Tell No One

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Tell No One Page 10

by Jeff Vrolyks


  Carmen made her way to the river, pausing to watch some chicks in a nest on a low sycamore branch. She could see the heads of three chicks, and their chirps were high and soft.

  “Aren’t you things just as precious as can be!”

  She set the pole down and reached under her waders into a pocket to her phone. She held the phone overhead, stood on tippy-toes and snapped a couple photos. The murmuring of the river was slight, but hearing it put her in the mood to fish. She continued her pace and a minute later she was knee deep in the beautiful Fallbrook River. The distant mountain ridge wasn’t just capped with snow, they were white nearly to the base. The sky was stark blue, nearly cloudless. There was however a single cloud, and it was hovering directly overhead, throwing down a patch of unwelcomed shade. The temperature seemed to drop ten degrees in that patch of shade. The flesh on her arms broke out in goosebumps, she shivered. She glared up at the cloud, wished it away. She looked up-river and saw glints of sunlight on the river’s surface and made her way there.

  Carmen drew line out of her reel and began whipping her rod back and forth, careful not to snag her fly on a bush or branch behind her. It was her only fly, and if she lost it that would conclude today’s excursion. Never in her ten years of fishing had she caught a fish before landing her fly on the water to drift, but today was her day. A silver crescent arced over the water and swallowed her fly, splashed into the water. She nearly called out to her father in her excitement, but that wouldn’t have done any good. She reeled the trout in with a smile, gripped the line inches above the fish’s mouth and lifted it out of the water. It thrashed for its life.

  “Oh calm down, you. You’re not dying today.” With her other hand she clasped the fish’s center, which brought a fresh round of thrashing. Luckily the hook caught it at the lip, it was an easy removal. She hated when the fish swallowed the fly and the hook caught in their stomach. What a pain to remove that is. And it always killed the fish. After removing the hook she tossed the fish back in the river. The fish hadn’t even hit the water yet when she realized she hadn’t taken a picture of it. Oh well, there would be others, hopefully. She giggled at the thought of her father learning that she had taken a pic of chicks but not of a fish. It was only a twelve incher or so, but still, her father would want to see it.

  The fish must have been hungry today, because it wasn’t long after that another trout jumped at her fly. This one missed. Maybe it needed glasses, she thought, and grinned. She brought the fly lower to give the trout a sporting chance at it. It wasn’t jumping, perhaps it was embarrassed in front of its friends and swam off to escape the laughter and jeers. She lumbered her way up-river.

  Carmen hadn’t yet been there an hour when she landed her second trout. And this one was a whopper. Before laying eyes on it, she knew it would be huge. It fought valiantly. She suddenly wished she brought the net and basket. A huge fish would be fun to take to her parent’s house. Her mom would tease her dad, imply that she was a better fisherman than him, and he’d probably concede that point, if only to make his daughter happy. She was more careful with this fish than the other, and had a hand around his girth before lifting him out of the water.

  “Oh my gosh, you’re huge!”

  She lifted the trout up and scrutinized it with a broad grin. Scaring the heck out of her was a whistle. She flashed her eyes upstream and spied a man standing before a folding-chair. He was her father’s age, wore a fishing hat, one of those bucket ones with flies around the visor. He was a good ways away.

  “Good job!” He directed at her. “Where’s your net?... and basket?”

  “In my car,” she said with marked disappointment in herself.

  “You’re going to release that sucker?”

  “That was the plan. But it’s so big, I kind of want to keep it.”

  “Bring him over,” he said with a gesture.

  “Okay, I guess,” she said softly, unsure of herself.

  The fish struggled to get free of her grip, and once it succeeded, though the hook was still in its mouth and prevented its escape. She thought she heard the man gasp when it happened.

  The man had no net on him, but had a basket, and limped his way toward her from the shore. She placed the fish in the basket once they met, and from the basket he removed the hook. She reeled her line in and followed him back to his station, which was his chair, tackle-box and ice-chest, a can of beer sitting atop it. There was a bait-rod lying on the silt, line running into the water.

  “I have a knife in the tackle-box. If you’d like I can clean it for you and put it in something.” He snapped his fingers at the thought. “I know. I have a sandwich in a Wonder Bread bag. I can put the fish in the bag for you.”

  “That’s awful kind of you.”

  “My pleasure.” He sat down, opened the basket and removed the fish, ogled it, whistled that same impressed whistle.

  “Would you do me a favor? Another favor, that is? My dad would want to see a picture of it, me holding it. You know how dads are,” she said bashfully.

  “I do. First-hand. I’d be delighted to.”

  “Great, thanks.” She produced the phone from her pocket and set it up for him.

  He lined up the picture and snapped a shot, then another, handed back the phone after she discarded the fish in the basket.

  “That’s amazing, young lady. Your dad will be so proud. I think I have a measuring tape, let’s see what you got here.” He opened the tackle box and took the little silver square out, reeled out yellow tape and held it against the fish. His mouth opened, eyes widened. “Twenty-four inches! God Almighty! That’s got to be some kind of record out of this river, maybe even the state!”

  “I doubt it,” she said and blushed.

  He discarded the tape measure and stood up, gazed admiringly at the girl, extended his hand. “I’m James. Pleasure to meet you.”

  “Carmen. Pleasure to meet you, too.”

  His eyes widened. “Carmen?”

  She frowned. “Yes, is something the matter?”

  “No, nothing’s the matter.” He continued staring at her, and she was becoming uncomfortable.

  “Uh… I guess I’ll be on my way. You can keep the fish. Thanks for the picture.” She turned away from him.

  “No, wait.” She looked back. “I’m sorry, stay a moment.” He sensed her apprehension. He glanced up-river. “Carmen, my goodness, you’ve become quite a beautiful young woman.”

  With that she left without reserve.

  He shook his head at his bad choice of words and said, “Wait, Carmen. How’s George doing?”

  She stopped again. “You know my father?”

  “Certainly. And you might say I know you. Or knew you.”

  Her features softened and she returned to the man. “Really? How so? Are you from Cedar Hills?”

  “No, San Francisco.”

  Her mouth unhinged. “Oh…”

  “You remember me?”

  “I do. Not so much your face, but… yeah, I remember.” She looked up-river, the same way James had just a moment ago.

  “My son is a good deal aways, I reckon. Here, take my seat.” He gestured to it.

  “No thanks. You look like you need it more than me, judging by that limp.”

  “I sprained my ankle. Do you have a few minutes before you get back?”

  “Okay,” she said tentatively.

  “I’ll gut your fish while we talk. Sound good?”

  “Sure. Thanks.”

  He took his filet knife out of the box and smacked it over the head with the blunt edge of the blade, killing it. It twitched a moment. She frowned at this.

  “It’s a strange feeling, Carmen, going from seeing you as a little towhead to a woman. I suppose it’s been ten years but it feels like just last year.” He sliced open the fish.

  “James,” she mused, a name she hadn’t remembered in years.

  “My son is…”

  “Theo Graham,” she said.

  “Yes, you have
a sharp memory.”

  “I follow football,” she explained.

  “Oh,” he said with a nod, and removed the guts from the fish and tossed them into the river.

  “But even if I didn’t, I’d remember Theo.”

  “I suppose you would. Look, it isn’t my place to get involved with my son’s affairs, or yours, but you’ll have to understand that my boy liked you, a lot. And when you told him you didn’t like him, or whatever you said to him, it really tore him up. He hasn’t been back to Montana since. Until this trip, that is.”

  “Maybe I should be on my way.”

  “You two were eleven. Eleven! Was it so bad that even after all these years you wish not to see him?”

  “I… I don’t know. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to see me.”

  James brought the fish to the river and washed it. “I can’t imagine any boy not wanting to see you. You’re delightful.”

  Carmen wanted him to put the fish in the bag already so she could leave. “Thanks.”

  He removed his sandwich from the Wonder Bread bag and dropped the fish inside. It scarcely fit. “I don’t expect you’d want to do me any favors, but maybe you would if I told you it was my fiftieth birthday two days ago,” he said with a sidelong grin. “Would you hang around until Theo comes back?”

  “No. I’m sorry, but I won’t.” As an after-thought she added, “Happy birthday, though.”

  “Look, Carmen, there are few things in life that matter to me as much as fishing, especially here in Montana. My boy used to come with me and I loved our time together. I think if you two set things right, he’d want to come with me again. He only took me on this trip because it’s my fiftieth, and I suspect my wife coaxed him into taking me. You have no idea how much it would mean to me if you did this. He’d take one look at you and forget the past. He’d have to.”

  She doubted that very much. “I truly am sorry that I ruined your yearly trip here with Theo. If I thought he’d want to see me I would stay, but I’m sure he doesn’t. In fact I know he doesn’t.”

  James handed her the bag, stared quizzically at her. “Could you help me understand at least? What happened back then?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “Fine,” he sighed. “I wish Theo could see how beautiful you’ve become. He’s become quite a good looking young man, as well.”

  “He has,” she agreed. “Ever since I found out he plays I’ve been watching Stanford games, whenever they’re televised.”

  James was confounded, gaped stupidly at Carmen. “You watch all his games, and have no desire to see him again?”

  She shrugged.

  “He’ll be entering the draft this year, you know. You may be watching him for many years.”

  “I heard there’s a good chance the Forty Niner’s will draft him. Good for him. I know it’s his favorite team.”

  It was all James could do to keep from grabbing this girl by the shoulders and giving her a good shake. How could she remember that from such a tender age! That she does shows that she liked his boy every bit as much as he had liked her. This was nonsensical, absurd! He felt like a grade-A jerk for saying what he was about to say, and said it before he had a change of heart. “I’m going to stop by your house later with Theo, see how George and… I apologize but I forget your mother’s name.”

  “Okay,” she said indifferently.

  James continued staring at her, trying to read her and failing miserably. “That doesn’t bother you?”

  “No. I don’t live there anymore. And I doubt Theo would go anyway.”

  In his frustration James chuckled. His eyes remained icy. “Have a good life, Carmen. It was nice seeing you again.” He retook his seat and looked away from her.

  She stood before him, pensive. “I’m sure it’s frustrating. I’m sorry.”

  He looked down, nodded, waved her off.

  “Shoot,” she muttered, looking upstream.

  James followed her gaze to Theo, who was walking along the shore, rod over his shoulder, a stringer in a hand dangling a pair of trout. His pace was steady, and he was looking at the girl. James didn’t think his son did or would recognize her. She looked nothing like she did at eleven. The only resemblance was her hair, and even that had darkened in color somewhat.

  At the moment Carmen turned to make her departure, James deftly latched on to her wrist and held her back. “Don’t go.”

  She looked back up at Theo, this time her eyes remained on him. James thought she was interested to see him face to face, and the conflicting ideas within her seized her up, for she wasn’t trying to remove his grip upon her. Her chest was heaving rapidly with her breaths. She shot a quick glance down at James before returning to Theo. James let go of her, feeling downright ashamed at what he had just done, and guilty for setting this girl into alarm. She was a ball of nerves and it showed.

  Theo raised his leash of trophies, two fish whose combined weight wouldn’t reach Carmen’s gutted fish’s weight. His gaze jumped between his father and the girl. He surely wasn’t sharing Carmen’s anxiety. Not yet, at least. James prayed for a miracle here.

  “Almost got a third!” Theo said from twenty or thirty yards out. “But I lost him. Oh well, huh?”

  “Yes, oh well,” James said mechanically, his own heart-rate accelerating.

  “Any luck?”

  Yes, I caught a hundred-and-something pound fish from your past, James thought. “Not yet.”

  Theo was only ten yards away, staring raptly at the girl who was doing much the same to him. “Howdy. Teaching my old man how to fish?” He smiled at her.

  She opened her mouth to say hello and closed it when nothing came out.

  Theo slowed down a little, face showing his doubt. He looked at his dad, who was now paying attention to his bait-rod, held onto to it as if it mattered just then.

  Theo set his stringer of fish and rod on the silt, extended his hand to the girl. “Hi. Name’s Theo.”

  She put her hand in his and shook it. “Hi. I… I guess you don’t remember me,” she said in her tiniest voice.

  His eyes filled with understanding and sharpened on her, then on his father. He was paying them no attention at the moment, sipped his beer, reeled in the slack line of his pole until it was taut. Theo scanned her from head to toe, faced the river, folded his arms and took a deep breath. Her big blue eyes remained upon him. James stole a quick glance up at her, and saw that she was even more nervous now, if that was possible.

  “For chrissake, Theo, say something to her.”

  “I’m sorry, Theo,” she said, voice quavering. “I didn’t mean for you to see me. Bye.”

  “No,” he said grudgingly, “don’t leave yet.” He faced her, appraised her once again. He took her left hand in his right, startling her, but she allowed it. He turned the hand over and saw a narrow white scar crossing the palm, the same scar he had. He pressed a forefinger against her wrist, and he felt the rapid beat of her heart. He felt like a jackass. “It’s good to see you again, Carmen.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” He let go of her hand.

  Mindlessly she raised her right hand, which held a loaf of trout, as to show Theo what she had caught, her eyes distant. Theo took the bag from her and studied its contents. “Oh my God,” he drawled. “You caught this?”

  She nodded slightly.

  “Twenty-four inches,” James said from his chair.

  “Still fishing, huh?” Theo said to her.

  “Occasionally. Not often. My dad was supposed to come today but couldn’t at the last minute.”

  “What are the odds…” he said inwardly. “If my dad didn’t sprain his ankle we’d be fishing a few miles up-river.” She stared uncertainly at him. “Because there’s a steep slope before the bank,” he said, to clarify things.

  “Would either of you like a beer?” James offered. They both said no. “How about you kids get reacquainted over some fishing. Theo, this scamp here caught a fish larger than anything we’ve pu
lled out of this river. See if you can’t fix that.” When his son looked back at him, he said, “Go on… go catch something worth eating with Carmen, and don’t come back until you do. Leave your fish here for now, sweetheart.”

  Theo grabbed his rod, shrugged at Carmen and walked down-river beside her. He checked back and found a cell phone in his father’s hands. They were quick hands. “Dad, don’t you dare take a picture of us.”

  “You think you know me so well,” he said haughtily. “I was just going to text your mother.”

  “Yeah, I bet,” Theo mocked. “I wonder what it’ll say.”

  The two were out of his father’s sight before either spoke. “I am sorry, Theo. If I’d have known the man in the chair was your father, I would have kept my distance.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I know you didn’t intend for this to happen. After ten years, you aren’t exactly expecting to run in to me, are you?”

  “No. But truthfully when I do fish between Memorial Day and the Fourth of July, I look for you. I was pretty sure you’d never come back here, but you never know.”

  “Yeah, you never know. Turned out I did come back.”

  “You are really good at football. Really. It was hard for me to believe it was you I was looking at.”

  “Thanks. I see you grew some straight teeth up front.”

  She smirked. “I guess so.”

  “Should we do some fishing or no?”

  “Why not. I’m usually not very lucky, but apparently today my luck has changed.”

  “It seems so. I guess here is as good a place as any.”

  They stood a few feet apart and got down to the business, throwing flies.

 

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