Bill stopped dead in his tracks and stared at the man, slightly dumbfounded.
"Is youse be deaf me son? Git dat piece of shit off the road so I can git past."
"I'm so sorry," Bill apologized, as he hurried back to his truck, started it and pulled it as far to the right, as he could.
The old green Ford pulled slowly around Bill's truck.
Bill smiled and waved at the older man.
"Fuckin' mainlanders," the man scowled, as he drove by, flipping Bill the middle finger, as he did so.
Bill watched as the old green Ford as it barrelled off down the hill, black smoke pouring from its exhaust pipe.
"Real friendly folk here," he said aloud.
"Real fucking friendly. And to think I passed up a condo in Jamaica for this."
Bill Williams
Bill was about to put the truck in gear, when his cell phone rang. Bill pushed the button for bluetooth.
"Hello."
"Mr. Williams. Dave Wells here."
"Mr. Wells. Nice to hear from you."
"Just wanted to check in with you to make sure that you found Tuckamore Bay okay."
"Yea. Actually I am at the top of a hill, just about to go down into the village."
"Well that is just great. It is a wonderful little village. I am sure that you will just get along famously with the people there."
Bill rolled his eyes.
"Actually i just met one of my new neighbours. Real friendly type."
Mr. Wells obviously missed the sarcasm.
"Really? Bet it was a unique experience."
Again Bill rolled his eyes.
"Yea, that's one way to look at it. A real experience."
Again, the sarcasm was missed.
"Well that's just great. Look, you should drop by the general store and meet Henry Tucker. He is the mayor of the town. I talked to him yesterday and I told him that you would check in with him before you went to the lighthouse.
I got Henry to pick you up the basics in food and sundries, so you will have to pay him for those. If you need anything else, you can pick it up at the general store or you can drive to Deer Lake, Corner Brook or even St. Anthony."
Despite his first encounter with the local natives, Bill was still in pretty high spirits.
He looked at his lighthouse. The smile returned to his face.
"I am sure I will be okay, Mr. Wells."
"Well, Bill. You got to remember that these little villages are not like the big city where you come from. They don't always have the things that you might be used to. It might take a bit of getting used to."
"I am sure I will be fine, Dave. And I want to thank you for all your help. I just love what I see so far."
"Well that is great, Bill, because as soon as you sign those papers, it is all yours."
Bill looked at the lighthouse once again.
"And I can't wait to move in."
"That's the attitude, Bill. Always be ready for an adventure."
"I am sure I am."
"Okay then, Bill. Oh, one more thing. I talked again with Matilda Dove. She said she will meet with you, at some point today and you both can sign the papers."
"That will be fine, Mr. Wells."
Bill's cellphone started to crackle.
"Anyway, it seems like I am losing our signal here."
"Yea. The cell reception there is pretty crappy, especially in the village. So, I will let you go and get settled. If you have any further questions, you can give me a call anytime."
"Thanks again Mr. Wells."
"You are welcome ...
and ...
luck."
"What? Mr. Wells."
"Good ...
remember ...
call me ...
again ...
luck."
"Hello. Mr. Wells. What's with all this luck stuff?"
Save Wells wasn't there. The phone call was over.
Bill shook his head and put the truck in gear.
It hadn't exactly been the pristine start to his new life that he had hoped for, but at least he was finally here. And he was determined not to let one brief experience get him down.
Bill drove down the gentle slope of the hill and slowly along the winding road that led into the village. He leaned his arm on the frame of the open window, breathing in the fresh smell of the ocean.
"Magnificent," he smiled. "Absolutely magnificent."
The smile quickly left his face, as a big wave crashed on the rocky shoreline below, the water splashed off the rocks and cascaded over his truck, pouring cold water in through the driver's side window and all over Bill.
He pulled to the side of the road.
"Fuck," he shivered.
He quickly pushed the button for the driver's side window, just as another wave splashed over the truck.
"Fuck me again."
Bill wiped himself, as best he could, with a fleece hoodie he had on the front seat and slowly drove off. As he took another turn in the road, a sign caught his attention.
'BIG WAVES. KEEP WINDOWS CLOSED.'
"Now you tell me," he muttered, as he drove on, wondering why the sign was only for those leaving the village and not those entering the village. Those who would have no idea about the big, cold, icy waves that would attempt to drown them.
"That condo in Jamaica is looking better by the second," he muttered to himself.
Bill was soon in the village and even though still wet from his wave experience, he was again taken aback by the quaint little homes. Painted in every colour of the rainbow, they reminded him of villages he had seen all over Europe. Or at least pictures he had seen of the villages.
Bill happily waved to villagers, as he slowly passed by.
A couple waved back, but most stared at him like he had just invaded their village with a tank and a unit of soldiers.
As he topped a small hill, to his right, Bill saw a big sign on a building.
'TUCKER'S GENERAL STORE.'
He pulled off the road, unto the small parking lot, alongside an ...
old green Ford truck.
He shook his head.
"Perfect. Just fucking perfect."