Surrender At Loon Lake

Oh, God! I just wanted to hide! I wished with all my heart that the Earth would just open up and swallow me. This must be a dream. How could I have ever gotten myself into a situation like this?

Tawdry! Unseemly!

Look at them out there. Four young men dressed in their work jeans and boots leaned on their picks and shovels - Boys, really. They were all in their late teens or early twenties. Each was shirtless on this unexpectedly hot and humid day in early September. The sun gleamed off of their youthful sweaty bodies.

Jerry was the oldest at twenty-four and the other three were standing around him and listening with what appeared to be almost hero worship. I couldn't hear what was being said as I peered out from between the curtains of my bedroom, but I had a pretty good idea.

The three younger men (I never did learn their names) each listen wide eyed. Every now and then one or another would glance at the house and I swear that I could feel their eyes penetrating these very walls. I never felt so vulnerable and exposed in all my life.

In a way I suppose my sister is the one to blame for this mess that I now find myself in. I had come to the house on Loon Lake to spend a nice quiet, peaceful week before returning to my job as a fourth grade teacher. The home has been in our family since my grandfather purchased it almost sixty years ago. Everyone in the family took turns vacationing here and I always cherished the time that I could spend here.

Unfortunately for me, the reason that I was able to get the camp on this particular week was because my uncle had decided that the leach field needed replacing and he had hired a crew to come in and dig up the entire back yard and take care of the problem before the cold weather set in.

With the workers here it wasn't as peaceful as I would have liked, but I was still enjoying my stay. I spent most of the days down at our dock soaking up the sunshine and devouring a bag full of romance novels that I had brought with me or writing in my private journal. There was a boat tied to the dock for our use, but I was always afraid that the motor would act up on me and leave me stranded and helpless out on the lake. For me, it was much safer to just relax on my lounge chair on the dock and not take any chances.

On the day before my vacation was to end my sister came to visit. Meg was ten years younger than my forty-three years. People who knew us were always surprised to learn that we were only separated by ten years. Meg was always the more beautiful and her vibrant, bubbly personality made it seem as if she were much younger.

I suppose that I was always a bit jealous of my youngest sister. She was so full of life that people naturally gravitated to her. She had always had tons of friends and more boyfriends than anyone could ever keep track of. I wished that I had been born with just an ounce of the self confidence and nerve that she had in such abundance.

I'm not saying that I had an unhappy childhood at all. Being the oldest of seven, my parents were always much more strict on me. I guess they were just too worn out to enforce so many rules by the time that Meg came around.

To be fair, it wasn't my parents' strictness that had made me the way I am. I was always naturally quiet and more serious. I had friends while I was growing, but I was never Miss Popular. Dating? That was something that was forbidden by my parents. There were a few boys that I had kind of liked, but I could never allow any of them to get too close because I knew my parents would not approve.

The first date that I ever had was for my Senior Ball. Jimmy Martin had taken me to the dance and I remember feeling so grown up in my pretty dress. After the dance, we had parked near the lake. We made out for a while and that was really nice. However, when Jimmy had started getting a little too forward, I called a halt to the evening and asked him to take me home.

I can still see the look of disappointment and even a hint of anger in his eyes when I rebuffed him. I knew what other girls did with their dates after the Ball and I have to admit that a small part of me was curious. But I couldn't take the chance. I would always hear my mother's favorite condemnation when discussing matters of sex --

Tawdry! Unseemly!

I had several serious relationships through the years. I lost my virginity with Richard Haskins during my college years. He had been my first real boyfriend. It had been awkward and embarrassing. I pretended to really enjoy it, but after a few attempts, Richard left me and started dating a French major with long legs and an apparent dislike of bras.

Richard had been followed by Stephen Gelph. I started dating Stephen in my senior year and I really believed he was "the one". We were very serious about each other and had talked about getting married. I gave my heart to him completely and I could not imagine a future without him. My world came crashing down around me when we got the news that Stephen was killed in an automobile accident.

I retreated into my shell and it was the darkest period of my life. I didn't date again for another seven years. I felt that to do so would have been a betrayal to Stephen's memory and I just couldn't allow myself to do that. Instead, I threw myself into my teaching career.

Eventually, I met a fellow teacher, Scott Gregory. He was five years older than my 31 years of age and had been married once before. We used to laugh about it being the longest courtship of all time. It started out as a nodding acquaintance that slowly gave way to a shy smile and the occasional exchange of a few words. Only later did it progress to the point where he would stop by my classroom after school where we would sit and discuss our days.

We finally started seeing each other outside of school and I felt for the first time Stephen's death that I was starting to rejoin the living world. Naturally, as our relationship deepened it led to making love. This was a huge step for me and I have to admit to being too private of a person to share my innermost feelings. I knew that it was wrong to withhold my fears, but I just could never find a way to let them out.

We had sex many times, but I never really let myself go while making love. I still felt as if I was somehow betraying Stephen and the love that we had for each other. I always held myself back. I was accommodating and I "oohed and ahhed" in all the right places. However, accommodating and mechanical is hardly the attributes that one looks for in a lover.

Scott never said so, but my inability to allow myself to let go was what led to our breaking up. He, naturally, started to withhold part of himself from our relationship and we slowly grew apart.

Then came the call that my father had had a stroke. It was out of love, but also my sense of duty that I made the decision to move back to my hometown so that I could help my mother in taking care of my father. The fact that this move would all but seal me off from the rest of the world was never a thing that I consciously thought about and I would have argued vehemently if anyone had ever suggested it. However, moving back to a town of 300 people definitely had that effect.

So, here I was at the ripe old age of forty-three, a single woman who had had a grand total of three lovers in her life and no prospects at all on the horizon. But I wouldn't say that I was unhappy. I loved my job and the town in which I lived. I wouldn't have traded anything for the chance to help my mother in caring for my father until a second stroke had taken his life.

I had pretty much given up on finding that one grand love. Stephen had been that to me and my heart would always belong to him. Friends and family had set me up on dates on a few occasions. I always complied, but for the most part the dates were awkward and completely lacking any spark.

I was a normal, healthy adult female who had all of the same desires as any other normal, healthy adult female. My romance novels and my journal were my main outlets in matters of sex. Often I would find myself caught up in some of the steamier scenes --

Tawdry!

- in the books and I would masturbate as I imagined myself as the heroine. That may sound sad to you, but I had long ago come to accept this as a perfectly healthy way of relieving those feelings of longing.

My journal was an even more private matter. I had always kept journals since the time that I was a little girl. For someone who was very introverted and who found it difficult to ever share her innermost thoughts and feelings, my journals were a place that I could express them --

Unseemly!

- without ever having to face any recrimination or disapproval. No one was ever permitted to read the things that I recorded there and I was always careful to keep it locked away. These thoughts were my own and were not to be shared with another living soul.

On the last full day of my stay at the cabin my sister, Meg, came to visit. We hadn't seen each other in nearly a year and I hadn't realized how much I missed her until she had called and said she was coming up. I smiled to myself as I saw her climbing out of her Jeep Liberty. She was already talking a mile a minute and practically bouncing with all of her energy.

I walked out onto the porch as she bounded up the steps. We gave each other a big hug and I was instantly so glad to see her. As always, she looked gorgeous. Marriage, the third time around, seemed to be agreeing with her. Arm in arm we walked inside the cabin and plopped ourselves down on the comfy sofa.

Although it had been almost a year since we had seen each other, it was as if it had been only yesterday. Meg was so excited as she told me all about her new life. I found myself again a bit jealous of my little sister as I listened to her and saw the fire and energy that she possessed in such abundance.

She brought out her pictures of my niece and nephew, both of whom I absolutely adore. She had me in stitches as she described some of the antics that they had been up to. Seeing how excited and full of love she was when talking about her children made my heart ache. I had never shared this thought with another soul, but not having children was the one big regret of my life.

We talked and drank Diet Cokes for the longest time. After a while we went for a walk down by the dock and sat in the sunshine. Eventually there came a lull in our conversation and that is when Meg almost shyly asked me about my love life.

"To tell you the truth, Meg, I'm always so busy with my job that who has time for a love life?"

It was a well practiced answer that was usually (and correctly) interpreted by others that this was not a subject I was comfortable with at all. Meg was quiet for a few minutes and I thought that I was clear of this hurdle. Then she turned to me and took my hand.

"San, I love you more than anyone in the world. You know that, don't you?"

I smiled, nodded, and shifted uncomfortably.

"I wish so much that you would get out there a little more. I know how much you have to offer and I want to see you happy."

I looked out over the lake, not wanting to make eye contact and simply said, "Meg, I know you care. Its -- Its just not as easy for me as it is for you."

Meg laid her head on my shoulder and I tilted my cheek until it rested against her hair as she said, "San, I only wish that for just once you could see yourself through someone else's eyes. You've never seen yourself as someone with so much to offer. You're smart. You're funny. You're pretty."

I laughed at that last remark. Meg has been the lucky one our family. I was enough of a realist to accept that. I didn't think I was hideous or anything, but I also knew that I wasn't a ravishing beauty either. We sat in silence for a while and it felt so nice to have my kid sister here with me and to feel the sunshine on our faces.

Our reverie was cut short by a growl coming from Meg's stomach. She jumped to her feet and said, "Oh, no! It's the dreaded Loon Lake Monster!"

I laughed at our old family joke and played along. I too jumped to my feet and screamed, "Run for your lives!"

We ran, giggling back up towards the cabin. It was perhaps the most carefree moment that I had since my time with Stephen and it felt so good to run along the dock like a lunatic. We headed back up towards the cabin so that I could scramble us up some lunch.

As I busied myself throwing together a salad for our lunch, Meg was rummaging around in the liquor cabinet and pouring herself a drink. She didn't even bother offering to pour one for me because she knew that drinking in the middle of the day was just something that I would never do.

"Oh my God, San!"

I came out into the living room to see what it was that had grabbed her attention. She was standing in front of the large picture window that looked out over the back yard. She was sipping at her drink absent mindedly as she stared out the window. I came over to join her, still puzzled at her exclamation.

"Would you just look at these incredible specimens of manhood? I think I've died and gone to heaven."

I should have known. She may be married again at the moment, but nothing ever stopped my little sister from always being on the lookout for any good looking man. I simply said, "That's the work crew that Uncle Pete hired. They've been at it all week long."

"You sneaky devil, you!", Meg replied, "You've been up here all week with those young hunks around and you never called me?"

"Meg, they're just doing their job. They've been working real hard. Besides, I'm old enough to be their mother."

I went back into the kitchen to bring out our salad and some plates. When I returned Meg was still at the window and seemed to be lost in her thoughts. Finally she gave a laugh and said, "Maybe it's a good thing that you didn't call me. Uncle Pete probably wouldn't be too happy if he was paying good money and the only thing getting worked on was me!"

I shook my head and was a little perturbed that Meg was showing no signs of ever settling down. However, she came over and joined me and we had a very pleasant lunch. I didn't say anything when Meg refilled her glass even though I wished she wouldn't drink so much.

Afterwards, we were lounging on the sofa talking when Meg spied the latest book that I was reading. It was another of my silly romance novels called The Forbidden Duchess. I had completely forgotten that it was even there.

She snatched it up before I could grab it away and asked teasingly "What is this that my prim and proper big sister is reading?"

She opened the book up and started reading aloud, 'His breath was hot in her ear as he repeatedly thrust his loins into her waiting womanhood'. My God, San! You really need to get laid!"

She giggled as I took the book from her. "You

would

have to pick the one dirty part, wouldn't you?"

I placed the book out of her reach but I could feel that my face was beet red. Meg said, "Don't be so embarrassed, sis. It's certainly no worse than the soap operas that mom and Aunt Margaret used to watch."

After a short pause, Meg piped up, "So, I've been doing all the talking all afternoon. Now it's your turn. Whose loins have been thrusting into your womanhood lately? And I won't let you not answer me this time."

Now, I could feel my face turning even brighter red. "Meg, don't talk like that".

"I'm sorry. But really sis, has there been anyone in your life lately?"

This was clearly a subject that I was not comfortable with. Just as clearly, Meg wasn't going to let it go so easily this time. She went on, "Sandra, you're still an attractive woman. Surely there must be some man that has shown at least a little interest?"

"I've been on a few dates", I lied, "You know what its like in that town and how people like to talk."

Meg gave a sad grin. "I knew it" was all she said.

"What do you mean by that?" I asked.

"Nothing. I shouldn't be opening my big mouth"

Her remark had made me angry and I couldn't let it go. "No, Meg. I want to know exactly what you meant."

She tried to wait me out. When she realized that I wasn't going to let it go, she finally said, "I would bet everything that I own that you haven't taken that boat out once while you've been here, have you?"

I was taken aback by her seemingly nonsensical answer. Meg continued, "And the reason I know this is because to take the boat out you would be taking a chance that it didn't break down. I know you, Sandra. You never do anything that requires a risk."

I broke our eye contact and didn't know what to say. I blurted out, "I'm sorry that I'm not like you, Meg. I'm sorry that it disappoints you that I actually think before I do something."

Meg reached out and took my arm. "I'm sorry, sis. It's not that I am judging you. I'm proud of you. I only wish that sometimes I had some of the sense that you do. It's just that I love you and I want to see you happy."

I looked at her and could see that she meant what she said. "No. I'm the one that is sorry. I shouldn't overreact like that."

We gave each other a hug and got up to take our dishes back into the kitchen. Nothing further was said by either of us on the subject for the rest of the afternoon. Finally, around four o'clock, Meg said that she had better get going. We hugged again and promised that we would get together more often.

As she drove away, I felt the loss almost immediately. Suddenly, I was more than ready to end my week and get back to the real world. I went back into the cabin and began tidying things up. While I was straightening the cabin I thought about the things that my sister had said. I had to admit to myself that she was probably right about me never taking any chances. I also realized that at forty-three years of age, my chances of suddenly changing my entire character were almost non-existent.

I retrieved my secret journal from upstairs and settled down at the old desk in the living room. I may not be able to change the way I live my life, but while writing in my journal I could be as daring as I wanted to be. Maybe it was all the talk about sex that I had with Meg, but today my writing was a bit more erotic than my usual jottings.

I was thinking about what Meg had said about the four young men toiling in the backyard. I know I had seemed cool in my response to her. The truth was that I had indeed noticed the four of them. In fact I had secretly watched them many times during the week. During the afternoons it would always get pretty hot and they invariably removed their shirts as they worked.

Tawdry!

After a while I noticed that had stopped writing completely. Instead I discovered that I had been staring out of the window at the four of them as they worked. I don't know how long I had been staring. Suddenly, I noticed that one of them was not doing any work. What he was doing was leaning on his shovel and he was staring intently back at me.

As if I had been hit with a cold bucket of water, my wits came rushing back to me and I was more than a bit flustered. I looked away quickly and got up from the desk. I didn't know where I was going or what I was doing, but I knew that it must have seemed as if I had been purposely staring at them.

Unseemly!

I knew that they would be ending their day shortly and I didn't want to chance any confrontation with them after what must have seemed like my very brazen behavior. I went upstairs and decided to take a shower. I figured that by the time I came out they would have packed up and gone home. This was to be my last night at the cabin and I would be gone by the time that they appeared the next morning to begin work again.

I moved over to the curtains in the master bedroom to make sure that I would be safe from any prying eyes. As I reached to shut them I paused and looked down at the four of them again. Three of them were still working as always. The fourth, the one who had been staring back at me, was clearly only going through the motions of working.