Water in the Wilderness

excerpt

gate that led into the yard behind the house. Hesitating for only a moment, Ronnie, still holding a wild-eyed Bobby, sprinted across the snow to the small, unpainted building with Rachael close behind.
Hidden by the shed, they paused. Motioning for her to follow, he edged his way around to the door at the front. Lowering Bobby to the ground, he pulled it towards him, but it had obviously not been opened since the last storm because it hardly budged against the crusted snow. Rachael reached out to help by wedging her stiff fingers into the slight opening and pulling with all her might. Working together they got the door open enough so that they could wiggle their way into the dim, musty smelling interior.
Relieved to find shelter at last, Rachael looked around for a place to sit and eat their lunch. Even the rough boards on the floor looked inviting. So she almost laughed with joy when Ronnie found two wooden garden chairs and a round wooden table, and pulled them out into the centre of the small space. She had never seen them before so they must belong to the new people who lived here. In the light from one small window, she saw a workbench with neat rows of tools hanging on the wall above it. In a corner she glimpsed a small lawnmower and another piece of machinery that looked like something Uncle Morley used to cultivate the vegetable garden. If she had any lingering doubts that her daddy was no longer here, they quickly vanished. Sitting down in one of the garden chairs, she pulled Bobby up beside her. They ate the sandwiches and cookies in silence, then sat munching on oranges, thankful for the juiciness. They were thirsty after their long walk.
Gulping down the last of his orange, Ronald said, “We can’t stay here, you know. We have to leave as soon as we’re rested.”
“Yeah, I know,” Rachael said. “We’ll go to the farm.”
Ronald stared at her. “You and Bobby are going back to my mom.”
Rachael bolted upright in the chair, rousing Bobby who was half asleep. “No, we’re not, Ronnie. We can’t go back there. You’ll be in big trouble if you go back.”
“I’m not goin’. I said you and Bobby are goin’ back.”
“Whatdaya mean? Where will you go? Are you gonna leave us?”

https://www.amazon.com/dp/192676319X

Ken Kirkby, A Painter’s Quest for Canada

excerpt

“Why?”
“To tell him that his great vision has been shat upon from a great
height.”
“I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”
“I think it’s a very good idea. We’ll tell him that and then we’ll tell him
about your vision – your dream. You are pursuing those same visions and
ideas that started this centre and the job is not yet finished.”
Rocco reluctantly made the appointment. Mr. Carrier was a bright,
charming man in his eighties with snowy hair and a trim white moustache.
Ken told him how wonderful his idea had been, but the vision had
somehow been diluted. Rocco was the one to revive the vision, he said,
with an idea that was in keeping with the original dream. “A key element
that is missing is a major art gallery – a gallery that will bring in works
from other countries as well as showcasing the work of Canadian artists.
It will put the finishing touch on this magnificent place.”
“I like that idea,” Carrier said. “How odd that we didn’t think of that
at the time.”
“Yes, it’s interesting that you didn’t. When you think of it, Michelangelo,
da Vinci, Raphael, and so many other great artists were all Italians. If
you go to Italy, great architecture and great art are everywhere.”
Carrier pondered the proposal for a couple of days. “I love the idea,”
he said when they met again. “Sometimes we have to be woken up from
our slumber. You’re right – our job isn’t done yet. We will have a major
gallery. I’ve spoken to my friends and it’s true, the new generation is not
exactly on track.”
Rocco and Ken must design the gallery, he said, keeping in mind that
it had to be the finest in the city. Then, he asked Ken about his paintings
and listened attentively to his story. “Does anyone care about the Arctic?”
he asked.
“I do,” Ken said. “I want to tell that story. I want to tell people what’s
happening there.”
“And what is happening there?”
Ken told him, describing the horrendous conditions the Inuit endured,
both physical and spiritual.
“It sounds like hell,” he said.
“Yes, hell mixed with heaven.”
“And what do you propose to do about it?”
“Tell the world.”
“And what good will that do?”
“It will rob them of their innocence and they will have no excuse.”
“Is that what you have done to me?”
“Yes it is. Now – what are you going to do with what I have told you?”
“You were brought up by a very old people, weren’t you?

https://www.amazon.com/dp/0981073573

Swamped

excerpt

Once again, after reaching her climax,
she cuddled with her back to him and again she guided him behind
her while her fingers worked miracles, bringing them both to sexual
pleasures unfelt before.
Time ran smoothly, methodically, like a tireless voyager. Then,
as always, it was time came to get up. They cleaned up and walked
the seawall together to the dock on 22nd Street and stood there for
a few minutes gazing at the beauty that lay before them and equally
enjoying the beauty of the feelings that lay inside them. Eteo felt for
the first time since his divorce that perhaps this woman was special,
was meant for him, that perhaps he could be with her for a long time.
“I love you” he suddenly said to her, and as the tears flowed down
her cheek, he took her by the hand and led her back to Ambleside.
He kissed her by the main entrance to her apartment building and
promised to pass by to pick her up at 7:45. True to his word, he rang
her buzzer at precisely a quarter to eight and when he reached her
apartment found her looking stunning. Her hair was carefully
arranged to reveal her beautiful neckline, and she wore a light lilac
fragrance that entranced Eteo, a dark green blouse, and a tight black
skirt. Eteo felt his cheeks burning. He wanted to do beautiful and
sensuous things with the body dressed so elegantly and sexily, but he
would have to leave all that for later. After kissing, they went down
to his waiting car.
They arrived at Mythos on time at eight o’clock. Eteo was happy
to see that Logan had brought his new girlfriend, Patricia, a Chinese-
Canadian, with him. She was as pleasant and attractive as ever, and
Eteo was delighted with the relationship, though he kept his thoughts
to himself for now. He preferred the boys to make their own decisions
about the girls they dated, free from his influence. In the lobby, he
introduced Ariana to Alex, Patricia, and Jonathan. Logan had met
her already when she had gone to the office to open her account.
Angelo, the owner, rushed up with his usual pleasantries and
greetings and escorted them to their table. Eteo had known him for
years. Angelo’s chef, George, a Greek immigrant, was a good friend
from the days when Eteo had served as a director of the Cretans Association
of British Columbia. Eteo ordered a bottle of wine …

https://www.amazon.com/dp/B08WP3LMPX