Page 30 of Come to Me

They sat on the lakes edge eating breakfast sandwiches. The heat and humidity, already thick when Patrick stepped outside this morning, was growing to sweltering levels.

“I need to deal with that dock,” Micheala said noting the stack of wood.

“I can help.” Tate held up his arm showing his muscle. “I’m strong.”

“I could probably help.” Patrick held up his arm. “What to do think, Tate? Am I strong enough.”

Tate laughed. “You’re a grown up. Grownups are stronger than kids.”

Physically maybe, but Patrick always thought children were more resilient than adults.

“Let’s finish eating and I’ll grab the tools.” Michaela’s willingness to let Tate help impressed Patrick. It was likely keeping an eye on Tate would slow them down, but she was willing to endure that so the boy could help.

When they cleaned up breakfast, Michaela brought their trash up and returned with the tools. Patrick and Tate had brought down several boards of wood to the dock in preparation.

“What do we do, Aunt Micki?” Tate bounced on his toes, eager to help.

“First, we need to get rid of the old wood. I’ll show you.” Michaela stepped out on the dock, testing the various planks and marking some with chalk. “If it has a mark, we need to get rid of it.” As she walked back, she stopped, rocking back and forth. She kicked off her red converse and undid her shorts, pushing them down long toned tan legs. Patrick’s tongue went dry.

“Ah…what?—”

Then she took off her top, leaving it on her shorts. It took a moment to realize the red polka dot clothe she wore was a swimsuit, not her underwear. Good God she was perfection. Patrick knew he was staring but he couldn’t stop himself.

“Are you going swimming?” Tate called out.

“I want to see the joists underneath. It won’t do much good to fix the dock if the joists underneath aren’t in good shape. But I don’t want to pull up the whole dock to find out.” She jumped into the water which went to her waist. “Hey Doc, can you walk along the dock so I can figure out where we might have an issue. Especially right there.” She pointed to where she’d left her clothes. She smirked like she knew her effect on him.

“Ah..yeah, sure.” His voice sounded like he had sandpaper in his throat.

“Can I do it too?” Tate asked.

“Sure. Just be careful. I don’t want to have to fish you out of the lake.”

Michaela moved to the edge of the dock and then dipped underneath it. Patrick heard a knock on a plank. He walked over to step on it, wondering how sound it was. I could be Michaela would have to fish him out of the water. Maybe she’d give him mouth and mouth. Inwardly Patrick kicked himself for such juvenile thoughts.

Tate ran up to the end of the dock and back. “How’s this Aunt Micki?”

Another knock came further out toward the end. Patrick tentatively made his way there while Tate jumped up and down over the spot.

A few moments later, Michaela appeared, leisurely floating on her back. It gave Patrick a stellar view of perfect breasts. God, it was hot out. Did she take the water back to the house because he needed a gallon of it?

“Good news. Joists look good. We just need to pull up the plank I marked.” She exited the water and slipped on her shorts and tank top. Large water marks appeared over her breasts. Patrick was a dead man.

Michaela smiled up at him and he swore she knew her effect on him. “You’re looking a little hot there, Doc. I brought down more water if you need.”

Patrick decided he could drink the lake and it wouldn’t douse the fire burning inside him. “Thanks.”

Michaela showed him how to pull up the planks and together they supervised Tate nailing new ones down.

Sweat beaded on his brow as he replaced the rotted planks, but it felt good to do physical work.

Occasionally, he glanced over at Michaela, watching her work. He was impressed by her competence and strength. But mostly it was her carefree demeanor in the face of so many challenges that really impressed him. It made him feel ashamed for his self-pity,

Finally, they nailed the final plank down.

“I think we did it,” Michaela wiped sawdust her brow with the back of her hand. "Look at us, a regular construction crew."

Patrick looked around at their progress: new boards fitted snugly into place, old ones stacked neatly to one side ready for disposal. It was a metaphor, he decided. He was like that old dock. Not completely useless but in need of repair.

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