Peaks Island

Chapter 2

The tide was low and the wooden docks were tall above the water, the exposed wooden piling were stained dark, almost black at high tide water level. The houses dotted the background in unpredictable arrangements. People on Peaks Island owned larger lots, but the houses were not situated in an orderly fashion. They all had a similar architecture. Wooden, painted white or natural wood, wrap around porches and dormers. It was quaint. It was quintessentially New England. The boat was approaching the pier.

"I've got to go help. Do you want to wait here and then we can walk down and get the bikes together?"

Alison smiled at him. She nodded.

"OK." He started to walk away. He turned back to her and said "See you in a minute."

It made Alison feel special. She looked out over the island as she waited. Once the ferry had stopped, the warm afternoon air returned. It was a very hot day and even in those few minutes without the ocean spray and cold breeze, the handrail and plastic seat were growing hot. Alison stood up and leaned on the railing and watched all the people walk on to the ramp and then on to the pier. Once most of the people cleared out she walked down the stairs and saw Kevin there on the lower deck. He had both the bikes up against the side of the boat.

Kevin had a back pack on. "I packed a picnic."

"Oh Good." Alison said, "I have the wine." She patted her own backpack before she slung it over her shoulder.

The got on their bikes and started pedaling up to the main road from the dock.  It was still hot outside. But, riding down the main road was much cooler, The  tall maple and oak trees cast shade. The road followed the rocky beach. The breeze grew cooler on the other side of the ocean.

Kevin rode next to her and called out to Alison, "Do you have a beach in mind?"

Alison looked at him and smiled. She nodded.

"Ok." He said and let her lead them.

A few minutes later, Alison turned to him and smiled, "almost there."

She pointed to a wood shingled house, that sat back on a deep lot. A gravel, seashell driveway led down towards the water. As they rode their bike over the crunchy ground, towards the shore, you could make out the smaller wood shingled cottage. The shingles looked almost gray, more worn from the weather either because the house was older or because it was more exposed to the elements sitting down near the shore. Alison stopped and stood straddling her bike.

"This is where I'm staying."

He stopped his bike too. "It's pretty nice." He turned towards the larger property, "Is that the rental?"

Alison nodded and widened her eyes. "Can you believe it?"

"No. It's -- it's--wow." He looked up towards the house. "There's a widow's walk. Have you been up there?"

"No. What's a widows walk?"

"Up on the roof, the porch. Wives walked up there so they could see the fishing and whaling boats coming in."

"A widow was because some of them didn't come back?"

He nodded.

"is it still dangerous--being a fisherman."

"I guess sometimes."

Alison didn't say anything.

"Not too dangerous. Where to?"

Orange and yellow rays of light broke through the pine and maple trees.

"There's a beach down this path here. It opens to a really pretty private beach. I think it's private. I've never seen anyone else here except my neighbors in that cottage there. Just ours."