Part 6 “So how was your Christmas, anyway?” Sheri asked. We’d just pulled up in front of the only café open through the winter in our neck of the woods. “It was fine, I guess,” I whined. “I mean, Flint hardly says a word unless I’m out of the room and then I hear him talking to Ryan and Mom.” We got out of the car and headed for the door. The aroma of deep fried everything assaulted us. “We should have stayed home,” Sheri said. “This food will kill us.” Opening the door was kind of like staying home. The tables were occupied with friends and neighbors, all chatty and happy to see us. “The taco salad isn’t so unhealthy, and it’s good. That’s what I usually get here.” We picked a table and shrugged out of our jackets. “I’m dying for coffee,” I looked around for Rita, the owner and only waitress. She was coming up behind me with a fresh pot. “Hi gals,” she smiled as she poured. “Want menus or do you know what you want?” “Guess I’ll have my usual,” I said. “I’ll try one too,” said Sheri. “Joe!” Rita shouted at the cook. “Two…
Category: Randomness
The Flint Riggins Story, Part 5
Pt. 5 Ryan stoked the fire. Although it was nearly midnight, the three of us were wide awake. “Well,” I sighed, “Christmas is next week. Are you inviting him to town? What’s the plan for that?” I could just imagine the whole extended family gathered around the huge dining table at my parent’s house when the introduction is made. “By the way,” Mom would smile and nod toward Flint. “This is Ryan and Vicki’s half brother by another mother.” I chuckled to myself. “I would like to have a quiet Christmas here,” Mom said. “Just the three of us and Flint. We don’t have to host the whole gang every year and under the circumstances, I think it would be nice for you to get to know him a bit.” I hadn’t meant to grown out loud. “Vicki, you need to change your attitude. It’s not his fault. He was fourteen when his poor excuse for a mother died, your dad abandoned him from the start, his foster homes were nightmares, and he’s been damaged serving his country. The addition will be totally private and give him a safe warm home, something he’s never had and something he certainly deserves.”…
The Flint Riggins Story, Part 4
Pt. 4 Noon Saturday arrived with my brother Ryan at my front door delivering Mom. She’d packed enough for a month which got me wondering if that was exactly her plan. Stay long enough to get me straightened out, living again, fixing myself up! I knew she worried about what I was going to do with the rest of my life, but I didn’t. I simply didn’t care. Peace and semi-solitude suited me well. They removed boots, hats, gloves, scarves, and parkas, burying the coat rack, then joined me in the kitchen for lunch. I’d offered to make my famous butternut squash soup and toasted cheese sandwiches so we could visit before Ryan headed back into town. I also wanted to find out what he’d been doing out at the lake recently without coming to see me. Mom got three coffee cups from the cupboard and filled them up, taking cream out of the refrigerator and setting it on the table. I made the sandwiches and Ryan filled the soup bowls. When everything was ready, we took our seats at the old kitchen table and smiled at each other. It was all so familiar- good memories surrounded us. “This…
The Flint Riggins Story Pt. 3
Pt. 3 A week later, two of my childhood buddies and fellow lake residents, Norma and Sheri, joined me in my cozy living room for a girls night in. The fire I’d built in the big rock fireplace crackled and danced while we made ourselves comfortable in the old leather furniture, soft as butter from years of wear. I set out some snacks and poured everyone a glass of red wine and we toasted the three of us. “To hanging out in no-man’s-land all winter long,” Sheri lifted her glass and Norma and I joined in with a soft clinking together of my grandmother’s crystal goblets. “Hey,” Sheri began as she settled into the big leather chair, “I saw Ryan out here again the other day. What’s he been up to?” “Ryan? My brother, Ryan?” “The one and only,” Sheri nodded. “I have no idea.” I felt myself squint. “What do you mean ‘again’? I didn’t know he was here at all.” “Yeah, he was talking to Flint a couple of days ago. I figured he was making arrangements to have Flint shovel for you, or something like that, but it is strange he didn’t come and say hello.” “He…
The Flint Riggins Story Pt. 2
Pt. 2 The winter of 1998 was particularly tough on all of us. The roads were plowed continuously yet never clear, the drifts rose so high we drove through tunnels and walkways and driveways were a never ending job. If you planned on getting out of the house in the morning, you shoveled last thing in the evening. Of course, we were used to it, living in this part of the country demands preparation for the seasons and most of us loved it. I had come to occupy the family lake house full time while I attempted to put the fragments of my life back together: not at all like they used to be, yet mended back together in a way that would allow me to continue living on my own. Discovering that my best friend and husband of twenty six years had a secret life which included a young lover and a child stomped out the fairy tale of happily ever after. I’ve learned it was all a mirage unfortunately. And now, for the second part of my life; a true one, an honest one. I will never let me down, I decided. I will take good care of…
The Flint Riggins Story, Pt. 1
Hi! I’m sorry my blog is late getting out this week. Life just gets in the way doesn’t it? I received so much positive feedback from the Cammie Orton series I decided to do it again. So, here we go! I hope you enjoy it. Mary Ann The Story of Flint Riggins Part 1 Flint Riggins was a friend of a friend of a friend of mine. I never really wanted to get to know the guy, but as it turned out, I had no choice. Destiny is a curious thing. Total confusion along the way and then suddenly, there you are, face to face with it. I’ll never know how it all came about. Just that it did and sometimes that has to be good enough. Acceptance I guess: simple acceptance. It was 1998 when I first met him. He had a dog named Vern. I’ll never forget how hard I laughed over a dog named Vern. I mean seriously, can’t you just hear it. “Vernon!” Flint would holler. “Vern you come on now.” I’m not the only one who cracked up over that name. The dog lived to obey. His adoration for his master was evident in…
Pt. 6 (and the end) of The Cammie Orton Story
Pt. 6 Ann clamored down the stairs as quickly as she could, grasping the pealing metal railing, flecks of paint fleeing her hands like snow in the wind. Maddy and I froze at the top of the stairs. Our eyes locked. “Let’s give her minute,” she muttered. I nodded understanding the possible need for a private moment as Ann passed under the crumbling door frame. There was nothing but silence. I could hear my heart pounding. We waited a couple of minutes before hearing Ann’s soft voice strangled in tears. “Who…how could she…how long?” Maddy and I slowly descended the steep stairs and peaked cautiously into the cellar. Odors crept our way, invading our sense of smell with that chilling dampness and old mold cellars are famous for. But what we beheld defied the odor. The room, no larger than a prison cell, was the definition of a desperate attempt at survival with dignity. An old wooden crate turned on it’s side served as a night stand next to a cot. The cot was tiny and metal, like an old army cot. Although it obviously lacked a mattress, it was piled with old quilts and pillows of all sizes and…
Pt. 5 of the Cammie Orton Story
Part 5 “Come on Maddy,” I tugged on her arm. “What are you doing?” She stood glued to the ground staring at the Orton’s back door. “Did you not see the backpack right there?” Maddy nodded toward the porch as she reluctantly began following me up the driveway. “Yes, I saw it.” “I think she’s planning on leaving, that’s what I think. We need to call Kathy immediately.” She shifted into her speed walk mode, unable to get a foot through her own front door fast enough. I let myself in behind Maddy, heading straight for her kitchen and a cup of coffee I knew was waiting in the thermos. Maddy came in with her cell phone and placed the call to Kathy Orton, a noticeable unsteadiness in her voice. I got the cream out of the refrigerator and put it on the table with a spoon. “Sit down Maddy,” I said and nodded toward her chair. She took a seat with a heavy sigh as she waited for an answer while I poured her a cup and stirred in a little cream. “Kathy? Hi! It’s Magdalene at the beach.” Magdalene dove right in, telling Kathy all about the…
Pt. 4 of the Cammie Orton Story
Part 4 About a week later Magdalene was back and she and I planned an early morning walk. “Hey Magdalene,” I called and waved as I approached her. “It’s good to have you back. How was the trip?” “Good,” she flashed her famous impish grin, “I can’t get enough of those grandkids.” We hugged then headed down the beach toward the cove, our customary walk. “I know what you mean. Tell me what’s new with them.” As much as I wanted to dive right in on the whole Orton mystery, I needed to let Magdalene fill me in on the little ones, all of whom I’ve met over the years. “They’re not so little anymore, Maddy,” I said when she finished. “You need to talk someone into having another baby.” She laughed. “So, tell me what’s been going on since I’ve been gone. Anything new with you sand fleas?” She nodded down the beach toward the row of beach homes and cabins. “Not really. But I think there’s something new with you hill people.” I looked up at the houses on the hill and nodded. “Oh, what’s that?” “Have you ever met Cammie Orton? She’s apparently a niece of the…
Pt. 3 of the Cammie Orton Story
Part 3 In the following weeks, Cammie and I ran into each other regularly, usually walking the beach early in the mornings. She offered nothing more than a weak smile and a wave, so it came as quite a surprise when one morning she stood on the beach in front of my house and called my name. “Hey,” I stepped outside and waved from my deck, “good morning.” “Hi,” she looked down at her feet then back up at me, shading her eyes with one hand, the other fluttering about as if it had nowhere to land. “I hate to bother you, but you wouldn’t happen to have an extra cup of coffee would you?” I was so shocked, I was slow to reply. “Sorry,” she stammered looking back down at her feet, “I shouldn’t…” “Of course I do,” I interrupted. “Come up. A little company this morning would be nice.” The dogs were wagging their tails, excited by the idea of more hands to pet them, I’m sure. Cammie climbed the stairs, opened the gate at the landing then continued up to my deck. The t-shirt she was wearing had seen better days. It was sky blue by default,…