A Kayak for One Read online

  He didn't stay at the cottage all year. The winters would be too isolated. He would head to a rental trailer in a park in Panama City Beach with a bunch of other oldies for a few months until mid-April when he came back to the lake. He was one of the youngest at the park at 60-years-old. He retired from Essar Steel almost two years ago when he was offered a good package and hasn't regretted it. The money from the sale of his house in the Soo paid for the cottage with lots left over, and his work pension would give him enough to live comfortably, if he was careful, for the rest of his life. He handled his divorce the right way five years ago, and she would get no more money from him. Five more years and his Canada Pension and Old Age Security would kick in and he could upgrade to a better trailer. Hell, he thought, he may even put his name in for a trailer at a ritzy park right on the ocean.

  He thought he would stay at the lake few more months this year, depending on how his plan unraveled.

  He got into the kayak and untied the rope, leaving bits of blue on his hands and on the dock. He pushed off. He liked the way the kayak moved in the water, stable and strong even in the high winds that usually picked up on the narrow lake around mid-day.

  He liked that it was the exact kayak as Charlie's. He loved to watch her pull her yellow kayak off the storage rack, drag it along the path, then carry it along the dock and set it into the water.

  He could see some gray streaks in her fair hair when the wind tossed it about her face and neckline, so he knew she was not young. The powerful binoculars also picked up the creases around her eyes and mouth and the deep wrinkle along the one side of her jaw line. She had brown age and sun spots and lots of freckles. He noticed she usually wore a long-sleeved button down shirt like you see in the fishing shows from Florida. Too much sun in the past he thought. She wore sunglasses most of the time when on the water so he couldn't see her eyes. He admired her athleticism and grace though as she got in and out of the kayak at the side of the dock. She was trim and he thought she must be fit from all the work she did around the resort, even with hired help from Sam McGregor, the young guy from the reserve half-way down the highway to Little Current. He was known locally as a good handyman, that is when he showed up, and when he wanted to be. He often saw him up high on a ladder painting the resort cottages. Lots of times he saw him fishing off the dock with a smoke hanging off the corner of his mouth when Charlie wasn't around.

  He steadied his kayak. It was difficult for him to get in. His heavy 6', 230 pound frame was built more for stepping on and off a pontoon boat then getting in a small hole in a kayak that rocked on the water when he got in and out of it. He was still getting used to that. He liked that he might be on the water the same time as Charlie though. He took his binoculars with him always just in case she decided on a paddle. That didn't happen very much in the summer months, but now she had a bit more time with fewer guests and the students gone for the day and he didn't want to miss the chance.

  Chapter 12

  Dan

  The students seem to have remembered what they learned yesterday for the most part. It shouldn't be so hard for them to grasp, Dan thought. They'd been out on a few field trips in southern Ontario. It was part of the course though, the review of field techniques, including orientation, use of a compass, and pacing and measurement of Cross beds. The layers within the rocks in the La Cloche hills and along the high rock faces at the side of Highway 6 where the rock was blasted to make way for the highway, were clearly visible. There was no need to go over what they were, the layers known as cross strata. What the students had to figure out though, and clearly present in their reports, was what the layers reveal to geologists about ancient times in the area, including the paleocurrents, or wind direction of ancient flow within the rock.

  Today they were examining the basal conformity of the Huronia succession with the Archean basement. That was keeping them busy the professor thought, as he stretched his strong, athletic legs out in front of him as he sat on the warm rock. He removed the bottom of his pants earlier and was more comfortable with just shorts. He couldn't believe the difference in working outside now rather than in the spring. The pine needles gave off a heady fragrance as the heat of the day hit the wooded areas that meandered through the hill and over the rocks.

  He needed time alone to think. He uncapped his thermos to have some green tea. What he really wanted was a belt of whisky, wishing he tucked the Jameson bottle into his knapsack. The talk with Ashley didn't go the way he hoped it would. Her refusal to listen and her determination to go through with a harassment complaint, made him feel physically sick. That, and the sudden appearance of Haiden. He must have overheard some, if not all, of the exchange between him and Ashley. Now he may have to deal with Haiden too.

  Dan remembered that tonight was pub night. He would escort the students into the little restaurant just off the highway after they had a chance to get back to the resort and clean up. He forgot to ask Charlie if it was okay if she took them over to the landing again about 7:00 p.m. and then picked them up late after the pub. She had done it in the past so he didn't think it would be a problem, but he was normally more courteous and let her know ahead of time. The wings at the Black Cat pub were so good he didn't want to bow out. It might be his last wing dinner if he lost his job. He wouldn't lose his job though, he thought. He would get fined or something, wouldn't he? Maybe the university would no longer fund the trip. He could take that, even though he'd miss coming up here. Maybe Charlie would like some help running the place and he could stay up here for the summer. Probably not. Sam seemed pretty settled in.

  Dan thought he would ask Charlie if he could take a fishing boat out tomorrow just in case it was his last chance to be out on the beautiful lake, so beautiful that much of it had been painted by a couple of artists in the famous Group of Seven. Thursday and Friday would be spent in Sudbury at an INCO site, then into Elliot Lake touring the decommissioned mine areas and tailing ponds. Tomorrow though, maybe he could drive Lori's car and lead the students to the field site and leave them on their own. Peter could drive the van and follow him, Lori lived in Sudbury when not in university, and was visiting her parents just before the trip, so she drove her own car to meet the rest of the group at the resort on Sunday. They're adults for Christ's sake. He'd talk to Charlie when they got back.

  He could even see if Charlie had a spare fishing pole. And, he brightened up, if Ashley drank as much beer tonight as she did at the university pub before the trip, maybe he could talk some sense into her and it would all work out.

  Dan heard the geese before he saw them. He lost count at 35 in the V formation. That was a sure sign of fall. It was also a sign it was near the end of the day and time to drive back. He brushed off the maple keys that had fallen onto his shirt and knapsack, leaving them for the evening grosbeaks and ruffed grouse to eat, and got up to corral the students.

  Chapter 13

  Charlene

  As Charlene heated up some homemade pumpkin and apple soup, she knew her window of spending more time with Joe was almost up. Edna and Jack were away for the day, and the students wouldn't be back until 5:00 p.m., but a group was due to arrive soon to rent canoes for a three-day trip into the provincial park.

  "I know you're looking at the clock Charlene," Joe said as he smiled and wrapped his arms around her in the kitchen after their showers. "I better go downstairs and look at the water system for you like I said I would. I think the ultra-violet light will need a cleaning."

  Charlene stayed upstairs and set a nice table for their lunch in front of the large window that overlooked the trees and lake. The house was on the second floor of the resort building built into the slope of a steep hill. The office was in half of the first floor for guests. The other half was private, for storage of linens and supplies. Being on a water-access property, there was no time to drive into Espanola every time supplies were needed, so Charlene kept a good stock of what she knew by now were the essentials. There were two washers and two dryers to handl
e the heavy loads of laundering of the sheets and blankets supplied for the guests.

  The water-treatment area was at the back of the first floor, where Charlene could hear Joe whistling some ditty or other. The previous owners said the well water was good and always tested clean, but the post Walkerton water disaster meant new rules for public drinking water so Charlene had state-of-the-art equipment installed, taking no risks that anyone, including herself, would get sick from drinking or cooking with bad water.

  The house was up some stairs from the storage area and had a level back door walk-out to the cleared area and woods behind the house. During the season Charlene mainly used this door to get to her own garbage bin and to sneak outside so guests wouldn't see her before the office was open. There was a deck at the front of the house going the full 60' along the second-floor. She had a local contractor, who was looking for cash-in-hand in the slow season, build the covered deck so she could see the lake and be among the maple branches and pine boughs. They gave a lot of privacy and protection from the sun at the height of summer. Of course, for most of the time the resort was open, being outside meant mostly being in the one half of the deck that was screened-in, accessed from the kitchen through a patio sliding door.

  This was not that time of year though. The bugs were gone, at least until the next late batch of black flies, usually in October. They were mostly just showy then, and didn't bite as much. The mosquitoes haven't been around since about the third week in August. From spring to summer, if a bug was out it would find her. She would be a bloody mess when the black flies got around her hair and neck while she was up a ladder or doing something where she couldn't swat at them. The mosquitoes weren't a bother during the day though because the wind coming across the lake could breeze through the trees along the front of the property. The low boughs had been cut by the previous owners and though she didn't like the idea at first, she quickly came to understand and appreciate the reasoning behind it. Charlene didn't spend much time outside at dusk when the mosquitoes were at their biting worst. She tried only going out then when she had to. If a guest needed something like a boat ride over to the landing or a replacement propane tank she provided for the barbeques, she sprayed herself liberally with Muskol, the product that seemed to work better than the others. She moved quickly and the return guests understood her rush, knowing how vulnerable she was to any biting insects. This, Charlene thought, was another thing she got from her Dad. He too could get quite puffy and have bad reactions to bug bites.

  While waiting for Joe to finish his work, Charlene made a batch of biscuits from scratch. She threw in some raisins and fresh cranberries, liking the flavour pairing with the soup. It made her think of Thanksgiving flavours. She thought of how much more time the two of them could spend together when Joe would finally retire from his winter job and the resort would be closed after the Thanksgiving week-end.

  Charlene liked having a man around the house. She smiled at the memory of the two of them taking a blanket to the cleared area in the woods behind the house a few years ago. It was on a fall day that was not unlike this one. They stretched out in the sun after taking off their clothes and making love. And that's what it really was then, the day she thinks they both realized they could be in love with each other. When the late sun started to chill them, Charlene started to get dressed but Joe stopped her and threw her clothes onto the blanket.

  "My boots good sir," said Charlene.

  "Ah yes, the tender toes," said Joe as he passed her the tall rubber boots she often wore. He put on his own hiking boots, gathered up the blanket over his shoulder, and they walked naked, hand-in-hand, toward the house.

  "If your guests could see you now Ms. Parker, they would be aghast," he said.

  "If your customers could see you now Mr. McFadden, they'd be asking for the same service," Charlene said.

  Chapter 14

  Bob

  When he returned from a short paddle, disappointed he didn't catch any fish, he saw Charlie take Joe back across the lake. He didn't need his binoculars to recognize him. Who else wore a kilt around here? He thought it odd at first then came to appreciate the uniqueness of it and found he was disappointed when Joe didn't wear it. He also liked the Saturday evening ritual in the summer months when Joe would stand at the end of the long dock at the resort parking lot and play the bagpipes. He heard the pipes the first Saturday when he took possession of the cottage at the beginning of July last year. He just got settled in with a drink on the deck after moving his personal items into the furnished cottage when he heard the unmistakable sound of bagpipes being warmed up. He looked over at the resort but couldn't see where the sound was coming from. He looked down the lake and saw a man in full Scottish attire standing at the end of the long dock at the resort parking lot. By then the piping had begun and it carried on every Saturday night during the summer months just before dusk, for about 15 minutes. The guests at the resort seemed to enjoy it, getting in their boats and canoes and coming across the lake to get a closer look, or standing on the docks at or along the shore at the resort. They usually clapped when Joe stopped, though he was never sure whether it was out of appreciation for the music or because Joe was finished playing and got in his truck and drove off.

  When he took his generator in for repairs a few weeks after that to the little shop not far down the highway, he realized the repair guy was the piper. It would be too much of a coincidence for him to see two tall, lean men in their late fifties with sparse gray hair, in the same area, wearing the same tartan kilt. He caught him just leaving the shop that was adjacent to a small square-timber house at the end of a long spit of land surrounded by Georgian Bay waters. He was friendly and introduced himself as Joe, and opened the shop back up so the generator could be wheeled in. He had the trouble sorted out within a few minutes and it was fixed on the spot, surprising him with the strength and speed of his hands and fingers. After that he saw Joe coming and going from the resort and thought he was doing repairs for Charlie. He saw them together at a restaurant in Little Current this spring though, and noticed a closeness between them. Seeing the way they looked at each other he put two and two together and realized they were a couple.

  He jumped back from the desk nearly knocking his chair over when he heard footsteps outside. He saw Joe coming around the corner of the cottage along the deck to the front patio doors. He also saw that Joe was looking right at him through the glass of the door when he slammed down the top of his laptop before walking the few steps to the door.

  "Hello Bob," said Joe.

  "Hey Joe," he answered.

  "Sorry I startled you," Joe said. "I thought I'd bring your whipper snipper back. It works just fine now. There was a bit of old line stuck where he shouldn't have been stuck."

  "You didn't need to bring it here. I could have come to get it," said Bob

  "I had some work to do at Charlene's so thought I would save you the bother," said Joe.

  "Charlene?" asked Bob

  "Yes," said Joe.

  "Who's Charlene?" asked Bob.

  "Charlene Parker, the owner of Kirk Lake Camp, you know, your neighbour across the lake," said Joe. "Don't tell me you've not yet met her!"

  "No. She always seems so busy. I thought her name was Charlie. The young guy in the yard at the Home Hardware in Espanola called her Charlie. I was telling him where to deliver a load of lumber I needed to fix my dock last fall and he said he knew where my cottage was since he delivered to Charlie at the resort all the time. He said she was really nice and let him launch his boat for free anytime," Bob said.

  "I remember correcting him by saying he must have meant he, but he said Charlie was a she."

  "Ah," said Joe starting to understand Bob's confusion. "It's a nickname given to her a long time ago by a co-worker. He was into jazz and Charlie Parker Jr. When she changed her name back after her divorce, her co-worker couldn't resist the nickname. I never call her Charlie, knowing she prefers Charlene, so I forget that others do."

/>   "Was it a co-worker from Hamilton Police? I heard she used to be a detective," Bob asked.

  "If you want to know more about her, I suggest you introduce yourself to her. She would be happy to meet her closest neighbor," said Joe, just before he noticed the large and expensive-looking binoculars on the desk. He looked over his shoulder and saw that the resort was directly across the lake. Feeling uneasy, he bade Bob a good day. Bob saw him look toward the desk again. He wasn't worried though. He remembered he had closed his laptop.

  Chapter 15

  Dan

  Dan waited in the office for Charlie to be finished with the group gathered around the counter. They all had thick Scottish accents and he heard a snippet of their conversation when he walked into the office after explaining, yet again, to the students what their assignment was, and to get cracking on it before they went to the pub.

  He found himself smiling as he heard one of the men say they were from Scotland, here to explore a bit of northern Ontario. Dan had been to some parts of Scotland and he found the terrain around the resort reminded him of some of the landscape of the northern isles with the steep rock faces along the water and hills everywhere.