{"id":6474,"date":"2018-08-18T07:11:37","date_gmt":"2018-08-18T12:11:37","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?p=6474"},"modified":"2020-09-04T04:55:03","modified_gmt":"2020-09-04T09:55:03","slug":"grenville-fish-and-fowl","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/","title":{"rendered":"Grenville: Fish and Fowl"},"content":{"rendered":"
<\/div>\n

Patricia Crisafulli<\/a><\/h2>\n

PART FOUR<\/h4>\n

<\/p>\n

\n

“Grenville: Fish and Fowl” revisits the characters in Grenville, N.Y., a tiny Adirondack Mountain town.<\/em>\n<\/div>\n

Read the Complete Grenville Series<\/a><\/div>
<\/div>\n
\n

T<\/span> he canoe paddle sliced through the water, angled just right to create propulsion without excessive splash. Karl Arrollson felt the pleasant pull in his shoulders and down his back, the muscles rarely exercised except here among the many lakes and rivers that intersected the Adirondack Mountains. On this early September morning, with fall\u2019s breath in the air, he and Frank Pherson crossed Little Moose Lake. Bass were in season until the end of November, but he was not.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

\n

This was his last weekend in Grenville. Already Bambi was packing up their summer house. Tomorrow, they\u2019d head back to Rochester, and that would be it until next Memorial Day. His wife tolerated summers spent in Grenville at the big cottage his parents had built in the 1960s, which had been remodeled and expanded several times since then. It was fine when their friends came for a long weekend; Bambi was happiest as the hostess: pinot grigio and baked brie, Cornish hens on the grill. In return for the better part of the summer spent in Grenville\u2014with many trips back and forth to Rochester where he was still a partner in a law firm, though semi-retired\u2014Karl reciprocated with a week in Palm Springs right after Christmas and a jaunt to Europe in the early spring before the crowds of tourists.<\/p>\n

The lake\u2019s surface erupted. \u201cYou see that one?\u201d Frank asked.<\/p>\n

Karl saw only ripples receding. \u201cWhat was it?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTrout\u2014one of them rainbows, I think, from the way the sun hit it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Karl wished he\u2019d seen it, then as if on demand another fish leapt into the air.<\/p>\n

\u201cThey\u2019re biting, that\u2019s for sure.\u201d Frank resumed paddling and maneuvered them into a cove where overhanging trees shadowed the water. \u201cCaught a good-sized one here a week ago. Large-mouth bass\u2014had him for dinner, too.\u201d Frank grinned. \u201cWe\u2019ll get you some today. I\u2019ll clean and filet \u2018em for you. Stick \u2018em in the freezer overnight. You take them home like that, and you won\u2019t believe how good they taste.\u201d<\/p>\n

From across the water, Karl heard a low, mournful wail. He followed the sound to the dark silhouette of a loon bobbing on the surface of the lake. \u201cI thought you could only hear them at night.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWe must have disturbed him,\u201d Frank said. \u201cJust wait.\u201d Thirty seconds later, another loon answered. \u201cThat\u2019s his mate saying all is well.\u201d<\/p>\n

Karl cast his line; the hook hit water with a satisfying plop.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville<\/p>\n

Frank held his fishing rod just tight enough to feel any action on the line. If he could make a full-time business of being a fishing guide, he\u2019d never be at the motel. But Karl was his only customer. Fishermen who came to Pine Breezes wanted directions and tips, but they went out on their own.<\/p>\n

He tightened his grip, feeling a nibble, but no bites as yet.<\/p>\n

They never discussed the incidents earlier in the summer, when Louisa kept bugging Bambi by going over uninvited, hoping to force herself into a friendship. Frank had sat his wife down and explained to her that Bambi Arrollson wasn\u2019t going to be her best friend. He didn\u2019t need to tell Louisa why; everybody in Grenville knew that summer people and townies don\u2019t mix. Like fish and fowl, they might occupy the same habitat now and again, but both had their separate spaces.<\/p>\n

Sitting in a canoe, he and Karl could spend hours together. They were equals only when they fished.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen do you close for the season?\u201d Karl asked him.<\/p>\n

\u201cAfter Columbus Day. If October\u2019s warm, I might keep a couple of units open in case we get a few more fishermen. But after that, it\u2019s dead.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank cast his line farther out, where shadows and sun dappled the water. Overhead, yellow-gold tinted leaves on the uppermost part of a maple caught the sun\u2014one branch, sticking out of the foliage, isolated as a cowlick. No frosts at night to bring out that color, Frank knew, but enough temperature swings to start the change.<\/p>\n

\u201cHad a chance to sell Pine Breezes, about fifteen years ago,\u201d Frank said, just to make conversation.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh?\u201d Karl reeled in his line, readying to recast.<\/p>\n

\u201cGuy wanted to put an RV park and a tent campground there. Price was okay, but what was I going to do\u2014find another business to run? I already had the motel.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cSounds like you made a good decision.\u201d Karl\u2019s line quivered.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou got something,\u201d Frank lowered his voice. Both men waited. Karl\u2019s line slackened. He reeled it in.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s try another spot,\u201d Frank said. \u201cThese bass are gonna make us work for it.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank\u2019s arm felt strange as he started to paddle, a shooting pain as if something inside exploded. Sweat drenched his face, and he sagged forward. The paddle went into the water.<\/p>\n

\u201cFrank!\u201d<\/p>\n

Karl\u2019s voice echoed from the other end of a tunnel.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville<\/p>\n

No bars on his cell phone, but Karl tried to call 9-1-1 anyway. No service. He paddled the canoe, willing himself not to panic. If that canoe tipped, Frank would die. Closer to shore, he plunged into knee-deep water among the cattails and pushed the canoe aground. He checked the phone again; still no service.<\/p>\n

He stretched Frank out in the canoe and put a floatable cushion under his head. He didn\u2019t know CPR but tried three puffs of mouth-to-mouth like he\u2019d seen in the movies. \u201cI\u2019m going to get help!\u201d he yelled and began running up the path. At the parking area, two bars appeared on his phone. Karl called 9-1-1 and got instructions on what to do before heading back to the canoe where the phone disconnected from the rest of the world.<\/p>\n

Karl sat with Frank who was barely conscious, but still breathing. That meant CPR wasn\u2019t necessary, the 9-1-1 operator had told him. \u201cStay with me, buddy,\u201d Karl said, which is what they said in the movies. He was useless; but as long as Frank\u2019s eyes fluttered, there was hope.<\/p>\n

\u201cI, uh, have a brother, Curtis,\u201d Karl began. Talking to Frank would help calm them both. \u201cHe taught me to fish when we were kids.\u201d<\/p>\n

Curtis used to say fishing was the only thing to do up here. While that was true, Curtis was a born fisherman, at home along any river or pond. \u201cWent marlin fishing with him a couple of years ago, off Hawaii. He caught one about the size of a Volkswagen,\u201d Karl said.<\/p>\n

He checked; Frank was still breathing.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville<\/p>\n

Three weeks later, on a late September day, Frank sat in a lounger, turned away from the television set and facing the sliding doors to the back deck of his house. He could hear Louisa outside talking to motel guests; maybe they were checking in, or leaving, or asking directions. He didn\u2019t know. Louisa took care of everything at Pine Breezes these days.<\/p>\n

His memories of his heart attack were like bookends. One side was canoeing with Karl Arrollson across Little Moose Pond to fish and on the other was waking up at Adirondack Medical Center in Saranac Lake with stents in his arteries. In between were fragments: Karl getting the canoe to shore, Karl talking to him, the state troopers and the paramedics arriving at the scene.<\/p>\n

\u201cWe got that ticker running again\u2014let\u2019s keep it in good shape,\u201d the doctor had joked with him, as if his heart were a \u201957 Chevy. Frank suspected the doctor used that line with most of the patients\u2014the men anyway. But he didn\u2019t want to think of himself as some piece of machinery: faulty parts out, new hardware in. As much as he was supposed to be grateful\u2014and he was, if he thought about it\u2014he couldn\u2019t help feeling betrayed. He\u2019d gone out that morning with no aches or pains, no shortness of breath. He\u2019d hauled that canoe from the back of the pickup to the water, with little help from Karl who was fifteen years older than and not exactly Mister Universe when it came to strength. Then\u2014wham!\u2014his heart nearly gave out. Plaque buildup had narrowed his arteries, the doctor explained. It was genetic; his father had died of a heart disease before he was sixty.<\/p>\n

Well, if that was the case he might as well sit in this damn lounger and let the world pass him by, because there was nothing he could do to stop time or aging or death itself. His number hadn\u2019t come up yet, but it felt damn close.<\/p>\n

Louisa carried a tray into the room. \u201cA little snack?\u201d<\/p>\n

Coffee, decaf no doubt, and two small round wafers that passed for cookies these days. \u201cYou know I don\u2019t drink it black,\u201d he grumbled.<\/p>\n

\u201cI have a little skim milk in the pitcher.\u201d Louisa poured, and the contents of his mug changed from inky black to muddy brown. \u201cMaybe we\u2019ll try a few steps today. It\u2019s a nice outside.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, yeah,\u201d Frank said.<\/p>\n

\u201cThe doctor said you should move around more.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI know\u2014I was there.\u201d Seeing the hurt on Louisa\u2019s face, Frank regretted what he said, but he wasn\u2019t about to take it back. Sometimes she treated him like he was incapable of hearing the doctor or reading the material from the hospital or understanding the instructions. \u201cMaybe later.\u201d He sipped the coffee, hot but tasteless.<\/p>\n

The next day it rained, but that didn\u2019t stop Louisa from suggesting they walk for fifteen minutes up and down the living room. \u201cLike this, see?\u201d She crossed the rug from the television to the bookshelves and back again\u2014a whole twelve feet in each direction.<\/p>\n

Frank gripped the arms of the chair to boost himself to his feet, then walked out of the room so Louisa wouldn\u2019t see the tears in his eyes. In one week, he\u2019d become an old man.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville<\/p>\n

Jimmy Rivers stopped by to see Frank on his mail route. Without the summer people now, there were fewer deliveries, so he could have coffee for twenty minutes here or shoot the breeze for a half hour there. When he\u2019d seen Louisa the other day and asked about Frank, he\u2019d seen the worry in her face. \u201cHe just sits there, like he\u2019s waiting to die,\u201d Louisa had told him.<\/p>\n

Now, he approached the back door of the house beside the motel, making good on his promise to Louisa to stop by and see Frank. He should have come sooner, but it frightened him a little to see a friend his age suddenly so debilitated. \u201cWhere\u2019s the man?\u201d he announced.<\/p>\n

Louisa smiled as she let him in, but a frown still creased her forehead. \u201cLiving room,\u201d she said. \u201cYou want coffee?\u201d<\/p>\n

In the living room, Frank sat in a lounger, the footrest elevated. He looked ten years older than the last time Jimmy saw him. \u201cStopped by Esther\u2019s today,\u201d Jimmy said, angling himself sideways in an armchair so he could talk to Frank. \u201cShe swears she saw Oliver\u2014remember that snowy owl that spent the better part of March in her backyard? Wouldn\u2019t that be something if it came back!\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank grunted.<\/p>\n

\u201cAnd remember that Fish & Wildlife guy who came to study the owl\u2014Evan? Got an email from him. He\u2019s in Guatemala with his girlfriend. That was pretty nice to hear from him.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank said nothing.<\/p>\n

Jimmy looked around the room, tiny and plain. Louisa and Frank lived in a modest, one-story house. All the upkeep and modernization went to the motel. \u201cSo when can you go back fishing?\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank didn\u2019t reply right away. \u201cI don\u2019t know if I\u2019ll ever do that. If I do, though, it won\u2019t be out in the woods.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlenty of places to fish by the shore.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe I\u2019ll get a barrel and stock it with fish,\u201d Frank said. \u201cThat\u2019s about my speed these days.\u201d<\/p>\n

Jimmy paused, wet his lips. \u201cHey, I have to run to Saranac tomorrow. You want to come?\u201d<\/p>\n

Louisa appeared out of some corner. \u201cThat\u2019s a great idea, don\u2019t you think, Frank?\u201d she commented.<\/p>\n

\u201cShe says I\u2019m going,\u201d Frank said. \u201cSo I guess I am.\u201d<\/p>\n

The next day, Frank walked slowly to the car on his own power, Louisa two steps behind him. Jimmy wanted to tell her to give Frank some space, that the more she hovered the more he probably felt like an invalid. But who was he to say anything? If he had a heart attack, Glynda would no doubt do the same.<\/p>\n

By the time they hit the road, Frank seemed in better spirits. Saranac Lake was a bigger town, livelier with more businesses and tourists. They stopped in a coffeeshop and paid five dollars each for coffee with foamy milk and a shake of cinnamon on top. \u201cThey must have seen us coming,\u201d Frank said.<\/p>\n

Mannequins in store windows wore skiwear, down vests, and colorful knit hats. Child-size dummies in quilted snowsuits sat on a sled. \u201cRushing the season, aren\u2019t they?\u201d Jimmy commented.<\/p>\n

\u201cAt least they don\u2019t have Christmas decorations up,\u201d Frank said.<\/p>\n

\u201cGotta wait until Halloween for that,\u201d Jimmy said, and led the way to the bookstore to see if he could find something Glynda would like.<\/p>\n

Frank seemed tired, so they headed back. Jimmy tried to make small talk, but Frank clammed up.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou mind me saying something?\u201d Jimmy asked. Frank raised an eyebrow in his direction. \u201cYou can\u2019t sit around waiting for your heart to act up or something else to go wrong. You do, you\u2019ll shorten your life.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank said nothing.<\/p>\n

Jimmy spotted a tourist area up ahead, the kind the state marked with a big sign: \u201cscenic view\u201d as if people needed instructions to see something interesting. Jimmy got out of the car without looking back. Frank could stay where he was or he could come\u2014his choice.<\/p>\n

At the railing, Jimmy surveyed the outcropping, chiseled by wind and water. A trickle of water spouted from the rock, like some kind of miracle. He heard the car door open and shut behind him.<\/p>\n

\u201cPeople tell me all the time how lucky I am.\u201d Frank said. \u201cHospital chaplain said God must have some work for me to do. And all I can think of is God\u2019s got the wrong guy. I fish and run a motel. Ain\u2019t nothing special about me to keep me on the planet one day more or less. Don\u2019t get me wrong: I\u2019m glad I still got a pulse. But it seems I\u2019ve wasted most of it for fifty-two years.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWelcome to your mortality,\u201d Jimmy said quietly. \u201cYours, mine, and everybody else\u2019s. We think we got all the time in the world, then we get a wakeup call. Me? It was when I became a grandfather\u2014made me feel like an endangered species.\u201d<\/p>\n

For the first time all afternoon, Frank laughed.<\/p>\n

\u201cMaybe the work you have to do is fishing and running that motel,\u201d Jimmy said. \u201cYou know, if you didn\u2019t run Pine Breezes where would people go who didn\u2019t have a lot of money? You and Louisa give them a clean, safe place to bring their families. And Karl Arrollson? That guy wouldn\u2019t fish if it weren\u2019t for you.\u201d<\/p>\n

Frank made a face. \u201cLet\u2019s not go overboard, Jimmy. Karl hires me as a guide.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI doubt Karl needs a guide to take him to places marked clearly on a map,\u201d Jimmy said. \u201cHe ever mention Curtis Arrollson?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHis brother,\u201d Frank said. \u201cI think the two of them used to fish around here when they were young.\u201d<\/p>\n

There were certain lines a postal carrier couldn\u2019t cross, like gossiping about somebody\u2019s mail. Open it, and you could go to jail. \u201cI\u2019m going to tell you something you can never repeat\u2014if you do, I could lose my job,\u201d Jimmy said. \u201cI delivered an envelope to Karl Arrollson about a month ago, marked \u2018returned to sender.\u2019 That envelope was addressed to Curtis Arrollson. Seems he doesn\u2019t know where his brother is. Maybe that\u2019s why he likes to fish with you.\u201d<\/p>\n

The silence between them was broken only by the splash of the water against the rock.<\/p>\n

\u201cFish and fowl,\u201d Frank said. \u201cGuess we aren\u2019t so different after all.\u201d<\/p>\n

The comment made no sense to Jimmy; then again, he doubted it was addressed to him.<\/p>\n

\"Grenville<\/p>\n

Trees burst into color, drawing the last of the tourists into Grenville. Frank had to reopen three more units to keep up with the demand from travelers who found them after Louisa listed Pine Breezes on Expedia and a few other websites. They were even getting inquiries about the ski season, and now Frank planned to winterize a few units and install electric space heaters.<\/p>\n

One afternoon, while Frank directed workmen blowing additional insulation into the walls of two units, Louisa came to get him with the cordless phone from the office. Frank sat on the bench outside. October chilled the air, but the sun felt good on his face. Karl Arrollson was on the line. They talked a bit, mostly about Frank\u2019s continued recovery and his assurance from the doctor that he could resume all normal activity. \u201cWhich means fishing,\u201d Frank joked. \u201cYou ever go up to the West Branch of the Ausable? They\u2019ve got trout there and landlocked salmon.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cThat sounds great,\u201d Karl said.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou get a party together and let me know some dates in the spring. We\u2019ll do it up right\u2014three or four days. We\u2019ll look into some cabins up that way, which is a little easier on us old guys than a tent.\u201d<\/p>\n

Karl laughed. \u201cYou make me wish it was spring already.\u201d<\/p>\n

They promised to be in touch with more details. Heading in the other direction toward the house, Frank spied Louisa in the kitchen before she saw him, smiling to herself. He slipped his arm around her waist.<\/p>\n

\u201cKarl and me are planning a big fishing trip in the spring,\u201d he said. \u201cAusable River, up in the high peaks.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cNot just the two of you, right?\u201d Louisa wiped her hands on a paper towel.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll get some kids for porters, help us with the gear. Maybe I\u2019ll ask my cardiologist to come too.\u201d Frank nudged her. \u201cI\u2019m kidding on that one.\u201d<\/p>\n

Louisa rested her head against his chest. He pressed his lips into her hair, which always smelled lemony from her shampoo. Reluctantly, he let her go. \u201cGot work to do,\u201d Frank said. \u201cLife is about to get busy around here.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cTold you so,\u201d Louisa yelled after him with a chuckle<\/p>\n

Frank paused just outside the door, listening to his wife\u2019s voice. He thought of the pair of loons on Little Moose Pond, one calling to the other. I\u2019m here, where are you? I\u2019m here, all is well. <\/em><\/p>\n

Heading off toward the motel, Frank wondered once again if it was a fool\u2019s errand to keep Pine Breezes open all year\u2014an awful lot of extra work, which might not pay off. Then again, he told himself, maybe he\u2019d reached the time in his life when crazy made the most sense.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n

<\/div>\n
<\/i>

More to come!<\/h4>Visit us next month to read another installment in the Grenville series.<\/div><\/div>
<\/div>\n
\n

Patricia Crisafulli,<\/strong> M.F.A., is an award-winning writer, published author, and founder of FaithHopeandFiction.com<\/em><\/a>. Tricia received her Master\u2019s in Fine Arts (MFA) from Northwestern University, which also honored her with the Distinguished Thesis Award in Creative Writing. She is the recipient of three Write Well Awards for best-of-the-web literary fiction for stories that have appeared on FaithHopeandFiction<\/em>. She is the author of several nonfiction books and a collection of short stories and essays, Inspired Every Day,<\/em> published by Hallmark.<\/p>\n

Image Credit: Copyright Robert Koutny.<\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Patricia Crisafulli PART FOUR<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":3,"featured_media":6479,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_exactmetrics_skip_tracking":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_active":false,"_exactmetrics_sitenote_note":"","_exactmetrics_sitenote_category":0,"footnotes":""},"categories":[2,18,1],"tags":[170,136,201,129,59,50,25],"class_list":["post-6474","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-original-online-fiction","category-patricia-crisafulli","category-uncategorized","tag-fiction","tag-friendship","tag-grenville","tag-illness","tag-nature","tag-new-york","tag-short-story"],"yoast_head":"\nGrenville: Fish and Fowl | Faith Hope & Fiction<\/title>\n<meta name=\"description\" content=\"\u201cFish and fowl,\u201d Frank said. \u201cGuess we aren\u2019t so different after all.\u201d All I can think of is, God\u2019s got the wrong guy. Ain\u2019t nothing special about me."\" \/>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Grenville: Fish and Fowl | Faith Hope & Fiction\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"\u201cFish and fowl,\u201d Frank said. \u201cGuess we aren\u2019t so different after all.\u201d All I can think of is, God\u2019s got the wrong guy. Ain\u2019t nothing special about me."\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:url\" content=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:site_name\" content=\"Faith Hope & Fiction\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:publisher\" content=\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/FaithHopeAndFiction\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:published_time\" content=\"2018-08-18T12:11:37+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"article:modified_time\" content=\"2020-09-04T09:55:03+00:00\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:image\" content=\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/Grenville-Fish-Fowl.jpg\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:width\" content=\"1170\" \/>\n\t<meta property=\"og:image:height\" content=\"640\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:card\" content=\"summary\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:creator\" content=\"@TrishCrisafulli\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:site\" content=\"@TrishCrisafulli\" \/>\n<meta name=\"twitter:label1\" content=\"Est. reading time\">\n\t<meta name=\"twitter:data1\" content=\"14 minutes\">\n<script type=\"application\/ld+json\" class=\"yoast-schema-graph\">{\"@context\":\"https:\/\/schema.org\",\"@graph\":[{\"@type\":\"Organization\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#organization\",\"name\":\"Faith Hope & Fiction\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/\",\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/FaithHopeAndFiction\",\"https:\/\/twitter.com\/TrishCrisafulli\"],\"logo\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#logo\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2015\/01\/faith-hope-fiction_logo.png\",\"width\":350,\"height\":350,\"caption\":\"Faith Hope & Fiction\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#logo\"}},{\"@type\":\"WebSite\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#website\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/\",\"name\":\"Faith Hope & Fiction\",\"description\":\"Quality Online Fiction, Poetry, and Essays\",\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#organization\"},\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"SearchAction\",\"target\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/?s={search_term_string}\",\"query-input\":\"required name=search_term_string\"}],\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/#primaryimage\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/08\/Grenville-Fish-Fowl.jpg\",\"width\":1170,\"height\":640,\"caption\":\"Grenville Fish and Fowl\"},{\"@type\":\"WebPage\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/#webpage\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/\",\"name\":\"Grenville: Fish and Fowl | Faith Hope & Fiction\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#website\"},\"primaryImageOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/#primaryimage\"},\"datePublished\":\"2018-08-18T12:11:37+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2020-09-04T09:55:03+00:00\",\"description\":\"\\u201cFish and fowl,\\u201d Frank said. \\u201cGuess we aren\\u2019t so different after all.\\u201d All I can think of is, God\\u2019s got the wrong guy. Ain\\u2019t nothing special about me.\\\"\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"potentialAction\":[{\"@type\":\"ReadAction\",\"target\":[\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/\"]}]},{\"@type\":\"Article\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/#article\",\"isPartOf\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/#webpage\"},\"author\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#\/schema\/person\/a28900e37a2e4337aea039daa94ac8c4\"},\"headline\":\"Grenville: Fish and Fowl\",\"datePublished\":\"2018-08-18T12:11:37+00:00\",\"dateModified\":\"2020-09-04T09:55:03+00:00\",\"mainEntityOfPage\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/#webpage\"},\"publisher\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#organization\"},\"image\":{\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/grenville-fish-and-fowl\/#primaryimage\"},\"keywords\":\"Fiction,Friendship,Grenville,Illness,Nature,New York,Short story\",\"articleSection\":\"Original Online Fiction,Patricia Crisafulli\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\"},{\"@type\":\"Person\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#\/schema\/person\/a28900e37a2e4337aea039daa94ac8c4\",\"name\":\"Editor\",\"image\":{\"@type\":\"ImageObject\",\"@id\":\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/#personlogo\",\"inLanguage\":\"en-US\",\"url\":\"https:\/\/secure.gravatar.com\/avatar\/d985ff28de14b81d66b57434d9cdd54aeb6d753f9c7d8c8dfac6c91165988dab?s=96&d=mm&r=g\",\"caption\":\"Editor\"},\"sameAs\":[\"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\"]}]}<\/script>\n<!-- \/ Yoast SEO Premium plugin. -->","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6474","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/3"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6474"}],"version-history":[{"count":19,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6474\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6991,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6474\/revisions\/6991"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/6479"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6474"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6474"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/faithhopeandfiction.com\/content\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6474"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}