Chapter 1: The Picnic

It was a little after nine when the telephone rang. I was in the den, planning our second honeymoon when my wife called up to me that my sister was on the phone and wanted to talk to me.

"Alright, Hon," I yelled out and picked up the black cordless from my desk and pushed the activation button.

"Yes?" I said, into the phone, hearing the click of Shelly, hanging up downstairs, as I did so.

"Hi," came my sister's unmistakable soft, whisper-like voice from the receiver. She didn't sound very upbeat like she usually did when she talked to me.

"What's wrong?" I asked, knowing something was amiss with her without her even having to say so.

"Are you alone?" she asked quietly, as if she didn't want anyone on her end to overhear. "Can we talk?"

"Sure," I said, feeling a sudden unease at her cloak-and-dagger demeanor. It wasn't like her to be secretive in any way. She had always been so very open with me and I could always tell what was going on with her... except, of course, for that brief, crazy time when we were teenagers.

I listened intently to the phone now. Waiting to hear what had her sounding so strange. But, for long moments, nothing came through the phone but the sounds of her labored breathing, as if she were trying to keep herself composed.

"Sis?" I finally asked. "Are you alright? What is it? Are you having trouble with Ted again?"

"No," she said abruptly and then "Yes." And I heard an unmistakable sob.

"Well, which is it? Yes or no?"

Now I heard her sniff loudly and then silence and finally a low, timid, "Do you remember what happened the day of the picnic?"

What happened the day of the picnic? How could I forget it? How could I EVER?

It was the annual, mid-August reunion and the whole family was there... uncles, aunts, cousins, Grandma Murtry. Mom was there and she seemed almost back to her normal self again. It had been a year since Dad had died and this was the first time all of the family had gotten together since the funeral.

I remember how hard that funeral was on my sister... all the crying she did. Ted didn't seem very supportive of her then. He seemed almost irritated by the whole thing and my sister's display of grief. I'm the one who ended up having to comfort her through the arrangements and the visitations and she practically ruined my black suit, crying so hard into it, at the funeral itself and at the dinner afterward.

My kid sister was the apple of Dad's eye and it was so apparent that she felt the same toward him.

His death was such a shock to everybody. A sudden, massive, heart attack at 59. Who would have expected it?

Ted wasn't at the picnic. He and my sister were having some serious problems. I don't know if it was his drinking or losing his job or if one had led to the other or vise versa. They hadn't seen each other since just after Christmas and my sister was quite put out that her husband had demanded (and got) their three kids for that weekend. This meant that my nephew and my two, sweet, little nieces weren't at the picnic to fawn all over their Uncle Dan as always.

I wasn't going to pass judgement on him or her. Shelly wasn't at the picnic either. We were separated ourselves then and had been for just over two months. She took Liz and Ellie, just after school let out, and went home to her mother's.

And why?

Because I caught her cheating on me with some asshole that sold leather-goods at the mall!

Can you imagine that? I catch HER and SHE gets mad at ME and leaves?

Anyway... the picnic...

It was a bright, sunny day, not too cool in the shade or too hot in the sun. We were all at a city park with lots of trees and picnic tables and a beach, down the grassy hill, for the kids to enjoy sunbathing and swimming.

I was sitting at Mom's picnic table, enjoying one of the Bass ales I had brought after I had emptied the picnic contents of both my mother's and my uncle Ralph's car trunks.

"Thank you, son," Mom said as she smoothed the red-checkered tablecloth over the lacquered surface of the picnic table. "I'm so glad you came... what with Shelly running off and all."

"Oh, MA!" I protested, looking around to see that nobody was listening in.

"I never trusted that one," Mom went on. "I could always see that she had a roving eye..."

"It was partly my fault," I cut in before I took another swig of Bass.

"YOUR fault? What did YOU do?"

"I should have paid more attention to her, I guess."

"More attention," Mom said with a sarcastic tone. "She should have kept herself busy enough taking care of you and the girls, Daniel."

"Mom, Shelly was a good mother to the girls."

"Good mother," Mom snorted. "Shelly was NEVER a mother like your sister. THERE'S a woman who CARES about her children AND her husband."

"Yeah, Ma," I nodded.

Mom tossed down the towel she had been wiping the tablecloth with and said, "And LOOK at what happens to the poor girl! Her husband drinks and is abusive to her and their children and finally he moves out on her!"

"I know, Ma. But it was a rough couple of years for Ted..."

"Just moves out with not even so much as a how-do-you-do and leaves your poor sister so devastated."

"Well I don't know if she was exactly devastated..."

"She cried for two weeks!"

"She cries a lot, Ma."

"With a no good husband like that, who wouldn't cry?"

"Look, Ma. The last year has been tough on all of us."

"Not as much on you, Daniel. You're strong. You can handle a little strife now and then. You've always been that way. But your sister..."

"Yeah. I know."

"First she loses her father and then her husband..."

"She'll survive. Ted's not DEAD. They'll get back together..."

"You don't see her and talk to her as much as I do, son. You don't know. She's very distraught and very close to doing something..."

"Close to doing WHAT, Ma?" She had my attention now.

"I don't know. But that poor girl needs a break from all this, Daniel. Mark my words: she needs a little dose of love and happiness right now."

I shrugged and took the last sip of my ale. "Don't we all," I said, looking up to see my mother's attention taken by something behind me. I turned to see my sister's blue Taurus pulling up to the picnic area.

"Hey!" Mom was yelling now and waving her dishtowel. "We're over here!"

My sister pulled in to a vacant spot and then I watched as the car door opened and she got out.

"I see you," she called, closing the door so that I could now see her and the pink half-top and matching shorts that she was wearing.

She looked good, as always. Her straight blonde hair shown radiant to her shoulders and kept back by the sunglasses tilted up on the top of her head. She was smiling broadly as she walked and waved to us, stopping only for a moment to avoid the two kids who came running across her path chasing after an errant Frisbee.

I hadn't noticed lately how tall my sister was and how thin and long legged she still appeared and how graceful her walk. Her face, though it had lost many of its freckles, was still so youthful and bright even though she was now thirty-five. And, in spite of her having three children, her exposed midriff revealed very feminine curves and a still firm, flat stomach. She somewhat resembled the actress Gwyneth Paltrow, I thought, having just seen her in the movie 'Shakespeare In Love'.