San Joaquin Valley, California
This summer’s Town Hall Dance was indeed an event that should be recorded for posterity. Most noteworthy was the grand finale, which did not involve dancing but instead “fishing” at Martin’s Lake under a full moon.
Let me begin with my fishing partners, the McGuire twins. Madeline was the first to suggest…
“What are you doing?”
Startled, Scott nearly knocked over the bottle of ink. Focused on his journal entry, Kinsey’s sudden appearance at the veranda’s table took him completely by surprise.
Reaching out, he swiped his index finger across her cheekbone and discovered it was…
“Paint? The question is what are you doing?”
“Helping Johnny whitewash the chicken coop.”
“I see.”
Refilling his fountain pen, Scott returned to his journal entry.
…the evening had become quite warm and perhaps a moonlit rendezvous at…
Scott glanced up.
“If you‘re helping Johnny whitewash the chicken coop then why are you still sitting here?”
“He said my help was greatly appreciated but I should leave while he still had enough paint left in the bucket to finish the job.”
“I can understand his reasoning. Why don’t you go get cleaned up?”
“Johnny says I bring out the best in him.”
“I would agree Freckles. You do bring out the best in Johnny.”
“I think Johnny brings out the best in me.”
“He needs to work on your painting skills.”
…Martin’s Lake would be the perfect solution to our situation. Madeline’s twin, Maura, eagerly…
“Scott, You didn’t answer my question.”
“You asked me a question?”
“Yes. I asked…what are you doing?”
“Well, right now I’m trying to understand why you’re still here and not in your room getting cleaned up.”
Kinsey rolled her eyes.
“Well, now I’m trying to understand why you think rolling your eyes at me would be acceptable behavior.”
“Scott! I want to know what you’re writing. It’s not a letter.”
“Correct. It’s not a letter.”
…agreed that enjoying the cool breeze off the lake would be an excellent way to end the evening. Murdoch required our buckboard in order to return home so the twins suggested we commandeer their…
“It looks like a book. Are you writing a book?”
“No. Kinsey. I’m not writing a book.
Now, go get cleaned up.”
“Well, it certainly looks like a book from where I’m sitting.”
Scott took a deep breath to regain his patience.
“It’s a journal - there’s a difference.” Kinsey continued to stare. “And… the difference would be a book is usually one continuous story divided by chapters. Where a journal contains daily entries of a more personal nature. I keep a journal and write in it from time to time. It helps me think and reflect.”
“I see.”
“Good. Now go get cleaned up.”
… father’s surrey as a means of travel to the lake. I was surprised to discover how quiet the ladies could be in order to not wake their father, a situation that could have led to…
“Am I in your journal?”
“I may have mentioned you once or twice.”
…an abrupt end of our evening’s plan. Once we arrived at the lake I believe it was Madeline, or perhaps it was Maura (rather difficult to read their lockets by the moonlight) who suggested that the water looked refreshing cool. Unfortunately bathing suits…
“You didn’t write anything embarrassing about me did you?”
“Kinsey, I am seriously considering marching you to the horses’ watering trough, assist you in removing the whitewash from your face and then recording the monumental event in this journal.”
“I’m simply requesting that you refrain from elaborating on certain events that may or may not involve me in rather awkward situations.”
“Like getting stuck in the mud or maybe that little talk you had with Murdoch?”
“Scott, I find this totally unacceptable.”
“Calm down, Freckles. No one is going to read this journal except me.”
“You don’t know that! Someday you may be famous. In fact, I’m sure of it. You are an intelligent, compassionate man who will become a great crusader for people in need and I will assist you and we will both be famous. And then a newspaper reporter, no doubt that scoundrel Will Jenkins, will come across your journal and print it in the papers and then everyone will know I got stuck in the mud.”
Silence.
“Kinsey, I believe all that paint has seeped into your brain.”
Silence.
“Fine. Perhaps I will start my own journal to help me think and reflect.”
“That, young lady, is an extraordinary idea.”
Out of the corner of his eye, Scott watched his little cousin pantomime opening a book, retrieving a fountain pen and begin writing out loud.
“Dear Journal. Let me begin by telling you about my cousin Scott and his fishing partners, the McGuire twins. Madeline was the first to suggest the evening had become quite warm and perhaps a moonlit rendezvous at Martin’s Lake would be the perfect solution to their situation. Madeline’s twin, Maura, eagerly agreed that enjoying the cool breeze off the lake would be an excellent way to end the evening. Murdoch required our buckboard in order to return home so the twins suggested they commandeer their father’s surrey as a means of travel to the lake. Scott was surprised to discover how quiet the ladies could be in order to not wake their father, a situation that could have led to an abrupt end of their evening’s plan. Once they arrived at the lake he believed it was Madeline, or perhaps it was Maura…he found it rather difficult to read their lockets by the moonlight. Perhaps my OLD-er cousin needs reading glasses.”
Kinsey stopped to bless Scott with a smirk.
“I can read words upside-down and backward. I like to think of it more as a gift than a talent. Your journal is fascinating. Well, I better get cleaned up before any more of this paint seeps into my brain.”
Scott’s observed the journal entry in front of him, which was immediately removed with a single tear. Taking the fountain pen in hand, a new passage was started.
San Joaquin Valley, California
No words can truly express my evening with the McGuire Twins.
~S.
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