Indian Summer
"Sometimes it's just as good to leave things well enough alone. At least that's what two young men in the middle of this century found out!"
The wind of an October day blew the fall leaves into swirling ghosts of color. The northern New England hills burned with reds, golds, greens, and yellows; all signaling the close of another summer.
"It seems unfair that summer should end so quick." Brady Robbins complained through the wheat straw that grew from his teeth. "Summer ought to be forever. You'd think science could at least do that."
"It ain't likely they will.", Ralph said to his brother. "Bet I could turn this here old car to gold bout the same time scientists figger out the weather." Ralph slapped the dash of the 13 year old relic as they drove down the dust of the road.
"Just the same, it outta be done by somebody. I'd do it myself if I knew how."
"Make alotta skiers pretty mad at ya." Ralph chuckled.
"No matter, I'd do it if I could and the skiers be hanged." Brady propped one leg up on the dash.
Ralph squinted down the sun bright road. It seemed to them both that first he wasn't there and then he was. A man in a cool white suit stood in the middle of the road flagging them down. Ralph hit the brakes full, kicking up dust as the thin tires grabbed the dirt. Brady was standing on the brakes too, reacting to the man in the road that hadn't been there a moment before.
They missed him, but not by much.
"Nice of you gentlemen to stop." He approached the car speaking. "Fine warm day it is. Take me as far as you're going then." Without a by your leave he grabbed the door handle, opened the door, and climbed into the back seat.
Brady spoke as Ralph eased the car into gear. "Where the heck did you come from, we almost didn't see you in time to stop."
"Why, I've come from where I've been." Returning Brady's puzzled look. "And I've been almost everywhere." He said in a voice meant to clear up Brady's expression.
"I mean where'd you just come from? You were just in the middle of the road."
"Well, of course I was, that's why you stopped."
"Almost not in time." Ralph piped in.
"Never worry boys, Francis J. Forrington, that's me, never has been hit by a motorist." He smiled, then frowned, "Though a few passed me by," his spirits rose, 'but only a few.'' Brady thought what a crazy old buy they had sitting on their back seat. "Not from these parts then?"
"Oh, my no. This is my first time. Quite quaint it is too. I kind of like it."
"'cept summer's too short," Brady complained. "nearly gone."
"Not gone, sonny, just retired, resting, laid-off, taking a breather, gone fishing. Summer's just like you and me, it's got to rest. Lots of work growing the wheat, the flowers, the leaves. And thems overtime hours too. Sun's got to work harder in the summer and sleep less." The man in the white suit took a white handkerchief from his pocket and wiped it across his white brow. "Yep, won't see many more hot one's like this till next year now."
"I'd do it anyway if I could. I'd make the sun work hard all year round. Keep shinin' long days and keep the fields full and the fish bitin'." Brady shifted in his seat, feeling the wet of his shirt stick to the plastic.
"You wouldn't like it my young friend. You wouldn't like it al all. Once saw summer go on for three years." Brady turned in his seat. "Saw all kinds of strange things happen too. Animals walking themselves to death looking for water that wasn't there. Tigers attacking men just to get a drink of blood. The whole of that part of Africa became a dried up hell. Summer's gotta run its course, but three summers and three falls, three winters, and three springs that were summer too, why it nearly shriveled the Earth itself."
"Just the same, this ain't Africa, and I like summer." Brady persisted with a stubbornness that riled Ralph.
"Summer's as long as summer's supposed to be and it ain't no use wishin' it longer or what. Ain't going to change on account of you." Ralph ground the car from second into third as he crested the top of Fog Hill.
"Not true," said the man in the white suit, "You can make it longer. That's what happened in Africa. Young native fellow wanted summer to last. He wished it to last for so long that it did last. Summer was only a year and a half old when he got to wishing it was over." The old man wet his white lips with his tongue. "He got his first wish; always summer. And I got to tell you, it cost him his soul to get rid of summer."
Brady and Ralph looked at each other. A queer, disbelieving look it was. Brady looked back at the man while Ralph looked through the rear view mirror.
"Yep. Devil played a trick on that one all right. That boy got the summer he wished for plus a whole lot more. People dying, famine from lost crops, animals on the prowl, herds moving away. That boy got too much of a good thing. Then he got to feeling plenty guilty about it all. He got a store of remorse in his soul that was too heavy to bear.
That's when the devil stepped in. Right on the verge of the lad's suicide here comes the dark angel saying, "You done something pretty bad son. You were selfish and wanted too much good. It's a pity a boy like you had to come to this.", and then the devil sprung the deal on the young lad,
"Tel you what, since you were going to commit suicide anyway, and I can understand why. I mean, son, you got every right to feel guilty; so I'm going to make it worthwhile for you. I'm going to help you do some good."
Now the boy didn't know it, but the devil would already have his soul if he committed suicide. The devil, however, knew something else that the boy didn't know. Satan knew the boy would never have committed suicide! It was a trick; just a trick to get the fellow to go through with it.
So the devil said, "Son, I'll bring a cool fall rain down on this place as soon as you're gone. I'm going to get your soul anyway, but I'll do this for you because I know you meant no harm to the rest of the world."
And the boy agreed. Oh summer ended, but Satan got another soul. He's won another round in his sneaky old way.. You got to remember that the devil likes to play the game too."
"That's a fine story mister, but I still like summer and I'd still keep it summer if I could." Brady slouched down and hung his arm out, cutting through the wind as the car sped down the road.
"Well, then, boys, looks like this is where I get off. If you'll stop the car please my lad."
"But we're still three miles from town. Nothing out here but fields and dust road." Ralph didn't understand this old man at all.
"Jut the same, I'd be obliged if you'd stop here." The old man's eyes met Ralph's in the rear view mirror.
Ralph stopped.
The old man opened the door and stepped down into the dust of the road. He shook hands with Brady and warned, "Remember, my friend, too much of a good thing can bring you just as much harm as not enough. More harm maybe."
Brady was about to say just the same, but the old man walked away down the road; back in the direction they had come.
Ralph slid the car into gear, "Strange one, that one. You believe anything he said?"
"Naw, just some old geezer been in the sun too long." Brady leaned forward and switched on the radio.
"That's all for news and now the weather.
Meteorologists predict unseasonably hot weather through October and into November."
Brady and Ralph stared at each other with disbelieving eyes. Brady broke the spell saying, "Don't care how hot it gets, ain't my fault.", then, as if talking to someone not there he looked into the back seat, "Ya hear, it ain't my fault!"
Then, the boys, seeing the look on each other's face broke into laughter; laughter that lasted the rest of the way into town; laughter that begged rain and the end of the summer.