Part Twenty-Six

At last, thought Peggy, as she strolled down to catch her 5:20 ferry: sunlight in the morning. The eastern sky was filled with a rose-colored glow. Overhead, small orange-and-red clouds gathered in little clusters, interspersed with blue sky. The waters of Eagle Harbor were as calm as a pond, and Peggy noticed that the tide had gone even lower.

It was ironic, though, that she finally got the kind of day she had been waiting for, but was in no mood to enjoy it.

"Good morning. You look very nice," Raoul said quietly as she took her seat on the ferry.

"Technically, I shouldn't even be sitting with you," Peggy said. She wore a slim black skirt that she felt was especially flattering, a silky cream-colored blouse and a crisp blue jacket. She had put on makeup and a little jewelry here and there, nothing overdone, it wasn't her style, but she knew a little sparkle would complement her outfit. The whole effect was a dramatic departure from her usual cottons and corduroys and fleece. The only reminders of her typical attire were the comfortable walking shoes on her feet; in her backpack she carried the shiny black heels that she would put on once she got to her office.

Raoul sighed. "I think it's going to be a lonely fourth-of-July weekend."

Yesterday had been a stressful day. First, Peggy scrambled to prepare for a presentation to the board of directors of her organization, the Northwest Environmental Fund. Her boss, Milton Pacer, had hastily arranged it.

"They want to hear what you're going to say on your trip to Congress," said Milton.

Unfortunately, her notes and data on coastal development issues were geared toward the report that she and Raoul had been working on as part of their involvement with the governor's Coastal Planning Task Force. It was going to take a lot of work to condense that down to a few discussion points that she could explain to skeptical board members.

"They were never completely sold on this task force to begin with," Milton had said. "They think it's all a plan to give real estate developers and big business what they want."

"Do you blame them?" Peggy replied.

She fretted over it for most of the day while trying to reach a key colleague who was out photographing wild flowers around Mt. Rainier. When she looked in the mirror at two in the afternoon she saw that her face had become red and splotchy from stress. Then, at three o'clock her boss made another announcement.

"We're being sued," he said.

"By who?"

"A resort company, Vacation Partners, says we unfairly characterized them as being insensitive to the environment in one of our press releases."

"How else would you describe it when they buy up old shorefront properties and put up big ugly condos that destroy fragile dune systems?"

"They were granted a permit to build because there were already some old structures there," said Milton.

"And I'm sure that was in no way connected to their campaign contributions," Peggy said.

"You can't prove that. Look, I approved the press release, I'm on your side, but I've learned that you can only fight them with facts and the law," Milton said. "But the real reason I'm telling you about this is because Burnett and Edwards is representing them."

Peggy's eyes widened. Milton was an old friend in addition to being her boss, and she had told him about her budding but unlikely relationship with a lawyer she met on the ferry.

"That's Raoul's firm," she said. Her skin felt hot. She wanted to throw herself into a bathtub.

"Just wanted you to know," said Milton.

"Thanks." After the conversation she called Raoul.

"You must have heard," he said immediately.

"Are you involved in the case?" Peggy asked.

"Yes. I tried to get out of it. I took the liberty of explaining that I had, um, a personal relationship with an employee at Northwest Environmental."

"That would be me, I hope," said Peggy.

"Yes. But I was overruled. They want me on the case. Mainly because I've won these types of cases before."

"Do you think you'll win this one?"

"I can't talk about it."

"In other words, you're going to successfully sue us because we told the truth and I'm supposed to act like, well, it's just something we leave at work and forget about?"

"It's going to be challenging," he said.

"Challenging. That's an interesting way of putting it. I think it means that it's up to me to get over it."

The next morning, as they sat on the ferry, Peggy felt more relaxed. The redness in her face had passed with a good night's sleep. She was thinking of the presentation she was going to give at ten o'clock. The sun had peeked over the mountains and splashed a brilliant orange light over Puget Sound. To the east, the Cascades were dark and trimmed in gold; and some parts of Seattle, such as Queen Anne just north of downtown, were enveloped in a thick blanket of fog.

Peggy pulled out some papers. "We might as well discuss business," she said. "I need to clear up a few things for my presentation today."

"Would you like to go to the street dance with me this weekend?" he asked. Bainbridge Island was planning many Fourth-of-July activities.

"I don't know. It might be too... challenging for me," she said without looking up.

Part Twenty-Five

The morning sky was gray, with a hint of brightness in the east. As she walked up the ramp to the 5:20 a.m. ferry, Peggy peered over the side and noticed again the low tide and thought to herself that it would be nice to stroll on the beach and search for interesting stones and sea creatures. Life had become so busy all of a sudden.

She went to her favorite spot, along the left aisle of the ferry, and saw that she had gotten there before Raoul. Presently he came up the stairs from the car deck, dressed in his usual motorcycle leathers and carrying his white helmet.

"I was accosted by well-wishers," said Raoul. "It seems everyone who has ever been to Washington, D.C., is an expert on what to do there."

"What have you heard?"

"Walt says we're crazy if we don't rent a motorcycle and go touring the Civil War battlefields," he said.

"I got a call from Marjorie, she wants to take us to a photography exhibit at the National Gallery," said Peggy.

"Add it to the list," said Raoul.

Just as they were getting settled and pouring themselves tea, Kelly Flinn and Ferdinand plopped down across from them.

"I heard you were going to D.C.," said Kelly. "The seat of government."

"Is that a statement of fact or an editorial comment?" said Peggy.

"Take your pick. But whatever you do, I highly recommend the Holocaust Museum. Have you been to it?" said Kelly.

"I would find it very difficult. My father's side is Jewish, you know," said Raoul.

"You didn't tell me that," said Peggy.

"We haven't gotten around to discussing religion. We've had too many other things to argue about."

"You can sometimes hear free jazz concerts at the Smithsonian," said Ferdinand.

Just then Florence and Luke were walking by. "Did someone say Smithsonian?" asked Florence in a voice that was way too chipper for 5:30 in the morning. They sat across the aisle, next to the booth where the bicyclists were practically undressing. Peggy suspected that the main reason people rode bikes onto the ferry was to show off their little tights and clingy jerseys.

"We're going to Washington," said Peggy.

"You might catch the Smithsonian Folk Life Festival," said Florence. "The food is awesome."

"It will be over by the time we get there," said Peggy.

"Are you going on the White House tour?" asked Luke.

"Oh I did that once, during the Clinton administration," said one of the cyclists, a young woman who was brushing her hair.

"It's different now," said Raoul. "You're lucky if you get to see the garage."

"Are you kidding?" said Kelly. "They won't let you near the garage."

"Actually, you can request a tour through your Congressional representatives," said Luke.

"So much for that," Peggy said. "Most of our representatives are Democrats, and they can't even get themselves into the White House."

"That's nonsense," said Raoul. "Democrats can visit between 7:30 and 7:35 a.m. on Mondays."

"Our government inaction," said Kelly. "Get it?"

"I'm afraid so," said Raoul.

"When do you go?" asked Florence.

"We are supposed to be at a hearing on coastal planning issues on July 18," said Peggy.

"Raoul, are you going, too?" asked Florence.

"Yes."

"You two should have a swell time."

Peggy could imagine little wheels turning in Florence's head.

"I can recommend an amazing Italian restaurant, called Galileo's," said Florence. "Luke, maybe we should plan a trip there."

"Sure. Hey, wouldn't it be funny if we ran into Peggy and Raoul," Luke said.

"That does it, we're getting an unlisted hotel," said Raoul.

"Sounds romantic," said Florence, winking at Peggy. Everyone suddenly looked at Peggy and she felt like crawling into her tea cup.

"Look, we might get some sunshine after all," Raoul said, pointing out of the window. An orange band of light spilled through an opening in the clouds. They all looked.

Thank you.

Part Twenty-Four

"We're coming to the East Coast!" Peggy said on the phone to her son Taylor. It was a few minutes before five in the morning.

"Huh?" said Taylor, groggy. It was eight o'clock his time.

"Sorry. I couldn't reach you last night, and I'll be in meetings all day today so I thought I'd give you a quick call."

"Who's coming with you?"

"Raoul. And you'll get to meet his daughter, Deidre. She's very nice."

"Why? What's up?"

"It's a business trip. I'll send you an email with the details. Gotta run now and catch my ferry. Bye."

She hung up and dashed out the door. The morning was gray and kind of dark; the days already seemed to be noticeably shorter. As she walked up the ramp to the ferry Peggy watched a pair of seagulls pick for delicacies among the rocks and seaweed exposed by the low tide waters around Eagle Harbor.

"I suppose you've alerted the forces," said Raoul.

"I called Marjorie last night and Taylor this morning," she said.

"And I called my brother, Dale, in Connecticut." Raoul shrugged, "If nothing else, the taxpayers of Washington State will be reuniting families."

As a result of their work on the Coastal Planning Task Force, the governor invited Peggy, Raoul and several other members of the task force to testify before a U.S. Congressional sub-committee in Washington, D.C., on coastal policies and development. The hearing was scheduled for Monday, July 18.

"Marjorie was thrilled," said Peggy. "Did you reach Deidre?"

"Yes. She'll be in Philly, and she'd like to come to New York with us."

"I'm so excited." For some reason, Peggy had been thinking of Taylor and Deidre. There was a certain off-beat quirkiness to both of them. Of course, she didn't want to be a meddling mother, but she couldn't resist at least getting them together informally. No pressure whatsoever.

After receiving the news yesterday, Peggy and Raoul talked on the phone and discovered that they had had the same idea: turn the trip into a family-visiting tour of the Northeast Corridor. They would visit Marjorie in Arlington, Deidre in Philadelphia, Taylor, Jr., in Brooklyn, and Dale in Connecticut. And then maybe go off somewhere in New England on their own.

"Not sure what good our testimony will do," Raoul said, sipping his tea as the ferry made the turn into Puget Sound.

"We've been pretty thorough, and balanced," said Peggy.

"Being balanced never gets you anywhere," he said.

"There you go being cynical again."

"It's true. Who supports middle-of-the-road positions on anything? No one. If you want support for any political viewpoint it has to be an extreme viewpoint. There's no money in compromise."

"But the facts speak for themselves. We have data showing that a limited amount of smart development is good for revenue while preserving the environment at the same time."

"True, but if you own beachfront property and you want to build a large hotel that makes more money than a small hotel then the last thing you want is for someone to come along and talk to you about preserving the environment."

"But if you preserve the environment then you will attract more visitors. People don't want to go for scenic walks in a dump."

"Depends. If the dump has a go-cart track and a hamburger stand and an ice-cream shop they might like it."

"You're giving me a headache," she said. Then her mind switched to Taylor and she imagined his grungy art studio in Brooklyn, and his odd night-time hours due to his restaurant job. She wondered how she could get him to clean his studio before Deidre visited.

"I'm just trying to give you a taste of what the committee will be like. They're going to grill us on property rights issues."

"Like that really matters anymore in light of the Supreme Court decision."

"Sad but true. If a developer is willing to build a small hotel, some other developer could come along and argue that a larger hotel would generate more revenue and would be better for the so-called public. Isn't that perverted?"

"I hope you tell that to the committee," said Peggy.

"I'm sure that between the two of us we'll give them an earful."

"It'll be fun." Then after a moment she said, "Does Deidre like art?"

Part Twenty-Three

A rainy Monday morning, but Peggy hardly noticed as she practically skipped to the 5:20 a.m. ferry. The gray clouds overhead looked like large, soft pillows; and the city across the water lay sleeping in arms of fog and mist.

"Good morning," she said to Raoul as she approached their favorite booth and found him waiting there.

"Morning," he said with a smile. In fact, they were both grinning.

Kelly Flinn and Ferdinand were sitting opposite, looking at a photograph that Raoul was showing to them.

"Very cool," said Ferdinand.

"I'm showing them the picture of the cereus," said Raoul.

**

It had been a big event in a weekend of big events. On Thursday, Raoul had phoned her at work to say that he thought his night-blooming cereus was ready to open.

"Your what?" she had said.

"It's known as Queen of the Night, a kind of cactus. I keep it in my cactus hut."

She had been impressed by his "cactus hut," as he called it, when she visited his garden. It was a warm, dry greenhouse in which he grew several varieties of "cacti and succulents." But she didn't remember hearing anything about queens and night-bloomers.

"Each flower blooms for one night around June or July and then closes for a year. They have an amazing fragrance," he said.

"I would love to see it," Peggy said.

She went over at seven. They had a simple dinner consisting of chunks of baked halibut tossed with spinach leaves and roasted zucchini. He served an elegant French white wine.

"Let's bring out the cereus," he said after dinner.

They went to the cactus hut and he carried out a rather small-looking potted plant and placed it on a table. "I think these June nights are perfect. Cool, dry, at least most of the time. I'm guessing it's going to be one of these evenings."

"How did you find out about these flowers?" Peggy asked.

"When I lived in Pacific Grove, California, I had a neighbor who went to New Mexico every year to paint watercolors of desert flowers. The night-blooming cereus was one of his favorites. He would do the painting in the middle of the night."

They went back in and had mint tea and listened to music. Peggy felt very relaxed. She propped her feet on a coffee table and enjoyed a luxurious view looking east over Puget Sound from Raoul's living room. At one o'clock in the morning they went out to check the cereus. It had bloomed beneath a moonlit sky. The fragrant was intoxicating, almost pungent. It smelled like vanilla. Raoul took pictures with his digital camera.

On Friday morning she went home and found several messages on her answering machine. Her son and daughter had both called in the evening and again in the morning. Peggy returned her daughter's call first.

"Where were you?" said Marjorie.

"How's your morning sickness, dear?" said Peggy. Marjorie, who lived in Arlington, Virginia, was coping with her first pregnancy.

"I'm getting over that, but are you okay?"

"Of course I'm okay."

"Did you spend the night somewhere?"

"I'm over twenty-one, you know," said Peggy.

"I see. This must be Raoul."

"Yes. He has flowers that only bloom at night."

"How convenient. So, does this mean that you and he, uh…"

"Nevermind," said Peggy. In fact, they did.

Then she called Taylor, Jr. "What happened to you?" he asked from his apartment in Brooklyn, New York.

"Nothing. I'm fine."

"Are you still hanging out with that arch-conservative apologist guy?"

"Taylor, I need a boyfriend. He's a very nice man and he has a special flower called Queen of the Night."

"Man, I've got to get some tips from that dude."

"Since when have my children become so grown up and cynical?"

"I thought you and he didn't agree on anything?" said Taylor.

"We disagree on many things. But the things we agree on are so wonderful that they make up for the other things."

"Sounds like you're rationalizing," he said.

"Since when are you such an expert?"

On the ferry, Peggy sipped her tea while she daydreamed about the weekend. The conversation had moved onto other things. Kelly Flinn was giving one of his speeches about current events.

"…I'm worried about my property," he was saying. "I have an old house on two acres. Under this latest Supreme Court ruling, the State could take it away and give the land to someone who might do something with it that generates more tax revenue."

Ferdinand said, "None of us are safe. I live in a trailer park right in Winslow, walking distance to the ferry. They could boot us out and give the land to a developer to build a condo, and it would be for the public good, right?"

"It's a shocking application of eminent domain," said Raoul.

Peggy looked at him. "You mean you're agreeing with him?"

"I'm afraid I side with Kelly on this one. The court is saying it's okay to take private property from one owner and give it to another private owner. That's completely contrary to the way we've always viewed private ownership in this country."

"My, this has been a time for rare events," she said. "Like flowers that bloom once a year."

"I thought that was symbolic of other rare events," he said.

She turned red and said, "Just drink your tea."


(** The night-blooming cereus was photographed by Aline Branley in her garden in Kenner, Louisiana)

Part Twenty-Two

Aah, Peggy thought to herself, my kind of day. The sky was blue overhead, and to the east it was a mixture of orange, pink, and hints of green. She walked up the ramp to the ferry at 5:10, noticing how the high tide was touching the low-hanging madrona trees that grew out from the banks.

"Good morning," she said to Raoul, sliding in next to him on the bench seat. "It's scone day."

"Mmm, what a treat," he said. She offered him a homemade currant scone and then poured herself a cup of tea.

"I can't help celebrating Thursdays; end of the week," Peggy said.

Then Peggy heard a loud clacking of high heels and looked up to see Florence enter the booth, accompanied by a well-dressed thirtyish-looking man who, Peggy thought, must be her latest conquest.

"Good morning, Raoul," said Florence. "This is Luke. Luke, this is Raoul." Then, looking at Peggy, she said, "And you are, wait, wait, it's on the tip of my tongue. Peggy. Right?"

"Right." They shook hands with Luke. Peggy had met Florence only once and knew that she was an old friend of Raoul's who, like Peggy, had recently moved to Bainbridge Island from Seattle. She was in her forties, Peggy guessed, and dressed in a short, pin-striped skirt, stylish high heels and a silky blouse. She kept crossing and re-crossing her legs. Peggy could imagine her with a cigarette between her fingers. Luke had a tanned, good-looking face and wore a blue suit.

"I'm sorry I didn't bring an extra scone for you," said Peggy.

"Oh that's okay, it's not good for my girlish figure anyway," she winked at Peggy.

The ferry departed and soon made the turn out of Eagle Harbor. Peggy noticed that Mt. Rainier was bathed in an orange glow, visible all the way to the summit. Seattle itself, though, was shrouded in fog.

"Luke and I met in a foursome at Wing Point," Florence was saying to Raoul. "My God, I don't know how you guys do this five-twenty ferry everyday. Whew. I'm beat and I still have a long day at the office."

"You get used to it. I like that it's not so crowded," said Raoul.

"Where do you work?" asked Peggy.

"At Microsoft. And you?"

"Northwest Environmental Fund."

Luke's face brightened. "We're in the same building. I work at Blue Hill Software."

"I wouldn't have guessed you were the software type," said Peggy.

"Yeah, they don't wear ties. I'm in sales."

"That's why he hangs out at the golf course picking up old ladies," laughed Florence.

"Old? Are you kidding?" Luke looked at her with surprise.

"You are such a dear." Then, to Peggy, she said, "That's why I keep him around. Every girl needs to have a fan club, right?"

Peggy wondered if she had a fan club.

"I believe your organization has been in the papers recently," said Luke to Peggy.

"Yes. We're on the governor's coastal planning task force. Raoul's on it, too."

"They held a gun to my head," said Raoul.

"That's the spirit," said Florence. "I always knew you were a dutiful public servant."

"Ha. That's a good one," said Peggy.

Raoul looked at her. "Look who's talking. I believe you were the one complaining that yesterday's meeting was a waste of time."

"That's because certain members were trying to make new rules that effectively limited debate on certain topics."

"Sounds like the other Washington," said Luke.

"Politics is politics," said Raoul.

"It's all over my head," said Florence, opening an issue of Cosmopolitan.

"Why does everyone just lay down and take it like road kill?" said Peggy. "Go ahead, trample on my rights. I don't care."

"I think it's a generational thing," said Luke. "I was reading an article the other day that talked about how, thirty or forty years ago, it was cool to be broke and homeless. Now it's cool to have money and a nice car and a cell phone. So, people my age are going for the bucks. That means you go along with the status quo, because that's where the money is."

"I definitely see a change in what young people go in for these days," said Peggy.

"Sounds practical to me," said Florence. She got to an advertisement that had a perfume sample and she lifted it to her nose and sniffed. "Ugh, you could wear that to the Pike Place fish market."

"Young people are smarter now than they used to be," said Raoul.

"You were young once," said Peggy.

"And I was as clueless and broke as the rest of them."

"I'll bet you didn't say that at the time," said Luke.

Raoul cleared his throat. "Let's see, how does that line from Bob Dylan go? '…I was so much older then, I'm younger than that now.'" He sang in a pleasant, husky bass voice. Peggy liked that side of him, the thoughtful part of him that could recite a poem or sing a song and play music and grow wonderful flowers. Then there was this darker side, that seemed negative and cold and uncaring. Which was the real him?

Then Peggy learned something new about Raoul. It was Luke who was speaking. "Were you in Vietnam?"

"Two years," said Raoul. Peggy was shocked. Of course, he was the right age. But the thought had not crossed her mind.

"What did you do?"

"Infantry. I walked patrols in the jungle."

"Awesome," said Luke.

"That's exactly what young people say now. But you didn't say it when you were over there getting shot at. There was a draft going on and everybody, well almost everybody, went."

"But young people now are volunteering to go to Iraq," said Luke.

Raoul shrugged. "Those numbers are relatively small, in my opinion. I think there's always been a segment of the population that is willing to go to war. Maybe it's a patriotic thing, maybe they just like shooting stuff. I don't know. But in Vietnam you had those guys plus everybody else, including the guys who didn't want to be there. And they were all mixed in together. When you think about it, today, there's about a hundred-and-fifty thousand in Iraq. In Vietnam we had half a million in 1968."

"Do you think they'll bring back the draft?" asked Luke.

"They will if they have no other choice," said Raoul.

"Don't worry, Luke, you're over the age limit," said Florence, patting his knee like he was her son.

"Of course, they do have other choices," said Peggy. "Like bringing everybody home."

Raoul looked at Peggy; he had a twinkle in his eye. "Are we going to add the war to our list of things to argue about?"

"Sure. Why not." She smiled and realized that she kept liking him even when she didn't want to.

Part Twenty-One

It was a gray morning, misty, cloudy, not a trace of the friendly orange-and-pink glow that Peggy had come to enjoy on her morning walks to the 5:20 ferry. Yesterday had been the summer solstice, the longest day of the year. She had gone to Raoul's house, finally, to see his garden and hear his Merry Pranksters Renaissance Band, which consisted of Raoul on alto recorder, his friend Ted on lute, a white-haired woman named Xena on viola da gamba, and Xena's granddaughter, Laura, on bass recorder. Many of Raoul's flowers were in bloom and he took great delight in discussing each one.



The evening was a success; the band played wonderful music and Xena sang bawdy medieval tunes. Peggy stayed up too late, had too much wine, and was now groggy as she boarded the ferry and found her way to her usual seat.

Raoul was already there, trying to read his newspaper, with an annoyed look on his face. Across from him was Kelly Flinn, the "town crier," as Raoul had taken to calling him. Kelly had an opinion on anything and everything and was always willing to share it with his fellow passengers on the ferry. With Kelly was Ferdinand, the drummer.

"I don't know how they expect this coastal task force to get anything done," Kelly said.

"My thoughts exactly," said Raoul. "Committees are by nature inefficient."

"Raoul, a dialogue is needed," said Peggy, pouring her tea from her Thermos. "How else can people's opinions be heard?"

Raoul raised his eyebrows. "Now there's a thought. Maybe some opinions shouldn't be heard."

"Now you're being childish," said Peggy.

"I'm being realistic," he said.

"Decisions can't be made in a vacuum," said Kelly. "That's the point I was leading up to. The task force is going to be marginalized by powerful people who don't want to change the status quo. They are going to make sure that any recommendations made by the task force are stashed away in a file cabinet somewhere, especially the ones they don't agree with. And do you know why?"

"I suppose you're going to tell us," said Raoul.

"It's because there's a lot of money at stake," Kelly said. Ferdinand nodded his head in agreement. "Who in this state is going to stand up to real estate developers who want to build condos and hotels on every patch of desirable land they can find? It brings in tax revenue."

"He's right, you know," said Peggy. "We don't stand a chance of being heard."

"You folks are paranoid," said Raoul. "If the task force makes recommendations that aren't followed then it will be for a good reason, like we've trampled on the rights on property owners. Let's face it, our whole society is built on the idea of private ownership of property. And if you don't think that's a good idea, then consider the alternative, which is public ownership. Now that's a recipe for disaster."

"I just don't get how someone with your range of interests can be so cold and negative," said Peggy.

"What you are describing as cold and negative is what I call reality," said Raoul.

"With property rights come responsibilities," said Kelly.

"Bingo," said Peggy.

"Oh, brother, now you guys are singing from the same page of music," said Raoul.

Ferdinand perked up. "Speaking of music, what's that?"

A burst of plucking string music suddenly filled the air, coming from just down the aisle.

Raoul gasped. Peggy looked at him. "What is it?"

"A zither," he said. "Oh, my. It's been years."


Click zither to listen to
Anton Karas playing "Danube Dream."

They listened. The music was calming, it made Peggy forget about politics and property rights. Then she looked at Raoul and noticed that a change had come over him. He suddenly seemed sad, and older. There were wrinkles in his face that she had not noticed before. He looked out of the window, either listening to the music or lost in some thought, she couldn't tell which.

"What is it?" Peggy said again, softly.

"It reminds me of The Third Man. It was Priscilla's favorite movie. The entire soundtrack was played on the zither by Anton Karas. We watched it so many times together. I can't hear a zither being played without thinking of that, without thinking of her."

Peggy placed her hand on his arm. "I know exactly how you feel. I know that feeling of recalling a moment that you had with someone and it seems so unreal that the person is gone. The moment might have seemed like an eternity at the time, but it was really so fleeting, so instantaneous."

He looked at her and smiled. "I'm very glad to have you with me right now."

"And I'm glad to be here."

Synopsis (Parts 11-20)

First, a general overview. Peggy Heggy is the widow of the late Taylor Heggy. They lived a happily married life for thirty years in a neighborhood of Seattle called Ballard, where they raised two children, Marjorie and Taylor, Jr., both of whom now live on the East Coast. One week after their 30th anniversary, Taylor died of a heart attack. Peggy stayed in the old family home for a year after Taylor's death, and then decided to sell the house and move to Bainbridge Island, which is just across Puget Sound from downtown Seattle. She is fifty-eight years old.

Our story begins a couple of weeks after Peggy has made the move to Bainbridge. She commutes by ferry to her job at a nonprofit organization called the Northwest Environmental Fund in downtown Seattle. Peggy walks from her house to the 5:20 a.m. ferry and gets to her office by 6:30. At first she was commuting five days each week but then she reduced it to four days and now works Fridays at home.

Shortly after beginning her commuting routine, Peggy meets Raoul, a neatly dressed man who rides a motorcycle onto the ferry everyday. He has gray hair and a short, trimmed beard. Under his motorcycle leathers is a suit and tie. Peggy enjoys chatting with Raoul, and one day they meet for lunch. Like Peggy, Raoul is the survivor of a long marriage. His late wife, Priscilla, had died many years earlier. He has a daughter, Deidre, who lives in Philadelphia.

However, their relationship gets off to a rocky start when Peggy learns that he works for a law firm called Burnett and Edwards. It so happens that Peggy is familiar with this firm: it has a history of defending the very companies that Peggy's organization brings lawsuits against for polluting the environment. Peggy discovers that she and Raoul have extremely incompatible views on issues that are important to her.

In Parts Eleven through Twenty, several things happen that have the strange effect of bring Peggy and Raoul closer together at times and farther apart at other times. They go on a nice walk along Crystal Springs Drive, on the west side of Bainbridge Island. During that walk Raoul describes his relationship with his late wife and Peggy is very touched by what she hears. He concludes a little speech by saying, "When the chemistry is right, all the other things don't matter." Peggy thinks this has merit. She feels very close to Raoul at that moment.

On another occasion, Raoul gives Peggy a ride on his motorcycle, at Peggy's request. It starts to rain and they park and run for a shelter, and Peggy slips and falls and sprains her arm. He is very caring and helpful. This event draws them a little closer together, and they start exchanging emails in the evenings.

Later, Raoul invites Peggy to his house for the first time. It was supposed to be a Saturday visit, but on Friday Raoul has to cancel because he is needed in Westport, Washington, to help his sister, Francine, with her beach house. He invites Peggy to go with him and she agrees. Most of the weekend was very relaxed; Peggy liked Francine. She, too, was recently widowed, so they shared a bond. However, on Saturday night there was a huge flood. Ocean water came over the dune and flooded Fran's house. They escaped up to the attic and stayed there until daylight. Someone came to rescue them in a boat, and then they all rode back to Seattle on a bus. The whole event brings Peggy and Raoul much closer together, but also laid the groundwork for some clashes.

The flood was a big deal that immediately became enmeshed in politics. Peggy and Raoul, due to their respective jobs, were both drawn into the fray. The governor formed a task force to study coastal issues, and Peggy and Raoul were both assigned to the task force, and then landed on a small committee together to study property rights vs environmental issues. In the most recent installments of the story, this has led to a lot of tension between Peggy and Raoul. He is an advocate for protecting the rights of property owners: people who own property should be allowed to put it to use as they see fit. Peggy believes the environment is very fragile and that property owners have responsibilities as well as rights.

In terms of her personal life, Peggy has recently gotten word that her daughter, Marjorie, was expecting her first child. Peggy was going to become a grandparent for the first time. Also, throughout all of the events of the last month or so, Peggy is constantly torn between wanting to start a new life and preserving the life she had with her late husband. She feels young at heart and has energy. She doesn't want her life to end just because her husband has died, on the other hand she feels a certain loyalty to him. Meeting Raoul and getting to know him has allowed her to see that she could, if she really wanted to, start a relationship and begin a new life with someone. But is Raoul the right someone? And even if she decides that, yes, she wants to be with him, can she tolerate views and attitudes that are so different from hers?

Thanks for reading. In the near future I plan to hold a contest to determine what happens between Peggy and Raoul. The prize will be a $100 gift certificate to Eagle Harbor Books on Bainbridge Island, which can be spent online. Please check billbranley.com for more information.

Bill

Part Twenty

The sky was already glowing orange when Peggy looked out of her kitchen window at 5 a.m. By 5:20, when her ferry eased away from the dock, the sun had created a sky of fire that backlit the treetops. "Look at the colors," Peggy said to Raoul, pointing out of the window of the ferry.

"Do you have your notes ready?" asked Raoul rummaging in his briefcase.

"We're not even at work yet," said Peggy. It so happened that she and Raoul were to attend a meeting together in downtown Seattle.

"Might I remind you our meeting starts at eight o'clock," he said.

"But look, the view!"

With a sigh Raoul turned his head and immediately raised his hand to shield his eyes from the brilliant orange sunlight that flooded the cabin once the ferry turned out of Eagle Harbor.

"Rainier looks nice," he said. "But the Cascades are hazy."

"You're so analytical."

"We have a big day ahead of us."

"Have you always been such a study in contradictions?"

"Why do you say that?" he asked.

"Take yesterday for example. We had a wonderful walk at Fort Ward park and you taught me so much about the killdeer; you know, that little bird we saw on the beach and how it falls down and pretends to have a broken wing in order to lead predators away from its nest. What noble behavior; I was fascinated. But this morning you show no interest in an amazing natural display of color and scenery."

"Just for the record, I think it's going to be a hazy day. But the real point is, I want to be prepared for our meeting today so we can get through this ordeal and get on to more productive things."

Peggy counted to ten to keep from getting angry. It had all started on Thursday. She had gone into work and found out that the Washington state governor had convened a Coastal Planning Task Force to study coastal development and its impact on the environment, especially with regard to flooding.

"Great," Peggy said to her boss, Milton Pacer.

"Glad you think so," he said. "We've been invited to participate and I'm assigning you and Dr. Forest to the Task Force. There's going to be a meeting at the Seattle Public Library with a telecon hookup to Olympia. I need you and Dr. Forest to be there."

At two 'clock that afternoon, Peggy and Dr. Forest, a renowned marine biologist, walked to the library.

"It's astonishing that we've been invited to attend," said Dr. Forest. "We're usually the ones they keep out of these things."

"That's because they normally don't want facts getting in the way of their conclusions," Peggy said.

The conference room at the library was crowded when they got there. Dr. Forest was greeted by several colleagues and pulled away. There were a few empty seats along a wall to the right. Peggy sat in one of them and looked around the room to see who else was there. Meanwhile, out of the corner of her eye she saw a man take the seat next to her. She turned. It was Raoul.

"What are you doing here?" Raoul asked.

"My organization has been invited to the Task Force. Somebody has to keep things honest."

Raoul groaned. "This is going to be a three-ring circus."

A woman brought the meeting to order and then a large screen came alive with the governor's image beamed from Olympia. The governor talked for several minutes about the mission of the Coastal Planning Task Force.

"She's really good, isn't she?" whispered Peggy to Raoul.

"She stole the election," said Raoul.

"You would have to bring that up."

After the presentation, the woman who had brought the meeting to order announced that attendees would be assigned to small committees. Each committee would be asked to nominate topics to be formally studied by the Task Force.

"We're deliberately mixing people up," said the organizer. "The governor wants interaction between government agencies, the private sector, special interests and academia. Any topic is fair game."

When the list was published, Peggy and Raoul discovered that they were assigned to the same committee.

"What fun. We'll work together," said Peggy.

"If this committee does anything resembling work I'll be amazed," he said.

Peggy quickly scanned a fact sheet describing their mission. "We get to look at property rights vs conservation. That's perfect."

"I already know what my recommendation's going to be," said Raoul as they were leaving the library. "Our whole society is based on private ownership of property and the rights that come with it."

"But with rights come responsibilities," said Peggy.

Now, on Monday morning, Peggy sipped her tea and compared a list of points she had written over the weekend with a list Raoul had prepared.

"Raoul, you aren't taking this seriously, are you? Your proposals are so obviously one-sided. It's as though you're simply dismissing this whole effort as not worth your time."

"These kinds of Task Forces are designed to do one thing: win points with the public. Nothing of consequence ever comes out of them," said Raoul.

"That's such a negative outlook," said Peggy. "If that's the way you feel, why bother?"

"Because I have a boss who wants me to do it and so I am."

"I also have a boss who wants me to do it and I'm going to see to it that our work has an impact."

"Good luck."

"I'm not letting you off that easy. I want you to put some real thought into this. Don't just treat it like a paper drill."

"If any of this ever sees the light of day it will be amazing."

"What about those birds you were so excited about? The killdeer. Are you willing to say that anyone who owns beachfront property can just bulldoze away the bird habitat and build a big ugly boathouse for their noisy motorboats?"

"Depends. Will they invite me to go water skiing?" chuckled Raoul.

Peggy looked away in frustration. She wanted to scream. Raoul placed a hand on her arm.

"Okay. I'll take it seriously. Our voices will be heard."

She handed him his list of ideas and a pen. "Good. Start revising."

He took the pen. "Me and my big mouth."

Part Nineteen

Peggy was happy to see hints of orange and pink in the sky as she walked down the hill to the 5:20 a.m. ferry. She found her seat on the left side and sat next to Raoul, who was already engrossed in his morning paper. Across the aisle from her, the bicycle riders were chatty and upbeat.

"Good morning," said Peggy to Raoul.

"Morning," said Raoul without looking up.

"Tea?" she asked, pulling her Thermos from her backpack.

"No thanks."

So, Peggy thought, this is how it's going to be. We're just going to be quiet and sulky aren't we. The ferry nosed out of Eagle Harbor and Peggy was greeted by a clear view eastward all the way to the Cascades. The mountains were outlined vividly in pink and yellow. Mt. Rainier rose majestically on her right, and was topped by a small cloud that was shaped like a straw hat.

"Rainier is wearing a hat," Peggy said.

"Interesting," he said with barely a turn of his head in the direction of the mountain.

It had been this way for most of the week. On Monday, Peggy and Raoul were still experiencing a certain glow after a weekend of closeness. But once Peggy got to work on Monday morning her boss, Milton Pacer, called her into his office to discuss a project.

"Did you hear about the coastal flooding?" Milton had asked.

"Did I hear about it? I was in it!" Then she told him her story of the weekend at Fran's house in Westport.

"Wow," he said. "That's perfect. In fact, your personal account will help add some color to our story. The board held an emergency meeting over the telephone last night to discuss our response to the flooding. The decision is unanimous: we're going to sue the State of Washington."

Peggy was not surprised. Her organization, the Northwest Environmental Fund, frequently took on government agencies and corporations in high-profile environmental cases. She realized this case was tailor-made for N.E.F. "Let me guess, they shouldn't have allowed development on that land in the first place."

"Bingo," said Milton. "They caved in to developers and did a disservice to the taxpayers of Washington."

Peggy was intrigued. "So what's my role?"

"It's what you do best: get our project database organized. You have much of it already in your Education Database. Our field scientists are going to give you lots more data. We have records on water levels, precipitation, beach erosion and accretion, human activities over the last hundred years. Plus we have policy experts going over all of the legislation and government studies that have been worked on."

"Sounds exciting," Peggy said. She spent the rest of Monday working on her new project. By Monday evening there were already news reports from Olympia, the state capitol, indicating that opposing sides were lining up over the flooding. Finger pointing was rampant.

On Tuesday morning, Raoul said, "You won't believe what happened."

"What?"

"The legal aftermath of that weekend flood is almost as bad as the flood itself. Everybody's filing lawsuits: property owners, insurance companies, you name it."

"Don't forget environmental groups."

He looked at her, "Are you saying that your group is jumping on this bandwagon?"

"I wish you wouldn't call it a bandwagon. There are some serious issues at stake."

"I'll say," said Raoul. "That's why the state has hired us to represent them."

Peggy looked at him with surprise. "In that case we shouldn't discuss the matter. Because N.E.F. is suing the state."

"For what? They're the good guys in all of this."

"There are certain state agencies that are too cozy with property owners. They consistently take the property rights view at the expense of the environment."

"That's what we pay them good tax dollars for: to make sure our hard-earned property rights are protected."

"At what cost? Does that mean any old Tom, Dick or Harry can put up a building on a fragile piece of land just because he happens to own it?"

Raoul sighed and rolled his eyes. "Peggy, these issues are very complex."

"Too complex for our little minds to understand? Is that what you mean? You know, you property rights people are always hiding behind this argument that everything's so complex and abstract. But it's really simple: when property owners discover that they can make money off their land they don't want anybody standing in their way. And the state just lets them do what they want because there are tax revenues involved."

"That's absurd. You can't make a charge like that stick."

"We'll see, won't we."

Wednesday was no better. Raoul came armed with newspaper clippings explaining how the state followed the law in permitting coastal development over several decades.

"Of course," said Peggy. "It's easy when you conveniently write laws in such a way that the hard issues are pushed to the sidelines. Any scientist who has studied that coastal region can tell you that it should not be developed."

Raoul tapped his fingers on his leg impatiently. "There you go again, treating these tough issues like they're black and white. This is no business for amateurs."

She looked at him sternly, "I'm not comfortable with that remark. The N.E.F hires very good people. Let me explain something about that coastline. You know the sand dune that was in front of your sister's house? The one we walked over?"

"Sure. It's been there for decades."

"It's not supposed to be there," said Peggy. "It's only there because a hundred years ago the cranberry farmers along the coast planted several varieties of non-native beach grasses in order to stop sand from blowing into their cranberry bogs. Those grasses spread like crazy. They're beautiful to look at today, but the result has been an artificial sand dune that any scientist knew could be covered over with ocean water at any time. Your sister and her husband got lucky all these years. But Nature caught up with them."

"Try telling her that," snapped Raoul.

"I'm sorry about Fran's property. But my belief is that the state should never have permitted construction there in the first place."

"The property was owned fair and square and the development was perfectly legal," said Raoul.

"Therein lies the rub. It always seems to come back to property owners and letting them do what they please in the name of tax revenue."

"That's a serious charge."

"Like I said, we have very good people."

Peggy then ended the conversation by taking out her knitting. She had just received a call the night before from her daughter, Marjorie, who lives in Virginia with her husband. Marjorie phoned to say that she was expecting their first child. Peggy was finally going to become a grandmother for the first time.

Part Eighteen

(Note: This is the last of the three-part "Weekend in Westport" episode.)


The rain began just as Raoul, Peggy and Fran were finishing their fish dinner around the fire on Saturday night. They rushed their trays inside, then Raoul gathered up the chairs and cooking racks from the fire pit while Peggy washed the dishes. Afterwards they sat in the living room and finished the wine while the rain beat hard against the large plate glass windows. Peggy could see the glass vibrating. She went to the window and looked out and saw the dune grasses flattened by the strong winds.

"It'll blow over," said Raoul.

Rainstorms in the Northwest often do end as quickly as they begin, especially in summer, but this one persisted. The three of them sat together quietly, listening to the wind.

"I'm so glad you're here," said Fran. "I would hate to be alone on a night like this."

Raoul yawned. "You can turn some music on if you need a distraction."

"Good idea," said Peggy. She got up and fished among the few recordings that were stacked on a shelf and settled on Frank Sinatra. It occurred to Peggy that 'Stella by Starlight' sounded unusually melancholy against a backdrop of driving rain and howling wind.

A few hours later, Peggy woke up in a dark room feeling raindrops on her face. Above her a window had been pushed open by the wind; it was the kind of window that swung inward on hinges. Everything seemed out of place, the darkness, the window. She knew that her bedroom in Ballard, where she had lived with her late husband, Taylor, for thirty years, did not have a window above the bed like that. Then she remembered, of course, she had moved to Bainbridge Island, but neither did her room there did have a window in that spot. She wiped the raindrops from her face. Right, she was in Westport with Raoul. She had been having a dream. She was in a sleeping bag with Raoul on a beach and she didn't know whether his name was Taylor or Raoul. Then it rained on them and he zipped up the bag and he felt very warm and she was glad to have him next to her.

Peggy disrupted the dream with a shake of her head. She got up to close the window but when she placed her foot on the floor she felt cold water. Slosh. She gasped. The room was flooded. Peggy knelt on the bed to close the window. Then she leaned over to grope for the floor with her hands in the darkness. About an inch or two of water. It felt sandy. She touched her fingers to her mouth. Saltwater. What had become of Raoul and Fran?

Peggy removed her socks and tiptoed across the flooded floor and went into the hallway. It, too, was filled with water. She went to Fran's room and opened the door. Fran was still sleeping. Peggy went to Raoul's room and shook him. It felt strange to touch him while he was sleeping. What would he think? She wished she had brought a robe.

"What is it?" He sat up quickly.

"The house is flooded."

"What?" He jumped out of bed. Peggy heard him sloshing across the room and saw his outline in the doorway. "Wake up Fran. We have to leave."

Fran sat in bed and cried when Peggy explained what had happened. Raoul came to the door. "It's worse than I thought. Come see this."

Peggy held Fran around the shoulders and led her down the hallway. With each step, Fran muttered something about her carpet being ruined. In the living room, where they had sat and drank wine and listened to Frank Sinatra a few hours earlier, the three of them stopped and stared. Fran cried hysterically. The Pacific Ocean had broken over the dune and flooded the house. They were standing in sea water.

Even though Fran's house was built off the ground, enough water had spilled over to reach up to the lower part of the house and cover the floors. Peggy went to the front window and stared into the gray light. No beach, no dune, just water. It was like they were adrift at sea.

Raoul went to the back window and said, "Both cars are submerged."

"What should we do?" asked Fran, tears streaming down her cheeks. "There's no power and no heat."

Raoul turned on a portable radio. They immediately heard news of widespread flooding up and down the coast. A couple of shelters had been set up at churches and community centers.

"We have the canoe. We could paddle to high ground and then try to catch a ride to a shelter."

"Do you have an attic?" asked Peggy.

"We do," said Raoul. "It's dry, but there's no heat."

"Do you have sleeping bags?"

Fran wiped her tears. "Yes. Thank goodness Sid always kept them up on a shelf, in this closet right here." She opened a door. "They're dry," she said proudly. "And we have extra blankets."

Raoul said, "Are you thinking we should try to stay here until daylight?"

"I think it would be safer," said Peggy. "You don't know what's in these waters. And what if we got lost? All of the usual landmarks are underwater."

"Good thinking," he said, giving her a little hug.

They climbed a ladder to the attic and Raoul spread out the bags and blankets while Peggy stood and shivered. She helped Fran get into her sleeping bag and then Peggy slid in next to Raoul.

"I hope you don't mind," she said, "I need warmth."

"Mind? We should get shipwrecked more often."

Peggy giggled as she pressed her body against his.

The three of them hardly slept. Between the hard floor and the cold and the thoughts of rising ocean water beneath them they couldn't do much more than stare at the rafters that held up the roof. Peggy listened to the creaking and groaning of the house as it shifted and she imagined it floating out to sea.

When it was light they heard voices calling out. Raoul ran down the ladder and leaned out of a window and talked to someone who had come by in a boat to check on them. Within a half hour they had gathered up some clothing and a few essentials and were in a rowboat heading to dry land. Fran could not stop sobbing at the sight of her partially submerged house as they rowed away from it.

Most of Sunday was spent traveling back to the Seattle by bus. There was not much to be done with the beach house until the flood waters receded. Raoul took care of notifying Fran's insurance company. The day was clear and sunny but they sat glumly in their seats during the journey. From the bus station in Seattle they took a taxi to Fran's house. Raoul borrowed Sid's old car and drove himself and Peggy back to Bainbridge Island on the ferry.

They sat in their usual seat on the left aisle. Peggy leaned against Raoul and closed her eyes. He put his arm around her. She felt bad for Fran and her beach house full of memories, and she tried to focus her brain on ways that she could help. But mostly her thoughts were on Raoul and the realization that it would be okay to start a new relationship with someone. She was not afraid of liking him. Or even loving him.

Part Seventeen

(This episode is continued from Part Sixteen, in which Peggy and Raoul go to Westport, Washington, for the weekend to visit Raoul's sister, Francine.)

(Photographs by Valerie Abbott)

Saturday morning arrived gray and windy and wet. Peggy slipped on a light jacket and took her mug of tea alone out to the beach. She followed the trail to the top of the dune and was surrounded by green and brown beach grasses, tossing and waving, reflecting the gray light to create a shimmering effect. The beach itself was very wide and flat and empty. Peggy thought it must have been a quarter of a mile from the dune to the water's edge as she walked across the hard-packed sand. She looked around her and saw nothing but roaring surf and mist up and down the beach for miles. It felt to her like she had shipwrecked on a deserted island.

Going back to the house, Peggy made toast and helped Francine get her kitchen ready for visitors. The refrigerator needed a good cleaning, and some of the serving platters and cookware had gotten dusty since the last visit. Meanwhile, Raoul fixed a toilet and got firewood.

"I imagine you have many memories here," said Peggy.

"Too many," said Fran. "We used to come out at least five, six times a year. Sid was so crazy about fishing."

"Is this your first visit since your husband died?" said Peggy.

"Yes, but I promise I won't get too morbid about it," said Fran.

"Don't worry. I'm going through the same thing. I can picture what it's like for you, being here, with all these things, all these reminders."

"Our wedding china is here," said Fran. "We used it for fish fries on the deck." She laughed. "Sid was never much for being formal about meals."

"I wish I could have met him."

"Raoul tells me your loss is fairly recent."

"Last April," said Peggy. "I'm afraid I don't have as good an attitude about it as you do. I'm still struggling with it."

"It's all an act, sweetie. Some days I can barely get through the day."

"Thanks. I'm glad to hear I'm not alone."

Later in the morning Raoul, Peggy and Fran went to the Westport waterfront to shop for fish. They were surprised to find a pirate-themed street festival in progress, in spite of a light rain that had started. The main street along the waterfront was closed, and on one side vendors had set up tents offering funnel cakes, colorful scarves and skirts, wood carvings, pirate hats, squishy parrot dolls, hand-painted saw blades, trinkets made of bits of twisted metal, and many long colorful beads.

A rock band on a stage was tuning up for a concert. Many people wore pirate costumes, and Peggy kept bumping into three-corner hats, arm hooks, lots of beads, skulls and crossbones, eye patches and high black boots. Raoul was constantly snapping away with his camera.

Fran pointed, "This looks interesting."

A replica of a pirate ship on wheels had been parked in an empty lot, and in front of it a man dressed as a pirate was talking about parrots. All around him, perched on various pieces of driftwood, were many varieties of parrots. A crowd had gathered.

The man was holding a large macaw upside down and pointing to its claws.

"All birds are divided into groups called orders," said the pirate. "There are twenty-seven orders of birds on Earth. Parrots have their own order because they have a feature that makes them distinct from other birds. Does anyone know what that feature is?"

After a few wrong guesses by members of the audience, the pirate explained, "Look at the toes: two toes in the front and two in the back. That's unique in the bird kingdom. It allows them to grip things very well, and helps give parrots their amazing sense of balance."

He twirled the macaw right side up and stroked its chin.



Then he went to an African gray parrot and said, "What's your favorite bird?"

The parrot answered in a surprisingly clear voice, "Purple bird." The pirate translated, "He means hyacinth macaw."

When they were driving back to the beach house, Raoul said, "You know, I actually learned a lot about parrots from that guy. For example, I didn't know that parrots can live to be over a hundred years old."

Fran chuckled. "You never know what you might learn at the Westport pirate festival."

In the late afternoon, Raoul and Peggy walked on the beach and took more pictures.



Although the sun had come out, the wind had also picked up. Peggy felt a chill go through her; Raoul gave her his jacket.

After a lengthy walk they returned to the beach house. Raoul started a fire in the fire pit behind the house and when it had been reduced to smoldering coals he laid marinated pieces of halibut and salmon on a rack and placed it over the heat. Peggy, Raoul and Fran sipped white wine and sat near the fire in folding chairs. When the fish was almost done, Raoul laid down strips of zucchini over the heat and turned them frequently until they were roasted. They ate outside on trays, using Fran's wedding china.

"Just like old times," Fran said.

Peggy could detect a note of sadness in her voice. At the same time, she felt happier than she had felt in a long time. Raoul and Fran were great company, fun to talk to and relaxing to be with.

Peggy took Raoul's hand and kissed it. He smiled back at her and raised his glass in a little toast.

Fran cleared her throat, "I'm going to have to keep my eye on you two."

Peggy blushed for the second time in two days.

THIS EPISODE WILL BE CONCLUDED TOMORROW

Part Sixteen

Peggy rushed to make the 5:20 in a pouring rain. Raoul was already there, looking wet around the edges. Out of the window Peggy saw a wall of gray mist at the mouth of Eagle Harbor. When they got underway, she could only see a vague, ghostly outline of Seattle across the water.

"I'm exhausted," Peggy said.

He chuckled. "It was quite a weekend."

That was an understatement. On Friday afternoon Raoul had called her with disappointment in his voice.

"I'm afraid I need to call off our little garden visit this weekend," he said.

"What happened?"

"I'm going to Westport."

"Westport?" Westport is an old fishing town on the Pacific coast, in the southwest corner of Washington.

"You see, my sister has a house there, and in June she normally goes with a group of people; they've been meeting there for forty years. Well, my sister's husband passed away last year but she still wants to do it and now she needs my help getting the house ready for her visitors."

"I understand," said Peggy. "I think you should go and help her."

There was a pause. "How would you like to go with me?"

The thought terrified her. "Me? I couldn't possibly on such short, uh, well, there's so much to…"

"It's a big house. You would have your own room, of course," he said.

Peggy was touched by the tone of his voice. He wanted her to be comfortable. "As a matter of fact, I think I can rearrange my schedule," she said. Actually, she had no schedule to rearrange.

By seven o'clock on a bright evening they were headed west in Raoul's black Mercedes, with Raoul making lots of small talk and Peggy filled with anxiety about the weekend.

"Look at the foxglove," he said pointing to a hillside covered with tall purple and white blossoms. "Would you mind if I get a picture?"

"I don't mind a bit," Peggy said.

Raoul pulled over and walked a few feet off the road, camera in hand. He leaned over a small gulley to get just the picture he wanted but then his foot slipped into a patch of muddy water. He came back complaining to himself as he threw his muddy shoes into the trunk. Peggy couldn't help giggling as they pulled away.

"I hope it's a good picture," she said.

"Better be."



It was late when they arrived at a beach house about midway between Westport and Grayland. The sound of the ocean triggered a flood of memories in Peggy's mind. She stepped out of the car and walked a few yards to the top of a nearby dune and saw the very last bit of daylight disappear beyond the horizon while layers of white foamy surf crashed against the sand. It was a scene that she and Taylor had witnessed many times on their numerous trips to the shore. They had even spent a few weekends not far from where she stood; they loved it because it was quiet and undeveloped. And here she was, right back there with someone else. Peggy felt like she had made a mistake in coming.

Raoul's sister, Francine, was in her late sixties and very jolly. She greeted Peggy in a motherly way that made Peggy feel like she was Raoul's girlfriend from college or something, coming to meet the family for the first time. Francine, or Fran, as she like to be called, showed Raoul to his room and Peggy to hers, and then said, "Don't worry, I'll be in the middle, standing guard." Raoul rolled his eyes and Peggy turned red.

As it turned out, Fran's husband had been a big sport fisherman. There were pictures of him on the Westport dock in the bright sun, standing next to his catch of giant halibut or Chinook salmon. Several trophy fish were mounted on the walls of the living room in various action poses. As Peggy looked around the house she saw lots of fishing and clamming paraphernalia standing in corners or hanging from hooks: boots, poles, shovels, baskets.

"We used to dig for razor clams near here," said Peggy, settling down with a glass of beer. Raoul sat next to her on the sofa.

"Oh yes, that was the thing to do," said Fran. "Did you know that a hundred years ago people camped out on the beach for the entire summer? They caught razors by the wagon-load and hauled them down the shore to a cannery that operated twenty four hours a day."

"Amazing," said Peggy. "It didn't take long to completely eliminate the clam population at that rate."

"I think the legal limit now is fifteen clams per person," said Raoul. "It's absurd."

"The alternative is no clams at all," said Peggy firmly. It suddenly occurred to her that this weekend would be a good opportunity to teach Raoul something about the environment.

TO BE CONTINUED

Part Fifteen

"This is my last day of commuting on Friday," Peggy said to Raoul.

Raoul yawned.

"My thoughts exactly," said Peggy. After several weeks of commuting on the 5:20 a.m. ferry she had noticed that she was exhausted by the end of the week, and as a result she slept later than she wanted to on Saturday mornings.

"Going to a four-day work week?" asked Raoul.

"In theory it'll be a four day week, but I'm sure I'll end up doing work at home on Fridays. My office is so busy right now."

Raoul grinned. "Whenever the environmentalists get busy, the lawyers get busy, too."

Peggy laughed. "I'll see you in court."

They looked out at a fine mist that settled over Puget Sound. It was one of those days that could be hazy or clear or cloudy. "Even after years of doing this, the early wake ups tend to make me sleepy by the end of the week," he said.

"I'm still trying to get used to it, without much success." She sipped her tea. "Have you thought of retiring early?"

"Oh sure. I'd love to, but I'm committed to seeing a few projects through. Then I plan to play music and tend my garden."

"Tell me about your garden," Peggy said. "I imagine it to be well established, with mature rhododendrons, and tall flowering clematis."

"Right on both counts. Lot's of things are in bloom at the moment: lavender, bellflower, peonies…" He stopped.

"Yes?"

"It just occurred to me that perhaps you'd enjoy seeing my garden. It's really quite nice."

"I would love to. I need some social contact on the island."

"In that case I will invite over a few neighbors. I could probably get Ted to bring his lute."

Peggy was thrilled, and a little bit afraid. She was actually going to his house. It would be more than a casual visit, no matter how much she tried to pretend otherwise. She liked Raoul, and it worried her.

"I'm free all weekend," she said.

"Let's try for Saturday afternoon," he said.

She looked at him and smiled warmly. "Thanks. I can't wait."

Part Fourteen

The sky was already filled with color as Peggy boarded the ferry at 5:15 a.m. Pink and yellow clouds floated high overhead, while to the east the sky was a raging orange.

She didn't take her usual seat, mainly because she knew Raoul would not be there. Peggy figured it was a good opportunity to wander about the boat, especially since the morning promised to be sunny and colorful.

In the forward part of the main cabin she walked past the food concessions and smelled coffee and pastries, and it made her insides cry out for tea. Beyond the cabin was the forward deck with the stairs that led to the upper deck. She climbed up and stood near the rail and poured herself a cup from her Thermos. The air was chilly. The water churned far below, turning into white whirlpools from the rotation of the propellers that was necessary to keep the boat wedged against the dock while cars loaded. Suddenly the engines were cut and the waters stopped churning. It meant they were about to pull away. She heard the back propellers kick in as the boat eased slowly out into the Harbor.

Peggy returned to the main cabin by a different route and found Kelly Finn engaged in conversation with a gray-haired man who wore a bright red shirt and very pointy black shoes with silver buttons on them.

"Morning, Peggy," said Kelly.

"Good morning, Kel."

"Where's Raoul?"

"Working at home today," she said. She knew that because they had started exchanging email messages. On the day of the motorcycle ride he had given her a card with his home address, phone and email address. She found his address on Mapquest and saw that it was in the Rolling Bay area of the island, close to the water. She was extremely curious about what his house was like, and how he lived, and what he ate. Eventually, she knew, she would find out those things.

"This is Ferdinand. He's a drummer with a local jazz band."

They greeted one another and then Kelly resumed the speech he was making about the contested governor's election that had recently been settled in court. "It's high time people wake up to the fact that if you want a functional voting system then you have to invest in it. It doesn't just happen by itself." Ferdinand was nodding his head sort of mechanically, the way everyone did when they were on the receiving end of one of Kel's speeches.

At that moment they heard the faint sounds of strings being tuned; it came from the back of the main cabin. Then Peggy heard the sound of a violin.

"I'm going to go listen," said Peggy.

"I'll join you," said Ferdinand jumping up.

As they walked away, Kelly leaned over to a young man sitting in the next booth and said, "Have you heard the latest on the monorail project? It's going to cost billions more."

Upon entering the large seating area at the rear of the cabin, Peggy and Ferdinand came upon two women, one with a violin and the other with a cello, playing an arrangement of a tune that Peggy recognized. It was one of J.S. Bach's two-part inventions. Taylor had listened to a harpsichord recording of the Bach inventions for years, and Peggy could not help thinking how much her late husband would have enjoyed hearing it with the cello and violin each taking a part. Peggy closed her eyes and heard a single instrument; the women rendered so seamlessly the interweaving lines and syncopation.

Ferdinand tapped his foot. Peggy noticed many passengers thoroughly engrossed in the playing. It was a scene Taylor would have enjoyed, and it made her homesick for the life they had shared together. They were regulars at many chamber music concerts; Taylor especially loved the small, intimate venues where you could sit very close and hear every scratch of bow across string. They also went to the larger halls, like Benaroya, to hear symphonic and the operatic works. Peggy had to turn away and dab her moist eyes with a tissue. She wondered if Raoul would be listening to the music if he had been on board. In some ways she wished she had not met Raoul; it would be so easy, she thought, to simply live her former life as though nothing had changed, as though Taylor were still there. And he was there, in spirit, everywhere she looked. His ghost never left her.

Peggy was startled by the ringing of a cell phone and then realized with embarrassment that it was hers. She jumped up and ran to the other side of the cabin so as not to disturb the music. Who could it be at this hour of the morning? She answered. It was Raoul.

"My body clock has taken over," he said. "I couldn't sleep past 5:30 so I thought I would call and say good morning."

A smile broke out on Peggy's face. "I was listening to an impromptu violin and cello concert right here on the ferry."

"And I'm missing it! Figures. The one day I choose to stay home."

"Do you like that sort of thing?"

"Very much. I play recorder with the Merry Pranksters Renaissance Band," he said. "Perhaps you would like to go to one of our concerts."

Her jaw dropped. Raoul was full of surprises.

Part Thirteen

Peggy made her way to the ferry terminal in a light drizzle beneath gray skies. With her good arm she held her backpack in place on her shoulder. Her other arm was in a sling.

"How are you feeling?" said Raoul with a look of concern as she approached him.

"Fine. Much better." She took her seat next to him. He lifted the backpack off her shoulder. "Thank you," she said.

"Should I pour you some tea?" Raoul asked.

"Don't spoil me, I might get used to it," she said.

He unscrewed the little cup from the top of the Thermos and poured steaming tea into it. Just then the ferry gave a little lurch as it revved its engines to pull away from the dock. He adjusted quickly to the motion, and didn't spill a drop of tea. Peggy liked the look on his face as he concentrated. Then he poured his own tea.

"I feel so bad about what happened," said Raoul.

She placed her good hand on his arm and squeezed it affectionately. "It was the most fun I've had in a long time. I honestly don't even care about the arm. Besides, the whole thing was my idea, remember?"

He had arrived with a roar at her doorstep the previous afternoon. Peggy briefly wondered what her neighbors would think of this dashing man on a motorcycle coming to pick her up. As promised he brought a helmet, a yellow one, which closed around her head like a glove and made her feel like she was going on a space journey. She wore jeans and hiking boots, with the laces tucked in, plus a corduroy shirt with a scarf and an old denim jacket that she had not worn in ten years. The bike seemed fat and low as she swung her leg over it and settled onto a small seat immediately behind Raoul. She noticed there was nothing to hold onto, so she figured she would hold onto him.

When Raoul started the machine she felt the vibrations roll from her legs to her head. Her hands rested on her knees, but as soon as he turned the bike and accelerated out of the driveway she threw her arms around his waist without hesitation. She was awed by the sensation of speed and power, and the surprising smoothness of the ride. When he reached Fletcher Bay Road, she tightened her grip on him and drew closer as her body leaned with his into the turns and swooped beneath the tall dark evergreens that bordered the road.

The sky darkened quickly as they neared Battle Point Park after a gut-wrenching rollercoaster ride on a narrow, hilly road, leaving Peggy clinging to Raoul for dear life. Their timing was fortunate. The sky opened up, dumping a wall of rain on them just after they had gotten off the bike near a picnic shelter. Peggy ran across a patch of wet grass, her vision partially obscured by the helmet. She didn't see the slight depression. Her foot turned as it landed in the low spot and she fell forward onto a sheet of water and came down hard on her right arm. Raoul was immediately behind her. She felt him lift her quickly and carry her out of the rain.

The pain in her arm was intense, she knew something was wrong with it. Raoul pulled off her helmet.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm not sure." She felt wet. Raoul ran back to the bike and returned with a plastic bag in which he kept a towel. She tried to remove her wet denim jacket but then winced as she felt a stab of pain from her right arm.

"Let me help you," said Raoul. He very gently removed the jacket and then rolled up the right sleeve of her shirt. "I'm going to touch the arm." He did and she said 'Ouch.'

With her good arm she started to pat herself dry using the towel. The rain roared around them. Then she laughed. "This is absolutely crazy. I'm fifty-eight years old. I should be home knitting."

He took the towel and pressed it against a large wet spot on her back and right side. "I'm sorry you got hurt, but I'm very glad that you aren't home knitting."

The downpour stopped as quickly as it had started, leaving the green surroundings of the park dripping and steaming. Raoul offered to call for an ambulance on his cell phone.

"Oh no," said Peggy. "I really think I can ride back. I can hold on with my good arm and I'll be fine if you go slow."

Raoul looked extremely concerned. He thought for a moment and then said, "Okay, but we're going straight to the clinic to have it looked at."

Forty minutes and an x-ray later, she came out of an examining room wearing a sling and found Raoul in the waiting room.

"A sprain," she said, smiling.

"Thank goodness it wasn't worse." He had a genuine look of relief in his face.

Without giving it a second thought, they hugged each other for several long seconds. Peggy felt a certain amount of stress drain away from her body. She was aware of no pain and completely forgot that she felt like an old dishcloth. "I know you won't believe this, but I had a very, very wonderful time," she said.

"I feel terrible."

"Don't. I can't wait to do it again. But let's check the weather first."

Raoul walked her home, since her house was close to the clinic. She had to assure him over and over that she would be all right. Finally, they said good night and he left.

Now, sitting on the ferry the next morning, sipping tea with Raoul and reflecting on the previous afternoon, Peggy became aware that she had gone almost twenty four hours without thinking of Taylor. For the first time, she had done something that was completely new and completely different from anything she and Taylor had ever done. She realized that, regardless of what became of her relationship with Raoul, he had helped her take a small step towards independence. Her life had changed, and, she saw with a mixture of sadness and happiness, that she wanted it to change.

Part Twelve

"How would you like to join our book club?" asked Raoul.

It was 5:15 a.m. Peggy and Raoul were both settling in for the 5:20 run on the ferry. Unlike yesterday, the sky was completely gray, almost dark, not a patch of blue or orange in sight.

"Who's in it?" asked Peggy. She had just been trying to decide whether or not to invite Raoul to dinner. She wondered what he did in the evenings.

"Two outspoken women and three outspoken men. We need another female."

"I'm not outspoken," said Peggy.

"Don't worry, Margaret and Jane will teach you the ropes."

Peggy laughed. She poured her tea as they made the turn out of Eagle Harbor; the lights of Seattle twinkled from across the Sound. "I think it would be fun. I need to get out and meet more people."

"This is a good way to start. We just met last night and selected our next book. It's Lucky Jim by Kingsley Amis. I can even lend you my extra copy."

"I don't believe I heard of it," said Peggy. Her mind raced ahead. Exactly how would he get the book to her?

"You'll fall over laughing. It may be the funniest book I've ever read," said Raoul.

"You've already read it, then?"

"Yes, but I don't mind reading it again. You see, we take turns choosing books, and it was Harold's turn and he really wanted to read Lucky Jim. The only ground rule we have is that the book be a relatively serious work of fiction. It doesn't have to be a great classic, but it shouldn't be Sidney Sheldon either."

"I love Sidney Sheldon."

"I know. Everybody does. He's so readable."

"Perhaps I should start reading Lucky Jim right away," she said.

He looked at her. "If you are free we could meet and I could give it to you."

She thought, for a man he's very good at picking up mental suggestions.

"I have all the time in the world," Peggy said. She was on the point of suggesting dinner but she couldn't bring herself to do it. What would Taylor think? Raoul would lounge around in Taylor's favorite chair, and probably take his seat at the table. He would see the recordings on the shelf that Taylor liked, especially the Bach and Handel, and he would probably select something and ask if he could play it, and it would be one of Taylor's favorites and it would remind her of Taylor and she would sit there missing him and feeling guilty for inviting a strange man to her house…

"What do you think of that?" Raoul was saying.

"I'm sorry," said Peggy. "I was distracted."

"I could tell. Look, there's no hurry. I could bring it tomorrow morning."

Then Peggy's face brightened. "I've got it. There's something I've always wanted to do."

"And that is?"

"Ride on a motorcycle."

"Really? Are you serious?"

"Is that so strange?"

"I think it's wonderful. I've never given anyone a ride on my bike before."

"Not even your wife?"

"She wouldn't go near the thing. It was just a noisy toy to her."

Peggy got out a small notebook that she carried in her purse. She scribbled her address and phone number on it. Her hand trembled as she wrote. What would Taylor think of her on a motorcycle?

"Here's my address and phone. What should I wear?"

"Long pants, a light jacket. I'll bring a helmet for you, of course." He paused and looked at her. "I admire your spirit of adventure. That's a great quality."

"You might not think it's so great if I'm screaming all the way down the road."

"No problem. I'll just go faster."

She poked him in the ribs and then turned away to sip her tea, grinning to herself.

Part Eleven

At 5:15 a.m. the sun had not yet peeked over the Cascades, but its intense glow stretched all the way across the sky, turning clouds into puffy balls of pink, red, yellow and orange. The Cascade Mountains were etched cleanly against an orange canvas, and the city was visible in fine detail across the calm waters of Puget Sound.

The morning matched Peggy's spirits. She was already on the ferry, settled in comfortably on the left side, where she could look at the beginning of the day. Today, however, there was an important difference in her routine: she sat with Raoul. She was no longer a fellow passenger waving politely from the next booth over. Instead, she occupied the honored spot that was formerly reserved for his motorcycle helmet, which was now relegated to the floor; and his long legs, which before had stretched casually across the whole bench, were now composed politely in front of him.

As she poured tea she glanced out at the row of tall spruce and firs and marveled at how they were backlit by the morning glow. It looked like the rest of the world was on fire. Maybe it was, she wouldn't have noticed.

"I enjoyed our walk on Friday," Raoul said.

"It was delightful," said Peggy.

Friday had been a day when Fate had stepped in to rearrange Peggy's life. She had overslept on Friday morning and decided to take the day off. Faced with a long day and no firm plans, she rummaged around on her kitchen counter and found a brochure she had gotten from a neighbor that described scenic walks on Bainbridge Island. Since she had not ventured to the west side of the island very much, she decided to try the walk along Crystal Springs Drive. It was supposed to be flat, and near the water.

By late morning Peggy was in her car, driving to the small community of Lynwood, just a few minutes away on the other side of the island. Her plan was to park and begin her walk from there. She wore walking shoes and shorts and a hat; on the seat beside her was a small backpack with a Thermos of tea and her sunglasses. Peggy parked near the small coffee shop at Lynwood Center, planning to get a bite of something to take on her walk. A black Mercedes in the spot next to her seemed familiar. Inside the shop, she was dazzled by the mouth-watering display of baked goods and hardly paid attention to anyone else in the store.

A man cleared his throat and said, "I recommend the marble pound cake." She turned her head. It was Raoul.

"Raoul, what are you doing here?" said Peggy. He was dressed in shorts and hiking boots, and wore a hat.

"I thought it would be a nice day for a walk," he said. "I took the day off."

She laughed. "I took the day off because I overslept and missed the ferry."

"Where are you walking?" he said.

"I was going to walk along Crystal Springs Drive. Is it nice?"

"It's perfect. Would you like some company?"

She felt herself blush. "Why, uh, sure."

They each bought a slice of marble pound cake and she put them in her backpack. Five minutes later they were out in a grayish, overcast day, walking along a marsh that bordered the road, breathing in salty air and the aroma of cedar and fragrant flowers.

"Thank goodness the cottonwood trees have finished shedding," said Raoul.

"Oh, that was something," she said. "It looked like snow, the air was so thick with floating bits of cotton."

They chatted casually as they walked along, talking about their homes and life on the Island, and what their children were doing. Peggy realized that they were sticking to safe topics of conversation. She wondered how long it would be until they ran out of things to talk about.

Finally, Raoul blurted out, "Do you know I was happily married for twenty years to a woman who didn't agree with me on anything? We went to different churches because I wouldn't change my religion and she wouldn't change hers. I voted Republican, she voted Democrat. She donated time and money to arts organizations, I played golf. She had friends who were male, female, black, white, gay, straight. My friends were rich, white males. The point is, how did we get along? How did we ever fall in love to begin with? To tell you the truth, I don't really know. It just happened. When the chemistry is right, all the other things don't matter."

With each word of Raoul's speech Peggy felt herself grow lighter and lighter. By the time he finished talking she was weightless. She stopped walking and took his hand. "Raoul, you are a lot wiser than I've given you credit for. I'm sorry for thinking poorly of you."

He kissed her hand. "Thank you for listening. It means a lot to me."

They continued their walk, still holding hands, and Peggy suddenly had the feeling that they could talk about anything.

Synopsis (Parts 1 - 10)

Today we pause in our story of Peggy Heggy. Now that ten installments have been posted, I felt it was time for a summary for the benefit of those readers who wish to pick up the story at this point and don't have time to read what came before.

I am on the 5:20 a.m. ferry to Seattle. It's mostly gray out, with a fine mist hanging over Puget Sound. Across the water, the city of Seattle looks like stacks of toy building blocks clustered on the water's edge. On my left is a break in the low-hanging clouds and through that opening I see sunlight reflecting off a high cloud and blue sky beyond that. Some of that sunlight reaches the water and bounces off as little golden twinkling lights.

Normally this description of the morning would be provided via Peggy's point of view. I imagine her as the kind of person who notices her surroundings and is especially attentive to light and colors and moisture. She and her late husband were great lovers of the outdoors.

In the first few parts of the story we learn that Peggy has recently moved from Seattle to Bainbridge Island. The normal way to get there is to take the ferry from the downtown Seattle ferry terminal at Pier 52. It's also possible to drive around through Tacoma and Bremerton, but that's long and boring. The ferry is much more interesting.

Peggy is 58 years old. She was married for thirty years to Taylor Heggy and they raised two children: Marjorie and Taylor, Jr. The children are grown and they live on the East Coast, Marjorie in Arlington, Virginia, and Taylor, Jr., in Brooklyn, New York. The main reason Peggy moved to Bainbridge was to try to start a new life. Her husband died suddenly of a stroke one week after their 30th anniversary. She stayed in their old house in Ballard, in the northwest part of Seattle, for a year trying to decide what to do with her life. Finally she sold the house and moved to Bainbridge Island.

The story begins just a couple of weeks after her move. She is still adjusting to her new commute on the 5:20 a.m. ferry to her job downtown, where she does database work for a nonprofit. She likes her job and doesn't want to give it up. On the ferry she likes to sit on the left side so she gets the full view of Seattle across the Sound as the ferry makes the turn out of Eagle Harbor. She notices the same commuters everyday, and they tend to sit in the same spot almost every day. One person in particular catches her eye: a man in a neatly trimmed gray beard who wears a leather motorcycle outfit and carries a white helmet. Under the leathers she sees a suit and tie and she is intrigued by that. He hardly pays any attention to Peggy at first. Eventually she learns that his name is Raoul. Another passenger she meets is Kelly Flinn, who loves to chat about local politics. Sometimes Raoul shows a little impatience with Kel's chatter, and that is what prompts Raoul to start talking to Peggy. He is amused by her being a "victim" of Kel's ranting.

Peggy likes Raoul and wants to get to know him better. She brings him homemade scones, which they enjoy with tea. They go up on deck and look at the spectacular views of the mountains on an especially clear morning. She learns that he, too, lost his spouse, but it has been many years. One day she meets his daughter, Deidre, who visits from Philadelphia on the anniversary of her mother's death. Deidre explains that her father has mentioned Peggy in their conversations.

Everything seems to be going well: Peggy feels like she has found a new friend, a new companion, and when Raoul invites her to have lunch downtown with him she is thrilled.

In Part Eight we learn that the lunch was a disaster. Peggy, along with her late husband, has always been an advocate for environmental causes. She learns during the meal that Raoul works for a law firm that defends industrial polluters. They argue about a couple of specific cases, and she angrily leaves the restaurant.

They avoid each other for a couple of days, but then Marjorie, Peggy's daughter, scolds her mother over the phone for finding excuses for avoiding a relationship. Peggy ultimately realizes that she must decide whether she's going to continue to be Taylor Heggy's wife or become her own person.

In Part Ten, Peggy brings a couple of homemade bran muffins to the ferry as a "peace offering" to Raoul. However, just as she approaches her usual seat, she sees another woman with Raoul. He introduces Peggy to Florence, an "old friend" who had just moved to Bainbridge Island. The woman is very well dressed in business attire, which is in stark contrast to Peggy's comfortable cotton pants and clogs and windbreaker. She realizes that now she has competition. She gives Raoul the bran muffin anyway.


That is approximately what happens in the first ten parts. The big question, as I see it, is how Peggy resolves her conflict between wanting to make a new friend and wanting to be loyal to her late husband and the things they stood for.


I believe the following kinds of questions are relevant to this issue:

• To what extent do we let politics and differences of opinion dictate our friendships?
  
  
• There are examples in real life of "opposites" who get along on a personal level even though they have very different political views. How does this work? How do they manage it?
  
  
• Would you feel that you are betraying your beliefs if you form a friendship with someone who has opposite beliefs?
  

If you have opinions on these issues, please use the comment link at the bottom of this post.


Thank you for reading.

Bill Branley

Part Ten

Peggy hurried to the terminal in high spirits. Not even the gray rolling clouds overhead could dampen her mood. It was one of those dark yet dramatic mornings, where the clouds stretch to the horizon in different shades of gray and green and black. The calm waters of the Sound glowed with light, not a bright glaring light, but a soft, greenish light that broke through a few openings in the cloud cover. It was through one of these openings that Peggy could look up and see a wisp of a crescent moon hanging in the sky. It seemed to smile down on her; today would be a good day.

In her backpack she carried two bran muffins, each stuffed with raisins, currents and bits of dried apricot. She had kept up a running conversation with her daughter while making the muffins the night before.

"Of course you're doing the right thing," Marjorie had said.

"I don't know. It all seems so silly," complained Peggy, although secretly she was enjoying herself. She had made up her mind to approach Raoul with a peace offering. It was the least she could do, she reasoned, since she was the one who stormed out of the restaurant in the middle of lunch without even thanking him. The more she thought of it, the more embarrassed she became over her behavior. It seemed so childish in reflection.

"It's not silly," Marjorie was saying. "Look, pretend you're forming a club and you want to recruit him as a member. Call it the Sixtyish Singles Club."

"I am not sixty," Peggy said.

"Sorry, but the fifty-eight-ish singles club doesn't sound as good," said Marjorie's voice over the phone.

"Oh whatever. I'm making my best muffins and he'll just have to get over it."

"That's the spirit. Gotta run. Bye."

Then her son, Taylor, Jr., called. He was less supportive. "How can you make bran muffins for a lawyer who defends the nation's worse polluters? I thought you had values, Mom."

"I do have values." Her son was learning to be one of those strident documentary filmmakers. Everything was black and white to him, no pun intended. "It's just that, well, you need to hear people out. Besides, there are many famous cases of couples who come from opposite ends of the political spectrum."

"Are you thinking of marrying this guy?"

"No, of course not. I'm just using an example to make my point." Her son had as much appreciation for nuance as a Labrador.

That was last night. Now as she walked briskly to her usual seat on the left side of the ferry she was thinking of how good it was going to feel to make peace with Raoul, to unburden herself.

She rounded a corner and entered the aisle. She looked ahead. There was Raoul sitting in his customary spot. Then Peggy's heart sank and her steps slowed as she approached. A woman sat with Raoul, late forties, very well dressed in a pinstriped business outfit with a creamy blouse. Her hair had been dyed a few times and she wore lots of makeup. She was attractive in a way that appealed to many men. As Peggy took her seat she suddenly felt a little too casual in her cotton pants and windbreaker, with a backpack slung over her shoulder.

"Good morning," Raoul said, smiling.

"Good morning, Raoul," said Peggy. "It's very good to see you again."

"It's good to see you. This is Florence. She's an old friend who has just moved to Bainbridge Island."

"Welcome to the neighborhood," said Peggy, feeling like she did a poor job of adding a warm, welcoming tone to her voice. The woman's skirt seemed short for a professional type.

Peggy opened her backpack. What the heck, she thought. She handed Raoul a small bag with the muffin in it. "If I had known you were going to have company I would have brought two."

"What is it?" asked Raoul. He looked inside. "Mmm, a bran muffin."

Florence said, "You must have discovered the Blackbird Bakery. What a dangerous place."

"These are homemade," said Peggy, pouring some tea from her Thermos. Her duty was done. She was not going to let a siren with a tiny waist and perfect posture ruin her day.