’t really wait tables with this little one weighing me down.”

  “That would be difficult,” I said.

  “And something else you can tell the ladies at the Family Fare,” he said, nodding toward Marva, who now stood on the beach waving her arms to a Bruce Springsteen song. “I am happy to help out more with the Timberfest beer tent. I can get tables and the girls to serve beer.”

  I really wanted to say yes. Marva and the ladies were already busy manning the craft tent and the raffle tables, so we still needed to find volunteers for the beer tent. Unfortunately, I couldn’t say yes without consulting the others . . . and I knew what their answer would be.