Love, Lust 'n Geology (1ST DRAFT)

Chapter 18: Love and the Canadian

This chapter is dedicated to xDreaax in gratitude for her encouraging comments and the kind nature of her PM's :-)!

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Chapter 18: Love and the Canadian

The next week, when Tom arrived by canoe to pick her up, he informed her that he might, just might, have a solution to her J-problem. Oh, so it was no longer a J-stroke, but a J-problem? On the other hand, perhaps the nomenclature was warranted - or was that charge? - given how difficult she'd found it to acquire the stroke, and all that she'd inflicted on others, first Chris and then Tom, in the process.

"What solution?" she inquired, frowning, feeling not at all hopeful. Thus far in her life, she'd relegated very few pursuits to the You'll never learn it ... no matter how hard you try! bin. Basketball was one. She was that close to tossing in the J-stroke too!

"Have you heard of a stroke called the Canadian?"

"The Canadian?" she parroted sceptically, fairly certain that he was pulling her leg. "No, I haven't heard of The ... Canadian," she replied, giggling and emphasizing the term. "Is that like The American"? she ribbed, referring to the movie.

"No. No, it isn't. It's an actual stroke!" Tom declared, smiling back. "During the J-part, you run your paddle along the gunnel of the canoe. A lot less can go wrong."

"The gunnel?" she murmured, confused.

"Yeah, the top edge of the canoe."

"Oh."

"We could try it today, but given your dress and all ..." - here, Tom proceeded to survey her, the entire length of her - "let's wait for tomorrow. ... By the way, have I told you that I really like your dress?"

"No," she mumbled, smiling and lowering her eyes bashfully. Okay, that time he had not only taken in her legs but all of her. And from the look on his face, he'd liked what he'd seen. She couldn't be more pleased!

At The Bear Paw, she began to feel like Scheherazade of the One Thousand and One Arabian Nights - thankfully, there were no concerns about her losing her head - for it seemed that each time she and Tom met, she had a tale to tell him, of wildlife! This time it had to do with not moose, or bears, but a woodpecker! A few days ago, a striking red, black and white woodpecker had started to frequent their island. For all they knew, it might have been dropping by at other times of the day too, but they only saw it in the evenings, around dinner time. There was a tall beech tree close to where she and Grant sat for dinner. The woodpecker would swoop in, clamp onto the side of the tree, and begin pecking, well, more like hammering, away at it. Unbeknownst to them, its actions had loosened a metre-long, and just about as wide, piece of bark. Yesterday evening, the piece had actually detached and begun to waft down. Neither she nor Grant had noticed it, but the boys had. And as it had looked to be headed straight towards Grant's head, neither had issued a warning. The bark had missed Grant by just inches, causing him to jump up from his chair. It really had been quite funny.

Tom laughed and shook his head, commenting that the three of them certainly had a strange relationship with Grant. She giggled and nodded, explaining that that was because Grant underwent a sinister transformation in the field. At school, he'd been completely different ... normal, even nice!

And then she murmured musingly, "I wonder why woodpeckers don't get concussions."

"Sorry, don't get what?" He thought he'd heard 'concussion', but, of course, that couldn't be right.