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.