by Jenna Mindel
They left the diner and walked the three blocks to his house, where his boat was packed with gear, hitched to his truck and ready to roll. Greg seemed antsy walking beside him with his hands in his pockets and sweatshirt draped over one arm.
“Looking forward to fishing?” Cam asked.
“Yeah.” The kid kicked at a small stick lying on the sidewalk. He didn’t seem too excited now. Did he regret going?
“Something else on your mind?”
Greg shrugged.
Something definitely troubled the boy. “You want to talk about it?”
“Do you like my mom?”
Okay, that question threw Cam for a loop. What was the kid getting at? “Yeah, sure. She’s great.”
Greg didn’t look satisfied. “If you asked her out, I wouldn’t mind.”
Cam’s world shifted to a strange angle. Maybe the pull Rose had on him was too obvious. Even so, if Greg wanted to play matchmaker, fine, but Cam wasn’t taking the bait. Not when he wasn’t sure about far too many things. “We work together, bud.”
“So?”
Cam wiped his brow. “So, we’re just going to be friends, okay?”
“Oh. Okay.” Greg’s shoulders drooped.
He had to give the kid credit for guts and Cam was more than flattered that he’d think of him for his mom, but a change of subject was definitely needed. Fast. “Let me share a secret about fishing.”
Greg grew hopeful. “Yeah?”
“The beauty of fishing is that it takes away all the worries you have. Time ceases to exist and outside life fades away. It’s just you trying to catch a fish. Your biggest concern becomes what lure to try next.”
His eyes widened. “Really?”
“Really.” They’d arrived at his house, so he lightly squeezed the kid’s shoulder. “Let’s go get Tommy and you’ll see what I mean.”
Greg nodded and climbed into the back seat of his truck.
Subject changed and successfully diverted.
It’s been a while.
Rose’s voice slipped through his thoughts, keeping the subject front and center in Cam’s mind. He rubbed the back of his neck and climbed behind the wheel. He needed to be careful, really careful.
Within minutes, Cam pulled up to his cousin’s driveway, where Tommy stood waiting, tackle box in one hand and a small cooler in the other. All thoughts of dating Rose dissipated like morning mist burned off by the sun.
Cam gestured toward the back. “I’ve got pop and water in the boat.”
Tommy grinned. “I know it. These are snacks, man. The wife set us up with salami and cheese and homemade cookies.”
“Get in. We’re burning daylight.” Cam shifted back into Drive as soon as Tommy was in the front seat.
“Where to, Mullet or Pickerel Lake?” Tommy buckled in.
“Either’s fine with me.”
“Which one has bigger fish?” Greg asked.
“I know a woman who pulled a six-and-a-half-pound smallmouth out of Pickerel last year.” Tommy smiled.
“Can we go there?” Greg asked.
“Sure thing. There’s a channel that connects it to Crooked Lake.” Cam knew Tommy would shoot that suggestion down and waited for his response.
“Yeah, and you might as well kiss that pretty paint job on your propeller goodbye.”
“Maybe I’m not as picky about my prop.” Cam laughed when he looked at Greg through the rearview mirror. The kid’s eyes were wide as saucers, so Cam explained. “A few years ago we took Tommy’s boat and he got stuck in a sandbar in that channel.”
“Brand-new paint job sandblasted to nothing trying to get loose. Had to dig ourselves out. I stay away from that channel.”
Cam laughed again. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep us away from sandbars. Or we can take Pickerel to the Crooked River up to Burt Lake.”
Tommy shook his head and muttered, “Some folks don’t have all the fancy gear you got.”
The drive wasn’t far and it didn’t take long to launch in Pickerel Lake. Once in the water, Cam eased the boat in reverse and turned around.
“How fast can you go?” Greg sat between him and Tom, bundled into a life jacket.
“Hang on.” Cam knew this body of water well and once they were away from shore, he opened up the throttle. The motor responded with ease. He checked the screen of his electronic fish-finder for water depths and upped the speed through the deepest section of the lake.
“Awesome.” Greg fist-pumped the air.
“You’re going to scare all the fish. Man, you’re as bad as those WaveRunners out here.” Tommy looked annoyed, and continued to grumble. “We should have taken my boat.”
“And get stuck in the channel? Not a chance. The fish are pretty deep way out here and hard to scare.” Cam wanted to show off his boat. Even if they didn’t catch anything, the look on Greg’s face made it worth gunning it. The kid loved every minute.
Finally, Cam slowed down, turned back and headed for their spot. His and Tommy’s. Cutting the motor, Cam liked the slight drift they had, but he’d rely on his electronics for real success.
Stepping up to the front of the boat, he unlocked his trolling motor, tested it and then gestured for Greg to join him. “Come on up here and I’ll show you what we’re going to do.”
“What’s that?” Greg pointed at the floor.
“That’s my sonar with GPS, so I can see the structure below. Really helps when trolling.”
“Fancy depth reader is all it is,” Tommy added.
“Let’s get our gear.” Opening one of his storage compartments, Cam withdrew two fishing poles. The lighter of the two, he handed to Greg. Then, out of another compartment, he grabbed a couple different lure boxes.
“Wow, look at all those fishing lures.” Greg whistled.
“Organized by type. Crankbait, spinners, jerkbait, poppers, jigs and worms, you name it.” Most of the lures he had with them were for recreation. His tournament gear was locked up in his garage at home. Tommy was the only other person with a key to his professional equipment. “First thing we’re going to do is cast. One rule. Keep the lure out of the boat. Those hooks can sink into skin quick, got it?”
Greg nodded.
Cam showed the boy how to attach a lure and then gave him a demonstration on how to cast. “The movement’s all in the wrist. Give it a try.”
Greg hesitated a minute, then tried and failed. He looked at Cam with panic in his eyes. “Why didn’t it work?”
He chuckled and took the pole. “Don’t forget to open the bail here, see this tab?”
Greg nodded, looking far too serious for an eleven-year-old, and tried again. This time he cast perfectly. The lure landed with a splash a good way away.
“Nice job.” Cam slapped him on the back. “You got it. Now reel it in at a good clip. Not too fast, but not slow, either. Yup, that’s it. Good job.”
The boy cast again and beamed when it arced through the air to land in the water with a splash. Reeling, the kid suddenly stopped. “Something’s pulling on it.”
“Give it a quick jerk to set the hook as soon as you feel that tug. Could be weeds, but if there’s movement, you’ve got a fish. Keep reeling.” Cam watched closely.
He gave Greg pointers but otherwise let him do the work. And then the fish surfaced. A nice-looking bass jumped straight out of the water as smallmouths were known to do.
“Did you see that!” Greg reeled faster.
Tommy had joined them at the front of the boat and hooted and hollered. “This one’s got some shoulders. Nice one, kid. Don’t wrestle it too much. Let it dance and get tired.”
Cam stepped back to let Tom coach the boy in landing the bass. He’d never before seen a kid so filled with wonder and joy. Cam knew that feeling well, but introducing Greg to it washed through him with a completely differ
ent level of satisfaction.
They brought the fish into the boat and Greg was right there, willing to learn how to remove the hook like Tommy showed him. Carefully, Greg lifted the smallmouth, holding it up like a pro. “Can I keep it?”
It was a good size, but nowhere near a trophy. Cam reached in his pocket for his phone. “Let’s get a picture and send it to your mom. The one you keep will be much bigger and go on the wall. This one, we’ll throw back. Hold it up.”
Greg did as bidden and smiled wider than Cam had ever seen the kid do since meeting him.
As Cam took the picture, he was hit with an overwhelming desire to be there when Greg caught his first trophy-size bass, or any fish that would be big enough for a wall mount. He not only wanted to pay for the taxidermy but see it hung on the wall. Not any wall—Cam envisioned it hanging in his home, where they’d tell story after story of fishing together.
Like what a father might do for his son.
The comparison hit hard and deep in Cam’s gut, making him squirm. Is this what fatherhood felt like? This amazing pride in watching the boy’s accomplishment? He’d never thought about having kids before. The responsibility was so big...too big.
Tom helped Greg release the bass, then the kid peered over Cam’s arm. “Did you send it to my mom?”
“Ah, yeah. I’ll do it now.” He typed a quick text, attached the picture and hit Send.
“Thanks for bringing me here.” Greg looked at him as if he’d been given a bucket of gold.
“You’re welcome,” Cam managed around the sudden lump in his throat. He gave the kid a quick fist bump while he got control. “Now let’s get more fish.”
“Yeah!” Greg roared.
The worried expression he’d seen a few times on Rose’s face flashed through his mind. He understood her concerns. It wouldn’t be long before this kid grew into a man. This fall he’d enter the seventh grade and then in a couple more years he’d enter high school. Who’d guide him around the pitfalls that faced every boy with been-there-done-that understanding?
You could.
The thought stood out clearly in Cam’s thoughts and stayed there, yet who was he to be an example for anyone? He felt a hand at his shoulder.
Tommy. “Dude—you going to fish or stand there looking lost?”
He chuckled. His cousin had stated a whole lot of truth. Had he been chasing the wrong thing? Cam was lost, but now found because God had grabbed hold of him. This didn’t seem like part of the deal, but then, Cam knew God worked in mysterious ways.
“Let’s fish.” Cam grabbed his pole.
He glanced at Greg, who happily cast and reeled, cast and reeled. Looking at the boy, Cam sensed that maybe real purpose might have just been revealed to him, but did he have the courage to answer that call? Courage wasn’t something he had in abundance. When it came down to it, Cam considered himself a coward.
* * *
Rose stared at the picture of her son that Cam had sent, her heart full. Greg was having the time of his life if that ear-to-ear grin was any indication. And he wore a life jacket as promised.
Every boy needs to learn how to fish. Cam’s words came back to her yet again.
Glancing at the clock on the wall, she groaned. Nine thirty was a little late. They’d been gone for over six hours. Cam had texted that they were going to grab a bite to eat after fishing, so where were they?
She ran her fingertip over Cam’s name on her cell phone, ready to call when she heard a familiar boyish laugh. Her relief was short-lived after hearing Cam’s deeper, manly laugh float up from the street below. She bolted off the couch. Surely, he wasn’t coming up, too? The screens in the tall windows allowed her only so much of a view directly below and she couldn’t see either one of them.
Pacing the living room floor, Rose heard footsteps on the stairs and more male banter. Cam was indeed coming up with Greg. She scanned her apartment. Nothing much she could do about it. The kitchenette was tidy and overall the place was clean, but unpacked boxes stood stacked in the corner. This wasn’t a nice house like Cam’s, but an apartment. At least her bedding remained stashed in the large ottoman in front of the couch where she placed it every morning. Thankfully, she hadn’t changed into her pajamas yet. She didn’t want to turn in until Greg had returned home.
More laughter, and then the door opened.
“Hi, Mom.” Greg beamed. He had a little sunburn on his nose.
Rose believed he’d grown an inch or two since leaving this afternoon. “I was getting worried.”
Greg rolled his eyes.
Cam was right behind him, looking sheepish, holding a pizza box. “Mind if I come in?”
Willing her pulse to slow down but with little success, Rose motioned for him to come inside. “Please.”
“Sorry we’re so late.” He lifted the box. “But we brought home leftovers.”
“Thank you, let me give you some money—”
He held up his hand. “I got this.”
“Look what Cam gave me.” Greg lifted a fishing pole and a tackle box. “Mom, it was great. I caught like two fish and then when we were getting ready to go, I caught three more!”
Cam grinned. “They really started biting around dinnertime, so we stayed.”
“Yeah, and then Tommy got mad at these Jet Skis. They swirled around the boat, making it rock, and he nearly fell in.”
That could have been Greg falling overboard. “I knew that boat didn’t look safe.”
Cam laughed. “It’s perfectly safe. Tommy wasn’t paying attention.”
She gave her son a look that forbade argument. “Why don’t you put those in your room?” When he left, she turned on Cam. “You didn’t have to do that.”
He set the pizza box on the counter that split the living area and kitchenette. Two stools were tucked underneath. “Sure, I did. He loves fishing.”
“I could see that from the picture you sent.” Refusing Cam’s generosity would seem mean-spirited, but his gift wasn’t cheap. Taking a calming breath, she asked, “Would you like something to drink? I have lemonade and iced tea.”
Cam sat on the couch and looked around, completely at ease. “Iced tea would be great. This is nice up here.”
“Thanks.” Rose entered the kitchenette, but peeked out between the counter and overhead cupboards. The living room area might be spacious, but Cam’s presence made it seem smaller, somehow. Dressed in the same T-shirt and khaki shorts he wore at the diner, his long legs bumped against the ottoman as he leaned back.
And then there was Greg, sitting next to him, chattering about their day. Reliving it with remember-when snippets of the evening. “That was awesome. Can we go again?”
She carried in two glasses—iced tea for Cam and lemonade for her son. “Honey, don’t pester. Cam was nice enough to take you tonight.”
Cam reached for the glass, brushing her fingers with his. “Of course we’ll go again. Greg took to fishing like he’d been born to do it. Rose, why don’t you come with us next time?”
“Yeah, Mom. Can we?” Again her son beamed under the compliment.
Rose shook her head. What had she let get started? “I don’t fish.”
“Come on, Mom, it’ll be great. I really want to do this, like when I grow up. I want to be a professional fisherman just like Cam.”
“Thanks, bud.” Cam ruffled her son’s hair.
Rose’s stomach dropped three floors. “Greg...”
“Come fishing, Rose. After I get back.” Cam’s eyes were awfully soft looking and earnest.
She glared back. She had plans for Greg. College plans. “No way am I getting in that boat and falling out. It looks way too fast.”
Cam gave her that smile, the one that melted everything in sight, including her. “I can go slow.”
The apartment suddenly seemed much too warm, even with the w
indow fan blowing in cool night air. Rose refused to fan her face, even though she knew it had to be red. “Ah, no thanks.”
Cam winked at her.
She quickly fetched an iced tea for herself, her mind whirling. Since when had she become such a stick in the mud? She’d never balked at speed before, but then, many things had changed when Kurt left her. She’d changed.
Cam tugged at her old self—the young woman who’d dressed in pretty clothes and dyed her hair wild colors simply for the fun of it. The impulsive side of her wanted to accept the invitation, but the cautious side feared the consequences. The grown-up side, which had an eleven-year-old boy to keep safe from both physical and emotional harm, didn’t want to accept. She didn’t want to get close only to feel the sting of disappointment when Cam decided he didn’t want them. When he decided he didn’t want her anymore.
“Come on, Mom.”
She exited the kitchenette with two sets of pleading eyes willing her to say yes.
“We can use my parents’ boat. It’s older and slower and they live on a small inland lake.” Cam sealed the argument with a final push. “Give me one good reason not to?”
She had many that couldn’t be named in front of her son. Greg idolized the man, so much so that he wanted to walk in Cam’s footsteps. Not something she wanted to see happen, but was it right to deny Greg the opportunity to fish again because of her own hangups? Maybe this new interest in fishing was a good thing. Hadn’t Cam said that it had kept him out of trouble as a teen?
Taking a deep breath, Rose finally capitulated. “Okay. Okay. After Cam gets back.”
“Yes!” Greg fist-pumped the air.
Rose glanced at the clock and then at Cam. “It’s late. Greg, go brush your teeth and get ready for bed.”
“Awww, Mom.”
Rose gave her son another look.
“Okay. ’Night, Cam.”
“’Night, bud.” Cam stood, glass in hand, ready to leave. “Thanks for the iced tea.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll walk you out.” She had a few things to say to Cam.
* * *
“After you.” Cam gestured for Rose to go down the steep stairs first.