Read Online Summer at Forsaken Lake by Michael D. Beil - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Michael D. Beil
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imagining that
Goblin
was hisown and he had just returned from a long ocean voyage from some exotic port.
Someday
.
* * *
July
9
Dear Dad
,
Best summer E-VER
.
Me and Charlie sailing Goblin , Nick onshore. No big deal—we rocked it
.
Your son (the expert sailor)
,
Nicholas
* * *
Set well back from Nick’s house was an old barn, its red paint now faded to a soft patina, the slate roof missing a tile here and there, but still standing as straight and tall as it had for more than a hundred and fifty years. Once upon a time, it held a herd of registered Holsteins, but it had been many years since any livestock called it home. Now it was a workshop. Where once there had been box stalls, Uncle Nick built
Goblin;
the braces that held the hull in place during construction still leaned against the walls. Earlier in the summer, just a few days after arriving, Nicholas had noticed a neatly paintedwhite rectangle on one outside wall, and asked Nick about it.
“Strike zone,” he answered. “For your average Little Leaguer. This is where I taught Charlie how to pitch. Do you want me to teach you?”
“Actually, I’m more interested in learning how to
hit
a curveball. Can you show me
that
?”
“Happy to. The only problem is, with my shoulder acting up the way it is, I can’t put any mustard on the ball anymore. Best thing would be to have Charlie pitch to you.”
“Oh, great.”
Nick chuckled. “Don’t sweat it, Nicholas. You’re not the first boy to be struck out by a girl. And you won’t be the last—especially if Charlie Brennan has anything to do with it. At one of her games this year, she struck out nine in a row. But if I can teach her to throw it, I can teach you to hit it.”
* * *
But it was the hayloft inside the barn that held the real surprise for Nicholas and Charlie, who climbed the ladder one hot, windless afternoon a few days after that first sail without Nick. Back in the farthest corner, a heavy canvas tarp with several years’ accumulation of dust and pigeon droppings covered an object about twelve feet long and five feet wide.
Despite the kids’ fear of disturbing whatever critters might be lurking beneath it, curiosity got the best of them, and they slowly pulled a few feet of the tarp back.
“It’s a sailboat,” said Nicholas, running his hand over the unfinished wood deck.
“Wonder what it’s doing up here,” said Charlie. “Let’s uncover it all the way.”
Still wary of the dust—and things that creep, crawl, or slither—they slowly removed the tarp and began their full investigation of the mysterious, not-quite-completed vessel that clearly had been hidden away for a long, long time. They were immediately awed by its graceful curves and the expanses of wood on the deck and in the cockpit.
“Omigosh. It’s beautiful,” said Charlie. “What’s it doing up here?”
“It looks like somebody was building it, and they just gave up. It’s, like, ninety-five percent done, I think.”
“I think you’re right,” Charlie said. “Looks to me like it just needs some paint and varnish. And some of the rigging stuff—the cleats and the rest of the hardware.”
“And a mast. And a boom. And sails,” added Nicholas, continuing to poke his head into every corner of the hull. “All right, so maybe it’s ninety percent done.”
“Do you think Nick built it?” asked Charlie. “Maybe he started building
Goblin
and just never got back to this one.”
Nicholas pointed to a small brass plaque screwed intothe wood on the side of the centerboard trunk. “Well,
that
answers a few questions.”
Heron Class Dinghy
Designed by Jack Holt
Built by
Nick and Will Mettleson
Charlie squeezed in next to Nicholas so she could read it, too. “So, your dad and Nick built it? That is
cool
.”
“Yeah, well, I think there might be more to this story.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s go inside,” Nicholas said. “There’s something you need to see.”
* * *
The
Goblin
was hisown and he had just returned from a long ocean voyage from some exotic port.
Someday
.
* * *
July
9
Dear Dad
,
Best summer E-VER
.
Me and Charlie sailing Goblin , Nick onshore. No big deal—we rocked it
.
Your son (the expert sailor)
,
Nicholas
* * *
Set well back from Nick’s house was an old barn, its red paint now faded to a soft patina, the slate roof missing a tile here and there, but still standing as straight and tall as it had for more than a hundred and fifty years. Once upon a time, it held a herd of registered Holsteins, but it had been many years since any livestock called it home. Now it was a workshop. Where once there had been box stalls, Uncle Nick built
Goblin;
the braces that held the hull in place during construction still leaned against the walls. Earlier in the summer, just a few days after arriving, Nicholas had noticed a neatly paintedwhite rectangle on one outside wall, and asked Nick about it.
“Strike zone,” he answered. “For your average Little Leaguer. This is where I taught Charlie how to pitch. Do you want me to teach you?”
“Actually, I’m more interested in learning how to
hit
a curveball. Can you show me
that
?”
“Happy to. The only problem is, with my shoulder acting up the way it is, I can’t put any mustard on the ball anymore. Best thing would be to have Charlie pitch to you.”
“Oh, great.”
Nick chuckled. “Don’t sweat it, Nicholas. You’re not the first boy to be struck out by a girl. And you won’t be the last—especially if Charlie Brennan has anything to do with it. At one of her games this year, she struck out nine in a row. But if I can teach her to throw it, I can teach you to hit it.”
* * *
But it was the hayloft inside the barn that held the real surprise for Nicholas and Charlie, who climbed the ladder one hot, windless afternoon a few days after that first sail without Nick. Back in the farthest corner, a heavy canvas tarp with several years’ accumulation of dust and pigeon droppings covered an object about twelve feet long and five feet wide.
Despite the kids’ fear of disturbing whatever critters might be lurking beneath it, curiosity got the best of them, and they slowly pulled a few feet of the tarp back.
“It’s a sailboat,” said Nicholas, running his hand over the unfinished wood deck.
“Wonder what it’s doing up here,” said Charlie. “Let’s uncover it all the way.”
Still wary of the dust—and things that creep, crawl, or slither—they slowly removed the tarp and began their full investigation of the mysterious, not-quite-completed vessel that clearly had been hidden away for a long, long time. They were immediately awed by its graceful curves and the expanses of wood on the deck and in the cockpit.
“Omigosh. It’s beautiful,” said Charlie. “What’s it doing up here?”
“It looks like somebody was building it, and they just gave up. It’s, like, ninety-five percent done, I think.”
“I think you’re right,” Charlie said. “Looks to me like it just needs some paint and varnish. And some of the rigging stuff—the cleats and the rest of the hardware.”
“And a mast. And a boom. And sails,” added Nicholas, continuing to poke his head into every corner of the hull. “All right, so maybe it’s ninety percent done.”
“Do you think Nick built it?” asked Charlie. “Maybe he started building
Goblin
and just never got back to this one.”
Nicholas pointed to a small brass plaque screwed intothe wood on the side of the centerboard trunk. “Well,
that
answers a few questions.”
Heron Class Dinghy
Designed by Jack Holt
Built by
Nick and Will Mettleson
Charlie squeezed in next to Nicholas so she could read it, too. “So, your dad and Nick built it? That is
cool
.”
“Yeah, well, I think there might be more to this story.”
“What do you mean?”
“Let’s go inside,” Nicholas said. “There’s something you need to see.”
* * *
The
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