JUST FOR TODAY

The sound of the waves lapping the sandy shore of the lake drifted through the open window, carried by scented spring air. Outside the cabin, the trees swayed to the chant of Nature's blowing element, their leaves laughing merrily in rebuttal to the call of the loon which flew in the sky overhead and hailed the arrival of a new day. Kirsch lay on her back. Her eyes scanned the ceiling and then traveled along the walls to the window. The bed springs creaked when she rolled over and got up on her knees. She rested her arms on the windowsill, and looked outside.

The world that met her was green - green trees, green grass, and the aquatic green of the lake that tinted the fog blanketing the water. It was a tranquil, pastoral color associated with the wholesome country life - one that was part of Kirsch's personality. She loved the color green! For that matter, she loved Nature too! The call of the wild had long been familiar to her. She was brought up with it, living on a farm and working summers at a nearby tourist resort.

"Tourist resort!" Those words brought her back from the dream world and into reality. She jumped onto the floor and raced over to her girlfriend's bed.

"Peggy, wake up!" she said, giving her a quick shake. "Today's rush Saturday and if we're late once again Mrs. Phillips will bring down the curtain on us. Come on, Peg! Hurry!"

Peggy Anderson lazily rolled over and looked up at her with half-closed eyes.

"Ohhhhh! What do you want, waking me up at this unearthly hour? I've just gotten to bed," she muffed, her tongue not quite lubricated.

"It's a quarter after seven and we'd better get a move on," Kirsch explained.

"Oh my gosh!" Peg cried, jumping out from under the covers as if she'd been given a shot of adrenalin. "Not again this morning," she whined.

While the girls hastily dressed, they carried on their usual conversation. It focused on where Peggy's date had taken her the past evening, what they had done for entertainment, and the extent to which Peggy had enjoyed herself.

Kirsch again warned her that all these late nights were imposing a threat upon her health. Although the girls had occasionally treaded upon soft ground, they tried to avoid stepping on each other's toes and hurting each other's feelings. This morning seemed to be one of those occasions but luckily, a lack of time forced the conversation short and the girls arrived for work as the kitchen clock struck seven-thirty.

"Good morning girls," called Mrs. Phillips as they entered the dining room. "Looks like another superb day! Peggy, you'd better slip into your uniform while Kirsch and I lay the tables. Saturdays tend to take a lot out of everyone."

"I'll vouch for that," added Peg as she disappeared behind the door, which led to the bathroom.

Mrs. Phillips continued to talk with Kirsch as cutlery, napkins, glassware, and other articles were methodically placed on the tables.

"You know, Peggy is quite fit but lately she seems to be over-extending herself. It's beginning to show on her face. I don't like those shadows under her eyes or the other traces of fatigue showing up in her actions. What time did that young fellow of hers bring her home last night?"

Before Kirsch could answer, Mrs. Phillips rushed on.

"Speaking of dates, there are quite a few young lads coming in this week. Since Peggy has a steady, that'll leave the field open for you. Not that I want to pry or force you into something you don't wish."

"No, Mrs. Phillips, you're not prying. I'm quite happy with my present life. Boys don't interest me now, but someday that special man will arrive. Til then, I'll just bide my time," replied Kirsch.

The morning slipped by. Guests were fed. Dishes were washed. Bedding was gathered. Families checked out. Cabins were cleaned. Then came lunch and a short break. It was during this interval that an extra duty was given to Kirsch. A carload of new guests arrived before the scheduled time and Mrs. Phillips sent her to meet them and take them to their cottage.

Kirsch muttered something teasingly and to the effect of, "A helper's work is never done," as she walked through the kitchen door.

She met the newcomers in the parking lot. There was an older couple and a youth about twenty years old. The couple was typical of most vacationers she'd seen that year - about fifty, beginning to feel the touches of mellowed sophistication, and convinced nature lovers. They were pleasant but it was the boy who captured her interest.

He was well built, handsome, and looked quite citified. His actions and the easy smoothness of his voice as he introduced himself and walked languidly in the direction of the cabin, proved that he had "country" somewhere in his background. Kirsch couldn't pinpoint why she liked him. She just knew she did, very much. When he asked her to show him around, she didn't hesitate to accept his invitation. She returned to work with a growing anticipation of the coming evening.

Someone tapping on the door at seven o'clock brought Peggy to her feet. She rushed to the door and pulled it open. She was surprised to find that it wasn't her steady boyfriend. It was someone else. He was a guest and he was asking for Kirsch. Somewhat tongue-tied, she summoned her roommate.

When Kirsch appeared, she was wearing a new pantsuit and looked positively captivating. Peggy could hardly believe this was the same shy, quiet girl she had come to know.

"Hi, Michael. I'm so very glad you remembered," stated Kirsch. "This is Peggy, my roommate and co-worker. You probably noticed her at dinner when she waited on your table."

"Oh yes," Michael replied. "I remember now and might I add that dinner was delicious. All I need to finish my day is that tour I was promised. Coming Kirsch?"

"Yes," Kirsch replied. "See you later Peggy," she called over her shoulder as she and her date walked down the road.

"How would you like to show me the lake first?" asked Michael. But, before she could answer, he continued, "We could take out a canoe and visit a couple of islands or just paddle around for awhile. It's a lovely evening and now that you're here, it's simply marvelous."

Kirsch had never met anyone quite like him, but she graciously acknowledged and accepted the compliment he'd given, saying she'd love to go out on the lake.

At the boathouse they acquired paddles, life preservers, night-lights, and flares. When the canoe was finally organized Michael helped Kirsch settle in. He took command of the craft. His strokes were long and forceful and the canoe glided over the water silently and accurately.

The night couldn't have turned out better. The setting sun covered the lake with golden rays. The air was warm and perfumed with the scent of pine trees and wood smoke. As they traveled, other sounds of the vesper hours came to them. A beaver slapped it's tail to warn it's family of their approach. The cooing of birds as they settled into sleep echoed across the water. The lone and serene call of a loon rose into the approaching night. Kirsch thought she'd never heard it sound so lonely and lovely as it did at that moment. It made her melancholy.

Michael had been affected too. Slowly and quietly his voice came, "It makes you sad doesn't it. It makes all lonely people sad. We try to hide our emotions but you know, the loon is right. He demonstrates his emptiness with his voice."

As Kirsch turned her head to face him, he saw tears fill her eyes. She couldn't explain the expression on his face. But for that wonderful moment, that moment of solitude as they sat looking into each other's eyes, something happened between them. It was something beautiful and unexplainable. They remained motionless, oblivious to everything, save each other. Twilight sent an evening star to greet them. Darkness fell, gradually, peacefully, and other companions joined the star. Soon the entire sky twinkled above them.

After awhile they returned to the camp and put their things away. Then Michael took her hand and gently led her onto the dock. They sat down and watched the moon rise, spreading silver over the trees, the water, and the cabins which lined the shore. Time stood still and blessed her children. It wasn't until later when they walked into the lodge that they realized the lateness of the hour.

"You look lovely tonight, Kirsch," Mrs. Phillips stated. "Color well-becomes your cheeks my dear. You should go canoeing more often."

Kirsch laughed lightly and tried not to blush. She changed the subject as tactfully as she could. They chatted with Mrs. Phillips over coffee and cookies for another half hour. Then they said goodnight to her and strolled down the path towards the cabin. Never had the walk seemed so short.

"I hate to let you go in," Michael said. "But I suppose I must. Will you get any time off tomorrow?” he asked.

"Yes, I have the whole day off," she said.

"Lovely! Why don't we pack a picnic lunch and spend the day on the lake? Say yes," he begged.

"I'd love to Michael, and thank you for a wonderful evening," she said.

"On the contrary, thank you. Now I must give you up until tomorrow. Please don't think I'm getting possessive. It's just that I'm beginning to like you very much," he added.

He kissed her goodnight. He could tell her emotions matched his. Kirsch rose early. She put on a pair of shorts and a tank top. Then she gathered her swimsuit, suntan lotion, a towel, sunglasses, and a light jacket and put them into a small carrying case. Peggy was still deep in the land of nod when Michael called for Kirsch and they walked to the dock.

The lake looked different in the morning sun. It was brighter, livelier, and set to a faster pace. Only at sunset did it feign resistance and allow shadows to creep and quiet serenity to capture it. The tip of the canoe raced with the tiny waves, overcame them and sent little eddies running back along it's red sides. A playful breeze snatched at Kirsch's long blonde hair, skipped around to kiss her cheeks then danced back to tantalize Michael. It was a perfect day!

By noon they had traced the shores of the lake, wound their way in and out of many tiny islets, and selected the site for their lunch. It was an island no more than a mile in length, wooded in places, with granite rocks dotting it's shore like a rhinestone necklace. Set off from the others, it had an air of placidness, which was conducive to the couple. They gained the sandy shore on the south side and spread the blanket on the ground under the shade of a pine. When they opened the lunch basket packed by Mrs. Phillips they found a wide variety of delicious goodies - several kinds of sandwiches, pickles, a couple of salads, and various types of desserts. They ate a little bit of everything and then finished their meal with coffee.

"Let's explore the island, shall we?" asked Michael.

"Love to," replied Kirsch. "I'll be right with you," she said as she packed away the rest of the lunch.

When she finished, he took her hand in his and they went off to investigate. Their journey led them over paths of pine needles, past snake holes and rabbit lairs, to the opposite side of the island, then back again to the beach.

By the time they returned, they were hot and ready for a swim. The water was cool and refreshing. They swam and laughed and dove and raced and splashed happily. Then Michael dove under the water and remained hidden for what seemed like an eternity. Kirsch couldn't see him anywhere and she got really worried. Then she heard a small splash behind her. She turned and saw the rippling of water. Suddenly there he was. He sensed her anxiety and held out his arms. She went into them and they kissed.

For the rest of the afternoon they lazed on the blanket, holding hands and soaking up the sun. There was no need to talk. They read each other's thoughts without verbal communication. At five o'clock Michael got up and pulled Kirsch to her feet.

"Come on," he said. "We have to go back now because I'm taking you out to dinner before I return to the city."

"To the city." The words echoed again and again. "So soon? Do you have to go back so soon?" she whispered. But she already knew the answer. She got into the canoe and they made their way back.

"Put on something pretty," he told her when he left her at the door. She watched as he walked over the little bridge and across the stream. He halted momentarily then turned back, saw her, and blew a kiss. She smiled and returned one to him. She knew it was ridiculous to get hung up on someone she'd only met yesterday. Yet, she knew that she loved him, loved him more with every moment she breathed.

The little cafe where Michael took Kirsch for dinner had a mood similar to that experienced on the lake the night before. Their table was near the windows. It looked out onto the lake. The lights were low and romantic. Music played softly in the background. Michael took Kirsch's hand in his and looked deeply into her blue eyes.

In a soft voice, she heard him say, "I love you, Kirsch. I love you."

Then her lips formed the three little words "I love you" in return.

He took his right hand away and delved quietly into his jacket pocket. He took out a tiny case. He opened it, took out a ring and placed it on the fourth finger of her left hand. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed it. "I want you to have this," he said. "It was my mother's ring. She gave it to me on her deathbed. She told me to give it to my wife. It's for you. You're not my wife yet but keep it for me. Wear it for me. I love you and one day I want to marry you."

Kirsch's eyes filled with tears. To be given such a priceless heirloom as a promise of his return and vow of marriage made her heart throb. It filled her with joy and happiness. She said she would wear it forever. She would pray for his swift return. She would dream of the time when they would be together.

The next few hours passed in quiet discussion and close intimacy. The sand in the hourglass stopped for the young lovers who had found each other and whose hearts were bound with the golden yoke of Venus and her charms.

At eleven o'clock Michael was packed and ready to leave. He said goodbye to his aunt and uncle first and then he went to see Kirsch. He promised to return the next weekend. He also said he would think of her every minute he was awake and that he'd write to her every day.

She said her life would be miserable without him. They kissed and said goodnight and then they said goodbye at least thirty times.

Finally he got into his car and drove slowly down the road. He honked the car horn as he turned away from the gate.

Standing motionless on the steps, she watched him pull away. She listened for the sound of the car long after it could be heard. Then she turned, went into the cabin, and got into bed. She lay there thinking of him. She didn't know how long it was until she finally fell asleep. All she remembered was the face, his face, everywhere, calling out to her, begging her to come, crying for her. He held out his arms to her. She tried to go to him but was held back by someone, something. He was dragged from her and faded into nothingness. A weird and mysterious feeling surrounded her.

Suddenly she was wide-awake and covered in a cold sweat. She couldn't for the life of her explain what had happened or why she was shaking. She glanced at the clock and noted the time. It was three a.m. Still dazed and somewhat dismayed she lie back down and after a long time fell into a heavy sleep.

The next week slipped by. Kirsch seemed content as each twenty-four hour cycle brought another letter from Michael. He wrote about his job, the emptiness of the city streets at night and the loneliness that haunted him. For each letter he wrote, she answered him two. She described the trees, the lake, and other beautiful things around her - things he'd like to have seen. She spoke of how much she loved him and how she waited to be with him. She begged him not to be long in his return.

Michael did not arrive like he promised. He phoned his aunt and uncle and told them he couldn't get away. On Saturday they returned to the city by train. For Kirsch, the weekend was a blur of guests, meals, cleaning and confusion.

Another Monday was ushered in. Kirsch waited for the envelopes inscribed with the familiar script, formed by the loving hand she remembered. She received only two of them and tried to excuse the brevity of each by the fact that Michael was heavily involved with work.

More days passed, then weeks and the letters became fewer and further apart. Kirsch waited. For what seemed like an eternity she clutched at the halfway point between desperation and salvation. Then one day the letters stopped altogether.