The Other Shore ~ PART TWO
CHAPTER ELEVEN
“Love is a Beautiful Reflection”
T.S. Brock
What we think we see may be an illusion. Everything may or may not look better from another point of view. As the sisters fished in the deep morning hours, they may have seen something unusual. But there had been a party after the rally. The dead man floating in the water appeared to them as random debris tossed out after all the ruckus around the lake. Dismissed. They might have picked it up under ordinary circumstances, but this time they chose to keep on fishing. And the fishing was good.
The twins were always together. Here, Gilda smiling as the rays of sun landed softly on her rosy cheeks. There, Rose cursing the ground as she walked on invisible burning coals. Gilda, light and chatting endlessly and Rose, dark and dreaming, but dreaming may be the wrong word. Only she would know. I’d hesitate to say they were a circus act, but it resembled one. In fact they were two of a perfect pair. But more later.
They have always lived on the lake. They inherited the property from their father who had recently passed. The sceenerio of his “exodus” is a whirlwind of events and can only be told with all the spices from from your racks and then you may be lacking. His new romantic inclenation appeared as a dark haired woman with blue eyes, small breats and, frankly, a near zero personality… Maybe no skills (except the ones given by nature) and droopy loving eyes. Maybe she was 30… or 40… 50?… She was a timeless woman… And she had very little to say… which was much appreciciated by one and all. It was a desperate move by the old man.
He had an incurable disease (prostate) but told no one… Yet his new wife knew of his condition and they married and he allowed her a reasonable sum in the pre-nuptial agreement… The twins had no idea… That seemed best to the old man… They were taken care of as well in the will… He knew his days were numbered.
He and his mysterious bride packed up a 1950 Ford Custom Delux Woodie Station Wagon with a minimal amount of belongings. Father hugged his daughters, then drove off with a smile and a wave.
The twins were shocked but relieved. What is that when we know relationships are no longer working and we consciously choose to end them with no remorse? I call that common sense. And after all, the twins were 25 and single with a beautiful house on a spring-fed lake.
How bad could that be?
The three of them had been a family of laughter and whimsy… As mentioned, the twins were devastated on one side, relieved on the other. They had wanted their father to find someone from the time their mom disappeared. I mean they were nearly teens at the time. They had boyfriends. They were in confusion and lost in pot but not drink. Their father became a workaholic and was rarely home. He didn’t drink. He had a real estate business that thrived… Many of his clients were just simply sympathetic… After all, his wife had disappeared… No foul play suspected sice she was known to have the soul of a cuckoo bird… having no nest of her own. These women are very attractive but unreliable… so it was in this case. And life at the lake went on.
CHAPTER TWELVE
The father wasn’t without a conscience. The bulk of his trust went to the twins. He kept more than enough for the two years that were left to him and his bride, but I doubt his “companion” had any clue. He always kept his “cards” close. When he died, the black hairered, blue eyed bride had only a trailer home in Tampa, Florida..
He sent one postcard a week… and then there were none.
The house, the home has always been immaculate just the way their mother liked it. The twins were well off. This history comes from their mother’s diary, and well, their mother disappeared. In fact she was the “beautiful one” recognized by her graduation. Not the cutest, not the prettiest, no. She was the most beautiful.
Truth remains in limbo. Gilda and Rose relentlessly venture to uncover the truth. There is a library of paperwork in a bookcase in their living room
Imagine a camera (or an eagle) far above their home. We see Gilda. She is a tall fit young woman with a cheerful personality. No one can tell her what to do. She is pretty but not beautiful. She might walk a mile for a jar of jam. She will just play “dumb” when dumb people say dumb things, but she is kind to a fault. She spent hours teaching children how to swim at the south shore beach perhaps because no one had taught her and perhaps because no one else had ever thought to do it.
The same bird focuses on Rose. She is non-identical, not as tall, but with the same coal-black hair… well, she can be cranky with a sassy demeanor, something like Bette Davis. After all, this was the beginning of the 1950’s in the USA. Pop culture was everywhere. It would be wrong to suggest that Rose didn’t succomb to Hollywood icons after she saw “All About Eve” at the movies. Rose went nuts over the character “Margo” even quoting some of her lines:
“Fasten your seatbelts, it’s going to be a bumpy night!” at the
beginning of parties and
“A lost lamb loose in our stone jungle,” when she spied a man she
liked.
The twins had no television, but then most people couldn’t afford one at the time. They did have a Panasonic radio from Japan. Something to dance to. They were and they were not connected to the world at large. In this way, television had little or no effect on their lives. But radio was in the background most of the time.
Let’s just say the sisters were iconic in their own ways. Together they were seen in the community as an anomaly, not strange, just in a world of their own. They were nearly six feet tall. Men would retreat due to their physique, but then the men would melt like butter as they walked closer. They were mesmerizing. Their bodies were perfection. Like a full moon.
“You would think they could fill these damn potholes once in a blue moon,” Rose spoke in a grave tone.
“Don’t you know birds drink from these potholes,” Gilda said cheerfully.
They had a cottage left to them by their grandfather. It was medium-sized but clean and comfortable. There were only four or five homes allowed on the shore.
Friends from high school, but sometimes campers or tourists, and sometimes a neighbor or two. The place was pretty secluded. They had a pavilion and dock only shouting distance from the other homes. The music was acoustic or from their radio. The barbeque pit spat sparks disappearing skyward as the meat and fish dripped into the glowing coals. Beer was on ice or in their frigidere.
Their parties were famous. Always lakeside. They had a long property. You could park up and down the road. But the night crew rangers might take a pass… young park rangers. They came and went with Rose on their mind.
Another diversion. It was obvious to most people that the “Communist Scare” was a third-rate B-movie starring wannabe politicians. Not only that, they seemed to have criminal backgrounds. Over time, they gained momentum. Then campaigned to win on division and fear. I’m afraid this is the old song and dance of desperatos and people who will never be content. I’m afraid for the future, Even the next century.
In fact, the party had moved to the pavilion and the adjacent dock.The twins owned two boats, one with a motor and one with oars.
“Hey Jon, ” Rose challenged. “I bet you can’t catch a fish.” Jon was a former basketball celebrity in their younger days.
“Bring it on,” Jon mumbled in his semi-drunken state.
“Get in the boat,” Rose commanded softly.
“Which boat?” Jon looked excited and confused.
“The one you are going to row,” Rose laughed deeply.
“Where are the poles?” Jon stumbled toward the skiff.
“They are oars, and we don’t them,” Rose got in and Jon began to row.
This act of seduction was something Rose was accustomed to. Gilda always turned a blind eye, preferring her company on land. On this particular night, Gilda walked alone on the wooden steps to the cottage and went to sleep. Needless to say the twins did not go fishing together.
It was a humid day with cigar-shaped clouds occasioning the sky just above the western bluff. UFOs had been reported in the early morning hours. The Rosenstein twins had seen some lights above the lake on many occasions but gave them no mind. A shark would have given them notice more than anything in the night sky.
If the man with the orange-colored hair had floated across the lake, they would have delivered him to shore and prayed for him.
Yet, they were the only boat on the lake just before dawn on that day and did not recall the heavy set man with orange hair washed up under neighbor’s veranda. Further, the twins emphasized that they had never happened upon any celestial nor terrestrial events.
After the “incident” they made a statement: “We saw lights, but we were so tired, we hitched our catch, sprayed off, then we fell asleep…. Maybe 3 or 4 am…” Gilda spoke with balooned eyes.
“We cleaned our catch and hit the sack. We woke up and people were up and about. It was Sunday for Christ’s sake. What do you want!” Rose unleashed her temper.
The next day… and days on end… The sisters pulled their aluminum skiff up to shore and the beautiful morning sun shone all about them except on the rainy days when they skinny dipped just before dawn. They caught pike, bluegills, and sunfish, bass, and on an occasional day, a giant carp. A fish that size is not good eating. They threw all carp back. The bluegills were best fried up with batter and butter but no bones.
Usually, there was more than enough bounty to keep the local reataurant chefs and their customers satisfied. Fresh fish. No one complained. And, of course, money in the pockets of the twins. It was a living.
More Chapters to follow
Thank you for your support!
This work is partially funded by “Nobody”
and the “Nobody” foundation for “Nobody”
spencer
Welcome 
Leave a comment