Mary and Alvin

Mary Winslow went for a bicycle ride. It had been almost a month since she had transferred to the small city of Londonderry, Maine, but with unpacking and setting up her new apartment and acclimating herself to her new workplace, there had been little time to get to know the town. The weather forecast for Memorial Day weekend was perfect, sunny and warm. It would be a great opportunity for her to explore. The bank had found her a cozy one bedroom flat on Main Street, above the hardware store. She thumped her bike down the back stairs and into the parking lot. Across the lot, a steep decline, sprinkled with pink and purple lupines, dropped to Front Street and the harbor. A cool breeze caressed her bare legs and she considered going back inside and swapping her shorts for jeans. But as she stepped into the sun, she decided the shorts would be fine. Mary looked out over the bay. Sunlight sparkled on the water and she saw a line of kayaks, red and green and yellow, paddling out from the shore. She was a big city girl and adjusting to small town life was proving difficult, but she could not deny that she was enchanted by the beauty of her new home. She walked her bike around the building to the sidewalk, then climbed on. The shops and restaurants along Main Street were just opening for the day. It delighted her that people waved and said hello as she rode by. Turning at the Post Office, she pedaled down Court Street, past the stately houses, once the homes of sea captains, now divided into apartments. She rode by the elementary school and the Congregational Church.There was an antique charm to the town that was so different from what she had known in California. There was a sense of history. Mary wondered if she would ever fit in. On she rode, and the houses grew further apart. Soon she was passing patches of woods and pastures where dairy cows grazed. Coming around a bend in the road, she slowed when she saw a bridge ahead and heard the sound of falling water. She parked her bike on the side of the road. The bridge crossed a rushing stream. There was a trail running alongside it, and she followed it into the trees. The land rose and she found herself on a small hill, looking down at a shady pool where the stream widened. She gazed around her and up into the canopy and felt like she had never seen so much green before. She carefully stepped down to the edge of the water. A pair of mallards glided across the pool. She sat down on a large rock and watched them for a while as they swam together on the far side. It grew chilly in the shady woods, so she walked back out to the road to resume her ride. She wasn't sure how far she'd ridden, but felt afraid that if she went much further from town she might get lost, so she headed back the way she came. When a road veered off to her right, she turned on impulse. It took a long downward slope and her bike picked up speed. The wind whipped her shoulder length auburn hair. There was a general store at a crossroads ahead. Mary glided into the parking lot of a small general store. An elderly man behind the counter nodded to her as she entered. "Good morning," she said, "Where is the bathroom?" "If your buying something, it's back that away", he said in a thick Maine accent as he gestured to the far corner, "If you ain't, it's down to the main highway." "I'm going to get something to drink," she replied, feeling a bit chastised. He nodded and returned to reading his newspaper. After Mary used the bathroom, she purchased a bottle of iced tea and stepped outside. A pair of horses were cavorting in a field behind the store, and she watched them as she drank her tea. When she finished, she headed back towards town. Before long, the road merged into the highway and she rode along the shoulder as fields gave way to gas stations and fast food restaurants. Eventually she reached the place where Front Street veered from the highway and along the shore. Waterfront cottages, many of them summer homes, lined the bay, blue water flashing between them. She came to City Park and rode down to the edge of the water. Leaning her bike against a tree, she sat down on a stone bench that overlooked the rocky beach. She had not ridden so long since the previous summer and her legs were starting to ache. She hated to end her day of exploration early, but did not think she could ride much more. Out on the bay she saw a flash of color. Shading her eyes, she saw the kayakers she'd noticed earlier. She didn't know much about kayaks or boats of any kind. But it looked awfully easy to paddle the little craft, and it couldn't take much leg work. She decided she'd like to try it. She got on her bike and continued down Front Street to the public landing. She stopped at the Harbor Master's office and asked where she could rent a kayak. The young man working the counter directed her further down Front Street to Faulkner's Wharf. As she rode there, she looked up the hill and saw the back of her building, realizing that her bedroom window looked right down at the wharf. Along the roadside there was a carry out diner, painted a bright red. On the front there were a row of service windows, and above them, a sign listing all the usual items common to carry out joints along the coast; lobster rolls, fried clams, hot dogs, burgers. To the right of the building, a driveway sloped down, past a deck filled with picnic tables, into the boatyard. A boardwalk ran along the right side of the yard, and extended into a long L shaped dock. To the left there stood a large boathouse. Mary saw a rack alongside it, half filled with kayaks and canoes, and rode toward it.