Once Around the Carousel

Chapter Seven

"No. We already decided I'm not related to him. If I was related to Titus Dwight, we'd be rich or something," Linda huffed, looking out at the water and nuzzling her chin into the sand pillow she'd built up under her towel. "Besides, I look like my dad's mom. At least from pictures I've seen.

Since they'd met Titus, the girls tried figuring out how he knew about Linda. Their minds roamed from his intention to kidnap her (a plan Linda wouldn't necessarily oppose) to Titus and her father being distant relatives. They even considered Titus having psychic powers. Everything they could remember him saying was on a list they made, but none of it made sense.

"Yeah, but Eliza doesn't look like your father or your mother."

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"I don't know. Just that you said you look like your grandmother," Sharon said, absentmindedly pouring little handfuls of sand onto the corner of Linda's towel, "I guess we could just walk down and knock on his door."

"Or wait till he comes down here again," Linda said, completing the outline of the conversation they'd replayed hundreds of times.

They were dying to meet him again and patiently spent their beach days well within sight of his house. It also made them feel special just to be there. Who else had permission to use Titus Dwight's beach?

They began helping Mr. Thompson at the Fry Shack every morning. As they rolled out the dough the cooks would later fry and cover with powdered sugar, Mr. Thompson would natter on about the Fry Shack's humbler times. Back then, he told them, his place was just somewhere people in Metuchin came to eat at night. "Everyone would come sometime during the summer, even Bill and Lilly Dwight. They used to walk down the beach on Saturday nights with Titus. But that was before the boardwalk when there was nothing here but a beach." Sharon wanted to ask more, but Linda shot her a look. Meeting Titus felt illicit, and she feared anyone finding out about it.

After helping Mr. Thompson, they rode their bikes down Old Shore Road until they got to Mrs. Durkee's big, old farmhouse. She taught biology at Metuchin Junior High. All the kids in town liked her, and she held particular reverence for Metuchin's younger girls. For six weeks in eighth grade, the boys and girls separately attended a class harmlessly referred to as Health. While Coach McGregor took the boys to the gym, Mrs. Durkee would explain the mysteries surrounding reproduction to the girls.

A path across from her house led to the field between Titus's property and the public beach. Riding through the tall grass to the edge of the dunes, they'd leave their bikes and walk to what they thought of as Titus's beach. Once in clear sight from his house, they would spread out their towels and spend their morning swimming, playing cards, and listening to the transistor radio, Bob had recently bought his daughter. Then in the early afternoon, they'd head back to the Fry Shack, returning to their post after lunch.

Vigilant they were, and on the eighth day, it paid off. Linda looked up and nudged Sharon as she saw Titus on the walkway heading down to the beach. They sat up, watching him stop at his small cabana nestled back against the dunes, then walk toward them carrying a bottle in each hand.

"It's awfully hot today," he said, handing them each a soda. "I thought you might like a cold to drink."

"Wow, thanks, Mr .... Um, I mean Titus," Sharon said as Titus sat in the sand, folding his legs the same as before. With their moment finally upon them, their carefully planned questions vanished. The three of them sat quietly until Titus noticed Sharon had brought her legs into a Lotus position.

"That's very good, Sharon. Are you comfortable sitting like that?"

"Yeah, I sorta feel like if someone tipped me over, I'd just pop back up. Linda tried to ..."