Monthly Archives: November 2015
The wind gusted and brought the rain down in sweeping sheets as Emma fumbled deftly with the handle of the screen door. The latch finally gave and way Emma opened the door partway so Viola could come in. Viola, who was carrying a large brown shopping bag from A&P, scurried past Emma and into the front room of the lake house. Just as Emma was about to shut the screen door, the wind violently wrenched the door from her grasp and it blew up against the wood-frame house with a whack.
Instead of trying to retrieve it, Emma simply shut the main door.
“Get in here and dry off Viola, before you catch your death,” Emma said. “Let me get you a towel.”
“You ain’t got to worry with me Miss Emma,” Vila said. “I’ll drip dry.”
Never you mind,” Emma said and took the cumbersome bag from Viola. She walked through the front room and into the kitchen and then ducked into the small bathroom in the hallway and came back with a towel.
“Here,” she said handing the towel to Viola, who was removing her now soaked wind breaker. “I’ll take that. Come on in the kitchen and get you a cup of coffee. I just dripped it.”
Emma took the wind breaker hung it on the bathroom door knob and then turned back into the kitchen.
“I’ve been telling John for a week now that he needs to oil the latch to that screen door,” Emma said. It’s always something with him. Same thing with the log under our house. The tides come up and old boards and driftwood float under there and then end up bumping up against the pilings for days or until he gets under there in the boat and fishes’em out.”
“Speaking of, where is Mr. John? Is he already down for his afternoon nap?”