Meredith Keeney

There are so many wonderful memories from that summer it’s hard to pick just one. Watching Chris learn to use a Tiki boat pops to mind as I’ve never seen anyone invert that many times and still be able to laugh about it. He was still cleaning the sand out of his ears that Sabbath. Everyone else just thought he didn’t like the sermon.

Then there was the time Rob was shooting clays from the dock, out over the ocean while the three of us drank pina coladas and gave him advice. How does a person mistake a seagull for an orange clay disk? Yes, I know they are called clay pigeons, but that poor bird didn’t even see it coming. I still tease him about that.

I suppose Rob and Chris’s favorite memory was when I fell asleep on the dock, laying facedown on my towel and Katherine wrote “Meredith loves Rob” on the back of my thighs in sunblock. I tried to get mad at her but when she said “No one but Rob will ever see, and you don’t have any business wearing a skirt that short anyway. We’ve had the attire and culture discussion before”, I didn’t really have a good comeback. Looking back now, even I think it’s pretty funny but I don’t tell her that…she might do it again someday.

I think though my favorite memory was that one afternoon that Katherine and I had lunch at that tiny shabby little place on the beach. The guys were out with the Tiki boats and Katherine and I had a great afternoon of walking on the beach picking up shells, feeding the gulls, and of course finally trying that little restaurant we’d been eyeing for weeks. Nothing terribly funny or incredible happened; it was just the afternoon that summed up all the peace and tranquility of that summer.

The ambiance was perfect with the net on the ceiling with its dried seaweed shells and starfish. There were trophy fish mounted on the walls courtesy of the owner’s son who captained a small charter boat. The place was dark enough to feel like a secluded hideaway, and cozy enough to make you want to talk for hours, which is exactly what we did.

We had been there for a couple hours relishing the pale pink wine in our glasses, the crusty bread and warm brie sauce, and the cool air coming in from the ocean with a tang of salt. We talked about our favorite authors and childhood memories. We talked about the children we wanted to have. I guess that is why we noticed the little family when they came in.

“But if there are millions upon millions of different books out there that have been published in the last hundred years, and thousands more coming out each year, what is the draw to write one yourself?” I couldn’t understand.

“The body of literature and instruction that makes up the underpinnings of society” she patiently explained “is amazing because of it’s breadth and diversity. To be a part of that body, part of the collected tidbits of our culture, is the reward itself.” We paused for a moment to dip bread in the cheese and savor the flavors when the little girl ran up to our table. The young couple had come in a few minutes before. The man was handsome but seemed out of place in the Keys, and his young Hispanic wife perfectly balanced him. But it was the child who drew every eye in the room. She was breathtaking. Her dark hair hung in a thick curtain and the little hairs in the front curled up and framed those huge perfect chocolate brown eyes.

The little girl darted over to our table boldly. “Who are you?” Her childish frankness was adorable. Before we could answer, the woman tapped her husband on the arm. “James, can you grab her for me?” The young man dutifully walked and scooped up the child.

“Marisol, you mustn’t disturb these nice ladies” he gently chided, kissing her dark hair before turning to us to make his apologies.

“It’s no bother” we reassured him. “She’s a delightful child”. He mumbled his thanks and carried her back to their table with promises of macaroni and cheese. We chuckled to ourselves and Katherine gave a delighted shiver as an especially cool breeze lifted her curls slightly.

“So anyway” I said, trying to return us to our former topic “I see your point in terms of instructional books but why novels?”

“What is more Christian than to make a person happy? If I can lighten a person’s heart for even a few hours than I have done something worthwhile.” “Aren’t there easier ways to uplift someone?”

She laughed a moment and looked at me with eyes dancing. “Yes I suppose, but this is the talent God gave me. Can I help it if I am a slave to my art?” With amused acquiescence I touched my wine glass against hers and helped myself to another piece of bread.

On we talked for another hour until noting the sinking sun, decided to head back to the beach house. We rose to go and stood in line reading little newspaper clippings adorning the walls, while the young mother rummaged in her purse for her wallet. Her husband touched her elbow and gestured to the child he carried who was asleep with cheese sauce on her face.

“Maria, I’m going to take Marisol on out to the car.” He kissed his wife’s cheek as she gave him an absent minded smile then triumphantly held up the wallet.

The music on the radio that the filtered out from the kitchen changed and I furrowed my brows.

“What is it?” Katherine asked me, noting my demeanor.

“Oh I’m not crazy about the song. I am surprised someone is playing it in a place like this, I wouldn’t have expected alt country.”

“What song is it? I’m not familiar with it.”

“You wouldn’t be,” I explained, “it’s Shades of Grey by Robert Earl Keen. You could ask Rob about it.”

Right then our turn came up to pay. In the pause between customers the cashier smiled out the window across the ocean and fingered the gold

locket around her neck. Katherine beamed at the girl, who shyly smiled back. “That is a beautiful locket, I love the engravings” Katherine offered. The girl glanced down to hide the pink creeping across her face.

“Thank you.” Her voice was quiet and meek. “My boys got it for me.”

Katherine seemed surprised as the cashier couldn’t be more than eighteen and far too young for multiple children. Noting the look the cashier blushed even more deeply. “No I mean from my brother Greg and my fiancé David, they just bought it together for my birthday”

“That is so sweet.” We had our receipt and turned to leave.

“Have a nice evening and please come back again” she finally ventured from behind us.

I glanced back over my shoulder “You too…” I peered at the badge on her shirt. “…Angelique, and congratulations on your birthday.” We left her blushing furiously.

“Back on the writing subject” I said as we pushed open the door to step out into the glorious Florida sunshine. “I have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“Where do you writers get all your great ideas?”

END

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