THE WATERS

By Jo

Part Four:

Letty could hardly contain herself.  For the second time in her life she was going by train up to South Fork.  They'd left Johnstown early, her throat constricting a bit as she thought of her father back in his store, of Erin and her fantastical camels, of her Grandmother's eyes.  But by the time they'd passed Woodvale and pulled into East Conemaugh, she was filled with eager anticipation.  She kept her face almost plastered to the window as they continued up the narrow valley.  South Fork, the border of her world.  She was going there again, after seven years she was going there again. And this time she was 18, not 11, and she had plans to extend that border at least two more miles.

It was a grand morning, a cloudless sky making the big lake look a stunning blue. Captain wanted to take out one of the small sailboats but had discovered you had to pass a test before permission for that was granted. He explained he'd sailed every lake in Italy but they still shook their heads. No, he must prove himself.  It was the rule. The hired boating instructors were firm.  So Captain had sighed and permitted them to take him out to a deep part of the lake where they dumped him in and proceeded to upend a boat over him. If you could swim out from under it, right the boat, then you would be allowed to take one of them out on the lake alone. He thought it a colossal waste of time, but as he only had to do the damn thing once, he figured he might as well get it over with. The boat was a small skiff and the whole process took him just a few minutes. Then he'd gone back to the clubhouse to change, have lunch with his parents.  He planned to spend the bulk of the afternoon sailing.

"So," his father said, setting down his butter knife, "you're glad you came with us, Son?"

"I'm glad," he replied, waiting while a serving girl refilled his water glass.  He observed her covertly, her proper, quiet manner, her prim uniform.  He'd noticed that no one really looked

at the serving girls, not as people, well, people who mattered, anyway. They had to come from somewhere, he mused. Probably South Fork.
 

"Thank you," he said as she began to move away, dipping her head at him with a tremulous little smile.  He looked around the large room, at those seated at table, the wealthy girls and young women, at their mothers, all busily chatting while they ate. All of them could have stepped out

of some fashion magazine with their dresses, their hairdos, their hats. Like little drab moths among the butterflies, the serving girls moved, soundless, in their black and grey and white, their hair in tight buns at the napes of their necks, very careful to do everything right, to offer no offense.  That was the way life was, had always been. A whole crew of servants were always moving about somewhere in his parents' big house on Fifth Avenue, dusting, polishing, sweeping, cooking, changing bedding, doing laundry, tending the gardens or the stable.  He thought about the accident of birth that made you either the pourer of the water or the holder of the crystal goblet.  His own fingers had curled around the stem of the just-filled goblet by his plate and he smiled wryly at the vagaries of fate.

He took a long sip of the water then said, "I plan on sailing this afternoon. Want to explore the outer reaches of the lake."

"Think of asking a young lady to accompany you?" his father suggested.

"No."  He didn't explain further.  He wanted to be alone, to be out on the lake by himself.

"Well, if you change your mind, Captain, Priscilla there," he nodded toward a young woman with blonde waves pulled up elaborately on her head," would, I'm sure, be glad to go.  I've seen her noticing you ever since dinner last night."  Michael smiled with indulgent pride at his handsome son. 

Captain let his eyes follow his father's nod.  He'd been completely unaware of Priscilla until this moment and he preferred that it remained that way.  "Thank you, father," he said politely, "but as this will be my first go at the lake, I want to try it out by myself."

After lunch, he walked out and down toward the lake, shaking his head as he saw Louis Clarke had lined up a row of women for a photograph. There were eight of them, standing in the grass, holding each other's waists, all in elaborate dresses with even more elaborate headwear.  He walked past them in his comfortable slacks, his shirt and braces, his cap, glad he was male and allowed to be able to...move.  He was unaware two or three sets of female eyes watched his passing. Alinda, the one in the checked skirt and white blouse, sighed to herself as he turned and headed down to the boat houses.

"We'll share this room," Molly said, setting her valise on one of the two small beds in her grandparents' extra room up under the rafters of the roof. The room was small, its walls plastered and painted a light green, which helped make it look at least a little larger. The

ceiling sloped sharply on two ends so you could only really stand erect in the center of the room.
Letty sat down on her bed. "It's fine, Molly. We won't be spending much time up here anyway.

I want to...," she let her voice trail off.

"What, Letty? Is there something you want to do?"

"I want...to go up to the dam."

"The dam? But it's just a huge mound of dirt with stuff growing on it."

"I know you've seen it from below, Molly, but I haven't, and I want to see the lake itself, too."

"But you can't go up there, Letty. It's private property. It's got signs everywhere."

"I know. But I still want to see the lake."

"It's just a lake, Letty. What's special about a lake?"

"It's...it's up here, Molly. Up here where there never was a lake. And...and it's got sailboats on it."  She closed her eyes, imagining the sight. "Sailboats," she repeated, her voice a bare whisper.

"I don't know about that, Letty. We could get in trouble."

"No one will see us, Molly. We can be really careful about that, stay back in the trees."

"I'm supposed to be taking care of my grandparents, Letty. I don't know that I can even get away to do something like that."

"I got away, Molly. I got away and came here. I just can't be this close and not see the lake. I just can't."

"It's two miles to the dam. That's kind of far."

"Two miles is nothing," Letty smiled determinedly. "Not for me."

"I don't know. I'm not sure I want to go."

"I can go by myself.  There's just the one road up and back. No way to get lost."

"By yourself? Your father would have a fit, Letty Flynn!"

"Not if you don't tell him."

Molly's eyes opened wider. "That doesn't sound like you, not at all!"

"I want this, Molly. I want it really badly. And I'm going whether you come or not."

"Molly!" It was her grandfather, calling for her to come.

"I've got to go downstairs," she said. "I promised Grandmum I'd hold her yarn while she winds it. You go ahead and unpack your things and I'll talk to you in a little while."

Letty went to the small window at the end of the room and looked out.  Molly's grandparents' house was perched high on the side of the big slope above South Fork Creek.  She saw a path leading into the woods and it struck her that if she followed that over the hill, it would cut off half the distance to the dam than if you went along the road near the creek.  Quickly she unpacked one of her notebooks she always had with her, tore out half a back page and
scribbled, "Gone to the lake. Be back soon. Don't worry!"  She underlined 'don't worry' twice, then left the note on Molly's bed.

Slipping down the stairs as quietly as she could, she peered around the arched opening of the entrance to the sitting room where Molly sat on a stool near her grandmother's feet, both hands up with a skein of yellow yarn around them as the older woman wound it into a ball. There were quite a few more skeins spilling out of a carpet bag at Molly's side. They'd be at it for some time. The grandfather was asleep on the couch. What was she supposed to do anyway?  So she opened the door inch by inch and stepped out onto the small porch. Making her way around the yard, she located the path she'd seen from the upstairs window.

"Probably no bears," she murmured to herself, looking down the path as it disappeared uphill through a thick growth of trees. "Probably not."

As she'd said a moment ago, she couldn't be this close and not see the lake. She just couldn't. Gathering up her long, dark skirt, she began to walk up the path. Only a mile. What was a mile? As she went, she figured this must be the way the local men came when they wanted to fish in

the streams that fed into the lake, or in some inlet of the lake itself.  She knew it had been stocked with black bass back when the lake was new.  It was a well-known story that it had

been so expensive to haul the bass up there in tank cars that each of them had ended up costing

a whole dollar apiece. She could hardly imagine that...for a fish. But it was stories like that that only served to make the lake even more magical in her mind.

She began to hum to herself as she trudged uphill, hoping this was the right path and that it would actually take her to the base of the dam. Coming out into a small meadow, she gathered an armful of wildflowers as she crossed it.  It was such a lovely day, a perfect day to see the lake for the first time.  But the path suddenly grew extremely steep and it took too much breath to hum. Where was the dam? Shouldn't she have been there by now?

What she didn't realize was that because the path was, indeed, the one followed by fishermen who weren't allowed to fish up there, it skirted the dam, went more deeply into the forest where discovery was less likely. When Letty finally saw the glint of water through the trees, it was the lake itself and she came out of the trees a good quarter of a mile past the dam.

"Well, that explains how steep the path got," she commented to herself.

Fascinated by the blue water, she continued on toward its shore. It was big, bigger than she'd ever imagined and it disappeared in the distance behind a ridge of  trees. The sky lay all scattered on its surface, sparkling in the bright August sunlight. It lured her, pulled her onward to itself, a smile widening on her face. There was a large, squarish rock right at the edge and she stepped up on it, her wildflowers hanging in her right hand at her side, and simply stared and stared at the lake. How wonderful it was to dream a dream and not be disappointed by its reality. And then a single small sailboat floated by some distance from her. Turning her head,
she watched it glide, a winged thing, white, floating over the blue.



A lot of boats were out on the lake since it was such a great day for sailing. Most of them had headed for the far end, away from the dam, including Louis Clarke's noisy little steamboat. 

So Captain had deliberately tacked toward the dam, pleased to find himself unaccompanied by the loud, laughing company of people now far in the distance. A blessed quiet lay over the lake where he was...alone, free...and he tacked back and forth, running along close beside the dam

for a bit, then heading back out into the middle of the lake again.  He leaned lazily back, his green eyes absorbing the sky, the sound of the breeze ruffling the tops of the trees that ringed

the lake.

Then something caught his eye on the shore. It was a woman, standing on a large rock.  She was rather far from the clubhouse and seemed to be by herself and that caught his attention. He sat up, squinting against the sun to see her better. He didn't recognize her, but then he'd not really paid much attention to the young women at the club. This one was dressed more simply, too, a plain dark skirt, a white blouse.  What was she doing? Just...standing there? She was perfectly immobile, the only movement a slight ruffling of her skirt by the breeze. Curious, he tacked closer, saw she was holding a large bunch of wildflowers. She seemed to be watching his boat and as he drew still closer, he could see she had a large smile on her face.  He tipped his hat to her as he sailed past and her smile widened for a moment, then froze on her pretty face.

What was she thinking? Like some fool she'd been standing out there on this rock in plain sight. The man in the boat had obviously seen her! He might report her presence and then she'd be in trouble for sure. She jumped lightly off the rock and, holding her skirts, ran for the woods.

Captain, amazed at her, watched as she disappeared into the forest shadows. Why had she done that?  She reminded him of a deer the way she'd fled. For a while, a long while, she'd stood there looking so happy. What had happened? Then he realized he had happened. He'd come close and she didn't want to be seen. Ah, she must, then, not be part of the family of a club member. That would explain her simpler attire. He was sorry he'd made her leave. She'd seemed so pleased to be there up until that moment. He sighed and tacked away from the shore.

Letty had stopped about ten feet into the woods, peeking out from behind a large balsam as she watched the boat sail away. Her heart had been pounding and she pressed her left hand to it, waiting for its beats to slow. Her right palm felt sweaty around the stems of her flowers and she realized what a warm afternoon it was becoming. She should make her way back down the path, back to where Molly was. Perhaps the flowers would serve as an excuse for her outing? She'd
give them to Molly's grandmother.  But she couldn't leave, not so long as she could see that single sail. The man had smiled, had tipped his hat to her, hadn't shouted at her, hadn't told her to go away.  Maybe it was all right after all? Maybe...maybe tomorrow she could come back?

ON TO PART 5

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