Marshall's Landing: Chapter 2

 One Year Later

   It was late afternoon, but the June sun was high in the cloudless, sapphire sky. Marshall's Landing rested quietly under its golden glow. Safe. Serene. Ordinary. The hamlet was old and quaint and perfect in a small-town splendor reminiscent of days gone by. 

The town was like an old painting, a treasured remnant of the past, with white houses and green trims that radiated a quiet Rockwellesque charm both soothing and welcoming to residents and visitors alike. Mostly.

Main Street ran through the center of town and awnings covered the slab and cobble sidewalks.  At the far end of the street, near the town square, was a brick and granite general store. A dangling sign told the world inside was Tucker’s General Store and Fountain.  Next to Tucker's was the oldest antique store in town. Ariel's mom owned it, and the remained a successful tribute to the tourist traffic the town was so dependent upon. 

Across from Tanner Antiques, Ariel’s aunt ran a trendy clothing boutique. Emily’s Creations sported unique one-of-a-kind items, designed by the proprietor, and manned on the weekends by Ariel’s cousin and best friend Hannah Lorn.  

Ariel was coming home to while away the summer working on her tan, reading trashy novels before the rigor of Stanford, and helping Hannah with the scenery of the local summer stock theater production.  

Marshall’s Landing was supportive of youth and the arts and Ariel was excited to spend time with Hannah again.  Inseparable as children, Ariel’s year abroad was difficult for the girls.  Skyping often helped ease the homesickness, so did stitching each other’s TikToks, but there was nothing like being in the same room talking face to face.

High school was over, and both eagerly awaited the future, eagerly but with a tinge of sadness because they knew it be last summer of the same. The last summer of being them together. The last summer sheltered from the world by Marshall’s Landing.

There were no sidewalks on the tree lined residential streets and white picket fences were the norm. The houses were set off the roads and surrounded by lush lawns and graceful gardens - built a good distance from one another, ensuring the privacy that allowed for good neighbors.

Children rode bikes freely down the streets and people traded daily news, and a bit of gossip, over backyard barbeques and town celebrations.   

Today, Main Street was alive with men and women ‑ young and old ‑ talking and laughing and living a part of life that seemed to have been forgotten in most other places.

Ariel drove the country roads to Marshall's Landing with ease -- taking in the beauty of late spring in the Sierra Nevada foothills. Bluebonnets danced in quartz crevices and covered the ground like a sapphire shield.  Brilliantly colored wildflowers splashed across the green hills blurring to resemble a Monet-like masterpiece. 

Streams from scattered underground springs dotted the horizon. A golden hue was beginning to steal the color from the wild wheat. Soon the deep kelly hills would transform into the inevitable yellow for which the golden state was named.

Ariel passed the green sign marking Marshall County and breathed deeply; home always smelled so good.  College was less than four months away, but to Ariel it felt like a lifetime. She’d loved her days in high school, and her year abroad had been a whirlwind.  College was coming quickly, but she was ready for change – only she’d not a clue of just how much change she would endure during this last summer she’d labeled as same.  

Her father met her at the airport but insisted on being dropped off at the Empire to finish his research.          The Empire was an old gold mine on the edge of town and her father, a doctor and medical researcher, was traveling between Africa and Marshall’s Landing researching the high incidents of cancer prevalent in mining towns.  He’d traced it to the arsenic in the old tailings that seeped into the ground water here in Marshall’s Landing and in Africa and was working on a sludge that would filter the naturally occurring poison and clean the water that ran into both the creek and local wells from which the town water was processed. 

He was also working on a much more important project Ariel had yet to discover, one that would force her to make a life altering decision before Stanford commenced.

Ariel turned off the highway and headed down Main Street waving to faces she’d known all her life.  She followed Main to the end, circled the bronze statue of John Sutter that proudly stood in the heart of the town square. She pulled around behind Tucker’s and parked.

She hopped out and bounced towards one of her favorite places in the entire world only something made her stop. An unusual icy breeze jumped a chill up her spine.

The decor in the historical delicatessen was old and familiar. Simultaneously harboring a modern allure and a vintage vibe authentic to the area. It was rumored George Marshall weighted his first ounce of California gold on the scale that sat in a glass refrigerator case, before the darkness drove him from Marshall’s Landing to build Sutter’s sawmill on a spot down the infamous Highway 49, in the Mother Lode of California.  

A drug counter and soda fountain, as well as a loaded international deli counter, lined the west wall, a cold box dominated the east, and sundries filled the in between.

Bob Tucker was the fifth-generation owner with as much character as the store itself. He was a jolly man who took pride in his work and his customers. He also served as the town mayor.   Sponsoring soccer and softball teams, supporting the Junior Livestock Auction, and giving away candy to his favorite customers were all a part of a good day’s work.

When the bell on the door clanged, announcing Ariel's arrival, Bob was chatting with a gray-haired woman for whom he was cutting Genoa salami, making a turkey sandwich for the town’s oldest teacher, and mixing potato salad – synchronously.

Bob greeted Ariel with a broad smile. "Why Ariel Tanner!  Welcome home."  He popped the lid of a glass jar full of Jolly Ranchers, miniature Reese’s, and butter nips and held it out to her.

Ariel beamed as she took watermelon candy not minding the obvious fact that she would never be an adult at Tucker’s.  “Thanks, Bob!”  

"Are you here for the summer dear?"  Everyone’s freshman English teacher asked.

"Nothing beats Mom's barbeque."

"I would have to agree." Bob finished slicing at the same time as he wrote the price on the sandwich paper.  No price stickers at Tuckers, black Sharpie on white butcher paper.  He turned his attention to mixing a salad.  "Leave your father in his sandbox?"

"Don’t know how mom got him even pick me up at the airport," Ariel rolled her eyes and crinkled a smile.

"It was actually Jeff. Some sort of trade," Bob chuckled the truth with a laugh that began deep in his belly and gathered the entire store in its warmth.

Ariel joined him.  “Figures.” 

Jeff was Ariel’s stepdad – her bonus parent. Ariel’s mom and dad divorced when she was young, and her father decided his calling was to serve humanity in Africa and America. A brilliant doctor, Michael Tanner left on good terms, visited home often and when he did, stayed in the guest house behind the home the rest of his family resided in.

She made her way to the back of the store, grabbed a Diet Coke from an old-fashioned chest Coca-Cola cooler and headed to a door marked Employee's Only.

"Scottie here?" she asked Bob.

"Waiting for you."

"Mom still have a tab?"

Bob chuckled and nodded.  

"Then I'm taking a Diet Coke."

Scott was Bob's son and just about the best friend Ariel ever had, next to her cousin, Hannah, of course.  Scott lived near Ariel their entire lives -- Aidan on one side, Hannah on the other and Scott across. Ariel loved growing up in a small town, loved the intimacy of knowing everyone and being known, but she especially loved mattering in a world that seemed to overlook most of its occupants.  

In Marshall's Landing everybody mattered, and everybody knew everything or so they liked to believe.  When Ariel’s parents told her they were getting divorced and her father was going to spend half his time in Africa, Scottie was there to help pick up the pieces. Scott was ever present. He was kind and thoughtful and smart and always there when she needed him. 

Ariel creaked through an old swinging door, headed up a narrow staircase, and into a tidy office that harbored the same charm as the rest of the store. A large plate glass window revealed the goings on below, not so much because there was a problem with crime, but because a slick salesman in the early 1950's convinced Scott’s grandfather that windows in the rafters were the wave of the future.

Scott Tucker sat hunched over a large oak desk. He was Ariel's age and worked as his father's bookkeeper. A prodigy of sorts, smart beyond genius, graduating top of his class and headed to MIT in the fall – Scott was Marshall’s Landing to the core.  His current claim to fame was an Eagle Scout project that enabled him to gather a group of volunteers, clean out the old boarded up rooms in the back of the Gothic style courthouse and begin a county archive. This was a monumental task that involved gathering old books and records from the basements of schools, jails, county and city buildings, and the private sector.  

The greatest information and volumes came from Danny Jones, great grandson of the last Miwok chief in the area. Chief Jones was an historian and chronologed many of the ancient stories and legends of the area.  He’d also amassed a large collection of historical articles. Before he passed away several years ago, the Chief donated a large sum of money for Scott to set up the “Room of the Ancients” – as they lovingly called the locked area of the archives with the most precious materials.  

Scott spent hours combing through his beloved treasures – fascinated by the county’s rich history and by the darkness that he was piecing together from the masses of information collected. Keeper of the archives was Giver-like and something he would have to abandoned when he went off to college.

Scott had soft wavy hair the color of maple leaves in the fall, green eyes that matched the spring hills, fine chiseled features, and his father's brilliant smile that lit up the room when Ariel walked in. He jumped up and gave his friend a warm hug - happy to have her home again - safe and sound and ready for the summer.  

“I missed you,” she beamed.

“You too,” he said hugging her again. “My Ariel! You look great - a bit thin.”

“Okay Grandma,” she laughed.

“It is so good to have you back!” he proclaimed.

“You missed out big time,” she reported.

Scott intended to spend the year in England with Ariel but was forced to cancel at the last minute to stay and help his parents at the store.  Right before they were to leave, Bob Tucker was involved in a freak accident with a swarm of ravens and was nearly pecked to death. Instead of a year abroad, Scott finished his senior year at the local high school with the kids he’d known for a lifetime. 

Ariel walked to the large window. "Still spying on customers?"

"Only the cute ones.  Didn't see you come in."

"Aren't we witty today?"

"You broke my heart.  I'm bitter."

“Your dad looks super.”

“You look great!” His eyes locked with hers, and it was difficult for her to look away. A rush of emotion coursed through her body. She hugged him again. There was nobody in the world who could make her feel like Scott could. Things were easy with him. Happy. Ariel liked the safety of that happiness and often used it to center herself.

Ariel noticed a crisp new copy of Thornton Wilder's Our Town open on the desk.  She picked it up and thumbed through the new pages of an old favorite, smiling broadly. "Mary's summer project?"

Scott nodded.

“How many times we’ve done Our Town?”

“I know, but it’s Mary’s favorite and Mary Thomas is the community theater.”

“I guess I’m doing the scenery with Han,” she smurked up at her friend.  "You in it?"

"Thinking about it. Have you talked to your cousin yet?" 

Ariel looked up from the script and raised her eyebrows at Scott as an unfamiliar sparkle danced across his eyes. "Is she trying out?"  This would surprise Ariel. Hannah was more of a backstage person who typically shunned the spotlight.

"Said she wants to be Emily." Scott grinned broadly, guilt dripping from his puckishly sparkling eyes.

“And you...dare I say...George?"

“Every play needs a dapper leading man.”

“Who says dapper?”  

“You should pick a part. Try out. It'll be fun."

Ariel shrugged and hit Scott with the script, crinkling her nose. "Why? Looks like Hannah's got my part."

Scott put his arm around her shoulder squeezing her tightly to him.  "You'll always be number one."

Familiar movement in store below caught Ariel’s attention.

Scott didn't even have to look to know what, or rather who, took this attention away. "Of course, I'll always be number two."

Aidan entered the store. His mother Mary followed.  Aidan was in a wheelchair, but Ariel didn't really notice, not with her heart dancing in her chest and the butterflies joining in from her stomach, just as they did every time she saw him – ever – in her whole life.  Today, there was something different about him, something cold in the expression he wore and a glassiness to his eyes that hardened his face.  There was also something very different in the way he held himself. It was then the chair became obvious, only not under his body, but in the shadow cast over his eyes. Or was it something else? Ariel brushed away the notion. He just must be sad, she reasoned. 

Mary looked old - well beyond her years. The accident and subsequence recovery took its toll on this pillar of Marshall’s Landing and her face gave away the trauma she’d endured.  

Ariel sighed, wanting to turn away as much as she needed to see.  "I can't believe he quit law school."

Scott joined Ariel by the window. Together they stared.  "The great Aidan Thomas."

"He never even answered my texts."

Scott gauged Ariel's mood, took a deep breath, and chose his words very carefully.  "Came home from rehab about four months ago. Your mom didn't tell you?"

"I've been busy. You get wrapped up; you know. Traveling, school, time goes by... I tried calling after the texting didn’t work. He never returned them. I figured he needed time."

“You wasted your cash on international calls and he wouldn’t even talk to you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Kind of a jerk move."

"Because you're always so perfect."

"We're not talking about me."  

"Bet it was the girlfriend.” Ariel shook her head.  "Pure evil. She just left him you know."  Ariel looked at Scott.  "I was supposed to be in the car that day."

“Thank God you weren't.  If I remember correctly, the backseat landed somewhere in Gorman."

“Things like this are only supposed to happen in Nicholas Sparks’ novels."

"We've just been lucky.  Ol’ Nicholas has the ebb and flow of life down to a science."

"You read Nicholas Sparks?" Ariel raised her eyebrows and smirked.

            "I buy him for the articles."

Ariel's giggle faded as she watched Aidan leave his mother alone in the store. Mary's heavy eyes followed her son, and Ariel could see the tears deep in the core of the older woman’s soul that her eyes were too proud to shed.

“She sees the darkness,” Scott mumbled.

“The what?” Ariel asked.

“Nothing,” he alleged. "Isn't it time you stopped worshipping the great Aidan Thomas?  Aren't you, like, supposed to grow out of things like that?"

"I am grown out of him,” she defended. “He means absolutely nothing to me anymore. Well, besides being a friend and all!" 

"Yeah, whatever. Listen Ariel, trust me on this one pal.  Save yourself the pain."

"I thrive on pain!"

"A regular masochist." Scott grabbed a baseball cap off a hook behind the door then opened it for Ariel.  "Let's go. You made it home in time for your sister's game. If you miss it, it'll end up being my fault.”

 "It always is."

"Can I ask you a question about a rumor I heard?"

"I am the rumor king."

"It's about Aidan and the accident and stuff."

"I'll tell you anything I know, but Ariel, don't ask about things you're not ready to hear."

She headed down the stairs in front of Scott and decided she knew enough. For now.

Look for Chapter 3!

Thanks,

Elizabeth Chapin-Pinotti

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