The Girl in the Orange Maillot by Bailey Herringon

Author:Bailey Herringon
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Koehler Books
Published: 2022-01-28T11:20:20+00:00

CHAPTER 22

Saturday, September 24, 1955

The morning sun sparkled over the dewy grass and filtered through the yellowing leaves of the beech at the rear of the yard. Lynn, a coffee cup in one hand and a buttered croissant in the other, found Lloyd in the library, pajama-clad, staring into space.

“I thought you’d be in the sunroom watching the sunrise. What a lovely view through the sunlit trees. Were you there earlier?”

“No. I had some thinking to do and didn’t want to be distracted.”

“About what?”

“Oh, just some theological questions I’ve been mulling over.”

Lynn raised an eyebrow. “Such as?”

“Does God send suffering to people to strengthen their faith,” he said, “to enable them to be saints?”

Lynn blinked. Not again. “Well, if that’s true, I’ll have to address you as St. Lloyd. But my Methodist Sunday school teacher would say that’s baloney.” Lynn surveyed her husband. “Have you had anything to eat?”

“No, not yet. I wasn’t hungry when I got up.”

“Well, you’re hungry now.” She grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. “Have you checked your sugar?”

“I will.”

“Yes, you will . . . now.”

When Lloyd returned from the bathroom, Lynn led him into the kitchen and told him to sit. She gathered the paraphernalia and dropped the reagent into the urine sample.

She watched the color develop. “Seriously?”

Lynn went to the refrigerator and brought out a cantaloupe, cut it in half, scooped out the seeds, and produced a plate, knife, fork, and spoon. “Here you go. I’ll have some toast and marmalade in a jiffy.” As she busied herself with the breakfast preparations, she said, “Let’s not waste this spectacular day. Let’s put the canoe on the car and drive over to Indian Lake. I’ll put together a picnic and you pick out a bottle of wine. Maybe we can have dinner at that nice Italian place in North Huntingdon on the way back. We haven’t been in the canoe all summer. What do you say?”

“How soon do you want to go?”

“You need to shower, shave, and get dressed, so let’s shoot for an hour.”

“I don’t shave on Saturdays, but let’s make it two. I’ll have to wash the canoe. It’s been in the garage all summer and will be covered in spider webs and spider poop.”

“I’m capable of scrubbing out the canoe, Captain Ahab. Just get yourself clean and into your canoe-paddling duds. That’s your job.”

Lynn washed tomatoes and cucumbers from the vegetable bin and packed them, along with olive oil, lemon juice, and a couple of Lloyd’s favorite McIntosh apples. She made two ham-and-Swiss cheese sandwiches on rye, filled a large thermos with ice cubes and water, and placed the lunch in a large canvas boat bag.

Without missing a beat, she dragged the twelve-foot canoe out of the garage and turned the hose on it. Using a stiff bristle brush, Lynn attacked the tiny spider droppings dotting the aluminum surface. After a lot of scrubbing and swearing, Lynn decided the job was good enough for government work. She rinsed off the detergent and left the canoe to dry in the sun.

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