Following a nasty cold snap when walking my dogs wasn’t fun. When I didn’t want to get out of bed where it was warm, the last two days of sunshine warmed my body and heart. On those sunny days, I spent at least three hours outside working in the garden, blowing and picking up leaves. Bags full of them. I thought about our prompt and what story I was going to write. I finished five more chapters of my memoir and handed them to one of my first readers. It felt good to have a productive week. At night, I read.

BOOKS

It seems that I am never content reading one book at a time. I usually have at least three books I am actively reading, plus a pile of six or more books waiting to be read. Some are pushed to the bottom of the collection because I started reading but could not make the groove. Our book group reading for this month was a memoir of a medical student in neurosurgery. At the age of thirty-six, he was diagnosed with inoperable lung cancer. One day, he is a doctor the next, he is fighting to live. When Breath Becomes Air  by Paul Kalanithi was quite a read, especially the end, written by his wife after her husband had passed. A few books on my Table are Hamnet by Maggie O’Farrell, our latest book group choice,  The River Beyond the Dam by Jean L. Waight, a local memoirist. The Lion in the Living Room by Abigail Tucker has a picture of a kitten on the front cover, but it is not a story of cute kittens. The author is a science writer who takes the reader on an incredible journey through an evolutionary history of how wild cats have become tame, conquered the human heart, and dominated our homes. The other books are about a novel about the tragic Donner party and one about relationships. My choices might be eclectic, but from each book, I discover something new– about the world, other people and their lives, and myself.

WRITING PROMPT

This was my first attempt to write a mystery story: what follows is a portion of that story. I hope you enjoy reading it, More will follow next time.

THE LAKE by Elizabeth Jane Pryce

The evening was serene. The lake looked like glass, reflecting the sky and the distant mountains. James surveyed the scene; there was evidence of occupancy: someone had collected wood, enough for a long burning fire, judging by the pile of brush nearby. There was a trench shovel and a pair of binoculars. Otherwise, the site was empty, or was it? James felt it was his job to find out and collect the data. 

James was an environmentalist from Skagit Country and loved walking in the wilderness. On this trip, he was hiking and working in the Sawtelle Mountains. James had been in the range for a week now, collecting samples from the multiple lakes and rivers in the area. He loved the peace surrounding him while he worked. Returning to his camp early one evening, he came across a fire and two empty chairs; he was intrigued.

As a boy growing up, James had loved detective stories, and his father’s friend,  Kit Peterson, a sergeant in the police force, had taught him how to look for clues. Now, he made a list of his findings in his little yellow notebook; the paper was water-resistant in case he needed to make notes when it was raining.  

1 A few blonde hairs trapped in the fabric of one of the chairs.

2 The binoculars – the viewing lenses were wide apart, probably a man’s.

3 A heavy-duty stick, pointed at one end, under one of the chairs. 

4 A heavy-duty flashlight to the side of the left chair.

5 A small square of lined paper with the words Marie  208 543 …

6 The shovel, not the collapsible kind used for camping.

7 No tent or bed roll in sight.

James was eager to practice being a detective, but before he could begin his search for other clues to the mystery, his phone rang; it was his sister Kate. “Hi, Katie, I’m kinda…”

Before James could tell his sister about his investigating encounter, Kate said, “Mom’s worried. She hasn’t heard from you in over a week.”

“Gee, Katie, I told her I’d be gone for at least two weeks. It’s only the end of the first week.”

“I know, James, but she is getting forgetful. We are going to have to make a decision soon. I’m not sure she can continue to live on her own.”

“Well, we can’t do anything until I return next week. Meanwhile, please tell Mother that I’m working on a special project out here around the lakes, and I’ll see her at the end of next week.”

James closed his phone and put it in his back pocket. Shaking his head, “Mom, Mom, what are we going to do with you,” he worried out loud. “Now, I’m going to get back to the fun of investigating this situation.” No footprints are leading to or from the chairs and fire. Why were they swept clean? James slowly walked around the site, staying at least three feet from the chairs. He wanted to leave as little contamination as possible. James walked further out on the left side to what appeared to be a cairn of black rocks close to the water’s edge. In front, he found the possible launch marks of a small boat. What kind of boat? A rubber dinghy would have been the easiest to carry in. But it wouldn’t have left the two groves, three feet apart, in the sand. Possibly oars, left in the rowlocks, and they had cut a grove. “Well, the evening’s getting along, and I’d better be on my way,” James said to himself. “I’ll swing back around tomorrow.”  

James was tired. When he finally reached his campsite, it was almost dark. James purposely refrained from lighting a fire, being cautious about who was on the other side of the lake. But he used his flashlight a few times, carefully angling it at the ground, hoping its light wouldn’t give him away. James fell asleep thinking of the small boat coming into the bay. “Tomorrow,” he thought sleepily.

* * *

“Hey, look, Bri, the fire’s still burning.” Two young people have drifted into the bay in a small boat, where the two empty chairs nestled by the fire. Brian dropped a rope-wrapped large stone overboard, anchoring the boat in the shallow water. “You built a good fire, Bri,” Kim said. I’ll get our supper going, and we can eat as soon as you get out of your wet suit.” Afterwards, we can have those marshmallows with cocoa. They’re in your pack. Hurry, let’s soak up the warmth of the fire. We’re both cold.” Kim picked up her backpack, slung it over her shoulder, and put her sandaled foot into the cold lake.

Putting her backpack down in front of one of the chairs, Kim took out a cooking pot and a bag of chicken pieces. Secure in a ziplock, they had been marinating in a spicy sauce during their sojourn around the lake. She collected a couple of straight sticks from the brush pile and pushed the meat and the cut-up peppers, onions, and Zucchini from another bag onto the sticks. “Supper will be ready shortly. Can you bring the blankets and bed rolls?”

“Someone’s been here,” Brian said.