Rhode Island Story – Part 4

 Good morning Readers!

    And how are you this hot summer morning? Yep, we've reached summer. This week has been in the upper 90s with humidity. I mowed the yard Tuesday morning and it was pretty hot out. At least there was a bit of a breeze then.

    Life has been staying busy. I have been trying to write every day and so far have managed to get my 100 words in each day. Yesterday I actually reached 1,200 words! That was fun. I'm rewriting and hoping to actually finish a story a friend and I started together. It had all sorts of problems, like Easter in summer. :) So instead of just fixing some things, I'm rewriting it.

    Registration for the King's Daughters' Writing Camp is open! If you have thought about joining, but haven't yet, or if you know of some friends who enjoy writing, here's the LINK to the website. The registration form is on that first page.

     This evening my brother is coming over and he and my dad are planning on cutting down a dead tree. Last night before I went to bed a large branch from the tree came crashing down onto the roof and falling into the yard where it broke in pieces. So yeah, we kind of need to take the tree down since there are still many other large branches just waiting to fall. 

    Anyway, enjoy this next part of the story. Does it make you think of summer? 

 

Rhode Island Story
Part 4

    “I–I just want to be alone sometimes. I want to spend time looking in the bookstore, or wandering the beach when it’s quiet. I want to hear the birds in the trees, and . . . and think!”
    “Ah, I think I’m beginning to understand,” Aunt Betsy said softly. “You enjoy things differently than the rest of the girls do. All right, if your uncle doesn’t object, I’ll let you wander about by yourself. But, Bonnie, you must promise me that you will not go down to the beach alone.”
    Rolling over just a little, I turned my head until I could see Aunt Betsy’s face. “I promise.”
    “Good. And please let me know if you are going to town or the woods. I want to know where to find you.”
    To this I agreed.
    That day turned into such a lovely day. I wandered in the woods and listened to the birds. I even found a rock to sit where I could look out over the sparkling water of the sea and listen to the wind in the trees and dream. My headache went away, and I felt must better and ready to face the noise and commotion at the supper table.
    The next day was Sunday and everyone went to church. It was the sweetest country church and reminded me of the old pictures in books. Uncle Tony reminded the girls when we got back home that they were to stay in the yard and not go on any adventures. I spent most of the afternoon reading a book on a blanket under the trees.

    When Monday came, I ventured down to the village and enjoyed myself in the different shops and stores. I met some very nice people and decided that perhaps this summer wouldn’t be so bad after all.
    The days began to slip by. My favorite place was still the beach, and I could often find someone I had met in the village down there and so was able to enjoy the sandy shores and the waves which washed in shells.

    One day, about a week after my first visit to the beach, I saw an older woman on the shore. I hadn’t seen her around town before, so I hesitated. Her hair was white, and she wore a large straw hat which she kept taking off and putting back on with one hand. She walked with a limp and seemed to lean heavily on a cane.
    I wondered who she was and why I hadn’t seen her before. But I didn’t wonder long, for she was a grownup. After Aunt Betsy’s instructions, I was always careful not to go onto the beach unless an older person was there too. Some of the grownups I didn’t know, and they didn’t know me. But I always made sure I left the beach if they did.
    The sky was more gray than blue this day, and puffs of wind tossed my hair and made me laugh. Taking off my shoes and socks, I left them near some tall grasses where I could find them again.
    I had just reached the water’s edge and felt the cool, wet sand shifting between my toes and under my feet when the lady’s large straw head smacked right into the side of my head. I grabbed it quickly so it wouldn’t fall into the water and be carried out to sea. My cheek smarted a little, and I put my hand to it. That’s when I discovered the hat held a hat pin. It must have scratched me.
    I looked from the hat in my hands to the woman who stood clutching her hair, her back to me.
    “Ma’am!” I called, running across the sandy shore to her. “Here’s your hat!”
    Up close the woman’s face was leathery and covered in wrinkles. A scowl drew her white brows together and she frowned. “Trying to steal my hat, are you?” She snapped in a shrill voice.
    Blinking in surprise, I took a step back. “No, ma’am. It just blew right into me.” I held out the hat.
    “I expect you want me to pay you something for the trouble of returning it to me. Well, I won’t give you a single dime! Not one, you hear me?”
    I nodded quickly. I didn’t want nor expect any payment for simply bringing back a hat that had blown to me.
    Snatching the hat from me, the old woman scrutinized me from my sandy feet to the top of my wind-blown hair until I wished I could just disappear. “Who are you? What are you doin’ alone at the beach? You look like a ragamuffin.”
    I wasn’t sure what such a thing as a ragamuffin looked like, but I tried to smooth my hair with one hand as I stammered out a reply. “I . . . I’m Bonnie Dale. I . . . I was just visiting the beach because I love it and the water. But I’ll leave if you’d rather be alone.” I wanted to leave anyway because I didn’t like the woman and the way she was looking at me.
    “Dale?” Her eyes narrowed. “You any relation to those Dales with all those girls?”
    I nodded silently.
    “Humph.” Leaning on her cane, she looked around. “Where are those girls? Are they your sisters?”
    “Only three. The others are my cousins.”
    “Cousins? Do you live with them?”
    I didn’t want to answer, but I knew I was supposed to be polite. “Only for the summer, ma’am. We’re visiting.”
    “Oh, so you’re one of them Dales who ran away.”
    I took a small step back. “Ran away? I . . . I–” I wasn’t sure. I had never heard of any relatives running away. But I didn’t really know my relatives. Only Grandma and Grandpa, and they were Mother’s parents. And I knew that Uncle Tony was Daddy’s brother, but I didn’t know anything about running away.
    “Are the rest of the Dales coming back?” the woman demanded.

 

Where would you like to go for summer vacation?

Do you plan on coming to writing camp?

Have you ever been to the beach?