Chapter 9: The Itch

I found someone to scratch mine ... after I used the watch.

First, there had to be a way to keep the information I found in Teddy Bear safe. Mother suggested I find a shipping concern or a bank that managed to stay in business through the 'coming unpleasantness' ... something still in operation in 1975.

Not as easy as you might think, shipping concerns fail, the name picked up again years after. Banks failed by the hundreds in the 'Crash of '29, ' picking one that succeeded in the surviving was difficult. I thought about the most trusted names in shipping, Wells Fargo. How about banking? Bank America.

Ah, Brinks! They have a branch in Lansing, or Grand Rapids. Either one would work. Grand Rapids, because it's close to Pentwater, or Lansing, close to home. Now came the hard part: Transportation to either town. Rail, air, or motor vehicle? Planes crash, cars wreck, the least incidence of freight loss? Rail. But I want to go! Ludington Rail has passenger service. Any railroad has passenger service ... in 1928. The problem is, there's NO direct connection between Ludington and Lansing.

While I was questioning my pondering, the ship to shore radio spoke. It's 1928 ... there aren't ship to shore radios. The boat radio has been on once just to check and all that happened was static ... and not very good static. Now it's working but it's not been powered up. The Power light isn't even on. Amazing, a frequency never used, over a radio never on, with a voice I've never heard.

It's a male voice speaking, "Wendy? Come in Wendy. Air you there, Wendy?"

Some one knew mom? Someone who knew how to work the radio remotely?

Well, Hell. I picked up the headset and microphone and slipped it over my head and ears and plugged it in. "This is Wendy." Well, I am.

"Not my Wendy. Fetch your mom, Wendolyn."

Whoever knew me? Or, at least, someone who my name?

"Whom shall I say is calling?"

"I'll not bite on that, Wendolyn Elizabeth Austin. You'll spoil my surprise."

UHOH ... not just my name, but the bad girl name. Ouch.

"Oh."

"Please, be a dear, and fetch her."

"I can't, she's at the Antler, having lunch."

"Run and get her."

"I can't leave the boat."

"Your papers will be safe. Your dad, David, opened the crate yesterday."

The boat rocked. I looked up ... mother. She was back. The smell of burnt meat and hot grease assailed my nose.

Ding

Like Pavlov's dog, my saliva started running and my brain shut down.

Mom handed me my sack lunch. My Wendy burger with fries. And a mug of homemade Antler root beer. As close to heaven as I was going to get in this life.

I opened the bag to get at the fries while they were still hot. A mouth stuffed full. "Mmmmmmm."

"Something to listen to?" She indicated my earphones and mic.

The total impossibility of speaking while I had way more in my mouth than I could chew, caused me to wave at the phones and jerk my head. "Mrgulphmpf."

"Oh, really?"

"Arghe-agoe-gormph," I pointed at her, the phones, and swallowed what I could. "Formph yomgh."

"For me?"

I nodded fiercely, chewing like mad and bent my neck so she could wrest the headset...

"OW!" I swallowed, took a long drink of the best homemade root beer in Michigan, and pried my hair out of the headset. I choked out, "Someone for you." I took another handful of fries and crammed them in my mouth.

All this time, whoever ... was speaking in my ears, imploring me to get mom, or at least answer. Ain't happening, buddy. These are Antler fries and I'm not letting them get cold!

Mom spoke a tentative, "Hello?" I had just lifted the still frosty mug of root beer to my lips...

"TIM!!!," mom screeched.

The inevitable happened. I blew root beer out my nose!

Carbonation, mixed with tiny pieces of fries blasting through my nose caused a reaction precisely in the manner in which teenagers throughout the United States have always reacted ... I inhaled.

The resulting cough sprayed mom, the radio, and half of the communications bench with large chunks of fries and root beer! I spilled my root beer in the bag with my priceless Antler hamburger and the tail end of my fries.

I was pissed ... my fries ... Antler fries ... HOT, fresh, vinegary, Antler fries and I all I got was a taste ... SOMEONE WILL PAY!!

SPLAT! The bottom fell out of the sack, the burger, a soggy, root beer soaked mess, unwrapped itself and fell, meat side down to the cabin sole. Mayonnaise, lettuce, dill pickle, two cheeses, three strips of bacon and tomato scattered to the four winds. The remaining fries added to the mess. A SECOND CRIME AGAINST HUMANITY!! THE FIRING SQUAD WILL NOT BE PUNISHMENT ENOUGH!