Chapter 8: Brice's Creek

Brice’s Creek was a nice resting place.  It was one of the many little extensions of the Trent River, but the only one where Todd liked to spend his time.  It curled like a snake through what had once been woods and wound its way almost back around into itself about a half mile down.  The shoreline was spotted with pine cones and needles that had fallen off the overhanging trees or washed in by the current.  The willows arched their backs, fingering the water delicately.  

            He made his way to Old Man Luby’s dock at the tip of the first peninsula.  Luby died well over fifteen years earlier but the dock had remained.  It had been a place of solitude for Todd when he was younger.  He used to walk down there on days when he just couldn’t stand to sit in the house and listen to the constant bickering between his brother and sisters. It was a solace where only the occasional croaker or spot would interrupt an otherwise peaceful afternoon. He would sometimes write in his journal about his neighbor Mary Ellen and how she constantly broke his heart. 

            He liked to lay on his back with his arms outreached, and the fishing pole, dangling off the edge of the pier, held down by his leg.  He would look at the clouds and let them pull him into what he always thought was heaven.  The soft splishing and splashing of water along the shoreline, the whistle of the pine needles in the trees, and the sweetness of the long stem of grass in his mouth carried him away.  Todd could remember all of this and longed for it now after having been away for so long.

            For what seemed like forever, Todd had forgotten his resting place.  He knew it was there but he had forgotten the feelings that he associated with it.  “Come here Babe!” he shouted as his black Labrador trotted slowly behind.  He picked up a rotten piece of driftwood and tossed it out into the creek. “Go get it girl! Go get it!”  She belly flopped off of the dock and swam her way out retrieving it just a little slower than what she had when she was ten years younger.  She came huffing out of the water, exhausted by the expenditure of energy.  “You ain’t so young are you, old lady?” he said rubbing her soppy ears.  He used to be able to look into her eyes and see empty caverns but now all he saw was a brown milky reflection.  He kept rubbing her head and then they both sat down on the edge of the dock, with Todd dipping his bare feet into the water, and Babe with her paws skirting off the rounded oak.

            They sat there, together, watching the wood ducks and mallards fly into their little hiding place along the creek.  At first they arrived one by one, but as a few floated around for a few minutes, the rest presumably figuring all was safe, quickly joined company.  Most of them stayed in the marshy areas where the minnows were plentiful and the grass high enough to shade them from the overhead sun.

            “Todd,” a voice from behind called, “Todd Dawson! What are you doing down there? Ain’t nothing but cottonmouths around this creek.  Are you out of your dad-blame mind?”

            It was Ms.  Whitford.  He should have known that if anyone was to see him walk down to the dock, it would be her. She had lived alone in her little house on the creek for over twenty years.  Although, she was old and unable to get around very well, she kept the house in immaculate shape.  It was painted every two years or so, and the yard stayed manicured by one of the boys on her side of the creek.  He kept the lawn mowed, the weeds out of her vegetable garden, and the pine needles out of her row boat.  She never went out alone in it, but she often would get one of the men from church to row her out to the middle of the creek so that she could bask in the sun.  Todd did it for her once, and she treated him to an afternoon of storytelling to the likes of which could never be repeated. 

            “I’m okay Ms. Whitford.  Babe and I just went out for a little reminiscing.”  He could barely make out her own frail figure standing on the back of her porch across the little creek. “Ain’t nothing wrong with that is it ma’am?  Don’t tell me you ain’t never done it” he coolly called back to her. 

            She fidgeted just like every other old lady he had seen when confronted with a question they knew was true.  “That don’t matter.  At least not to you.  Get on off that dock ‘fore I call your ma.”

            “If you think my Ma can get me off this dock Ms. Whitford, I won’t waste your time.”  He walked back to the foot of the dock and stood up on the bank, sliding slightly towards the water on the pine needles. 

            “That better?” 

            She nodded. 

            “How have you been doing?  I haven’t seen you in,” Todd thought to himself for a few seconds, “six, seven years?”

            “Why don’t you walk down to the bridge and come over here so I can hear you a little better.  My voice can’t take this calling back and forth very long.”

            He nodded and waved that he would make his way around. 

            She wrapped her arms around him hugging him tightly. She kissed him on the cheek, then held him at arms length, smiling.  “How have you been dear? I saw your Ma a few weeks ago and she said that you had moved back into the area, Vanceboro was it?”

            “Yes ma’am, about a month ago.  My wife found a job teaching in Vanceboro, so we decided to make the move.”  He motioned for her to sit down in one of the three lawn chairs.  “I’m sure ma has told you that much.”

            “Well, your version was much shorter, but yes,” she giggled, “she told me.”  She looked him over and shook her head.  “My law Todd, you’ve grown so much since I last saw you.  So tell me, what’s she like.  She better be perfect for my little boy.”  She eyed Todd quickly.  “Well, not so little.” 

            “She’s the one I’ve always wanted.”  Todd pulled at the car keys in his hands.  “It’s like that story you told me about loving and needing.  We need each other because we love everything about the other.”

            She nodded at him.

            He looked out across the creek to a little gathering of a family of ducks.

            Ms. Whitford reached over, put her hand on his, and squeezed.  “She’ll love you more than anyone can.  I know she will Todd.  She is your promise of the future, and the love you share is a blessing.”

            He smiled at her and squeezed her hand back.  “I guess it was you who taught me poetry.  Before you read to me that one day out there on the boat, I would sit across the creek on that dock over there and write in a beat up old journal.  Whatever I wrote never made sense but after you read to me, another channel in my mind opened.  I guess you are the one that made me the writer that I want to be today.” 

            “I think it was other things in your life that happened dear, and you found your way of explaining them by writing them down.”

            “Perhaps.  But you’re still the one who inspired me.”

            “Well, I am honored.”  She was silent for a minute. “I also know that it was your grandfather that made you write.  I guess it’s been that long since I’ve seen you.  Your mother told me that you started right after he died.”

            “Did you know him?”  It was almost a silly question to ask.  He knew that she did.

            “I met him a few times when your parents first moved near the creek.  You know how your dad is, he invites everyone he meets over to dinner, and it happened that at least a few times, your grandparents were there. I remember the first time that I met him.” She giggled again to herself, “He was good looking even then.”  She smiled broadly.  “The thing I remember about him most was what he said when someone asked him how it was to be a farmer all his life.  He said that it had been a good life all in all, but the thing he loved the most was how he had been able to share the years with his daughters and wife.  You could see how proud he was whenever he was around the grandchildren.  He knew that his girls would one day realize the same.”  She again looked out across the creek.  “Sometimes it’s a turn on to think of all the things in your life.  That’s a strange idea, isn’t it?  To feel high about turning old?”

            “No not really.  It is though, romantic, you know, idea wise to think about what has gone on through your life.”  He let a chuckle slip.

            “I know what you’re thinking mister.  I just turned seventy-four, I don’t think I’ve turned old yet.  I can still get all giddy about considering myself old and reminiscing.  You were absolutely right when you asked if it was a problem to reminisce.  I think that’s what lets us realize just how much God has blessed each and every one of us.”

            “Can I ask you a question?”

            “I bet I have an answer.”

             He stammered for a second.  “I mean, you know how my grandfather died, and why he died.  What do you think made him do it?”

            She looked down into her lap and pulled on one of the loose buttons.  She rubbed the tip of her nose lightly and then looked back down.  “Are you asking, if I was in his shoes, what would I have done?”

            He nodded. 

            “Well, I, I’m not real sure Todd.” She didn’t seem very comfortable.  “It had to have been hard for him.  It’s not like he pulled the trigger without thinking about it.  I don’t know.  As a Christian woman I wouldn’t have done it.”

            “What does being a Christian have to do with killing the pain?  PaPa believed in God and Jesus, but I guess he didn’t believe he was going to feel better.  Is it fair to say that it wasn’t the right thing to do as a Christian?”

            “Todd, I’m just telling you I wouldn’t have done it because my personal conviction is that suicide constitutes giving up hope, the one thing that God gave us as our eternal gift.”

            “So it’s a sin to end a life filled with no hope but brimming with remorse?  It wasn’t his fault don’t you see?  Do you think he wanted this?  Do you think he wanted to put that rifle to his head?  Do you think that he wanted to leave his wife and children, and grandchildren?  How-”

            “Todd, I know he didn’t want to leave them.  It’s just one of those things that most of us don’t know how to explain.  I’m sure it’s one of those things that your grandmother thought about a lot as she grew older.  What did she tell you?  Did you ever ask her?”

            Todd threw a twig in the water. 

            “If you want to know Todd, you have to think.  Do you ever talk to her about him? Have you talked to her since you’ve been back?”

            “No.”  He knew that she didn’t know about his grandmother’s health. “I’m sorry, Ms. Whitford, I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

            “Todd, things in our life just happen.  Sometimes we can see them coming, sometimes we can’t.”

            He knew that she was right.

            He looked across the creek to the dock where he was sitting a little while earlier.  “I was going to sit over there and fish, just like I used to.  I was going to sit there and think of all the things I used to.” 

            They sat silent from a long while.  The sun settled atop the trees and slowly began its descent.  The air grew chilly and Todd decided that he should walk Ms. Whitford up to the house before it grew too dark.  “It’s been a nice afternoon.  I’ll try to get down here more often, if for any reason, to sit with you and watch the sunset.”

            “You always have known just the right things to say.  Goodnight Todd, remember, you have all the answers in your head, it’s just your job to sort them out and figure out how they play in your life.  He left a legacy to you and everyone else.  If you want it, it is there for you to take part in.”  They parted and Todd walked back to his Jimmy parked along the curb on the other side of the creek. 

            The ride home was a blur.  He kept thinking of what Ms. Whitford had told him about the answers being there for him but he just had to sort them out on his own. 

Chapter 7: Out of touch

“Somehow, John always did the right thing.  It wasn’t always the first thing he wanted to do, but when it came down to what had to be done, he did what was right.  I  remember once when we were trying to set the belt of the conveyor on his harvester and the damn thing wouldn’t set in the spot that it was supposed to.  He cussed at it for a little while and threw his wrench and hammer into the ground a few times, but he never gave up on setting it right.  Eventually, he was able to fix it, danged if I know how, but he fixed it up right.”   

            “When did you two leave Vanceboro and go off to the Pacific?” Abby set her cup back down on the table and leaned back into the old loveseat.

            “April.  April 1944.”

            “Were you drafted or did you enlist?”

            The old man sat there for a minute.  “We enlisted.  Both of us had just turned eighteen and were probably going to be drafted soon anyway.”  He walked over to the mantle where the gold-rimmed picture frame of him and Todd’s grandfather sat. He looked at it for a few seconds and then picked it up and carried it over to Abby.   “We didn’t want to go, but we knew that it was something that we had to do.  My older brother, Richard, had shipped out a few months earlier. . .” his voice trailed off.

            “What happened to him, Mr. Clemment?”

            “Nothing really.  It was just hard on my ma and pa.  He lost a close friend of his during the first World War.  I can remember pa pulling Richard out onto the back porch and sitting him down before he left.  Richard came back in the house crying, but he turned back to door, and told pa that he had to go.”

            “And when you left?”

            “And when I left, he already knew what the argument would be.  Pa tried to tell me that the war was so close to an end that I’d never see the ocean.  But he knew that argument just wouldn’t hold up.  He knew. . .”

            “He knew that you couldn’t let just your brother go off and fight in a war that meant so much.”

            “Hell, Richard didn’t even know what it meant when he went off to Europe.  We had all heard stories about what was going on in Germany, but how could you really believe them?”  He was staring her right in the eyes.  “He didn’t know what he was headed into when he left.”

            “Did he tell you before or after?”  She bit her lip realizing that this really didn’t matter.

            “He told me of the atrocities in letters just before we were to leave.”  Clemment covered his face with his hands.  “You wouldn’t understand Abby.  It’s not that you’re not smart enough to understand, but rather, you couldn’t possibly imagine what kind of evil was going on.”

            Abby sat there stunned.  She had never been told before that she couldn’t comprehend something.  The idea had forever seemed foreign to her, but now, for this one instant it was true.  For a silent few seconds, she vividly remembered films she had seen of the concentration camps and the horror that they contained.

            “I guess John left for the same reasons you did?”

            “He didn’t have an older brother, but Richard acted like a brother to both of us.  Abby it wasn’t so much the fact that Richard convinced us that it was the right thing to do, but rather, it was his unselfishness at the end that made us go.  I know that doesn’t make any sense to the kids of your generation, but that was just the way it was.”

            The air through the den was sucked in by the open window.   It was a nice breeze compared to what they were used to.

            “I guess Todd doesn’t tell you a whole lot about his grandfather huh?”

            “I think he is confused.  He used to talk about him every now and then but lately it has become all the time.  He has become consumed by this force to find out what happened to his grandfather.  I know that it sounds weird and corny and whatever else kitchy thing you can think of, but that’s what it feels like is going on in Brad’s head.”

            “What is he so confused about?”

            “That’s what I’m talking to you for.  Mr. Clemment. .”

            “It’s Ralph, Abby.  Ralph.”

            “Ralph, I don’t know.  We both know that John Edward committed suicide when Todd was fourteen, but what took him so long to question it?  I’m not a psychology major, but it sounds like he repressed the memories of his grandfather and now, living in the house, is bringing the memories back out.”

            “I’ve wondered that.”

            “Sir?”

            “Wondered why Todd wanted to move into the house.  Seems like that would be a place that he would want to forget.”

            “If he didn’t claim the deed to the land, it was going to be given up for auction and no one in the family wanted to see that.  Todd and I were the only ones who could afford it, plus it’s not to far from Greenville.”  She took a sip of her sweet tea and a handful of peanuts.

            “But Todd had to know that every time that he walked out of that back porch door that he would be walking over the exact same spot that John Edward shot himself.  How could he do that to himself everyday?”

            Abby sat there for a second thinking.  “He didn’t use that door when we first  moved in.  He would use the door down by the garage and actually built a nice little picket fence that made a bit of a chore to get to that end of the house.”  She held a peanut with her hand between her two front teeth. “But then there was that day that Willy came by the house to drop off a sack of limas; had them shelled down at Gaskin’s ya know, and the old man sat there and talked to him for a good while.  When I came out of the house after getting a few boiling pots of beans going, there they sat out on the back porch.”

            “You’re talking ‘bout Willy Gaskins aren’t you?”

            “Yes sir.  But when I came out of the house, I remember looking down on Todd like he was out of his mind.  He looked up at me and realized my own surprise.  Willy kept on talking and I remember Todd turning his head to the ground and running his fingers along the brick that formed the wall.  He looked up at me terrified.”  Abby stared straight ahead a the wall, her eyes wide but beginning to swell.  “Willy must have sensed something was wrong because he jumped right up, said goodbye, and hopped back in his truck.”

            “Todd realized where he was?”

            “Maybe.  When Willy said goodbye, Todd said bye, faintly, looking down at the dirt.  He got up, walked inside and pulled some letters down off of the china cabinet in the living room.  I had forgotten that they were still up there.  Mary, never told anyone that those letters were there, I wonder how he knew.”

            “I bet he knew a lot about that old house but was just to young to remember everything from his childhood.  Did he read the letters?”

            “No, he just fingered through the envelopes.  He does that a lot, even now.  You can see that he wants to read them, but he just can’t bring himself to do it.”

            “So why haven’t you?”

            “What?”

            “Why haven’t you read them?” 

            She looked at the old man sitting across from her with a hard cold stare.

            He continued, “Why haven’t you read them, seeing that he can’t bring himself to do it?”  She didn’t say anything but continued to stare at him, not believing what she was hearing.  “Abby, you must understand what’s going on here.  Todd is searching for the past and he knows that he has it right there before him but he won’t dare open it because it violates his beliefs.  He’ll never bring himself to open those things if you don’t do it for him.”

            Abby looked away from the old man and then down at her watch.  It was five o’clock.  “I better get going, Mr. Clemment.  Thank you for the chat.  We’ll have to do it again sometime.”  She picked up her purse and walked to the door.  “Goodbye.”  She slammed the door behind her.

            The ride over to the house only took a few minutes.  How could he expect her to open the letters of her husband’s dead grandparents?  It was none of her business what was contained within the bundle bound by a thick rubber band.  It was not hers to touch.  If they were to be opened, Todd would have to do it.  Todd would have to do it.  Todd would have to do it.  Todd couldn’t do it.  Todd can’t do it.  Todd won’t do it.

Chapter 6: Abby

Abby finished washing the clothes and sat down at the table.  It had been a long day for her.  She put her head in her hands and closed her eyes. 

            She didn’t have very many friends in Vanceboro.  When they moved into town, the beginning of the school year was less than a three weeks away.  She had just enough time to move their furniture and everything into the house before she had to be at the elementary school developing her lesson plans and working on decorating her new classroom.

            There were young couples here and there that she met during her year in Vanceboro, most of them parents of her students.  Most of the time they would meet at the little grocery store or down at the Pat’s Soda Shop, but their conversations would be in passing. 

Most of her time during the week after school was spent at home.  She would get home at three thirty and would almost always set to grading assignments right away before Todd would get home.  It was a routine that she had begun when she was student teaching at College Park.  If he was home, she wanted to spend every minute with him.  She knew that the thought of spending all her waking time with him was somewhat juvenile and even sometimes a bit unpractical, but that was the way he made her feel.      

But lately, there was something about him.

Todd didn’t act any differently than he had in the 4 years since they had met.  If anything lately, he had acted more normal than usual.  He could be guaranteed to walk in the door at a quarter to six in the afternoon, walk over the refrigerator, pull out the carton of orange juice and sit down at the table and finish two glasses while reading the newspaper.  He would then ask Abby how her day had been and genuinely seem interested in everything that she had to say.  He would even volunteer to cook dinner every evening.  On the weekends, in between the football, basketball and baseball games in Greenville and the Sunday lunches in New Bern, he always found time to complete all of the honey do’s around the house that needed to be done.

            But somewhere in that normalcy, there was an underlying sadness.  She knew it was there when they decided to move into the old farmhouse.  But at the time, she figured it would wear off with time.

            It didn’t.

            She began walking through the house.  She loved the old place.  It was as picturesque as she could imagine a farmhouse being.  She loved the little kitchen and how it always kept the sweet smell of whatever Todd had been cooking the day before in the air.  She loved the bedrooms.  The children’s rooms were at one end of the house and shared a quaint light pink tiled bathroom.  Next to the master bedroom and in between the kitchen and the living room was the study.

            The study was really Todd’s office.  It was where he spent his late evening when he couldn’t fall asleep.  She could sometimes hear the quick tapping of his fingers on the computer keyboard.  Sometimes he would put on a CD and turn it almost all the way down.  She pushed play on the player and ever so quietly, she heard Hootie and the Blowfish’s Innocence stream from the speakers behind his desk.  She sat down in his chair and listened quietly.

What else can I do
When the tears have all been wasted
And the only voice you choose to hear
Sings the songs of our hearts breaking

She looked around the room at the knick knacks that Todd had started to collect as he made his way to various events that the magazines had him attend.  He had a penchant for picking up one useless object every time he was gone.

And I wanna feel innocence

            She closed her eyes and lay back farther in the chair.  Todd had always told her that their music had a seductive feel to it.  As the rest of the song played she slowly opened her eyes and looked around the room at the scattered pictures that Todd displayed.  There was the picture of the Dowdy-Ficklen stadium in Greenville, the large print of a Labrador retriever and lots of black and white prints of the ocean scattered around them. 

            She looked down at her watch and realized that Todd wouldn’t be home for another two hours so she needed to get working on grading the papers.  She turned off the music and was walking to the door, when she turned around to make sure the light was turned out when she noticed the drawing of Fort Macon on the wall directly behind his desk.

            She raised her right hand to her mouth, walked back to the desk and stood directly in front of the picture.  It took her a minute to remember where Todd had picked that particular print up.  It was different from the other beach scenes.  The other pictures were landscapes.  This one showed a battle, with what appeared to be smoke billowing from the small manholes built into the sides of the earth, stone and brick structure. 

And then she remembered.  He had picked this one up when they were at the Strawberry festival the summer before.  She looked at the picture for a long time and wondered what it was about the picture that attracted Todd to it.  She couldn’t figure it out.  When she finally walked away from it, she remembered that it was the afternoon of the Festival that she met the Clemmets.  They were a nice old couple.  It was a shame that they hadn’t been able to see them but once or twice since then.  She left the door open as she walked away from it.

            She slipped back out to the kitchen table and pulled out the children’s papers from the day that she needed to grade.  She worked on them quietly for thirty minutes; everyone once in a while looking up at the picture of Fort Macon hanging behind Todd’s desk.  The thought of him brought a smile to her face.  The feeling of sadness that she felt earlier was nearly forgotten.

            And then she remembered Ralph pointing out the resemblance of Todd’s widow’s peak to that of his grandfather. 

            She looked down at her watch again.  It was four thirty.  She rose out of her seat quickly, grabbed her purse off of the counter, walked to the garage and started the car. 

            She needed to talk to the Clemmets.  If for anything, to talk about the weather.  But she knew that if she engaged Ralph about Todd and his grandfather, that she would uncover more of what was effacing Todd’s normalcy.

            As she made the short drive to the Clemmet’s house, she began to remember the little things that Todd perhaps did to disguise his sadness.  The long walks in the fields together.  The late evenings spent rocking in the swing on the porch. 

            It had never really occurred to her before that when they walked through the fields of the farm in the late afternoons that anything other than work and their togetherness could be weighing on his mind. He seemed so content.  He would point out landmarks and explain what made them significant.  But maybe, he was trying to find a way explain in his mind why things happened to his grandparents the way that they did.

            The word that kept circulating through her mind was distance.  But distance really wasn’t the notion that she felt.  It was more like Todd was longing for something and that longing was making him drift ever so slightly away. 

            She walked up the two doorsteps to the house and rapped on the door. 

            No answer.

            She rapped on it again.

            No answer.

            From around the side of the house Ralph trotted.   Naturally he was surprised to see her.  He gave her a hug and they walked inside.  He began to holler down the hall to his wife but realized that she had left an hour earlier to go get groceries.   He offered her a glass of iced tea and then they walked into the den and sat down.

Chapter 5: Union Pointe

     The fall settled on Vanceboro much like any other year.  September was warm, as was October.  Saturday afternoons were spent in the company of friends at East Carolina University football games.  Sunday afternoons were spent in New Bern at his parents for lunch.

            The noontime lunches were routine.  Todd and Abby would leave Vanceboro shortly after church in the morning and make the thirty minute drive to the Historic District of New Bern.  Once there, his mother and father would have lunch prepared and they would often stroll down to the waterfront and eat on the picnic tables at Union Pointe.

            Every Sunday conversation started with talk of the previous day’s football game in Greenville and how the Pirates had once again either stunned a perennial powerhouse or been embarrassed by a relatively unknown.  Slowly, after ranting and raving and getting all of the frustration off of their chests, the conversation would usually turn to more important things, namely their jobs.

            Sadie and Emerson were both retired, but they both enthusiastically volunteered in the community.  Sadie worked as a guide at Historic Tryon Palace and Emerson as a waterfront tour guide.  Every week each had a new story to tell. 

            It was strange sometimes to listen to the stories of his parents.  When he went to college out of state for four years, he never thought that when he returned back home that he would sense so much of a change in the relationship that he maintained with his parents. 

            His mother maintained many friendships with Todd’s boyhood friends.  For the most part, Todd distanced himself from those old relationships.  But his mother regularly kept him updated on the comings and goings of everyone he would remember.  What they were doing in their lives, really didn’t make a difference to him.  Sure, he was always pleased to hear how someone he knew got married, but it never really made a difference to him as to who or for what reasons they got married.  He listened though, to his mothers stories. 

            Abby generally carried more of their side of the conversation than did Todd.  Todd figured that it was because of their mutual background in education.  Before his mother retired she was a high school English teacher in New Bern. 

As Abby and Sadie discussed child rearing habits and educational tactics, Todd and Emerson nearly always found themselves strolling along the walkway of the park. Rarely did they talk as they walked.  Todd had always acknowledged that the relationship that he maintained with his father was awkward.  When they were in a group of people they could very easily bounce conversation off of one person to another for hours.  But when the two of them were together by themselves, the conversation simply ceased. 

Emerson was one month shy of turning sixty-six.  His hair was nearly completely gray.  When he was in his thirties and forties, when Todd was at home, his face was closely shaven.  Now that he was retired, he let it grow and his face was scraggly and suntanned. 

From where they stood on the walkway, the Neuse was a little over a mile wide.  The temperature on the water was in the sixties, but there were still a few boats teetering towards New Bern from farther down the Neuse, perhaps Oriental or Bayboro. On the other side they could see the faint outlines of small docks and jutting out from the riverbanks.  Behind the docks was a wall of white pines. 

“Did you have a good time at the game yesterday, bud? His dad asked as they continued walking along the bricked walkway. 

“Abby and I had a great time Dad.  The barbecue was great as always.”  His Dad always brought his custom built pig cooker to the tailgating party before each game.  Couples and family friends would enjoy a great pregame meal and a pick-up game of tag football on the embankment just below the stadium in Greenville.  “How many people you reckon we had at the party yesterday?”

“Your mom and I think we counted about 26 or so.”  He smiled to himself.  He liked to entertain people.   He was always good at making people feel “part of the family” as he often said.  Every year the pre-game tailgate had grown by a few couples and he didn’t mind cooking more and more as the years seemed to quickly go by him. 

Todd repeatedly kicked a small stone in front of him as they continued to walk.  He often looked back over his shoulder to see what his Mom and Abby were doing.  Although they both liked to talk, they both had a particular habit of getting a bit too involved in what they were saying and sometimes found themselves getting into rapid fire exchanges.

“So where are you up to this week?”  This was a usual Sunday afternoon question from his Dad.

“Ducks Unlimited wants me to run up to Ahoskie for some “research” this week and next.”  He shook his head a little bit, not looking up though, but paying attention to the stone that he kept bouncing ahead.  “It’s not too far away.  Just a few early morning drives out there.  No big deal.”

“I talked to Dad yesterday.  He said that you haven’t called him in quite some while.”  Emerson looked at him through the corner of his eye.  Todd kicked the little stone quickly and let it tumble over the edge of the walkway and into the lightly rippling wake against the embankment.

“I haven’t had the time to lately.”  That wasn’t entirely true, and he knew it.

“Just call to see how he is doing.  He and your grandmother like to hear from you and Abby.”  

“I’ll try to get to it this week, Dad.”  He wasn’t interested in calling.  His Dad could sense as much in his voice.  Emerson stopped walking and watched as Todd walked five or six steps more before he noticed he was walking alone. 

“You act like its hard for you to pick up a phone.”

“I never liked the stupid things. I stutter too much on them.”

“Don’t give me that.”  Emerson looked at him with a disgusted face and then looked away.  “Besides, I know that’s not the reason.”  Todd looked out across the river and saw an egret dipping low to the water and then sailing quietly and graciously towards her nest on a nearby boey. 

Emerson stopped, turned around, and stared at his son.  His eyes seemed to burn holes into Todd. 

He turned his body away from him and looked over at the table where Abby and his mother were. 

“Son, you do what ever you feel you have to do.  I’m not going to force the issue with you anymore.”  Todd relaxed his stance and turned back towards his Dad.   “He’s eighty-six years old bud, he ain’t going to be around much longer, I think even you would acknowledge that.  Let him know that you are thinking about him sometime.”

“I do think about him.  I think about him and grandma every Sunday when Abby and I come down here for lunch.” 

“Then act like you do.”

Emerson turned and walked back to the picnic table where Abby and Sadie were still talking.  As they did almost Sunday, they continued talking even as he began packing up the picnic basket.

Todd watched as his dad packed the purple plastic plates and laid them gently in the old wicker basket.  So what if he didn’t call his grandparents all the time.  It wasn’t that he didn’t love them. 

A seagull squawked overhead and flew down to the boat docks near the hotel next to the park.  Todd walked to the furthest point of the rounded walkway and put his hands on the railing. 

The smell of the wind off of the river was different than the smell of the ocean, thirty miles away.  The ocean had a fresh smell, one that felt alive.  The river was stale, and felt tired.

Chapter 4: A Morning Walk

It was 6 o’clock in the morning.  The fog that had settled in the cornfield behind the house was thick, and the ground was wet as if drenched with rain.  Todd and Abby walked down the dirt path that led around the small garden directly behind the house and out past the field of corn that was behind it. 

            Their neighbors, who owned an equestrian school, could be seen preparing for the long day ahead of them.  They would often watch them to see how they began their morning.  It was apparent that they had a routine.  Pam did the same thing every morning as did her husband Billy.  Todd could almost time his walk based on what they were doing at the stables.

            The air was always moist in the morning.  Whether there was a fog or not on the ground, the air was always moist.  That didn’t matter to the two of them, though.  They were out there every morning, weather permitting, just to be together for a little while before their days at work began.

            Abby was a very spiritual person.  Not fanatically religious, but rather, spiritual.  She seemed to be at one with the way the world around her seemed to negotiate itself.  She liked to walk with Todd in the morning.  It gave her time to not think about being at school all day with the kids.  It gave her mind a fresh start.  But most of all, she was able to walk with her husband and simply hold his hand.   

            Sometimes she would walk barefoot, letting the sandy soil come up between her toes.  On days when the fog was thick, her long brown hair would take in the water and by the time that they returned to the house, it would be soaked.  She didn’t care. 

            There was innocence to her that Todd couldn’t live without.  He knew it was a cliché, but he just couldn’t imagine her any other way.  Whenever he was with her, it felt as if the burden of all that he had on his mind was lifted and taken away. 

            “Only two more weeks of school,” said Abby.  She couldn’t wait.  It had been a long year. 

            Todd smiled at her and squeezed her hand three times.  “I know you can’t wait to get out of there.”  It was going to be nice to spend three months with Abby.  They had been unable to spend much time totally together since they had moved to Vanceboro.  They had the usual school breaks, Thanksgiving, Christmas and Easter, together, but that was usually also spent in the company of most of Todd’s family.  The summer was going to be different.  There would be no family around, except for the occasional visit, and they would be able to do just as they pleased for the next three months.

            “I called Mr. Johnson yesterday afternoon about getting the condo at the beach for a week in August.  He said that it shouldn’t be a problem.”

            “Thank you,” Todd said, surprised.  “I was going to take care of that this morning, but I guess that you beat me to it.”

            “If I have to wait for you to call, we may not have a week at the beach for five or six years,” Abby shot back.

            “Just for that comment, you will try some seafood this time.”  He had been trying for the last three years to get her to try seafood.  He couldn’t understand why she wouldn’t even eat the ever so tasty crab cakes from Maryland.  This trip, though, he was determined to make her at least try shrimp.

            “You go on thinking that.”  She curled up her nose.  The thought of it made her shiver and let out an overly exaggerated yech!

            “Oh, it’s not that bad.”

            “Umm, yeah.”  She was dead set against the idea.

            As they passed the first cornfield, the tractor path veered to the right and up to the large tobacco field at the very end of their property.  When he used to farm with his grandparents, they used to call the area, appropriately, back-of-the-field. 

            They walked along the path, all the while holding hands. 

            “It was interesting meeting the Clemmet’s,” Todd said. 

            “They were nice.”

            Todd watched along the side of the path.  Occasionally, on really damp and foggy morning, a snake would slither next to them as they walked.  Most of the time they were little garden snakes, but that really didn’t make a difference to Abby.  A snake is a snake and the only good snake is a dead snake. 

            They rarely said anything to each other as they walked each morning.  It was a time for both of them to clear their mind.  There was a breeze this morning that gently brushed all of the plants against each other.  The soybeans and corn made a light whistling sound.  The tobacco, a soft sound, almost like brushed leather rubbing against itself.

            Abby thought of the beach vacation that she had just planned.  It was going to be nice to get out of Vanceboro for a week.  At times, she resented the place.  Everything was so slow.  She was used to the bustling comings and goings of Washington-Baltimore Corridor.  Vanceboro, in stark contrast, was almost a standstill.

            But Todd liked the town.  He liked being able to go Vera’s Diner for lunch and talk with everyone.  It wasn’t a place that you really had to know everyone.  But, it was a place where it felt as if you did know everyone. He liked to swing by Pat’s Soda Shop, and pick up orangeades for the both of them.  He liked the ambiance of the place.  Perhaps, it was nostalgic to him.  She wasn’t quite sure.

            She reached her hand out and put his hand in hers.  She held it tight.  He looked at her and smiled and then looked back to the path continuing to walk.

             He was so quiet, she thought.   He had been that way as long as they had known each other.  She often wondered what he had going on inside of him.  His free-lance writing for various outdoors magazines meant that he was at home, or at least in the area most of the time.  His job fit him perfectly.  He loved the outdoors.  To write about what he truly loved was just as fulfilling for her as it was for him.  The thoughtful introspection that he saturated his pieces with gave her insight into his mind. 

            She looked at his hair gently being tossed by the breeze and smiled to herself.  She leaned over and quickly gave him a kiss on the cheek.

            “What was that for?” he asked?

            “I have to have a reason for giving my husband a kiss?”

            He smiled at her.  “Well, no.”

            “I was just thinking about you.”

            “What about?” he asked.

            “Just about how much I love you.”

            He stopped and put both of his hands around her waist.  “I love you too.”  He pushed the hair that had blown into her face, away.  He looked into her eyes.

            She closed her eyes and waited for him to kiss her.  

            He kissed her softly on the lips. 

            “I do love you, Abby.” 

            She opened her eyes back up.  He was staring at her still.  “I know you do.”  She kissed him back.  She put her hand back in his and they continued walking.

            They walked ahead to the end of the path and then turned around, back towards the house.

            “What do you want for dinner tonight?” he asked her.

            “I don’t care, it’s up to you.”  She laughed to herself. 

            “What’s so funny?”

            “How can you think about what we are having for dinner this early in the morning?”

            “Well, dinner is the most important meal of the day.”

            “I thought that breakfast was.”

            “Maybe for you,” he winked at her.

            She slapped him on the arm playfully.  He laughed at her and quickly jerked his hand away from hers and started tickling her.  She ran ahead trying to escape.  When he caught up with her, she tried to tickle him back, but it was useless, he wrapped his arms around her, preventing her from getting him back.