Run Like the Wind and Play Forever, J C Laird [smallest ebook reader txt] 📗

Run Like the Wind and Play Forever

It was a long trip. Jimmy didn’t know it, but it would be the longest of his life.

He took his eyes off the road for a second to glance at his sister in the passenger seat. Sara appeared mesmerized by the open photo album on her lap. “This is pretty exciting, huh sis?” Jimmy asked, his eyes shifting back to the road.

Sara smiled at him. “Yes, but certainly not as much as for you. I mean, it was…” she paused and mentally calculated… “sixty-eight years ago, and I was only eight when grandpa died. I don’t remember as much as you, I guess. You were…” she calculated again… “thirteen at the time. I have to admit you have a damn good memory.”

Jimmy sighed, reminiscing on the long ago. “I think all those times we vacationed at grandma and grandpa’s cabin on Long Lake were the happiest times of my life.”

His sister snorted, but in good humor. “Sure, Jimmy. Happier than the forty-five years of marriage to Laura, your successful career as an attorney, not to mention a well-funded retirement?” she asked with a hint of sarcasm.

“Apples and oranges,” Jimmy replied. “I’m not complaining about my life; it’s been wonderful. But when we were children life was so carefree, summers long and lazy, our bodies strong and youthful. We could run like the wind and play forever.”

“Are you forgetting about our parents’ divorce? That’s the main reason we spent all that time at the cabin. That and our step-father’s courtship.”

“No, I’m not forgetting. And I admit it probably magnified the good times at the lake with grandma and grandpa. But the fact remains that the best time of a person’s life is usually their childhood. They just don’t realize it until much later.”

“There’s a rest stop coming up at the next exit,” Sara advised, changing the subject. “You said you needed a potty break.”

Jimmy did. At eighty-one, his body was beginning to show the inevitable signs of the accumulating years: enlarged prostate, frequent urinating, bad knees and hip, and that pesky heart problem. He would have to address those issues in the near future, but for right now he just wanted to take a piss.

When he finished washing his hands, he looked at his reflection in the restroom mirror. An old man stared back at him. Most of his hair had abandoned ship years before, the grey fringe now holding onto only a beachhead at the sides and back. And the wear and tear of the years were etched in his face—a far cry from the pictures of the young boy in the photo album.

He rejoined his sister waiting for him outside in the shade of several large oaks. It was a pleasant summer day, Michigan’s early June heat tempered by their continued journey northward. Jimmy had to admit that his silver-haired, matronly sister was holding together better physically than he was. Other than the few extra pounds and high cholesterol, she was in decent shape. Sara’s hair was always neatly coiffed, and her face was remarkably unlined for a woman of seventy-six. Jimmy supposed it was due to all those skin creams most women used, although he suspected a little plastic surgery along the way. “Okay, sis, let’s hit the road,” he said.

“A man on a mission,” Sara replied, smiling and shaking her head.

Once back on the I-75 freeway she checked her phone’s GPS. “Another ten miles and we take US 23 towards Standish. From there just stay on 23 straight to Hale, Long Lake is just a hop skip and a jump from there.”

An hour later they stopped for gas in the small town of Standish before heading on to the lake, following the GPS as it directed them to Chipmunk Trail and the cabin of their youth. With the lake glimmering in the sunshine to the right, their Nissan Sentra rental car meandered through the tall pines in search of the summers of yesteryear.

“Look, sis, there’s the Whippoorwill cabin on the corner to the left. Remember, Georgie and Jeannie taught me how to play Monopoly on the front porch. We played a lot even though I never won.” Jimmy’s voice had risen several octaves in his excitement.

Sara snorted. “I remember. But do you remember they never included me in those games because I was only eight?”

Jimmy ignored her. “Georgie was three years older than me and used to take us out in his family’s sailboat. Jeannie had a crush on him, and I had a crush on her. What great fun we had,” he said with a sigh.

Sara just shook her head.

Short seconds later Jimmy was sputtering again, “There… there on the right… it’s the cabin! Gary and Lisa’s house is right next door.” His eyes were wide, his mouth gaping. His head swiveled back and forth as he tried to take in everything all at once.

They pulled into the driveway of their cousin’s two story lake house, next to a red Toyota Camry. An older, blue Chevy Blazer was parked in the driveway of the cabin next door. It was late afternoon as they headed for the front door, eager to see their hosts.

Jimmy had tracked down their cousin the prior summer via several internet search engines, the web of trails zeroing in on Belleville, Michigan. Several phone calls later and a meeting was set. Gary and Lisa vacationed at their condo in Fort Myers Beach, Florida to escape the harsh Michigan winters, and from there it had only been a two plus hour drive farther north in Florida to visit Jimmy at his apartment in Sarasota.

Jimmy rang the bell and, as they waited, he couldn’t help keeping his eyes from wandering over to the cottage next door. He assumed the vehicle in the drive belonged to his cousin, since he now owned the cottage, a pleasant surprise since—

The front door swung open and there was Gary, all 5’4” 160 pounds of him. Tanned and fit, he stood there beaming at them. Behind him was the smiling, equally tanned and equally diminutive Lisa, even shorter than Gary.

“Well, the weary travelers have finally made it back after 68 years,” Gary said, glancing from one to the other. “Any problems? Didn’t get lost along the way?”

“Kinda hard nowadays with GPS to guide you,” Sara laughed, as they were ushered into the house.

“Yeah, Sara flew in from California a week ago, and rested up while I showed her the sights. Add an uneventful plane ride into Detroit, a three hour drive north, and here we are,” Jimmy added.

“Gary will help with your suitcases and show you to your rooms upstairs,” Lisa said. “Then we’ll give you a quick tour of the house, a leisurely dinner, and cap off the evening with a glass of wine down by the lake,” Lisa enumerated, eyebrows raised in question.

“Sounds good to me,” they replied, almost in unison.

“AND, something smells fantastic,” Sara added.

“Gary made his homemade chicken-potpie for dinner. Now, get settled in you two, so we can eat.”

After unpacking and a tour of the lake house, Jimmy and Sara showered, changed clothes and regrouped in the dining room for dinner. During the meal neither of them could stop from gushing about the couple’s home. “Gary, you were telling me last year you designed and built this house yourself?” Jimmy asked.

“Well, sort of. Designed it yes, but had a crew of four helping me with the big stuff. It was originally a cottage bought by Lisa before we married, much like grandma and grandpa’s cottage next door, but she wanted to expand it, enlarging it to two stories. We ran into structural problems, one thing led to another, and I ended up tearing everything down and starting over from scratch. Except the stone fireplace that is; we kept that. Took me four years to get this sucker built.”

Sara was shaking her head in awe. “You’re a genius, Gary—it’s absolutely beautiful. So big, and so many windows, most with a view of the lake.” she raved.

Gary was beaming with pride. “We ended up at twenty-five hundred square feet with three bedrooms, each with their own bath. I used recycled materials throughout whenever I could and, yes, the house has a lot of windows. Forty-two to be exact, each with a view. Now you can see why we call it our lake house instead of a cottage.”

“We have a photo album of the construction process from start to finish. I’ll dig it out tomorrow and show you,” Lisa chimed in.

“We’d love to see it. But it must cost a fortune to heat this place in the winter,” Jimmy said.

“Actually, it costs almost nothing,” Gary answered. “We shut the heat off during the winter and stay at our condo in Florida. ‘Follow the sun,’ so to speak. During the summer we split our time between this place and our main home in Belleville. Here at the lake we do a lot of entertaining with the kids, grandkids and friends.”

“Amazing,” Jimmy said. “What about grandma and grandpa’s cabin? You said you had worked on that.” He had been yearning to bring up the subject and itching to see the place ever since their arrival, but didn’t want to seem too anxious or ungracious. He hoped now was a good time.

“Enough of the construction talk for now, Jimmy. I’ll fill you in later over a glass of wine down by the lake. How are they treating you in the old folk’s home in Sarasota?”

Jimmy was a little miffed at the question although he had to admit that the change of subject might have added to his annoyance. He managed a smile. “It’s not an ‘old folk’s’ home. True, Brookdale is an assisted living facility, but I have an apartment in the independent wing. Since Laura passed away, it seemed the simplest way to go. We never had any children so that wasn’t a consideration. It’s a great place with a lot of amenities, and a single monthly payment covers everything. Plus, I’m no spring chicken. And Sarasota is a beautiful city, and the Florida climate suits me.”

Lisa glanced over at Sara. “Sara, it sounds like you’re still living in La Mirada. Any plans on moving?” she asked.

“No, since Jack died it’s been a little difficult taking care of the house, but my two sons and their families live in southern California, too, so I’ll probably stick around there for a few more years, health permitting, and see how things work out.”

“Let’s all continue this on the patio by the lake,” Lisa said. “Why don’t you all head down while I clean up and do the dishes? Gary can give you a tour of our three patios and tiered landscaping before prepping the fire pit. I’ll bring the wine down when I’m finished. Sara protested and volunteered to help in the kitchen, but Lisa shooed her out with the others.

Later as the sun was going down, they sat around the fire pit sipping their wine and enjoying the evening. Although it was early summer, the evenings were still cool this far north, and the fire took the edge off. All three patios had beautiful views of the lake. They chose the lowest one, nearest to the water. They watched in silence as several boats slid by far out on the lake, their running lights casting reflections on the still waters.

Jimmy couldn’t help but cast an occasional glance up the hill at his grandparents’ former cabin. The interior lights were on; someone was inside. Gary had mentioned in the past that their children or grandchildren sometimes bunked there, or that they occasionally rented it out. Maybe—

Gary interrupted his train of thought. “As for grandma and grandpa’s cottage, which you seem to have fixated on ever since you found out I owned it, it’s