Jim, once a rambunctious and helpful lad, had grown into a muscular and sullen fourteen with dark hair and an even darker teenaged attitude. He'd become moody and withdrawn with a dour expression on his face after he turned fourteen and I can't say I liked his new persona. Sheila was a very strong-minded and feminine ten, perfect of form and full of grace, light brown hair with eyes to match that sparkled and shone with youthful vitality and life. When she grew up she was going to be a hearthrob for all the boys, that's for sure. Their father was a saint in the way he treated and doted on them, even managing to deal, mostly, with Jim's attitude. How John made it as a single parent I don't know.

After a good Saturday morning haul of trout, we headed back to the beach to clean and ice them for dinner. Jim wanted to take the boat for a spin and an argument broke out between him and his sister about it, as there always seem to happen when Jim's ambitions came up against taking care of his little sister.

John waded into the maelstrom of yelling siblings and said, "Take your sister with you. Fifteen minutes then back here. And wear your life jackets or it'll be the last time in the boat this weekend for you both."

"I don't need a life jacket," Jim announced loudly. "I can swim back, not like some people we know," he said, giving a malevolent look toward Sheila.

"Life jackets for you both or you don't go. You know the rules," John told him sternly.

With a mild snarl the boy told Sheila, "Get in then."

We watched them argue all the way out, started gutting and cleaning the fish only to turn to see and hear them argue louder than ever as Jim turned the boat and headed back to the beach, Sheila doing a good job of screeching right back at her brother. It was quite loud enough to be heard all around the lake.

"Healthy set of lungs, Sheila has," I politely mentioned to John.

He turned to say to me, "Don't ever have kids, Rick. Stay a bachelor."

"Oh, it can't be that bad," I retorted. "I know how much you love them."

"Days like this are meant to 'try mens' souls' is all I can say," he answered, shaking his head. The two got to the beach with their shouting getting louder than ever, screaming actually.

Sheila stomped ashore, grabbed the nearest thing she could find, a long stick, and threw it with all her strength in the direction of her older brother. Her strength wasn't in question but her aim was a bit short. The sharp end of the stick hit the RHIB in the port tube, the hiss of air immediately heard by all.

Sheila looked shocked, her hands coming to her mouth as she stared at where the air was leaking out.

Jim got an angry look on and yelled, "Now look what you done, you mouthy little shit!" and jumped toward Sheila.

John yelled, "Jim, stop! One more step toward your sister and ... and ..." He was at a loss for words. They weren't needed, the expression on his face told all. Damn, John was pissed!

Jim stopped in his tracks, pointed at Sheila and said, "But look what the shithead did!"

John, I almost couldn't believe the words he got out, calmly said, "I think we can all see what has happened. We do not need your astute observations and we do not need to hear your language either. Your behavior is about as rotten as I can imagine, especially in public. Go to the table and sit there until I have a chance to talk to you." ......(cont)