Chapter 11: Lessons

Yes, I had a lot to learn, and my first lesson came quickly, and from an unexpected direction.

Ginny and I went as a couple to the annual Mark Twain Birthday Ball. It was an annual event in Angel's Camp, and we went with my parents and Ginny's parents as a group. Some preparations were involved, including some evenings spent at Ginny's learning a few dance steps. I was pretty lame as a dancer to start, but as the end of November loomed closer, Ginny's mom was beginning to give hints that perhaps I would not be a total embarrassment to my date, her darling daughter. Personally, I think my Dad and Ginny's Mom would've made a good living as a vaudeville act back in the day.

A week before the dance, Ginny and I were in her living room, quietly waltzing away, when Ginny leaned in, violating the 'proscribed and proper distance' which her Mom had laughingly described as we were receiving our dance instruction. Leaning in, she placed her cheek on mine, her soft lips near my ear, and said with a soft, sweet, warm-breathed whisper "You're hiding something from me, aren't you?" She pulled back to the proper distance, arms at their locked position, and while our feet kept their movements on musical autopilot, we stared unblinking at each other for several long minutes. Finally I leaned in, cheek to cheek and whispered in her ear. "Yes, I am." And pulled back into the formal position again.

We danced, staring at each other until the song ended, and I walked over and stopped the CD. "Break time?"

"Okay."

As we sat on the couch together, hips touching, hands touching, I grabbed her hand, pulled it to my lips and gave the tips of her fingers a quick kiss. "Ginny, do you trust me?"

"Yes, Davey. I have trusted you as long as I've known you. You are trustworthy, and that's not just my opinion," that was punctuated with her lips brushing my fingertips.

"Will you go sailing with my Dad and I this weekend?"

"To the ledge?" trust Ginny to make that connection!

"Yes. The answer to your question starts there," I leaned in then and kissed her, soft and as full of promise as I could muster. Ginny sighed, leaned in, pushing some Ginny parts, which had been developing nicely in the last year, into my chest and kissed me back, equally exchanged, just as full of meaning. Leaning back, we both adjusted slightly, then with her wicked grin stopped just as it started, Ginny leaned back and hollered into the air "Mom, can I go sailing with Davey and his Dad on Saturday?"

Her Mom hollered back "Promise not to get kidnapped by pirates sweetie??"

Ginny giggled and yelled back "Unless its Johnny Depp, they'll never take me alive!"

And that is why two days after the annual Mark Twain Birthday Ball three people and a by now unflappable ferret found themselves on the lake-less ledge sitting around the grill eating wild rice and mango stuffed spicy chicken burritos. I love it when mom packs the lunches, I really do.

We spent a good two hours, methodically going over everything we knew, everything we didn't know, and all the careful speculation and wild guesses we'd thought of.

Ginny is smart. She made a connection I hadn't mentioned to Dad. "This is why you never get lost, isn't it?"

"What?" Dad said.

"Davey doesn't get lost. He never gets turned around in the dark or in the woods. He always knows which direction is North. I noticed it once, that he always knew."

"Is that true Davey?"

"Yeah, I guess I forgot to make the connection, because that's one of the first ways I adjusted, but yeah, it is true," I sat there shaking my head. I knew that Ginny thought my sense of direction was odd, she teased me a couple of times about it, but then she had stopped. "I've mentioned that I see the lines in my peripheral vision pretty much wherever I go, but that some lines, like the ones at the ledge intrude into my regular vision, and exert some sort of pull on me, right?" I asked.