Fiction logo

Lovers by the Lake

More than a Romance

By Bruce J. SpohnPublished 2 years ago 17 min read
1
part one

Chapter One

Paul opened the tent flap and greeted a new day. He paused, a moment, to enjoy the beautiful gifts nature provided. On the western horizon, the nearly full moon lay bloated and pale. Looking to the east, he marveled at the red, orange, and yellow explosion of predawn glory, heralding the start of a new day. Silently, he stood drinking in the panorama spread before him.

In the predawn light, a heavy dew, clinging to everything not moving, seemed somehow phosphorescent. A cold breeze, coming off the lake, caused him to pull his shirt collar up. The fresh mountain air was alive with sounds of the awakening forest.

The thin mountain air was pungent with the scents of pine, oak, birch, and poplar. He breathed in deeply several times until his head felt light, as if intoxicated.

Each morning the splendor of nature awed Paul anew. This was the start of the second week of vacation. As if to prove the old adage “Time flies when you’re having fun,” the first few days of the vacation had passed in a blaze. Most of the first week was devoted to mundane tasks: pitching the tent, making a fire pit, learning to secure the food from hungry animals, finding where the ranger station was located, and all the other little things involved in setting up camp.

His lack of experience meant the tasks required more time—and considerably more effort—than he expected. Amy’s eagerness to assist didn’t compensate for her lack of real experience, so nothing was simple. The frustrations were short-lived, however. Soon the splendor of the area filled him with a sensation of freedom he had never felt before.

Just getting used to living in a tent and learning how to make love in a sleeping bag were problems normally not encountered in Paul’s daily life. After Paul and Amy finished setting up their camp site, they spent time hiking around the area. Amy was really excited about their new adventure.

Each morning Paul got up to get the fire going. He raised his arms up over his head in an extended stretch as he prepared to greet the day.

“Oh, God! What a wonderful view! I’m so glad I let Amy talk me into this trip,” Paul exclaimed to the wilderness, exhaling a long breath, visible as a plume of white water vapor.

In the clear mountain air, life seemed so simple. Maybe Amy was right about taking time to look back before they could go forward. The fresh morning air cleared his mind of the everyday stress, and everything seemed so clear now.

Thinking back on his life, it was so easy to see how he squandered his youth. All his life Paul had chased success, like a madman in the desert chasing the elusive vision of water, always just out of reach. He used his job and his quest for success as an excuse to justify the pain and suffering inflected upon those he loved. After all, “No pain, no gain!”

Now, surrounded by the beauty of nature, Paul saw how his great dream, the great American dream, the dream he had believed in all his life, was just a vicious lie.

“Oh well, no use crying over the past,” Paul muttered, shaking his head as if to clear away the depressing memories of a life wasted.

To fight off the cold, he went to the remains of the previous night’s fire and added some dry grass to rekindle the embers buried deep within the ash. A flickering yellow flame soon joined the small stream of light gray smoke. Paul added firewood to feed the flame till it grew to a real blaze.

To relieve the pain in his back, he stretched his arms up high over his head.

“Sleeping in a sleeping bag on the ground is something for kids. Old age must be creeping up on me,” Paul said to the wind.

Thinking the best way to get the stiffness out was to get moving, he grabbed the large steel kettle and went to get water. A quick glance toward the tent confirmed his hunch. Amy was still bundled up in her sleeping bag. He decided to get some water heating so she could wash up when she awoke.

Paul took the kettle to the lake and filled it with cold, clear mountain water. Lugging the heavy kettle back to the campsite was hard. He lost his footing on some loose gravel and nearly spilled the water.

“Oh shit!” he shouted as he fought to regain his balance.

With some outlandish body contortions, he managed to avoid spilling the water. Luckily, the only injury was to his pride, but the noise roused Amy from her slumber.

Amy looked in the direction of the disturbance and saw Paul dragging the water container up the slope. She unzipped the sleeping bag and struggled to her feet.

“Wait a minute, Paul. I’ll help you. I just need to pull some clothes on,” Amy yelled.

Mornings were hard for Amy. Age and a lifestyle lived hard and fast had taken their toll. Over the passing years, she came to accept the daily face-to-face confrontation with the person in the mirror. She saw, all too clearly, how she had wasted her youth. Now she viewed with sad acceptance the reflected image of her old, battered friend in the mirror. Time carved a relief map on her face. Too many days baking in the summer sun, too many nights in smoky bars, too many sorrows, too many bitter tears, and too many “today’s not worrying about tomorrows” left too many scars. The eternal battle against gravity was all but lost, as everything on her body that could hang or sag did.

Amy hastily pulled on the loose-fitting denim jeans and a flannel shirt. The strong odor of the tent seemed to permeate everything and made leaving the warm confines of the tent easier. Her shirt reeked of the tent’s water proofing and would require most of the morning before the fresh air could work its magic.

Amy went to help Paul with the water. Together, they positioned the pot at the edge of the fire to heat up. Amy sat down on a small log near the fire. She pulled her legs up, arms wrapped around her knees, to warm herself.

“I better go collect more wood for the fire. The water should be hot soon. You can wash up while I’m gone. I can wash after breakfast,” Paul told her.

Amy nodded to him as he headed off in search of firewood. She just sat silently, gazing into the fire, waiting for the water to heat up. The fire snapped and crackled, sending bright sparks drifting up the thermal column above the blazing fire.

Amy stared into the depth of the flames, her turbulent thoughts cascading past her mind’s eye like a stack of slides dumped from a projector’s slide try. She thought how strange it was that no matter how old her body got, her mind was always twenty-something. She did not delude herself into thinking she was ever a beauty pageant contestant, but she knew she had managed to turn more than just a few heads in her time.

“I hope Paul and I can take some time to talk about our childhood. After all, that is what this trip was all about. I want to know all about him, and he needs to know all about me,” she sighed while stirring the pot of water with a long-handled dipper.

Looking back on her life, Amy thought it was much like the sparks riding the hot air—a lot of energy lost in aimless motion.

She had spent most of her life searching for answers but only found more questions. In her quest to find answers, she sought advice from psychologists, Buddhist monks, fortune-tellers, and every other sort of mind-expanding sham perpetrated on mankind in the past thirty years. In the end they all failed to answer her questions. Now she sat pondering her life and wondered if anyone could really answer her questions.

The fire popped loudly, sending a fountain of sparks dancing in the hot air above the flames, drawing her attention back to the here and now.

All her life, she had sought answers and meaning to life. She often felt her life’s quest for truth was, in fact, just part of the lie. Now, she realized maybe she had been looking in all the wrong places. Now it was too late, too late to go back and start again, too late to live a better life, too late to take better care of her health, too late, too late, too late!

Amy wanted to have some time alone with Paul to share her life. She wanted to learn all about his life and the things that made Paul the special person she had learned to love.

The hissing, sizzling sound made by water turning to steam when it splashed into the flames drew Amy’s attention back to the present. She went to the lake with a red plastic bucket to get some cold water. She used a big, long-handled dipper to mix the hot water into the cold water until it was the right temperature.

Using a bar of soap, a washrag, and a towel, she started the process of bathing. The process involved washing a spot and then drying off. She started with her face. First, Amy rubbed the soapy washcloth over her face; then she used the towel to dry off. Next she opened her shirt to wash under her arms and her breasts. She did not take the shirt off, because the morning air was still too cold to expose her wet skin to.

Amy had just dropped her pants to the ground to wash between her legs when she was startled by the sound of a twig breaking.

“It’s just me,” Paul called.

The cool breeze on her wet, exposed skin, more than Paul’s presence, prompted Amy to quickly dry off and pull her pants back up. Paul dropped the wood on the ground and kissed her gently on the cheek.

“Oh, dear! You sure know how to treat a lady,” she said, smiling and batting her eyelashes at him like some cartoon character. “Get the fire going so I can get breakfast ready,” she continued.

Paul tossed more wood on the fire, but his mind wandered. He could not avoid pondering their relationship. He was happier than at any time in his life. He often wondered why Amy stayed with him, other than the fact that they were both lonely. Maybe that was all the reason they needed. The why wasn’t important. The fact that they were together was the only thing that mattered.

Paul was sure Amy could recall every detail of their first meeting, but he, like so many other men, could never remember all the fine points. All he could remember were foggy memories:

Tending the fire while Amy worked on breakfast, Paul let his mind play back what he did recall.

It was in some cheap bar in Houston, off the beaten path. The air was thick, gray-blue; and the visibility was less than twenty feet. The dark oak bar was lined with tall stools. Most were unoccupied. Picking one at random, he sat and ordered a beer. Tired from another day of applying his nose to the eternal grindstone, he waved the offer of a glass away. He drank long and deep from the long-necked, brown bottle, trying to get the unpleasant taste of the daily ration of bullshit out of his mouth.

He was a bit dismayed when someone sat down next to him and had the audacity to ask for a light. He turned to see who was talking. He was moderately surprised to see a woman. She was neatly dressed but older than the average for this bar. Somewhat birdlike, she was perched atop the stool next to him. It was clear she took good care of herself, but the passage of time had been harsh. She wore a very nice smile under a crazy baseball cap. The smile was so enchanting that he could not ignore her. Fumbling in his jacket pocket, he finally pulled out a disposable lighter.

“Hi, thanks for the light. Must have left my lighter in my other purse,” said the stranger and smiled in Paul’s direction, attempting to kindle a conversation.

Trying not to stare, he watched the woman down her drink in one shot out of the corner of his eye. She slammed the glass on the counter and ordered a second. She chugged the second drink as fast as the first and ordered another.

After long consideration, Paul decided to respond. What the heck, he was lonely, and any conversation was better than drowning his thoughts alone. She may not be the best-looking woman in the place, but she was the only one interested in talking. More drinks were ordered, and the sputtering conversation soon developed into an animated discussion.

Lost in the erratic weavings of the intoxicated conversation, time passed. Evening slipped silently into night, and night staggered along in a drunken stupor to become “unexpectedly” morning. Strangely, neither was particularly surprised to wake up in the same bed. Somehow, from the time they first spoke to the time they woke up, they learned to be friends, if nothing more. That was their first contact, and it could have been the last. Funny, they did not exchange phone numbers or even make a date. The next Monday, at the same location, in the same state of mind, they repeated the same ritual. Slowly, over time, a relationship developed.

Paul was sure Amy could recall much more of their first encounter. He thought it was strange how their relationship seemed to grow out of loneliness, bitterness, and disillusionment. Somehow those were the only common bonds serving as a foundation to build a bridge spanning the gap of loneliness. In time they grew very close but avoided making a binding commitment. Often they joked about marriage and how both had been there, done that, and had the scars to prove it; yet they were drawn together like moths to a flame. Before they thought about it, they became much more than drinking partners and bed buddies.

All this lead them to where they were now, on vacation together.

Paul’s thoughts were jerked back to the present when he heard Amy call out, “Come and get it!”

Amy served a great breakfast of ham, eggs, and fried small new potatoes. Paul ate in silence, watching Amy while she ate and tended to the food still cooking over the fire. He knew he loved her; he had told her so many times. She was always there for him, and he could feel her love, but she never said those three little words to him.

“Oh, Paul, why spoil a beautiful relationship?” Amy would joke when he brought up the subject of marriage.

Ironic, he thought, because normally the woman is upset when the man she loves does not tell her he loves her. Paul never pushed her on the issue. He had learned, through many unpleasant past experiences, that when you push things, you just push them away. He treasured Amy too much to risk pushing her away. Maybe that was what Amy wanted to talk about while they were camping.

When he was with Amy, Paul felt it might not be too late to change his life. Sure he was an old dog, but he thought he was still trainable. Despite all his failed relationships, Paul was sure he had learned much over the years.

“Too bad the things you need to know most you learn when it is too late,” he lamented.

Paul thought Amy taught him more about life and love than all his previous lovers. Through her, he found answers to questions he never thought of before.

Paul knew Amy was eager to talk about the past, and he was worried; the doubts and fears of his failed past weighed heavily on his soul. There was much about his past he was not proud of, and he feared Amy might be shocked to learn about his wilder days as a youth growing up in a small Texas town. These thoughts clouded his mind as he finished a second plate of food. After he finished eating, he helped Amy clean up.

Again, Paul tried to put the past behind him and concentrate on the here and now. This camping trip was Amy’s idea, but the idea appealed to him. He always wanted to camp in the wilds of nature but always found a thousand excuses: the job, the kids, the weather, the lack of money, no camping equipment, and so on and on and on…Amy taught him that if you really want to do something, there is no excuse not to. So they went camping.

In fact, it was Amy’s idea to come way out to this mountain wilderness. The lake was the perfect location. The peaceful surroundings were ideal for two lovers to escape from the bustle of their daily lives. For the first time, Paul felt free. He never thought there was a great need to talk about their past, but Amy seemed determined.

After the trials and tribulation of the first week, getting things set up, he really loved the freedom he felt camping.

“Wow, I never thought I could feel so free. Now I just have to figure out what Amy wants to know,” he mused aloud.

Paul was a bit worried about what Amy wanted to talk about. In the past, his one-on-one conversations with girlfriends did not go very well. Amy assured him she just wanted to talk about their past. She wanted to be able to have a better understanding of the person she was with, but he was not sure where that would lead. She assured him all she wanted was for him to know more about her and her past so he could understand her better. So far they had been too busy enjoying nature to sit down and talk about their respective pasts.

Normally, Paul spent his days in a small office, in a tall building, in a large city. He went to work in the dark and came home in the dark. His life was a constant rushing to and fro. He never seemed to have time…never had time to look around…never had time to see the beauty around him. He never had time for a real vacation until…until it was too late. Too late to save his marriage, too late to save his health…too late, too late, too late…

Now, looking out across the mirror surface of the lake, he realized he had sold his existence, his soul, and his life for a fistful of dollars.

Paul was not sure if he could tell Amy all the things he had done. Would she still want to be with him if she knew all about his wild youth? Fear of losing Amy made him hesitant to tell her all she wanted to know. How could he explain how empty he felt at times? Would she really be able to understand him better if he told her all the details of his life? He knew he wanted to let Amy know him better, but how would she react when he told her about all his wild years? He wanted her to understand him and love him as much as he loved her. So if telling her his life’s story was what she wanted, he would try to tell her. Paul knew he wanted to know all about her, and this might be the best way. He agreed with her; they really did not know much about each other.

Shaking his head in an attempt to clear his thoughts, Paul turned to Amy and asked, “When do you want to sit down and talk?”

“Well now would be a great time to get started. I don’t think we can cover our entire lives in just a few minutes. I thought we might take turns talking about different phases of our lives. That’s the only way I know to fill in all the blank spots. After all, we didn’t grow up together. So we don’t know anything about each other’s early years. I would really love to learn about your childhood. If it will help you, I can start so you can see what I’m talking about,” Amy suggested.

“You said you wanted to do some fishing, and I can talk while you fish,” Amy said.

Love
1

About the Creator

Reader insights

Be the first to share your insights about this piece.

How does it work?

Add your insights

Comments

There are no comments for this story

Be the first to respond and start the conversation.

Sign in to comment

    Find us on social media

    Miscellaneous links

    • Explore
    • Contact
    • Privacy Policy
    • Terms of Use
    • Support

    © 2024 Creatd, Inc. All Rights Reserved.