Prompt #37

She called it the boondocks that day, singing songs to his ears in a voice meant to charm.  He said that the boondocks and this dock in the lake had nothing to do with each other.  All the same, he let a smile play at the sides of his mouth, and placed his hands in the pockets of his shorts.  Just a lifeguard before swim time, just a naïve girl with a sweet smile.

The dock was empty in the soft tones of the early morning.  She stole out onto it, unafraid of being caught despite the warning sign.  She sat down on the very edge, dangling her toes into the water, making ripples in the glassy surface.  Then she laid the Bible on her lap and opened it.  After a few minutes he joined her with a Bible of his own.  They read in silence together, sitting close enough to feel, but not enough to touch.

Weekends without kids means a rest from responsibilities.  The summer rain picked up and she acted with predictable impulsiveness.  Out came the swim suit, and in she dove.  All alone, until a splash announced his presence.  Giggles and a tender moment when he helped her out of the water.  Was the dock really that slippery, or had she fallen against him on purpose?

Cold grows heavier every day, lacing the water’s edge with shards of ice.  The dock has been rolled out of the lake, and it is covered with a tattered tarp.