Change of Heart (7 page)

I nod absently. I know she’s right…about all of it. It’s just that I have so many memories with Dad on that boat. Some included Decker and his dad, but most were just me and my Dad. I told him about California on that boat. All my hopes and dreams. I haven’t even seen it in years. I take a deep breath.

“You okay?” Decker asks, concern etching his features. “We don’t have to go on the boat if you don’t want to. We can just fish from the dock,” he gestures towards the backyard, where a dock stretches out from my backyard to the creek.

“Nonsense,” my mother says. “You two are going out on the boat.” She gives me a squeeze. “It’ll be fun. You’ll have fun.”

I meet Decker’s eyes again, and he gives me a reassuring smile. My mom is right. My trepidation is nonsense. I’d always had fun on that boat and my memories are nothing but positive ones. It’s nothing to be scared of.

I smile back at Decker. This would be fun. It’s time to make some new memories with Decker.

Chapter Ten

Decker

Casey and I are having a great time so far on the river. We haven’t caught anything yet, but we’re having some good laughs as we reminisce. I remember the first time we went out on the boat together with our dads when we were seven.

“I’m not touching that!” Casey shrieked.

“It’s just a worm,” I teased, holding it up to her face.

She backed away from me so quickly that she bumped into my dad, who bumped into her dad, who then fell overboard, headfirst. Her eyes widened and she brought her hands up to cover her mouth. Her eyes filled with tears as she watched as her dad sputtered up to the surface.

“Daddy! I’m so sorry,” she cried.

After my dad helped him back on board, Mr. Evans looked at his little girl with a smile spread from ear to ear.

“It’s okay, sugar. Hazards of a small boat is all.” Casey’s lower lip quivered as big crocodile tears dripped down her cheeks. “Oh, Casey,” her dad said, quickly wrapping himself in a towel and bringing her into his arms. “It’s okay, sweet girl. Accidents happen.”

“It’s not her fault,” I spoke up. “I put the worm in her face and scared her.” Both dads looked over at me, and I shrunk into myself. I was always getting into trouble these days. Just couldn’t seem to stay out of trouble—mischief is what my mom called it.

“It’s alright, son. No one was hurt,” my dad said, patting me on the shoulder. “Just be careful.”

After a few more minutes of Mr. Evans calming Casey down, we were back to baiting our hooks.

“I’ll bait your hook for you, Casey,” I offered.

She shyly handed me her small pink fishing pole. “Thank you, Decker.”

“I’m sorry for teasing you,” I quietly said as I focused on putting the worm on the hook. I didn’t like seeing Casey cry.

“It’s okay,” she smiled. “Momma says boys only tease girls when they like them. And you’re my best friend so you’re supposed to like me. So I guess you’re supposed to tease me, too.”

I wasn’t sure what her mom was talking about, but I nodded anyway. Casey was my best friend…and I did like her.

“Whatcha thinking about over there?” she asks me, bringing me back to the present. We had just pulled up to the riverbank for a rest and are settling down on a blanket to start our picnic lunch.

“Just thinking about the first time our dads took us out fishing on the boat.”

A sad smile graces her face. “That certainly was memorable,” she gently laughs.

“I thought our dads were gonna throw me overboard,” I confess.

She full out laughs now; I love that sound. I miss that sound. “Have you met our dads? When would they have ever gotten angry enough to throw one of their kids overboard?”

I laugh with her, “You’re right.”

“You know,” she begins, picking at lint on the blanket, “last night, my mom told me her and my dad knew you used to sneak in my window at night.”

My eyes widen and I can feel the blood leave my face.

They knew? How much did they know? Obviously not much since they never bolted the window shut and I’m still alive.

She sees the expression on my face and giggles before looking back down at the invisible lint. “Don’t worry, I think our secret’s safe. She basically said they were pleased that I was breaking the rules and that we were good kids, so they didn’t see the harm.”

“Kind of contradicts the whole breaking the rules thing then, doesn’t it? If they were okay with it?” I point out.

“Yeah…and the fact that I never really thought I was doing anything wrong. It was always so easy with you, Decker. Everything was so easy back then,” she wistfully adds before she looks off at the water.

I want her to tell me more. I want to know everything she felt back then. And everything she feels now. Especially regarding me. But I know this isn’t the time to bring it up. Hell, I’m not sure if there will ever be a good time to bring it up. She just seems so fragile, like she’s hanging on by a thread…and she might just be.

“Why don’t we see what Momma E packed for us?” I say, changing the subject.

Casey turns back to me and smiles, silently thanking me for the distraction from whatever thoughts were running through her head. She reaches over and helps me unload the various containers and baggies.

“Looks like she packed enough for a small village,” I say as I pull out a third container of raw vegetables. “And it’s all healthy, too.” The containers are all filled with various fruits and veggies and the baggies have different kinds of nuts. The sandwiches are turkey and cheese complete with lettuce and tomato. There’s even a couple containers of yogurt at the bottom with attached bags of granola.

“Your mom turn into a health nut or something?” I ask as I unload the last of it.

“Or something,” Casey says quietly.

Shit. Her mom probably is concerned about eating healthy given what happened to Mr. Evans. Why do I always stick my foot in my mouth?

“It’ll get easier, Case.” She looks up at me in question. “Him being gone. It’ll probably always be difficult, but it’ll get easier.”

She gives me a small smile and nods. “I’m starved, let’s eat.”

We’re silent for the rest of our time on the riverbank, just eating our lunch and watching the birds fly over the water, occasionally swooping down to catch a fish. They’re doing a better job than us. Every now and again I catch these shadows in Casey’s eyes, like there is something haunting her. It could just be the guilt of not being with her dad when he passed, but something tells me it’s more than that. I just wish she’d trust me enough to let me in. The old Casey did.

***

When we get back, I back into the Evans’ driveway so I can return the boat. As we’re unloading Casey’s gear, my dad walks up.

“Hey, kids, catch anything?” he asks.

“Hey, Mr. Abrams,” Casey smiles. “Actually, we did!” She bounces on her toes with her excitement and, for a moment, I catch a glimpse of the girl I used to know.

“Oh yeah?” My dad’s whole face lights up. He loves fresh catch. “What’ve we got?” he asks, rubbing his hands together.

“Drums and bass,” I tell him as I pop open the cooler and show him the fish.

“Whoa, you kids did well. I’ll fire up the grill,” he says and then turns to Casey. “Go get your momma and come on over.”

“Okay, but I’m gonna shower first.”

“Take your time, darlin’,” my dad tells her, and she smiles and waves as she runs off to her house, just like she would have done years ago. Once she’s out of earshot, he turns back to me. “How’s she doing?”

I shrug, “I don’t know, Dad. One minute she’s laughing and the next minute it’s like she’s in another place. She won’t really talk to me about anything. Sticks to safe topics like memories or school.”

He pats my back, “Just be there for her, son. It’s all you can do.” He looks back up to the Evans’ house, shakes his head, and then looks back at me with a depressing look on his face. “Poor kid. She’s had a rough time, Deck. Just be her friend. I think she needs that.”

My dad helps me unhitch the boat and then drives my truck back over to the house so he can get started on the fish. I rinse off the boat and think about what he said.
Just be her friend.
When have I ever not been her friend? Why would that ever change? Even when I’ve been at my angriest with her for leaving, I still would have given anything for just one more minute with her.

***

Dinner is a blast. My dad grilled the fish to perfection and my mom and Mrs. Evans made a green salad and potato salad and Mom fried up some okra and French fries. It’s the first time Casey and I have had a cookout together with our parents where we are old enough to have alcohol, and, consequently, the wine and beer are flowing. But it isn’t lost on anyone that it’s also the first family cookout without Mr. Evans.

We all laugh and share stories. Some are oldies but goodies and others we’d never shared before. I share a few funny stories from some of the road trips I’d taken with the team and Casey shares some of her tales from California. It’s obvious that she loves it there, and she’s such a great storyteller that I’m at the edge of my seat the entire time she’s speaking. Or maybe it’s that she’s finally speaking freely, and I desperately need to soak it all in.

Either way, the night is perfect.

Chapter Eleven

Casey

A few days after Decker and I went fishing, I wake up alone. I shouldn’t be pissed off, but I am. Decker has been spending the night, every night, since I have been home. We spent the days after the fishing trip at the aquarium, the beach, and the Beaufort drive-in. It was all too easy to fall into old habits with him. Nothing has happened between us on a physical level; I won’t let it, but every night he holds me until I fall asleep. I should have expected him to eventually fall back into
his
old habit of disappearing before the sun came up.

Waking up in a rotten mood had apparently been a sign of things to come. The rest of my day was crap. While helping my mom box up some of my dad’s things to take to the homeless shelter, I get a cardboard paper cut that won’t stop bleeding. Then I trip carrying the boxes out to the car and skin both my knees.

What makes it all worse is that I haven’t heard a peep from Decker all day. Not. A. Word. His stupid red truck hasn’t been in the driveway at all, and I can’t help but feel like history is repeating itself.

I’m Decker’s convenience friend all over again. Only this time, I’m not putting out, so I guess I can’t really be surprised he bailed.

Stupid Decker Abrams.

Which is why later that evening finds me sitting on a wobbly, torn stool at Bill’s Tavern, nursing my third Cabernet Sauvignon, which I can no longer pronounce properly and have resorted to calling “cab.” This caused a tad bit of confusion with Sam, the bartender, who actually tried to call me a cab when I slurred my last order.

Sam had been one of Decker’s good friends growing up. They had been on the baseball team together, but Sam wasn’t interested in going pro like Decker had been. His great-granddad was the Bill of ‘Bill’s Tavern’ and he was content carrying on the family tradition behind the bar. Sam had always been nice to me when we were kids. He’d never participated in the endless ribbing I got from the rest of the cool kids. He and Decker were a lot alike.

Decker.

I grunt and down the rest of my wine.

“Want me to call him?” Sam asks.

“Why would I want you to do that?” I slur; even in my slight stupor I know who he’s talking about.

Sam leans forward, elbows on the bar and smirks at me. I want to wipe that smirk off his pretty boy face. He has the total beach bum look going on. He’s muscular with a dark, too-much-time-on-the-beach tan. Longish blonde hair that’s messily styled. And bright blue eyes that are probably that color from spending so much time in the ocean. He’s probably full of sea water.

Hey, no one ever said you had to make sense when you were drunk.

“You’ve been sitting over here mumbling to yourself for the past hour and eighty percent of what comes out of your mouth is ‘Decker this’ or ‘Decker that.’ Thought you might just want me to put you out of your misery already.”

I scoff. Suddenly I don’t like Sam all that much, and I want to punch him right in his smirk. “Yeah, right. I don’t want to talk to
Decker.
” I roll my eyes for added effect.

“Look, I don’t know what went down with you two after high school–” he starts.

“You’re right, you don’t,” I snap.

He ignores me, “But you should cut him some slack. He was pretty torn up after you left.”

“He was torn up? That’s rich. Like you said, you don’t know shit. Give me more wine.” I lift my glass and twirl it by the stem. I know I’m being a bitch, but I don’t give a shit right now. Decker wasn’t the only victim back then.

“Maybe you should slow it down,” Sam says, his eyes darting down to my chest.

I widen my eyes before I quickly tug my V-neck shirt up and narrow my eyes at him in warning. “Maybe you should mind your own damn business.”

He raises his hands, palms facing me, and backs away.

“I want another cab!” I shout.

He shakes his head but does as he’s told.

“You don’t even get what I went through back then. You don’t understand.” I whine as he places the fresh glass in front of me. Yes, now I am a drunk, emotional girl.

“So why don’t you tell me?” he offers as he wipes down the bar top in front of me.