Illusive Innocence

By Michael Patrick Tryon

Henry and Barby are neighbors, classmates, and more. Barby's family is affluent and well-to-do, while Henry's family leads a simple life on a small income. Feelings of ambivalence pervade young Henry's adolescence as he becomes involved with both Barby and her sister. Bran

• Language: English
• Publisher: Authors' Tranquility Press
• Release date: Jan 23, 2022
• ISBN: 9781957546186

Michael Patrick Tryon

MICHAEL PATRICK TRYON was born and raised in Michigan. He was a Seabee Diver (NEC 5345) in the U.S. Navy. He was a P.A.D.I. scuba diving instructor and taught diving in California and Bermuda. He worked in the HVAC&R trade for forty-five years in California. He lives in Shreveport, Louisiana. He was an avid sailor on his Islander 36, for many years. He taught heating and air conditioning and refrigeration part time at IBT in Santa Clara, California for ten years and for Local 39 in San Francisco for four years. He is retired. He still lives with his wife Janice of fifty years. His other published books are "Seabee Diver" and "Spoof".

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Copyright © 2022 by Michael Patrick Tryon.

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Illusive Innocence/ Michael Patrick Tryon

Paperback: 978-1-957546-17-9

eBook: 978-1-957546-18-6

To my family

She crossed oceans, deserts, mountains,

Heart aches, snowstorms, picnics gone bad,

Sun drenched beaches, blows on the bay,

The lives of three men, Forty-nine years of marriage,

My heart, my life, my wife, my Janice.

California born, Bermuda baby,

Winter Water Wonderland childhood,

California college, the gift of life

The gift of love, the gift of Lai.

He popped into the world and left too soon.

A daddy, a wife, a very cold life.

Won’t give up on the Bears, Wolverines still first.

For Susan, I still can’t say goodbye.

Your light still shines on my heart.

Don’t go chasing dreams

Pick the right one when it comes along

Dreams can be illusive

Hang on

Once in every lifetime, a dream comes true

Michael Patrick Tryon

Tiffany of Tryon

A description of silk, transparent though be

A description of her she would not agree

What’s up with the frogs?

Her smile so bright, like the light in her eye

A mother, a daughter, a lady at neigh

What’s up with the frogs?

Her willpower firm with a conquers heart

A woman’s intuition, fighting hard from the start

What’s up with the frogs?

Her vanity steadfast, along with her plan

We love her, we need her, we who are clan

What’s up with the frogs?

Her gift to her cousin, few words could express

Beloved by her uncles, even under duress

What’s up with the frogs?

Our lives could be dull, but your spunk is on fire

Your humor, your charm, and that for which you aspire

What’s up with the frogs?

Table of Contents

Henry Rotyn

The Kraneger Family

Summer Vacation 1964

Fatherless

The Headship Seat

Skinny Dipping

The Log Cabin Bungalow

Mouse Hunt

Spring Vacation

Thunder Jumpers

Henry’s Abnormality

Spring Vacation

Henry’s Innocence

Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Saturday Night Dances

Brandy’s Surprise

Junior’s

Mr. Kraneger’s Offer

Brandy’s Scheme

Keeping Men Warm

Cascades

Senior Year

Senior Prom

Jennifer

Aphrodite

First Love

The Summer of Love

Brandy’s Parting Gift

Henry’s Ambivalence

Quitting Quinn

The Accident

Christmas 1969

Barby’s Berkeley

Jessica’s Baby

Brandy’s Boston

Mrs. Brandy Rotyn

Brandy’s Gift

Barby’s Bullet

Loving Henry

Revealing Secrets

Barby’s Burden

Sarah the Teen

Henry’s Enigma

Illusive Innocence

Jennifer the Woman

Rachel

The Waitress

Karen

Serendipity?

Barby & Henry

CHAPTER ONE

Henry Rotyn

Henry stared out his window into the northern sky and waited for another falling star. He struggled to keep his eyes open. The moon was not visible from his side of the house, and the stars were brighter from his perspective.

The streetlight at the end of the block peeped at him through the trees. The irksome sparkle irritated his eyes. Henry adjusted his pillow so that the edge of it blocked the flickering glare.

He fantasized about his vacation and tossed restlessly, unable to quell his avid joy. Finally, Henry tried to sleep but, his room trapped the heat from the summer day. His window was wide open, but his screen might just as well have been a wall because there was no breeze. His sheets and pillowcase felt damp and sticky in the suffocating July night air.

Imaginative reveries flashed through his young mind off and on as he dozed. His anticipation and excitement grew with every passing hour. His best friend Bobby invited him to go fishing, camping, swimming, and canoeing on a river. Henry adored Bobby's two sisters. Brandy was four years older and very athletic, but Henry was mesmerized by her beauty. Barby was Bobby’s twin sister, and she was Henry’s age—a schoolmate—and she was a real girl who radiated feminine daintiness. He stood in awe of Brandy and enjoyed a close friendship with Barby.

The heat of the night paired with his imagination continued to hinder his rest. Finally, during the waning hours of darkness, a gentle breeze filtered through his screen, the heat dissipated, and a dank chill filled his room. His young mind yielded, and his body succumbed to a night of restful sleep and deep dreams.

Henry often experienced recurring dreams. In them, he relived experiences he could not change and had no control over. But more than that he wrestled with himself until some compromise settled wrongs both real and imagined.

On the night before his big camping trip, his dreams rambled irrationally. He liked his last name Rotyn, but he would never forget the blemished event in the third grade. He passed gas and evacuated an entire classroom. The inept gesture was loud and stunk. Someone connected his last name with the incident; hence, Rotyn became rotten. At the beginning of every school year, he went through the same teasing for at least a few days. Henry insisted on pronouncing his last name row-tin, but as soon as someone saw it spelled and tried to pronounce it, the rotten would come out.

He turned fourteen in January. This would be his last summer vacation before entering high school. Adults presented the transition from childhood to a teenager as a monumental and formidable responsibility. Henry did not think it was a big deal. His transition from twelve to thirteen was not extraordinary. He did not think high school would be any different. He had good manners and he thought of himself as both trustworthy and responsible. He had an inner confidence that his life would amount to something.

People often complimented him for being mature for his age. Henry favored his version of why he appeared older as most probable; he attributed his maturity to his hair. He had thick long blonde hair. His mother did not cut his hair at all until he was six years old. Even then, it was just a trim. Every morning his mom ran her fingers through his hair, informing him that it was admirable for a boy to wear his hair long. His mother told him that his long hair blessed him to have such beautiful thick hair. She often shared with him how each man must be willing to stand up for what he believes. She taught him that his personality would flourish when he developed character, courage, integrity, and virtue. A man with those qualities would accumulate many loyal friends, lifelong companions that would bring happiness and contentment into his world. She usually completed her loving collusion with the motherly appeal. Please do not let anyone cut your magnificent hair; it would break my heart."

When Henry listened carefully, he often overheard girls talking about him. Many of the girls in his class whispered when he walked by. His girlfriend Barby said they thought he was cute and loved his hair. A few of the girls commented that his hair looked more likable than most girls. Some of them had even asked him for tips on how he managed it. If any of the guy’s overheard conversations like that they teased Henry incessantly. However, he did not care if they liked his hair or not, and he was not about to cut it.

Friends and relatives claimed he had his mother’s looks. He had her large cerulean blue eyes and light blonde hair. However, his other facial features resembled his Dad's, heavy wild eyebrows, long thick eyelashes, long face, thin nose, and strong chin. In addition, he had sandy-colored freckles and a dimple on each cheek when he smiled.

Henry was full of dynamic energy. His normal inclination was not sitting still; his mother said he had ants in his pants. He was always on the move doing something, anything but sitting still.

Henry turned over and heard leaves rustle in a breeze. Climbing trees in the summertime, especially when the wind blew hard was one of his favorite pastimes. The old maple in his front yard was easy to climb. The trunk split three ways. One angled over the front lawn, one angled out over the road, and the third rose straight, although it too veered off toward the driveway toward the top. He liked to climb the center trunk up to the last fork. The branch was still ten inches thick; it created a nice perch. The top of the tree swayed and created the elusive image of a pirate in his crow’s nest crossing a mighty ocean. The tree was sound, sturdy, and trustworthy. The wind made him feel alive; his skin tingled with excitement. Henry often pretended the wind was his enemy. He spent many summer afternoons conquering the wind in his tree.

If the wind did not blow, Henry would run fast and cause the air to blow over his face. Henry often dreamt he was running; it felt good to run until his lungs burned. There was a scenic trail along the Millpond; many people in town used it. It was an old dirt trail with willow trees hanging over it. It rose and fell as it traversed the edge of the West Side of the Millpond. It was Henry’s favorite place to run.

Henry was extremely close to his mother; she was the most fantastic person he knew. She worked at the Barneyville High School and was incredibly involved with the students, even though she was not a teacher. All the kids liked Mrs. Rotyn. She was exceedingly kind and she instilled confidence in the children. She always took the time to listen to them, no matter how busy she was. One of Henry’s friends told him that she made him feel good.

His mother was a single ice-skating dance champion when she was in high school. Henry’s Dad was also an incredibly good ice skater. His Dad and mother skated together and were ice-dancing partners. She still skated, but not as often as Henry. She was a short petite woman and had a great figure. Strange men whistled at her all the time. Henry’s Dad got a quirky smile if he was around, but he never said much.

His Dad did not skate anymore because he was disabled. He had black lung disease. So instead, he worked as a pattern maker in a foundry that made cast iron car parts. Henry’s Dad was twenty years older than his mother. He was an extremely strict man, but Henry loved him very much. Most kids argued with their parents, but Henry did not. Henry still remembered the night his Dad told him that he was going to die. He did not like to talk about his Father’s impending death.

His Dad worked hard to provide for Henry and his mom. Henry’s Dad said they were not well-to-do, but he also said they would never be indigent.

Henry’s Dad was in the Marines, his nature was to be a no bull kind of guy, but he had always been a good father toward Henry.

It was awfully hard for Henry to see him now. He only weighed about one hundred twenty pounds. His Father lost sixty pounds in less than six months. Before the disease set in, he was a powerful man.

The house Henry lived in was an old brick two-story. It was a square house with vines running up the four corners. The early American architecture provided a fine home for the Rotyn’s and was a step above the usual construction of other homes in the small town. The ten-room house was incredibly old but weathered even the worst storms well. Unfortunately, the house did not have a mortgage on it; Henry remembered how happy his parents had been in paying it off last winter.

Barneyville was a small town in a valley between two rivers; the Kalamazoo and St. Joseph. Two State highways intersected its city limits, M60 and M99. Litchfield's archrival in high school sports lay to the west, Albion to the north, and Jackson to the east. There were about 1,500 residents and most of the houses were old. The downtown was four blocks long. All the buildings were old brick two-story with fake fronts on top that made them look like three-story buildings. Henry loved Barneyville, his hometown.

Rivers were intriguing to Henry; hidden under swirling waters were many secrets. Henry had significant experience uncovering the mysteries associated with both rivers. Remarkably, the only time the rivers were crystal clear occurred just after the ice came off the waterways.

The phenomenon occurred during the sucker season. Henry and his Dad floated down the river in a flat bottom dinghy with a gas lantern shining deep into the clear water. The lantern illuminated the bottom and exposed potholes, stumps, stones, muddy bottoms, gravel, and stone bottoms on cold March nights.

Suckers were bottom feeders. Every spring they ran in schools upriver into tributaries and creeks. They lay on the river bottom sucking food with their thick, soft lips. Henry and his Dad used broad seven-prong spears on twelve feet long poles to spear the fish. On a good night, fifty or more of the bottom feeders would meet their doom. They never ate the fish but sold the suckers for fertilizer or hog food. Henry never made much money at it, but like his Dad said, it was a hell of a lot of fun.

The Kalamazoo River fed the Millpond in Barneyville, which was on the north side of town.

The St. Joseph River was on the South Side of town. It was a better fishing river and had many holes great for swimming. Both the Kalamazoo and St. Joseph were slow-moving black water rivers other than in early spring.

Henry dreamt about going camping for seven days on the Au Sable, Michigan’s most famous trout river. He knew of the reputation of the Au Sable. People said its waters flowed at a speedy fifteen miles an hour, constantly stinging cold but crystal clear. For twenty-five miles, after Grayling the river was only eighteen inches deep. The Guinness Book of World Records lists it as the 4th cleanest river on earth.

Henry loved being outdoors. If it rained hard, or the wind blew unusually strong, or if the snow were deep, he would be out in it seeking whatever thrill he could encounter.

He never missed the TV program Michigan Outdoors. Every Tuesday night fisherman and hunters from all over the state displayed their catches. But what Henry liked most were the stories.

The upcoming vacation could prove to be Henry’s opportunity to create a few stories of his own. He so looked forward to this trip. It was going to be his first experience on a real river. Sure, St. Joseph and the Kalamazoo were well-known rivers, but they were not in the same league as the Au Sable.

The past year Henry had spent a lot of time at other people’s homes. His Dad was often gone for a week or more. He received treatment at the VA Medical Center in Ann Arbor. Henry’s Mom usually took him and stayed there with him.

Mrs. Schott was a nice lady. She was an old woman about seventy-five, and she lived next door on his street. Henry sat and listened as Mrs. Schott told life stories back in New England. She was married to a man who built submarines for the Navy, but he died many years ago.

Henry had great virtue, and President Kennedy used that word a lot; Henry liked the sound, virtue. Henry had a keen sense of right and wrong; that disposition helped keep him focused on innocence, honor, and integrity. All those words were part of virtue.

Henry practiced cleanliness most of the time; he spent at least ten minutes in the bathroom practicing good hygiene every morning.

Henry struggled with a burgeoning desire to look at girls. Many of his peers felt it was abnormal folly to pursue the fairer sex. But he often found himself admiring the sleekness of the feminine neck or the contours of the female body. His Father spoke with him on several occasions about sex, but Henry did not understand. Henry considered his lack of understanding of sex an abnormality. The mystery about sex continued and at times it bothered him grievously. Sometimes his peers talked about sex. Henry managed to appear all-knowing, but its many hidden aspects puzzled him.

Henry got an uneasy feeling when he was around girls his age, except Barby. He felt more comfortable around girls in high school. The high school girls thought he was cute and often told him so.

Henry’s neighbors across the street owned a car dealership in Battle Creek. Henry’s Dad said the Kraneger’s had money. Mr. Kraneger was his Father’s fishing buddy until his Father became ill.

Henry never went camping with the Kraneger’s before. They always went on beautiful vacations. Their son Bobby was Henry’s best friend. Bobby often told Henry about the fun they had on their holidays, and this year Henry had been asked to go along. He could barely restrain his excitement.

His alarm clock sounded, and Henry awoke dreary and languid. He sat on the side of his bed and tried to wake up. Slowly an anxious, giddy feeling came over him. He leaped out of bed and hopped around his room in an imaginary private celebration.

CHAPTER TWO

The Kraneger Family

Henry heard a knock at the door. His mother was busy in the kitchen, so Henry ran to see who was there. It was Mr. Kraneger. He stood in the doorway smiling, Hello Mr. Kraneger, would you like to come in, sir. Henry held out his hand. Mr. Kraneger always shook hands. Henry figured it was because he was a businessman.

Mr. Kraneger was a tall man and what hair he had left around the crown of his head was black with curly clumps frizzled neatly around the ears. A gray shade was beginning to appear along with his temples and earlobes. He had large green eyes with puffy bags under them and wild, untamed eyebrows, thick and sooty in appearance. Mr. Kraneger had a kind face, but Henry’s dad said he was a hard selling businessman. Mr. Kraneger’s voice was deep and quiet, almost mellow. Henry’s mother said, He was an educated man and intelligent. Mr. Kraneger had huge hands, but Henry’s dad said they were not the hands of a laborer. Henry noticed Mr. Kraneger’s hands were never raw or red blistered or callused like his dads’ hands. Henry heard his mom say, Mr. Kraneger had a rare special charisma that rubbed off on others.

Good morning lad; are you ready to load up? he asked.

Yes, sir, I have everything ready to go.

Mrs. Rotyn waved hello to her neighbor from the kitchen.

Mr. Kraneger asked, Have you had breakfast yet, Henry? he wondered if Henry remembered they were stopping for breakfast.

Henry shook his head no; I remembered you said we were stopping at the Flying Saucer on our way.

Mr. Kraneger patted him on the shoulder. Bobby is in the shower. We will be over to pick you up in just a few minutes. Is your father up yet?

Yes, sir, he’s in his chair in the living room; come in, please.

Mr. Kraneger walked into the dimly lit foyer. The tongue and groove floor creaked under his weight, but he was familiar with the old house; his uncle built it back in the thirties. Mr. Kraneger walked through the family room into the dimmer living room. The old dark oak columns were separating the rooms.

Henry Kraneger was one of the town’s founders; he raised Benjamin Kraneger from when he was only weeks old. Unfortunately, both of Ben’s parents died in the scourge called the Spanish Influenza in 1921.

Eileen Kraneger was a lady. Henry’s mom said she was high class. All Henry knew was that she always dressed up, all the time. Her perfume was French; its fragrance left an invisible trail wherever she walked.

The Kraneger’s lived in a massive stone house. The eighty-year-old gothic architecture stood within a seven-foot-high stone fence around the perimeter of the property. Columns of stone bric-a-brac twelve feet high stood majestically on each side of the circular driveway and the two separate pedestrian gates. Three separate outbuildings, including a four-car garage, were located on the estate. In addition, there was a Gazebo with a stone foundation and pillars capped by whitewashed hand-carved woodwork. The four-room guesthouse was for Consuela the maid and her husband Fernando the Gardener.

Family memorabilia filled the sizeable unfinished attic with two different watchtowers at each end of the house. The estate covered half of a city block. Some people called it a mansion, but the Kraneger’s did not; to them, it was just a house.

Bobby was their only son and was Henry’s best friend. They were in the same grade.

Bobby had two sisters. Brandy was eighteen; she was the oldest. Bobby’s other sister Barbara was his fraternal twin, but they were not alike, not in looks or personality. Barbara did not like her name and preferred to be called Barby.

Henry liked Barby, and all the kids thought they had a thing for each other. However, Barby had never shown any affection for him.

Seven days on the Au Sable was going to be incredibly special. Henry looked forward to catching some fish, having fun in the water, and being in the wilderness with the girls.

Michigan: The Winter Water Woman Wonderland. Henry got a kick out of using that saying. He learned it from his uncle, who lived in California.

He wondered what adventures lay ahead.

CHAPTER THREE

Summer Vacation 1964

Henry gathered all his things together for the outing. While he took his tackle box out to the front yard, he wished he had better fishing gear. Unfortunately, he did not have the most fantastic stuff—not like Bobby, who had the most expensive fishing equipment you could buy. Henry's fishing gear was from the local bait store, garage sales, or family hand-me-downs. Bobby's fishing gear was from those expensive sporting goods stores in Battle Creek. However, Henry did not feel comfortable with Bobby's equipment because Mr. Kraneger was particular about using it. He preached form first, catching the fish second. Henry's dad thought it was more important to see your dinner. So did Henry.

Brandy was good with the gear, which was a sore point with Bobby. Brandy constantly persecuted the poor guy.

Barby was not interested at all in fishing. She was very feminine, all girls; she never acquired the tomboy syndrome-like so many of her peers.

The weatherman on the radio was reporting a thunderstorm moving toward them. Henry did not need a weatherman to tell him a storm was coming. The leaves on the trees were turning under; that was a sure sign of a humdinger.

Mrs. Kraneger drove the station wagon with the girls; the guys were in the pickup/camper pulling a tent trailer with all the equipment one would need for seven days in the wilderness.

They took M60 over to the experimental four lanes. But, Mr. Kraneger said, The entire nation would have roadways like this all across the country someday.

They stopped at the Flying Saucer Inn. It was the largest wooden structure in the county, Mr. Kraneger explained.

Henry ordered French toast, scrambled eggs, and hot chocolate. After everyone else called, Mr. Kraneger told Henry he would buy, but Henry worked topping onions most of June, and he had lots of money. It made him feel good to buy his breakfast. Mr. Kraneger understood when Henry explained his reasons for paying his way. He told Henry in front of everybody that a man who insists on paying his way in this world deserved respect.

The restaurant was on the second floor. Through a panoramic window view, they could see the storm clouds moving in from the southwest. The view over the treetops was Henry's favorite. Henry loved eating there.

Henry sat next to his friend. Bobby was short and overweight. He was a schemer; he was always playing practical jokes. However, he was not a mean character; he had that reputation because he was very loud. Bobby spoke as though everyone needed to hear his version of things—first, last, and only.

Bobby was very pale and had very dark hair. The dark hair and light complexion made for a rather gruesome-looking fellow. Popular opinion was not kind to Bobby unless people tried to understand him. His physical appearance, as well as his personality, kept his peers at bay. Henry liked Bobby simply fine. Mr. Kraneger informed Henry he appreciated the kindness he showed his son.

Brandy got up and went to the bathroom. While she was gone, Bobby smeared her seat with some honey. Brandy sat in it when she returned and, at first, did not notice it. Henry saw him do it and was biting his lip, snickering, trying not to laugh. Bobby did not even break into a grin. When Brandy realized she had sat in something sticky, she got mad at Henry because he was snickering.

You little creep. You think this is funny, don't you Pudge, she scolded. She did not care if raising her voice was improper in public. You little shit.

Brandy! Mrs. Kraneger snapped sternly.

Henry did not say anything; he was very intimidated, and everyone was looking at him.

Bobby wasn't about to let her get away with that, so he yelled at her, Leave him alone, stretch! He didn't do anything to you.

Bobby called her stretch because she was so tall.

Brandy hated it when he called her stretch because she thought it gave him a weird kind of tired joy.

Bobby looked directly at Brandy and silently pronounced trollop without saying the word audibly.

Mr. Kraneger stepped in, Knock it off, Bobby. he smiled at his older daughter, What happened, dear? he tried to calm Brandy down, but she had a stubborn attitude.

Bobby leaned over to Henry and said, Dad will do anything for Brandy; she's special, Henry figured it was because she was the oldest, that is all.

Mrs. Kraneger, who always seemed to resolve things with a formal properness, told Brandy to go to the car and get another pair of shorts and change in the restroom. She said it was probably there when she sat down; after all, how much should one expect from an establishment soliciting to the public.

Barby often found herself arbitrating peace between her two siblings almost every day. So, when Brandy left, Barby went with her.

Henry watched them leave; Brandy walked away, taking dainty little steps. She wore tight-fitting, noticeably short, cutoff blue jeans.

Brandy pulled at the white frayed cotton fabric on the edges as she looked back at him and shook her fist. Brandy was angry. She told Barby, I don't have to put up with Bobby's bullshit. After she got outside, Brandy dropped the little cutesy walk and stretched out in full stride. Her long legs carried her quickly across the parking lot. Barby walked faster, breaking into a run at times, trying to keep up with her older sister.

When Brandy stopped at the car, her mood had changed. She looked thoughtfully at her younger sister. This is our last summer together, sweetie. she brushed Barby's hair out of her face. You're going to break more hearts than your older sister.

Barby smiled. Brandy, you know Henry didn't put the honey on your seat; Bobby did it.

I figured he either did, or he put Hank up to it.

You made Henry feel bad Brandy, I saw it in his face.

Look, sweetie, Hank can handle himself simply fine; he's not the innocent angel type. Give him a few years, and he will be all hands like most boys. His motivation in life will be getting into your pants if you know what I mean.

Brandy went into the bathroom to change. She looked at herself in the mirror and admired her long graceful neck. Her long shiny black hair enhanced her slender figure. She did not have any of Barby's freckles, but she had her father's long thin face. She thought her mouth was too large, but she rather liked her long delicate nose. Her dark emerald eyes sparkled under her long eyelashes.

Unlike Barby, Brandy's fair complexion amplified her looks. As a result, many people said she was as beautiful as a Hollywood star.

While she studied herself, Brandy wondered what life would be like away from her family. Boston was a long way from home. She put on a good front, and her family thought she was an independent 60's woman. Brandy was beginning to miss them already. Brandy wanted to talk with her father, but she did not want the conversation to become a shouting match. Her mother never did understand the woman's liberation movement. Brandy took one more look, smiled, checked her teeth, and walked away.

She had a great sense of humor, but Bobby was pushing it. Brandy was intelligent, and she had her father's businesslike personality. Her Mother taunted her and complained that a happy smile would take her a mile. Brandy felt a fake smile would become pretense.

When the girls returned, Henry realized Barby must have told Brandy what happened. Yet, when Brandy looked his way, anger and hate were missing.

Brandy looked at Bobby and smiled. Well, Pudge, I hope you eat a lot because Dad said we are not stopping again.

Brandy knew he was sensitive about his weight, but she stuck it to him anyhow. She did it to aggravate him, and it worked. Then she retaliated against the real culprit. She reached in front of Bobby to get some syrup and knocked his glass of milk in his lap. It was an artful maneuver; she made it look like an accident. Henry knew better and glanced at Brandy. She winked at him and smiled. Her expression of cunning retribution lasted less than a second. Then her feminine charm conquered the moment. Oh dear, how clumsy of me. Waitress, we need some help, please?

The parents never did figure out the battle going on under their noses. It was just a silent secret skirmish between two thugs. Henry was impressed with Bobby's tranquility: unmanageable bedlam was his usual reaction.

Mrs. Kraneger said she was worried about the storm, but Mr. Kraneger argued that waiting meant giving up a good campsite. She thought they should go back home and wait for the storm to blow over. Mr. Kraneger insisted on continuing, so she went along with his wishes as usual.

They headed west to US 27 North. Once they got to Grayling, they would head east to Mio, then northeast on some county roads north of the thumb area of Michigan.

The storm did not seem to be catching them, thought Henry. The sky was black, but they were staying ahead of it.

Mr. Kraneger told the boys this was how storms tracked across the state, southwest to northeast.

The short caravan pulled into the Park around five. Mr. Kraneger had already decided not to set up the storage tent until the storm blew over. He had requested a double campsite when he made the reservation. The camp was elevated above the other campgrounds, as stated in the brochure.

Two large sugar maples stood along with the entry of the two campsites. In the rear, a row of dense blue cedars created a dark green wall. Tall, thick bushes that resembled wild blueberries divided the edges of the campsite from the adjoining sites. That is where Mr. Kraneger and the boys set up the tent camper.

The pickup camper was stuffed full of all the latest amenities necessary to take the wild out of the wilderness. The storage tent was essential because the pickup camper was stuffed full of the amenities so highly prized.

Mr. and Mrs. Kraneger walked around the camp, talking to the other campers. He kept his eye on the incoming storm.

Mr. Kraneger thought of himself as a businessman with a family rather than a family man with a business. Therefore, he permitted his wife to run the household. This rule included the children. He fancied them more than loved them, but he did enjoy their company now that they were older. He had a skillful wife who was more than qualified to address their every need. When they were younger, he had a business to develop, which required too much time and energy. However, he wrestled with his lack of parenting and accepted total responsibility for ignoring his children. He provided well for them and, up until just recently, had been quite content with the arrangement.

The emotion-packed discussion with Tom Rotyn left him shaken. The man's dying wish asked Ben to help Henry. Tom was a Marine and served our country, and cared for his son. Tom's example served to shame Ben Kraneger into realizing that Bobby needed a father's influence.

Mr. Kraneger's wife tormented him about neglecting his son. While not capitulating completely, he decided to pursue the issue rather than ignore it and suffer the consequences.

He gazed at the billowing, dark, fast-moving clouds, thinking how often his wife seemed to pick divisive issues. She had some remarkable intuition; he resented it viscously because he appeared to always be on the losing end. He did not have a good feeling about this storm; in fact, he had an uneasy sinking feeling in his gut that once again, his wife had picked another winner.

Mr. Kraneger was immensely proud of his family; the children did very well academically. Brandy would soon be attending an Ivy League school. She was too independent, though, and he wondered why she could not be more submissive like her Mother. Mr. Kraneger chose to dismiss those thoughts realizing she was very much like her father. She would be a formidable businesswoman; she had good instincts and was smart as a whip. Her spunk made him feel better, somehow.

He liked the Rotyn lad. He thought his long hair was a bit rebellious, but he showed the same tenacity as Brandy. If she were not his senior by about four years, those two would be a match.

Henry was intrigued by storms, and he noticed Mr. Kraneger kept looking at the sky. At first, the wind blew in a wavering soft gust, and it seemed to stop at times completely. Finally, at about seven pm, Mr. Kraneger directed the teenagers into the tent camper.

Barby and Brandy were playing a heated game of euchre against Bobby and Henry.

Come on, stretch. Deal the cards.

Hank, please help Pudge understand just how near death's door he leans.

Bobby, Brandy is going to kill you if you don't calm down.

You two better not cheat; Brandy and I play fair, so you guys do the same.

Did you hear Barby? That means no farting, hacking, winking, or anything that may cover up a cheater.

Brandy gave everyone five cards and turned one up, the Jack of diamonds.

Right bower, Bobby whined, sitting on her left. Henry was on her right. Her sister sat across from her.

Bobby passed; Barby said, Pick it up.

Brandy picked up Jack and discarded it.

Bobby led with the left bower. Brandy looked at her sister, You know what he is doing?

Stretch, oh no, oh hell no, Bobby's face