I pulled out of the estate and headed for the expressway. Reaching into the back seat, I pulled forward a picnic basket filled with fruit and muffins and a thermos of coffee. “Betsy sent these for your breakfast,” I said and she picked through the basket like a kid at Easter. It made my heart glad to see her happy again.
The lake was about two hours away and we arrived to find our boat waiting for us. Auggie was thrilled. She hadn’t been on water often throughout her lifetime, but loved it and had never sailed. I was looking forward to teaching her how to do it. We transferred things from the car to the boat and motored out into the lake to look for a place to anchor and get used to things.
Patoka Lake was actually a reservoir, created by the Army Corps of Engineers for flood control. Much of southern Indiana was very hilly and the rains could quickly flood the valleys in between the green small mountains. It was also a welcomed recreation area for tourists and had become quite popular.
We found a quiet inlet and with our retractable keel, drew very little water, allowing us to pull out of the mainstream passages. Around us, were lily pads and snake grass; you could hear the frogs and see fish leap out of the water to eat bugs on the surface with regularity.
I showed Auggie the cabin and we put away our things. It featured a queen-sized bed and a generous galley. We had onboard satellite links and antenna so we could set up WiFi, as well as have television. The appointments were deluxe and yet compact. Auggie loved it and immediately set about nesting.
When she came topside, I gave her a basic run-through on the concept of sailing and the use of the various sails. I showed her how to lower and raise the keel, control the wheel and raise and lower the sails as needed. She pretended to pay attention, but I knew she just wanted to lie on the foredeck in the sun and enjoy herself. I was more than willing to let her do just that.
Although I had sailed several times before, it had been awhile and I prowled around the engine compartment and read through the manual to familiarize myself with the gauges and controls. In the distance, speed boats whizzed by with skiers trailing behind them but we were content just where we were.
Auggie went down to the galley and emerged with toasted corned beef and Swiss sandwiches and chips, accompanied by cold beer. We remarked how food tasted better when you were outdoors and resolved to do that more often.
That evening, we set candles on the edge of the boat rail and I opened a bottle of wine while we snacked on cheese and other finger foods that Betsy had sent along. We propped our feet up and looked at the stars. It was a very clear night.
Auggie and I talked like we had never talked before. We seemed to be two different people there, in that water wildness. Even though there were probably a thousand other people on the lake or next to it that night, we felt alone and isolated. It was such a relief from our normal routine and troubles.
Auggie told me things I didn’t know about her; things she had lived through as a child. She related the stories of the many times her parents had fought, although her dad generally said little while her mother filled in any gaps. She had belittled him on a regular basis, listing his perceived shortcomings over and over. Auggie told me he had apologized calmly, as was expected, and although he behaved as though everything rolled off his back, she knew differently.
After the fights, Walter had sought the peace of the barns, tending to their livestock with the love and ease of spirit he couldn’t have within his house. Auggie followed him there and it had become their special place. When her mother ventured out, jealous they were having private time, they’d turned a cold shoulder to her, making it clear her boundaries ended at the doorway of the house. She had retreated, and plotted, and when they went back inside, she was always waiting with cannons loaded. In defense, Auggie and her dad spent more and more time outdoors and in the barns, and less in the house.
When Auggie left for college, she discovered a freedom she couldn’t have imagined. Suddenly, there was no one watching over her shoulder; no one to force her to curfew or to dust the furniture on Saturdays. She was free to make her own decisions and willing to stand the punishment for her own mistakes. Her dad had always kept her well-financed, but still there were things like missed classes and hangovers she had to contend with on her own.
“I went a little wild at first, I’ll admit,” she confided. “I suppose I was like a kid in a candy store. There were parties everywhere day and night. I tried drinking, I tried pot and a little wanton sex.” She took a sip of her wine. The moon shone off her hair and the light from the candles put shadows on the lower part of her face. She looked more like a gentle Madonna than a party girl. She was so beautiful I wanted to close my eyes and trap that image in my brain forever.
“We all do that, honey,” I told her, giving her absolution and a feeling of inclusion at the same time.
“I wasn’t really that bad of a girl, but compared to living in Mother’s house, it felt like it,” she said, picking up the wine bottle and refilling her glass and mine.
“Did I ever tell you I was Peter Pan?” she asked, laughing at the memory.
“No, I think you left that part out.”
“Well, I was. And not such a bad one, if I say so myself,” she shared. “I remember I had to dress in green tights and tunic and a hat with a feather on my head. They had me bound up in some kind of rigging from the rafters over the stage. They’d lower me and a boom would sort of swing me from one side to the other — like I was flying. At first, I thought it was really cool and looked forward to it. But then, opening night, my stomach was really nervous and upset. I didn’t want to go through with it and begged my understudy to take the role. It was a guy and I think he was even more scared than I was. He refused. So, I had no choice. Mother and Dad were in the audience and they’d brought a few of their friends with them. Their daughter, the star — you get it?”
I nodded and smiled, watching a candle’s flame as I listened to her voice, husky with the weight of memories.
She continued, “I climbed up into the overhead rigging and they strapped me in. They lowered the straps and then moved the boom to swing me across the stage like I’d just flown in through the bedroom window. I made it halfway across the stage and the straps against my stomach were too much. I puked. And when I say puked, I mean it. It literally sprayed down onto the stage and onto the backs of two other performers. Naturally, that made them lose it, too — they were just as nervous as I was. So, there we were, opening night, my debut as an actress, Mother with her friends she wanted to impress and the entire stage covered with vomit. I think I took out a few people in the first rows as well. What a disaster. Mother stood and dragged Dad with her. Her face was so pale and I thought she’d be yet another victim.”