122 lines
3.5 KiB
Plaintext
122 lines
3.5 KiB
Plaintext
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The marina was full of its usual Saturday morning noises on
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this particularly halcyon August day. There had been a spell of
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heavy rain the week before, and with the skies clear and temperature
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high, vacationers and lakegoers were abundant. A small troupe of
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gulls were making their way across the fairway, catching many an
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unwary fish who ventured too close to the surface. The ten o'clock
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sun cast its rays into the water, causing the few belly-up fish on
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the surface to glisten. The sailboat masts pierced the sky and the
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speedboat engines chortled in the morning air. Boaters were washing
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their vessels, readying for a lovely cruise on Lake Erie. A few
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children, accompanied by their parents, seemed calmed by the lake's
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hypnotic serenity.
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Kevin drove by the dock which held his parent's boat. Nope, his
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parents weren't there yet, just as he figured. When his parents go
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boating, they usually don't arrive at the marina until about noon.
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"You wanna drive around for a while? " Kevin asked his girlfriend,
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Sloane.
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"Yeah. Let's go up to East Harbor," she replied, pushing the long,
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brown hair out of her face. With that, Kevin maneuvered the car out of
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the marina and onto the main raod. Sloane hit the power button on the
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radio which caused the speakers to emit an upbeat tune.
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Sloane was lightly entertained by the scrolling trees and lake
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backfront as they drove. "The shore looks picture perfect today."
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"You want me to get my camera out?" he mocked her, half serious.
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"No, I'm just saying, it's pretty, you know?" Smiling, Kevin pulled
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the car onto the side of the road. "Okay, now where's my camera?" he said
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as he groped along the back seat of his late-model sports car.
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Finding it, they quickly left the car and went over to the trees.
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They were in a roadside cemetary, about fifty yards from the lake. "It's
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sort of pretty, in a wierd sort of way," Sloane commented on her
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surroundings.
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"Yeah," Kevin replied, fiddling with his Minolta. "Why don't you
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go over there?" He pointed toward an old oak stump, about eight feet
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high, whose branches had long fallen off. It stood just beyond the
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last and oldest footstone, like a lighthouse on a rocky beach. With
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the light blue sky and tranquil shoreline both readily in view, it would
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be a great backdrop.
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"Now turn around and smile," he called out to her. She was in perfect
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focus in the viewfinder, next to the massive stump. An occasional boat
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dotted the lake.
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"Kev, c'mere. This isn't a tree."
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He was momentarily confused. "What do you mean, it isn't a tree?"
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He went to see what she was rambling about.
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"Look."
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She was right. It was a large, intricately carved granite replica
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of a tree, with elaborate bark lines and even a small bird's nest
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accurately depicted on top. From a relatively close distance, even five
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or six yards, it looked like a venerable old tree. Closer inspection
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revealed a small cross emblazoned on its south side, and an inconspicuous
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epitaph on the bottom. In small letters it said, 'Ledge, 1852-1891.'
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"It's pretty - must have cost a lot," Sloane said. "Almost as
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good as Kennedy's memorial, with the burning torch."
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Kevin sort of thought about what HIS headstone would one day
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read, but quickly dismissed the thought. "Who cares, I'll never be around
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to see it."
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"What?" Sloane asked.
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"Nothing. Let's get something to eat. I'm hungry."
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- * -
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