Jenny Post smelled marijuana just moments before Kick stepped out of the woods and blinked at her in the harsh unfiltered light of the lake shore. The sun, unimpeded by gorgeous blue skies, reflected brightly off the lake. Both were surprised to find the other there in that isolated spot, and for an awkward moment they stared at each other without saying anything. Finally Jenny managed to say, “Hey there, Kick!” Instantly she regretted it. She recognized the man from town, and she knew that his friends called him “Kick,” but she didn’t know him very well at all. She felt it was poor form to call him by a nickname that was probably reserved for use by people who knew him better.
Jenny sized up Kick, looking for a response, but she got none. He just stared at her like a forest creature who had happened upon a hunter or maybe a hunter who had happened upon a forest creature. Anyway, he just stared. Kick was a big man, in his late forties, a little overweight, with a long greasy looking beard that covered the majority of a beefy face. His head was balding, which made his beard look as though all the hair had run down from the top of his head and was hanging limply off his cheeks and chin. Above his beard was a narrow nose, and a pair of dull blue eyes. Jenny’s own eyes ran down his left forearm, past the tattoo of a fish jumping, to the pole and tackle box gripped easily in one of his heavy hands. Jenny was a little scared of him.
“Fishin’, huh?” she asked nervously.
“Yeah,” he answered flatly.
“Alright, well I was just leavin’. Good luck fishin’.”
“Thanks, you too.” (She wasn't fishing.)
Kick felt dumb.
In an effort to redeem himself he asked, “I’m curious, where is your accent from?” (He knew it was from Australia.)
“Oh, I’m from Australia,” she said.
In fact, Kick knew a great deal about Jenny Post, but he acted surprised, and surprised himself by quipping, “G’day mate!”
Jenny laughed like it was the first time she had heard that joke, and Kick thought it was the most pleasant sound he had ever heard. Jenny was the prettiest girl in Benson, and, being from Australia, she was also the most exotic. Like most guys, Kick had noticed her from the day she arrived in town to rent an apartment above the General Store. Everybody knew that she was attending nearby Castleton State, and worked part time at the store beneath her apartment.
To Kick, it seemed like winter couldn’t touch her…like she was walking sunshine...a miracle. It seemed nicer wherever she was. Her accent, her hair, her shape, the way she smiled at you, and when she said, “have a nice day,” after you bought beer or peanut butter or whatever, made you feel like she really meant it...like she really wanted you to have a nice day…just you.
Kick was not alone in making unnecessary purchases at the general store when Jenny was working the register, but he could never get up the nerve to joke around and flirt with her like the other guys did. In fact, in all the time she had been living in Benson he had never said a word to her. And when she said, “Good luck fishin’,” how had he responded?
“You too.”
He felt stupid, and fat, and greasy, and he wondered if she had smelled the dope he was smoking before stepping out of the woods. He also wondered what she had been doing way out at the end of the snowmobile trail by the lake.
To be continued...
On Thursday, while everyone else was napping, Bowden and I went on a bit of an explore. Keeping a sharp eye out for rattlesnakes we crossed Hurkey Creek (jumping from stone to stone) and scrambled up a steep hill. The view from the top with Garner Valley spreading out in front of us, was worth the climb.
Bowden wanted to photograph all of the different flowers we saw on our hike.
There were yellow ones...
white ones...
red ones...
sort of creamy colored ones...
and purple ones...
I didn't know that Lupines smelled so good.
Sarah took a bunch more pictures from our camping adventure with the Whites so you will have to keep checking in on PotentTates for more.
