Higher Hope

by Robert Whitlow

  “The spines are on both the dorsal and pectoral fins,” I said, holding the fish in front of me. “You can’t let them snap back against you.”

  “That’s the top and side,” Ellie said, pointing to the correct parts of the fish’s anatomy.

  She handed me the stringer. I ran it through the fish’s gills.

  “Zach wore it out wrestling with it,” Emma said.

  Zach’s right hand was closed in a fist. A trickle of blood seeped out from between his fingers.

  “There’s venom in the spines,” I said. “Do you want to go back to the house?”

  “Kyle says to put pond mud on it,” Ellie said. “That works as good as anything.”

  “He’s been stung by a catfish?” Zach asked.

  “Yeah, when he wasn’t careful,” Ellie answered.

  “It hurts.” Zach looked at me. “Tami probably wishes it had stung me in the mouth.”

  I stuck the metal end of the stringer in the ground and dropped the fish in the water. It slowly swam to the end of the tether.

  “No,” Ellie answered, “she thinks you have nice lips.”

  6

  “ELLIE!” I BLURTED OUT. “I NEVER SAID THAT.”

  “But you know it’s true.”

  “Let me see your hand,” I said to Zach, who was laughing and wincing in pain all at the same time.

  I rinsed his hand with clean water from the drinking jug.

  “Ellie, let’s get back to fishing,” Emma said. “Now!”

  Zach and I could hear the girls talking as they returned to their end of the pond. Emma was doing a good imitation of Mama rebuking Ellie when she sinned.

  “Ellie is cute,” Zach said as soon as the twins were out of earshot.

  “And I totally believe she made that up.”

  “She did.”

  “And I’m sorry I said you needed to tan your legs. Mine are as white as yours.” He rolled up his jeans to reveal a muscular calf much darker than mine. “Well, they were white before the summer. But even if your legs were green, they’d look a lot better than mine.”

  “Nice try,” I said, gently patting the wound dry.

  Zach touched the edge of the deepest cut and winced.

  “Ouch. Your sisters are tanned from being outside all summer. I just thought”—he paused—“that I should apologize.”

  Ellie and Emma returned.

  “I’m sorry, Tammy Lynn,” Ellie said. “I made that up about Zach’s lips—even if it’s the truth.”

  “That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” Emma retorted.

  “Apology accepted,” I answered.

  Ellie leaned over and inspected Zach’s hand.

  “Is he okay?”

  “It’s a bad one,” I said. “A nasty catfish sting can get infected and lead to amputation.”

  “You’re kidding,” he said.

  “It’s not likely, but it’s possible,” Emma said. “We’ve studied articles about catfish stings, snakebites, and poisonous spiders. It’s part of natural science.”

  “Mama’s a good teacher. She teaches about what’s out here and doesn’t put them in a plastic bubble. She says if we know about danger we’re better able to avoid it.”

  “A fish stole my liver,” Ellie said, holding up her rod.

  “You can bait the hook,” I said. “It’s chicken liver, not an earth-worm.”

  Ellie turned up her nose. Emma didn’t share her sister’s squeamishness. She put a fresh liver on Ellie’s hook.

  “Three more like the one you caught will give us a nice dinner,” I said.

  The girls returned to the part of the pond where the butterflies were congregating. I heard a sound in the grass and glanced down. Something was moving. Zach’s pole was inching toward the water.

  “You have a bite,” I said.

  He jumped up and grabbed his pole with his left hand. He put his right hand on the reel and turned it a couple of revolutions. The pole bent sharply. He winced in pain.

  “Do you want me to reel it in?” I asked.

  “Yeah. My hand is really hurting.”

  I took the pole. The fish was sitting in the water, not fighting to free itself from the hook. It felt like a rock.

  “This is a huge one,” I said.

  I cranked the reel, but it did little more than bend the rod more sharply. I backed away from the water. The line twitched to the left. I moved past the quilt, dragging the fish to the surface. Zach approached the water.

  “Can you see it?” I asked.

  “Not yet.”

  “It’s going to take off when it gets close to shore. I’ll have to let out line or it will snap.”

  The twins dropped their poles and ran over to us.

  “Here it comes,” he said.

  “It’s a turtle!” Ellie called out.

  I walked toward the water as I continued to reel in the line.

  “You hooked it at the edge of its shell,” Ellie said. “How did you do that?”

  “Ask Zach. It’s his line.”

  The large turtle churned up the mud in the shallow water. Its mouth opened in overt menace.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Zach asked.

  “I don’t mess with turtles,” I answered. “And we don’t eat turtle soup. If you put your finger in his mouth, you wouldn’t have to wait for an infection to lose it. Emma, cut the turtle loose. The hook won’t hurt his shell.”

  Emma ran to the tackle box to get a knife. After she cut the line, the turtle snapped its jaws one more time for emphasis and returned to the depths of the pond.

  “I thought we were going fishing at a peaceful pond,” Zach said.

  “This is more like an African safari.”

  “It’s all about knowing how to live in a world that may be hostile but doesn’t have to be.”

  The twins continued fishing. I cast into the water. Zach left his pole by his side. We sat on the quilt. Zach’s hand was beginning to get puffy. Inflamed red streaks ran across his palm.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to go to the house?” I asked.

  “No, it’s feeling better.”

  “It’s swelling.”

  He opened the tackle box and handed me the pocketknife.

  “You do it,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Amputate. That way you’ll know I trust you.”

  I chuckled. “Let’s give it a few more minutes.”

  We sat quietly. True to Bobby’s prediction, no fish showed an in­terest in the bait on my hook. The twins laid their rods on the ground and continued wooing the butterflies. The pond stilled.

  “Sorry about your hand,” I said, watching the red streaks grow longer. “I wanted this to be a nice weekend.”

  “It’s not over yet.”

  “But in less than twenty-four hours you’ve had a run-in with my mother, shocked every member of my family, upset me twice, and taken a dose of catfish venom.”

  Zach shrugged. “That sums it up pretty well, but I’m having a good time.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m with you.”

  I felt a streak of red run up the side of my neck. I concentrated on my fishing line.

  “I can see you’d like to change the subject,” Zach said, eyeing me closely. “Maybe now would be a good time to talk about the office.”

  “Okay.” I touched my neck with my hand.

  “What are you working on?”

  “Not much.”

  “Should I give you a project?”

  “No,” I answered quickly. “Mr. Carpenter called me into the conference room just before we left on Friday for a meeting with a client and asked me to help with a new case. I’m going to be very busy for the next few weeks.”

  “A lawsuit?”

  I hesitated. “Yes, it’s set up as a slander case, but the real reason behind the litigation is to force a church to sell its property to a real-estate developer.”

  “Who does the firm represent?” Zach sat up in in
terest.

  “The developer.”

  I laid out the dispute between Paulding Development Company and Ramona Dabney.

  “I know the area of town but can’t remember the church,” Zach said. “What does Mr. Carpenter want you to do?”

  “Be his rabbi. He thinks I have special insight into what motivates Sister Dabney. I’m not sure how that helps the case, but he’s convinced it will give us an edge. On the practical side, I’m going to help Myra Dean with the investigation. The whole thing made me uneasy because I’m not sure Mrs. Dabney is as bad as our client claims. Who knows what he or his partners may have done to her? For all I know, they may be the bad guys.”

  “Did you see anything she wrote about the client?”

  “Paulding says it’s all verbal except for a letter to his wife.”

  “A letter to his wife? What did it say?”

  “I’m not even sure we have a copy, which seems odd. Paulding provided a lot of background information. But most of the case will be based on phone calls, conversations, et cetera.”

  “Slander, no libel. That’s going to be hard to prove.”

  “Yes.”

  Zach pulled a long blade of grass and put it between his teeth.

  “It’s good that Mr. Carpenter considers you his resident expert on religious fanatics. Every lawyer has to have a niche.”

  AS THE SUN CLIMBED HIGHER in the sky Ellie and Emma each caught another fish. The red streaks on Zach’s hand began to retreat. We stopped fishing to eat cheese, crackers, and green grapes packed in the wicker basket. The grapes were tart and juicy.

  “What kind of wine would these grapes make?” Zach asked, biting into one. “A Chablis?”

  “Don’t go there,” I warned.

  “Does your family drink wine?” Ellie asked.

  “Not very often,” Zach said. “My mother never drinks. Her father was an alcoholic so she avoids it totally. I can live without it, especially if I have a cup of cold water like this one.”

  “Our water comes from a well in the backyard,” Ellie said.

  “It tastes great,” Zach answered, holding up his paper cup.

  “That’s because it has trace minerals in it,” Emma said. “As a science project we boiled some water and tested the residue to find out what was in it.”

  “There are underground rivers all around here,” Ellie added. “The water in this pond comes from a spring near the spot the butterflies like. You can see the surface of the water bubbling.”

  “Okay, Zach’s lesson is over,” I said. “Back to fishing. We need to catch at least two more big fish if we’re going to have enough for a decent fish fry.”

  The twins went to a different part of the pond. I threw my hook in the water, then returned to the quilt and shook the water jug. Almost all the ice packed in it had melted. I handed the last cluster of grapes to Zach.

  “Why did you say that about wine?” I asked. “You knew it would be controversial. It’s one thing to challenge me, but the twins are so young.”

  “And very smart, just like their sister. I’m just asking questions. Isn’t that the way your mother taught you?”

  “Yes.”

  “And one thing that makes you attractive is the strength of your convictions. Your goal in life is to be a godly woman. What Christian man in his right mind wouldn’t want to get to know someone like that?”

  My faith had been a turnoff to boys for so long that it was hard to imagine any other response.

  “Even if your legs are a bit pale,” Zach concluded.

  I pulled down my dress. “Quit looking at my legs.”

  “It’s too late,” he answered with a smile. “The image is etched forever in my memory.”

  “I’ve got one!” Ellie called out.

  By the time we reached the girls the fat catfish was flopping in the grass. I removed the hook and put it on a second stringer. As soon as I finished, Emma had a bite. She leaned back against the weight of the fish as she reeled it in. It looked like the other fish’s twin. The sun was nearing its zenith.

  “The sisters have caught sisters,” I said. “Let’s go home before it gets too hot.”

  I dipped the blue bucket in the pond and put the catfish in it.

  They slapped against one another. The water would keep them fresh until supper. I set the bucket on the grass and folded the quilt. Ellie peered into the bucket.

  “Do you want to name them?” Zach asked her.

  “They’re not pets,” she answered. “That’s our supper.”

  “Don’t you think we should set them free?” he said. “They were happy in the pond.”

  My sister looked up at him with her blue eyes. “What would we eat? Chicken livers?”

  “Never mind.” He laughed.

  At home, Mama fixed an ice pack for Zach’s hand. Daddy and the boys came inside and washed up at the large sink in the downstairs bathroom. Kyle inspected Zach’s hand. The swelling had already gone down.

  “Did Tammy Lynn talk to you about the possibility of an amputation?”

  “Yes,” he said, raising his eyebrows.

  “She always brings that up when one of us gets popped by a cat-fish. Did she also mention the percentage of people who actually develop complications from a catfish sting?”

  “No.”

  “The chance of a serious infection from a catfish sting is about one in one hundred thousand.”

  “I’m glad to know the true expert in the family,” Zach replied. “Ellie said I should apply a coating of pond mud to draw out the poison.”

  Ellie, who was eating a banana, spoke up. “That’s what you said when we were fishing with Eric Newman.”

  “If I said that to Eric it was a joke. He doesn’t need an excuse to get muddy. He likes to fish barefoot standing knee-deep in the water.”

  Mama had cut up fresh fruit in a large bowl and cooled it in the freezer for lunch. I loved slightly frozen strawberries and peaches sprinkled with a hint of sugar. The mix also contained blueberries that had been picked from our bushes and stored in the freezer. The new blueberry crop would come in later in the summer. A few bites of the fruit made me feel like the day was starting over. Mama placed a loaf of homemade bread in the center of the table. The rich texture and nutty flavor of the bread went perfectly with the fruit. Three pieces of Mama’s bread could fill up Kyle’s stomach.

  “How many fish did you catch?” Daddy asked.

  “Five,” Emma answered. “I caught three, and Ellie two. Zach hooked a snapping turtle under the corner of its shell.”

  “What did Tammy Lynn catch?” Bobby asked.

  “None, but she took the fish off the hooks and put them on the stringers,” Ellie said.

  The twins talked all through lunch about our fishing trip. To my relief, they left out Zach’s question about wine, and they’d not heard his comments about my white legs.“What are we going to do with Zach this afternoon?” Ellie asked as soon as she finished.

  “Nothing,” Mama answered. “You girls are going to the garden.

  We have rows of pole beans to pick and okra to cut.”

  “What about Tammy Lynn?” Emma asked.

  Daddy spoke. “I talked on the phone with Oscar Callahan while you were fishing. He’s at home recovering and really wants to see you.

  I thought you and Zach could drive over for a visit.”

  It was a great suggestion.

  “I’d like to let him know how the job is working out. He gave me a great recommendation to Mr. Carpenter. I wouldn’t have gotten the job without it.”

  “And there’s another reason to go,” Daddy added. “Take Kyle’s truck and trailer. Mr. Callahan wants to sell a couple of three-year-old steers at the auction in Dawsonville. I told him we can take them down with the dairy calves from the Moorefield place.”

  “Who’ll load the steers?” I asked.

  “The man who’s helping him during the week culled them from his herd and put them in the pen beside the barn. Just back
the trailer up to the gate and shoo them in.”

  I’d never gotten involved with Kyle’s cattle business. I looked at Zach.

  “Are you okay with this?”

  “Yeah.”

  I helped Mama clean up the kitchen while Zach and Kyle hooked the cattle trailer to the truck.

  “Change into something nicer,” Mama said when we finished.

  “Mr. Callahan will want you to come in the house to visit.”

  “What will I do if his wife starts criticizing the church?” I asked.

  “Keep quiet. It’s not your place to correct her.”

  I went upstairs and put on a blue-striped cotton dress that I’d left at home when I moved to Savannah. It was lightweight, yet nice enough for a house visit on a warm summer day. I slipped on a pair of white sandals and brushed my hair. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d changed outfits so many times by the middle of the day.

  When I returned downstairs Zach was washing his hands in the utility sink. I saw him splash his face and rub the back of his neck. Thinking he should have closed the door, I quickly looked away. He came into the kitchen drying his face with a hand towel. Mama had a paper grocery sack of fresh-picked corn on the counter.

  “Take this corn,” she said. “I don’t think they’ve been able to keep up a garden this year.”

  “Should I change clothes?” Zach asked.

  “No, you may have to manhandle one of the steers,” Mama re-plied. “Black Angus can be stubborn.”

  I glanced at Mama in surprise.

  “I’m kidding,” she replied.

  Mama’s efforts at humor were so infrequent I didn’t know how to react.

  “Run along,” she continued with a nervous cough. “Go straight to the Callahan place and return. No side trips.”

  “Yes, ma’am.”

  Kyle kept his truck beside the equipment shed. Zach held the door open for me. The gentlemanly gesture seemed out of place out here in the country. The door groaned and popped as it swung wide. There was a clean towel draped across the passenger seat.

  “I saw something you might not want to sit on,” he said.

  “What?”

  “Nothing alive. Just some grease and dirt.”

  Zach started the engine and slowly let out the clutch. The truck jumped forward, causing the trailer to jerk. The engine died.