Rainie’s Lake
by
Brenda Woody & Steve Tindle
BLT Innovations LLC at Smashwords
Copyright 2012 Brenda Woody & Steve Tindle
Smashwords Edition
This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Dylan Bishop locks the classroom door after his last student walks out. Fall quarter has ended and he has two weeks before his art class will begin again with a fresh crop of new students. His Wrangler is already packed with his art kit, fishing gear and the rest of the essentials he will need for his stay in the cabin at the lake. Waving to a group of instructors mingling in the hall, he rechecks the knob to confirm it’s locked.
A cute, young teacher meets his gaze. “Have fun on your trip, Dylan.”
“Thanks. See you in two weeks.” Smiling directly at her, he waves again. Wow, she finally noticed me. I’ve been trying to get her attention for weeks. Wonder if she finally dumped that goofy boyfriend? After glancing back at her, Yes! She's still looking my way; he hesitates, gazing her way again and then quickly opens the exit door and breathes in the fresh air as the sun warms his face. Ready to get away he hops in his jeep, puts the vehicle in gear and drives out of the parking lot. Putting on his favorite ‘Gone Fishing’ cap, he smiles. This vacation is long over due.
Two and half hours later, Dylan stops at a small gas station to buy food and bait. As he enters the door a bell jingles and an older man sitting behind the counter nods and smiles. Dylan smiles and heads to the back of the store where the fishing bait is kept. Opening the refrigerator chest, he sees Red Wigglers, Meal worms and Superworms. The latter displayed by a big sign propped in the bucket and on sale. Turning around, Dylan notices the old man walking towards him.
“I’ll take a tub of the Superworms.”
“Well, you’ve come at the right time of the year. The fish are biting all day.” The old man grabs a container and reaches in the bucket for a handful of worms. “Anything else you’ll be needing?”
“Junk food and a couple of six packs.” Dylan laughs as he heads over to the beer and wine aisle. He grabs two six packs of imported beer then walks over towards the food.
“You need a box?” The old man holds an empty box above his head.
“Thanks.” Placing the beer on the counter beside the worms, he takes the box and proceeds to shop. After selecting a few cans of soup, crackers, chips, cheese, lunchmeat bread, mayonnaise, bacon, eggs, two lemons and bottled water, Dylan places the box by the register.
As the old man rings up the items, Dylan leans against the counter.
“That’ll be thirty four dollars and forty six cents.”
He pulls his wallet out of his back pocket and hands the man two twenties.
“If you run out of bait, we’re open until nine every night.” The old man gives Dylan his change and the receipt.
“That’s good to know. I hope to catch a few big trout in the morning.” Taking the change and receipt, he stuffs them in his pocket and picks up the box.
“See ya around.” The old man sits in his chair.
The bell jingles as Dylan walks out.
As he slowly drives on a long dirt road with his window down, the sun is setting and the area seems darker because of the forest. Smelling the damp earth and pungent pines, Dylan fills his lungs and can’t wait to roam a few trails. He looks at the odometer; he has driven six miles. Two more miles to go. When he found the ad online for the rental which also included a photo, he knew this was his destination. Looking around at the forest, he sees a few places he’d like to paint. The leaves on the oaks are still a brilliant red, orange and brown; winter has not set in.
As he turns a bend, the cabin is nestled in pine trees with a spectacular view of the lake behind it, just like in the photo. Parking along side the cabin, Dylan gets out of the jeep, looks around and then walks over to the water’s edge. Tied on one side of a long dock is a row boat with the oars lying across the seats. Checking along the crevices for any leaks and finding none, he’s satisfied the boat will float in the water. As he walks back up to the cabin, a pile of cut wood on the side of the porch catches his attention. Good. I can light a fire if the nights get chilly.
Taking a key out of his pocket, he unlocks the front door. The cabin is clean but has a musty smell from being closed up. The kitchen, dining area and living room is a big open space with a huge fireplace on one wall. There’s a wood bin with a few small logs ready to be burned. Walking to the hall on the left, he finds two bedrooms and a bathroom. The master bedroom must be on the other side of the cabin. As he walks across the large room, he looks out the big bay window. The sun is kissing the lake as it makes it’s descent to sleep. The way the water changes color from blue to vivid orange and red, and the silver reflection stops him dead in his tracks. Wow, now there’s a scene to paint. He stands mesmerized for a few minutes. I’d better get my gear before it gets too dark.
After unpacking his jeep, he leans the fishing poles by the front door. Once inside, he lays his art kit and sketch pad on the coffee table and takes the box of food to the kitchen. Placing the beer and water in the fridge, he then carries the rest of his gear to the master bedroom. A large king size bed covered with a blue, feather down comforter is centered on one wall. An antique tall boy stands beside the bathroom door. Opening the drawers, he finds the first four empty and bed linen and towels in the fifth. Unloading his clothes from his travel bag and placing them in the empty drawers, he grabs his shaving kit, and heads to the bathroom to take a long hot shower.
While pulling on his favorite blue striped, flannel pants, goose bumps rise on his legs and arms as the cold material touches his skin. Shivering, he quickly puts on a sweatshirt, and builds a fire in the living room. As he stands in front of the roaring flames enjoying the warmth, his stomach growls; reminding him it’s past supper time. Walking into the kitchen, he opens the pantry doors to find it well stocked with staples, each container neatly labeled; coffee, sugar, flour, rice, salt and pepper. After putting the food away, Dylan heats a bowl of soup in the microwave. When the ding sounds, he takes out the bowl, grabs a box of crackers and bottled water, and then settles on the sofa to look through his sketch pad while he eats.
Just as a writer can have writer’s block, an artist can have a creative block. Dylan hopes to find his inspiration here at the cabin.
***
Waking up early the next morning, Dylan doesn’t want to miss the best time of the day to fish. He grabs his coat to get a few logs from beside the porch and starts a fire to take the chill out of the cabin. Laying his coat over the back of a chair, he makes a pot of coffee, and looks out the kitchen window. To his disappointment, a thick fog has rolled over the lake. Damn! Well, now I’ll have to wait until the fog lifts. The fire crackles as it burns and the smell of pine drifts in the air. He stands before the fire, and contemplates about drawing until noon. Nah, I’ll just take a walk around outside. When the coffee is ready, he dons the coat again and heads out onto the back deck, steaming cup in hand.
As he looks around, his gaze lands on a slim figure standing by the shore not too far from the dock. The fog is so thick he can’t see whether it’s male or female.
“Hello?” Dylan calls out and goes down the steps. As the pine needles crunch beneath his boots, he hopes whoever it is hears him approaching.
As he gets closer, the person turns towards him.