One Last Time

Welcome to The Spot Writers. The prompt for this cycle is to write a story that begins with: “And then it began to rain.” This week’s story was written by Cathy MacKenzie.

Cathy’s writings are found in numerous print and online publications. She writes all genres but invariably veers toward the dark—so much so her late mother once asked, “Can’t you write anything happy?” (She can!)

Check out www.writingwicket.wordpress.com for further information on her works.

 

This is the last in the saga of Melvin MacDonald. He’s finally being put to rest (not that he’s dead yet!). Watch for the novella/novel, tentatively titled When Kayaks Fly, out later this year or early 2025. 

 

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One Last Time

by Cathy MacKenzie

 

 

And then it began to rain. . .

 

Damned Nova Scotia weather! What was the saying? If you don’t like the weather, wait five minutes? Something like that, Melvin thought. 

He waited five minutes. Ten. . . Nope, wasn’t gonna work for him. And no way was he gonna remain standing on the perimeter of the lake, waiting and waiting for the dratted rain to stop while he became wetter and wetter. Kayaking was no fun in the rain.

He turned and trudged up the path toward his house, all the while cursing under his belaboured breath. He’d told Marie this would be the last time with Blue Origin, and he meant it. One last jaunt and then the kayak would be up for sale on Facebook Marketplace. Alas, thanks to the damned rain he wouldn’t even get that one last paddle. 

“I’m too old,” he’d told her, all the while thinking: You and William won’t go with me. It’s all your fault! What fun is it to kayak alone? But he zipped his lips. Didn’t want to upset his wife, didn’t want to dredge up the past: the death of their two daughters on Sinclair Lake. Marie had finally calmed down after their deaths; never spoke of it. He was quite aware she still pined for Penny and Sophie. He did, too, of course, but he’d shoved their memories to the back of his mind where he hoped they’d remain. Much too painful to remember. He figured Marie still blamed him. He blamed himself too. But one must move on. Onward ho, he thought. The past is the past. Gotta live in the present, plan for the future.

He had hoped he might see Kailani. One last sighting—one last hurrah with both her and Blue Origin. Oh, how glorious it would have been to be taken up to the skies again. He’d felt like Santa Claus in his sleigh being drawn by Rudolph and his crew except there were no sacks of gifts to bestow—ha, no reindeer either. No, the “gift” was the ride—and meeting Kailani (the most perfect gift ever). He’d tried often to see her again, wished and prayed she’d reappear. Though she did a couple of times, she never stayed long. And the times he really needed her, she never showed her gorgeous face. He once hoped she might use her powers (whatever they were) to bring his daughters home. Had thought Penny had returned when he discovered her pink snowsuit in the snowdrift, but it was as if his daughter had simply melted with a thaw as did snowmen, leaving paraphernalia behind. 

He had never shared the story of Kailani with Marie. And never would. She’d never understand. Wasn’t even sure HE understood. Perhaps they’d all been a dream. If he ever had a psychiatric intervention, he was quite certain the doc kook would tell him he was crazy—with an extra-large C. Thus far, no one thought he was THAT far gone. Still, he’d love to share his escapades. Even if they’d been a dream, he would always relish the memories. Perhaps, when William matured, he’d share. 

“Goodbye, Kailani,” he shouted. “Goodbye!” 

He hadn’t forgotten he’d spouted the same words numerous times previously. But this time, he was certain. The rain had done it. Blame it on the rain, he thought. Dratted rain. Maybe he could talk Marie into moving somewhere else. Ontario didn’t receive as much rain as Nova Scotia. Could they live happily there? No, they were established in Nova Scotia, and that was where they would remain. 

“Tomorrow,” he muttered, “I go to Facebook, search out Marketplace, and list my kayak, my cherished Blue Origin. It’s time. It really is! I’m much too old to believe in fairy tales.” 

He sighed. All that remained, really, were those unexplained bumps in the night—and the boogeyman… 

 

 

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Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/

Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/

Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com

Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/