Authors: Tracy Richardson
“I did notice there are a lot fewer boats out during the week than on the weekends. Good for sailing, but I would die of boredom living up here all year round,” says Kaitlyn.
The wind has picked up now that they are out on the main lake, so they concentrate on sailing. Marcie keeps her eyes on the telltales, letting the others know how the wind is flowing over the sails so they can adjust as necessary.
“See that fishing boat ahead?” says Kyle not waiting for an answer. “We’ll use that as our marker to turn back downwind for the second leg of the ‘race.’ Marcie, you
know what to do with the spinnaker.” It is a statement, not a question.
“All set,” says Marcie. She readies herself for action.
They approach the fishing boat from the port side and wait for the optimum moment to come about without losing speed. Marcie climbs onto the foredeck and attaches the spinnaker pole to the mast and the sail in readiness for hoisting the sail. Her heart is pounding with excitement. Kyle is in charge now, watching the sails and saying “wait, not yet … just a little farther.” Just as they are about to lose the wind, Kyle yells “Come about!” The others spring into action, quickly switching the direction of the sails. As the boom swings across the boat, Conner calls out “Boom!” They all duck. Marcie is poised to act when she gets the signal from Kyle. He steers them around the fishing boat and as they begin to head downwind, he calls out, “Spinnaker!” Marcie raises the sail. It unfurls in a beautiful cloud of robin’s egg blue. Immediately it fills with wind, and they are off in the other direction.
“Perfect turn!” calls out Kyle. “We’ve got a great chance at beating the rest of the field if we keep working together like that.” They do high fives all around. Marcie is as pumped up as the others about winning the race.
Sailing downwind always feels strange to Marcie. It’s almost as if there is no wind at all because it’s blowing in the same direction as she is sailing, so she doesn’t feel it
moving past her. The boat hardly seems to move at all, even if she is going fairly fast. Not like when she is sailing upwind and she can feel the wind blowing past as she sails through it.
They do two more practice runs and congratulate themselves on working together so well as a team. Kyle expertly docks the boat at the Yacht Club pier, and they tie off. Many of the other boats docked are racing scows as well.
“It looks like this will be our major competition for the July 4th Regatta,” says Conner, indicating the other boats. “But I don’t see too many that can compare with our boat, Kyle. We’ve got the crew and the boat to win,” he says with confidence. The two boys are walking ahead of Marcie and Kaitlyn on the dock on their way to the boathouse.
“I’m pretty sure only the Boat Company will be racing a new high performance scow. And I can’t imagine that the Townies will have anything that can compete with us. We’re in good shape.”
Marcie cringes inwardly at the word Townie. Even though most of the Yacht Club members are summer people, many of the club employees are locals with summer jobs, and Kyle is definitely saying it in a derogatory way.
The Yacht Club is part country club and part sailing club. There is a formal dining room where parties are held,
an informal dining room, and an outdoor pool. Because they are wearing their bathing suits, they have to eat at the cabana by the pool. Kaitlyn is totally unconcerned about walking around in only her bathing suit, but Marcie is glad to be wearing her shorts.
Tables are arranged poolside in front of the thatched roof cabana. They choose a table under an umbrella, and a waitress pulls herself away from her conversation with the bartender to take their order. Mostly burgers and salads are served outside. They place their orders, and Kaitlyn signs for the meal saying, “It’s great not to have to carry any money here—especially since I don’t have pockets!” She smiles and glances at Conner.
They spend an enjoyable afternoon swimming and relaxing by the pool. Everything they could want is provided for them—towels, sunscreen, soft drinks, and snacks are all available from the cabana.
I could get used to this life
, thinks Marcie. It seems like it’s free, but she knows it comes at a price, and it all goes on Mr. Swyndall’s bill. The house, the sailboat, the Yacht Club—everything. She feels a twinge of guilt about using his hospitality while trying to fight the James Woods development, but only a twinge. As the waitress sets another drink down next to her chair, she turns her head away and slathers on more sunscreen.
“I
DIDN’T HAVE
too much luck with the petition, but the newspaper was interested,” says Eric. They are sitting in the rocking chairs on Al’s porch after dinner. Al glides gently back and forth on the swing, and Pansy is curled up on her cushion in the corner. “I actually did some work today while you were off sailing and lounging at the Yacht Club,” he says testily to Marcie.
Annoyed at Eric for honing in on her conflicted feelings about her relationship with the Swyndalls, she retorts, “I was practicing for the Regatta, as you well know. You’re just worried that our team will beat the Boat Company team. And besides, if I hadn’t been over there on Sunday, we wouldn’t know about the development at all. Consider me a spy for our camp.”
“We’re not worried,” he replies, but he is only somewhat mollified, and adds, “Still, you were having fun while I was going door to door with the petition. Most people were sympathetic and signed, but nobody felt strongly enough to help us take a stand against Swyndall and the developers. It was really depressing how resigned everyone is to letting him tear down James Woods and build luxury vacation homes.” He glances over at Al, who so far hasn’t
said anything, but is listening intently. “The worst was old Marge Appleton who asked me to change the light bulb in her pier lamp post, and after I had done it she forgot that she had asked me and kept asking me to do it again. We went round and round with that for a good five minutes, and she never could understand about the petition or the development.” He sighs, leans forward in the chair with his elbows balanced on his knees and rests his chin in his hands. “Maybe the newspaper article will get public opinion against it.”
“What happened to the gung-ho crusader of yesterday?” asks Al. The rays of the setting sun glint off his reading glasses as he gestures with the pencil he’d been using to do the crossword puzzle. “It’s too soon to give up. Marcie’s got Mr. Clements working on it, and the newspaper article will definitely create a stir. People around here may be slow to action—but get them riled up and who knows what could happen? There may be other forces at work around here that we can’t control.”
“I’m glad you’re confident,” says Eric, “because the newspaper reporter is going to call you for an interview to get the local residents’ point of view after he gets the details from the zoning department.”
“I would hope that my opinion will carry some weight with the community. I’ve lived here all my life and know just about everyone in town and on the lake.”
“I think it’s our only hope,” says Eric, burying his chin in the palms of his hands.
W
EDNESDAY MORNING
IS rainy and gloomy. A steady drizzle soaks the grass and Mamaw’s flower beds—
she’ll be happy about that
, thinks Marcie—and low-hanging clouds turn the sky and lake a dull gray. Marcie has taken a book to the loft and is cozily ensconced on the window seat surrounded by pillows and snuggled under a quilt. She likes days like this when you can hang around not doing anything in particular. The rain has a calming effect on the world, and the repetitive sound it makes on the roof of the sunroom below is reassuring. As much as she enjoys the outdoors, sunny days can make you feel pressure to go out and do something fun and exciting. It’s nice to have a break. The phone rings downstairs, and a few minutes later Mamaw calls up. “Marcie, it’s your mom on the phone. Hurry, she can’t talk for too long.”
Marcie is reluctant to leave her quilt cocoon even though she’s wanted to talk to her mom for days, but she runs down the stairs to the kitchen phone.
“Hi, Mom!”
“How are you, hon? I’ve missed you and the boys.” Her mom sounds just the same even 2,000 miles away.
“I’m good. I miss you, too.” She hesitates. “I’ve been practicing with Kaitlyn for the Regatta. How’s the dig going?”
“We’re getting ready to go back out right now. Its only 8 a.m. here. The students are doing well, and we’re finding some great stuff. I still can’t believe this site—an untouched example of western cave dwellers. It was on this rancher’s property all these years. He knew about it, but didn’t tell anyone until after his death when he left instructions in his will to give the land to the University of Utah. Amazing.” Marcie can hear the excitement in her mom’s voice. “What about you? Any luck stopping the development?”
“We’re working on it with Al. Eric’s doing a petition, and he got the newspaper interested. They’re going to run a story in this Saturday’s edition with an interview of Al against the development. I even called Mr. Clements to see if he could help. I’m not sure if he can do anything, though.”
“I’m sorry Marce. I wish there was something I could do to help.”
“Well …” Marcie wonders if she should tell her. Part of her wants to tell someone about all these things that are happening, but part of her isn’t ready to talk about it.
Don’t tell her. There’s nothing to it. She has enough to worry about at the dig
.
“What is it, honey?”
“I guess I’m just discouraged. It doesn’t seem like we’re getting anywhere.”
“Maybe one of the things you’ve got going will work.”
Eric and Drew come into the kitchen wet from the rain and dripping water onto the tile floor.
“I want to talk to mom now.” Drew reaches for the phone.
“Hang on a minute. Let me say goodbye.” Marcie swivels away from his grasp. “The boys are here, I have to go.”
“Bye hon. Keep trying—you never know what can happen.”
W
HEN
L
UCY ARRIVES
with Michael and Jayne to spend the afternoon at the cottage, the sun is burning off the last remaining clouds from the morning’s showers.
“It looks like we’re going to have a nice afternoon, thank goodness. Fishing and swimming in the rain isn’t very fun,” Lucy says while unbuckling Jayne’s car seat and handing her over to Marcie.
“Hello, baby,” coos Marcie and gives Jayne a big kiss.
“Not baby, big girl.” Jayne pats herself on the chest.
“Yes, a very big girl!” laughs Marcie. “You’re heavy!” She sets Jayne down on the driveway. “Why don’t you be a big girl and walk, and I’ll hold your hand.” To Lucy she says, “Mamaw has set up the wading pool in the yard, and Poppy has the fishing poles out by the dock. Eric and Drew are already down there. Do you want me to change Jayne into her suit?”
“That would be great,” Lucy replies. “I still need to get the rest of the paraphernalia out of the car—including Michael!” She gives Marcie a flowered bag with clothing in it. “Her suit’s in there somewhere.”
“Okay. Let’s go swimming, Jayne.” Marcie leads the toddler into the house.
Jayne is too little to swim in the lake without an adult, so they have a wading pool and water toys for her to play with. Marcie plays tea party with Jayne, and they serve everyone “tea” with water from the pool. Then Jayne wants to water the flower garden, which entertains her for quite a while. She doesn’t do much actual swimming in the pool, but her vivid imagination provides plenty of ideas for play. When Jayne wants to play mermaids with her Barbies, Marcie decides she’s had enough. The boys have already tired of fishing and are swimming in the cove, leaving Poppy to fish by himself. Marcie wants to get back to the book she was reading this morning and the empty hammock beckons her. She goes onto the porch to get her book and a pillow, passing Mamaw and Lucy on her way.
“I’m going to read in the hammock for a bit, so I won’t be watching Jayne.”
“That’s fine,” says Lucy. “Thanks for playing with her. I really appreciate the break.” She and Mamaw are sitting in the shade of the maple tree in lawn chairs. A few minutes earlier Al and Pansy had joined them and the three of them lined up in a row look like a panel of officials judging an event.
“While you’re up, would you bring out the pitcher of iced tea in the fridge and four plastic glasses?” calls Mamaw. “Relaxing is thirsty work.”
“Sure.” Marcie gets the drinks and a soda for herself and puts everything on a tray to carry it out. She places the tray on the low table by the chairs and pours out drinks for the adults. The fourth drink is for Poppy, so she carries it to him at the dock.
“You’re a sweetheart,” he says to her as he takes a long drink.
“How’re they biting?” Marcie asks.
“Not bad—see for yourself,” he says, pointing to the fish basket that hangs over the edge of the dock into the water. As Marcie leans over and pulls it up, water cascades through the mesh sides and bottom to reveal five large blue gills and one croppy.
“These all look like keepers to me!” she says. She knows he must be pleased.
“They’ll do—I’ve even thrown several back. Eric and Drew gave up too soon. Do you want to join me?”
“It’s tempting, but I’m going to read in the hammock for a while.” She crosses the yard to the little rise where the hammock is suspended between two oak trees. The angle of the trees allows her to see the yard and the wading pool and down to the dock and the slide where the three boys are playing. She gets the hammock swinging
gently with her foot on the ground and then lets it rock slowly to a halt before pushing off again. After a while she glances down and sees Jayne standing on the grass a few yards from the pool playing with Pansy. Jayne is laughing because every time she tries to walk forward toward the lake Pansy gently blocks her. Marcie smiles to herself, but doesn’t think much about it and goes back to her reading. She assumes the adults are paying attention.
A few minutes later, she hears Pansy barking and Jayne crying, and she sits up to see what is going on. Jayne is much closer to the water than before, but she is sitting on the ground bawling and Pansy is standing between her and the water barking very loudly.