An Easier Word Day

 I didn't have as much trouble getting my words down today as I did  yesterday.  I remembered to turn on the nature sounds that help me write and things went smoothly.  At least I managed to eke out 1700 words which is about 40 words more than the daily quota.  Okay, 33 more words.  I sent my characters to one of my favorite restaurants on the island and had them order what I like to order and then when he dropped her off after supper he kissed her.  Ooh.  Just a kiss, though, no hanky panky.  She's not that kind of girl.  I don't think.

A Grackle came to the suet pellet feeder today.  I haven't seen one of those in months, not since I stopped putting mealworms in the platform feeder.  I like the speckles.

This evening I finished the Mistake Rib Baby Hat.  It's very stretchy.  I spent most of the afternoon listening to an audiobook and knitting on the hat.  I'm having the devil of a time multitasking these days.  It's hard to watch TV and knit.  I guess old age really is creeping up on me.

 

 

21 November--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

Two days later I drove to the little whitewashed church with the bougainvillea blooming all around it.  Pastor Davis looked about sixty years old and had a smile to rival the sunshine.  “Good day,” she said as I got out of the car.  “You must be Mrs. Lambert.  Ignatius called me the other day to say that you are looking for a man named Reynolds.” 

I shook her outstretched hand.  “Yes, I think he built the Seaview, the B&B that Iggy is helping me renovate.” 

She shook her head.  “Oh, I imagine that there is much more renovation than you anticipated.  That place hasn’t been well cared for in years.”  As she spoke, she escorted me into the parsonage and into her office.  “Would you like something cool to drink? Some lemonade perhaps?”

I was very thirsty.  “Thank you, I would love some.” 

She was back in just a minute with a small tray holding two large glasses filled with ice and lemonade.

I took a sip. “Oh, that’s good.  Thank you.”

She sat in her desk chair and folded her hands on the blotter.  “Now, how can I help you?” 

“I found some letters and a bank passbook in a compartment in the floor with the name Abram Reynolds on them. I’m hoping that you will know if any family of his is still on Anguilla.” 

Her smile had faded.  “I have heard the name but do not think he came from here or stayed here long.”

“Well, thank you for checking and thank you for the lemonade and your time.” I stood to go. 

She held up a hand.  “I am not finished.  Just because he was not from here and did not stay for many years does not mean that I found nothing about him.”  She waved me back into my seat.  Looking down at a pad she said, “Mr. Abram Reynolds came to Anguilla in about 1956 on a cargo ship and stayed when the ship sailed.” She flipped the page.  “He lived on the island for about ten years but never really blended in.”

“How did you find out about him?” I said. 

“I spoke with a few of my older parishioners.  They remembered him unfavorably.”

I sat up straighter.  “Why? What did he do?”

She glanced at the papers in front of her.  “He was not nice to people, except for young women, them he tried to bed.  All of them.  No one was immune from his advances.” 

“Oh dear.  Did he leave a string of babies behind?”

She shook her head.  “Not one.”

“That’s odd.”

She shook her head again.  “Not really.  He told a few of them that he had scarlet fever as a boy so he could not get them pregnant and it must have been true because there were none.”

I shuddered.  “What a creep.  I’m glad we’ve torn out just about everything except the shell of the building.  Glad to wipe him off the island once and for all.” 

She smiled.  “Once the daddies and uncles learned of his shenanigans he did not stay long.  I believe that he left on the next ship, a cargo ship just like the one he arrived on.” 

I finished my lemonade, the ice clinking in the glass as I set it down on the coaster on the edge of her desk. 

“More?” she asked. 

I nodded.  “If you can spare the time.” 

She was up and back with the pitcher before I had finished the sentence.  She smiled as she poured the glass full again.  “I have an ulterior motive.”

“Oh? What is it? I’m afraid I’m not much of a church goer.” 

“No, not that.  Well, I would like it if you came to church but I want to know about the Seaview.  Have you found historic things in it?”

I put down my glass and shook my head.  “Not so far.  Just the letter from the government giving Mr. Reynolds permission to build the hotel and a passbook from Scotiabank.  There is also what I think is a safe deposit box key on the huge key ring I got from the seller’s representative.”  I took a breath. “The coolest thing is an article from a newspaper about Ernest Hemingway coming to fish.  There’s a picture to go with it of Hemingway and some island man with a big marlin on a dock.

            She took a card from the holder on her desk and handed it to me.  “Will you get in touch with me if you find anything historic, please?  I am writing a history of Anguilla and need anything you find.”

            “Sure.” I took her card.  “If you have a photocopier we can make copies of the Hemingway article and photo.  I’ll bring it by one day next week, if that’s okay.”

            She clapped her hands together.  “That would be lovely.  We can have lunch.”  She escorted me to my car and gave me a hug before I got in.  “Oh, I hope you don’t mind.”

            I shook my head.  “I don’t mind. I don’t get many hugs since my husband died and I’d love to have lunch with you. Thanks.”  I drove home thinking that I’d made another friend.

Today's toss was two sets of my original interchangeable knitting needles.  I don't use them anymore, I have better quality ones, so someone else might as well get some use out of them.

After supper, one of the newest Investment Cooking meals, I knitted and watched Call the Midwife.  I tell you, I'm hooked. Once I turn on one episode I am glued to the tube and watch episode after episode until three have gone by and I realize the time.  I'm addicted.  What will I do when I run out of episodes?  I wonder if they're still making new ones.

--Barbara