Twilight (7 page)

“Nice day to be outside,” Laurie said.

“Yep.” There was just enough chill in the air to raise goose bumps if they didn’t wear their jackets. He noticed Laurie had clothed both children accordingly and was herself the picture of responsibility.
Guess that’s motherhood
. Cal led the way until the pond came into sight, rimmed with copper-leafed trees. Then both children sprang forward and ran.

“It’s kind of soggy there at the edge.”

Laurie smiled. “Do you teach water safety too?”

“I’ve seen enough close calls.” Too many. His concern raised a notch.

The air smelled of fall with a tang from the pond. Overhead a flock of ducks cut a lopsided wedge through the sky. He pointed. “You know why one line is longer than the other?”

Laurie’s gaze followed his upwards. “More aerodynamic?”

“Nope.” His smile quirked. “There’s more ducks in it.” He heard her sigh as he caught up to the kids, dropped the tackle, and set them looking for worms.

Laurie cringed. “Is that necessary?”

“No. But it’s half the fun.” He weighted the lines and added the hooks.

“Just so you know, I’m not sticking anything slimy, wiggly, or otherwise, on any hooks.”

Cal grinned. “I didn’t expect you were.”

When the children wandered back empty-handed, he attached fluorescent pink marshmallow bait to the hooks. No sense losing his flies. Holding his hands over the boy’s, Cal showed Luke how to cast, then helped Maddie do the same. He’d give her about thirty seconds before she got tired of holding it.

“We didn’t talk to the fish.” Luke tossed the hair from his eyes.

Cal looked at him. “You’re r ight.” He bent and rummaged through the box until he came up with a plastic straw. This he handed to Maddie and showed her how to sink the end into the pond. “Now blow, and whatever you do, don’t suck.”

“Cal …”

He nudged Laurie quiet. Why let adult concerns spoil the fun? Maddie blew, making bubbles, and giggled. The water lapped her pink canvas tennis shoe as she bent to blow again.

Luke tugged his sleeve. “What did she say?”

“She said, ‘swim on down for the big bug party.’ ”

Maddie giggled again. Clicking her tongue, Laurie turned and shook out the blanket.

Cal reached out to help, took a corner, and tugged the blanket from Laurie’s hands. “Oops.”

“Grow up.” Laurie caught up the edge with a glare, but he could see the smile behind it that wanted out if she’d just let it. He’d been after that smile as doggedly as he’d angled for that legendary bass. He tugged again, and this time she pulled back, bending her knees and digging in her heels.

Maddie dropped the fishing pole and ran for the blanket. Reaching her arms up around it, she staggered back and forth as Cal tugged and released.

“Stop it, Cal.” Laurie half laughed, half scolded.

“Can’t. If I let go, you’ll both fall over.”

“Just stop pulling.”

Cal stood still, and Maddie dropped to the ground with the kind of laugh only a little girl could make.

Laurie raised her chin. “Now help me spread it.”

How could he ignore that do-as-I-say mother tone? He spread his arms and billowed the blanket up, then maneuvered to bring it down on Maddie. Laurie shook her head as Maddie wiggled out from underneath.

Cal helped Laurie smooth the bumps, then hoisted Maddie on top and tugged her hair bow. “What’s this?” He pulled a gold plastic ring with a shiny pink stone from her ear.

“A ring.” Her fingers reached.

“How’d it get in your ear?” He slipped it over her thumb.

She giggled again. “It wasn’t.”

“Sure it was. Didn’t you see me get it out?” He looked up and saw Luke’s fishline bob. “Got someone playing with your line, son. Next time you feel a tug, yank up hard.”

He stood and rescued Maddie’s pole from the shallows, then took his place beside Luke. He showed him how to gently reel the line in and cast again. It took just over an hour, but with Cal’s help, Luke finally landed a thrashing crappie, almost into Laurie’s lap.

“I think we’ll work a bit on reeling.” Cal rubbed Luke’s head. The look in the boy’s eyes was as seeking as any he’d seen in Laurie’s. Approval? Affection? Cal smiled. “Good work, Luke.”

The boy rubbed the back of his hand over the splashes on his cheek, but Cal could see his praise had sunk in. He removed the hook and tossed the fish in the pail. “Wanna get another one?”

Luke watched it flopping. “Does it hurt them?”

“Nah. Fish don’t have nerves like ours.”

“Okay.” Luke picked up his pole. “Let’s get another one.”

Cal patted his shoulder. “That’s the spirit.” The boy was sensitive, not wanting to hurt a crappie. He could spend time with a kid like that. Lots of time.

Cal caught the next one in less than ten minutes. Since it swallowed the hook, he had to cut the line. He set aside the poles, lifted the fish pail and took out his knife. Then he eyed Luke. “Now if we were Indians, you and I would go have a seat under that tree, and let your mom and sister take care of this.”

“Not a chance.” Laurie spoke with her back turned. “I’ll make the fire.”

Cal’s hand tightened on the pail. “I thought we’d just broil them at the house.”

“I promised the kids if they caught something we’d cook it lakeside. I even brought marshmallows.”

“Oh.” Marshmallows clinched it. “Come on, Luke.” Cal took him far enough away to not horrify Maddie, then gutted the fish.

“Ick!” Luke looked a little pale as they worked, but Cal let him use his knife to hack off the heads.

Laurie had made a fire circle and started a small blaze. “I didn’t think about a grate.”

There was his excuse: Sorry, better take them to the house after all. But there was the marshmallow thing and two pairs of wishful eyes, so he said, “We can skewer them.” He fashioned a tripod of sticks over the fire, tying it up with line from his tackle box. With his knife, he sharpened the end of two branches and skewered the fish at tail and top, then fixed them to the tripod with more fish line. These held the fish just close enough to roast.

“I’m impressed.” Laurie smiled.

This was good. Cal grinned back. Impressed went a long way with Laurie.

Luke ran off to scavenge more wood for the fire. Glancing over, Cal watched Maddie dance in the long grasses. When a little breeze came up, she stopped spinning and reached her fingers up, closing her eyes. Cal could almost sense her little nerve endings feeling the brush of the breeze.

“She’s kind of a hedonist,” Laurie said. “Gets it from Brian.”

“Ah. He has a name.”

Laurie frowned, turning back to the fire. She poked the flesh of the nearest fish. “What do you think?”

“Not yet.” Cal settled onto the blanket. “They’re good-looking kids. High-class genes, I guess.”

She didn’t take the bait, just knelt at the edge of the blanket.

He shook his head. “It’s funny to think of you with children. Not that I doubt you’re a great mom.”

She flicked an ant from a ridge of the blanket. “I know what you’re thinking. Laurie couldn’t be domesticated and selfless enough to have kids of her own.”

“Children never factored into your plans. At least as I heard them.”

She tucked her hair behind her ear. “No, they didn’t. But you can’t imagine how holding your newborn son for the first time can wipe away all the false notions of what matters most.” She turned to him, the tenderness in her eyes almost painful. “There’s nothing in the world I wouldn’t do for them.”

“I can see that.”

“Can you?” She held her eyes full on him for the first time since she’d returned.

“Yeah. People change.”

She smiled. “You don’t.”

“Why do you say that?”

She took a long breath and looked up at the clouds in the sky. “You’re like the ground, or the trees, or the sky. Changeable, yes, but always essentially the same, no matter what blows your way.”

“Depends how closely you look.” Did he hide it so well? Could she really believe he was the same reckless optimist he’d been? He knew better now. His half full glass wasn’t just half empty—it was smashed to pieces.

She pulled the lids from the coleslaw and cold vegetables. “I guess that’s true for all of us.”

Cal tossed a dry seedpod at her. “So what changed your mind?”

She stacked the lids together and tucked them into the basket. “Luke.”

“Unexpected, huh?”

She nodded.

“Before or after you married Mr. Baseball?”

She glared. “After. Just. Brian was happy, though. He wanted the birth of his son announced while he was playing the World Series.”

“Only he never played the World Series.”

“No.”

“Guess he didn’t mind that while he was hearing his announcement, you’d be in a hospital alone somewhere having his kid.”

Laurie settled onto her left haunch. “You’d better check the fish.” As she poured out cups of cider, Cal pulled the fish from the fire, avoiding the sight of the flames. He would have liked to kick dirt on it now, but for Laurie’s mention of marshmallows. Setting the plate of fish on the blanket, he whistled through his teeth for Luke, who was stabbing a stick into the mud at the side of the pond.

Luke came running. “Can you show me how to do that?”

He tucked Luke’s chin up and studied the gap in his bottom teeth. “You need all your teeth. Otherwise the air just goes through.”

“When the new one grows in? Will you show me then?”

How long did it take a tooth to grow in? Would Laurie give him that much of her life? Cal mussed Luke’s hair. “Sure.”

Maddie screwed up her face at the fish, and Laurie produced a bologna sandwich. Luke ate his fish gamely. Proprietary pride, most likely. Crappie wasn’t the greatest. As soon as they’d finished, both children dived for the marshmallow bag and stabbed them onto sticks.

Cal crouched beside Laurie, his muscles tight as he watched, elbows resting on his knees. Twice the children handed over their torched remains for his and Laurie’s enjoyment, then returned to the fire with new ones. Every sinew in Cal’s back and neck was on edge, like a slingshot, aimed and ready. His thighs burned with the position he held, but he couldn’t sit.

It was torture watching them at the fire. How many marshmallows did they have to cook? A breeze blew Maddie’s curls about her face. He tensed. A stick popped, a spark flew, and Maddie jumped. Cal lunged, crashing down into the grass with the child in his arms. Maddie screamed as they rolled, crying when he released her.

Curled on his knees on the ground, Cal covered his ears with his hands, teeth clenched. He didn’t move or look up when Laurie lifted the child away from him. The flames were everywhere, the orange glow, the tiny form crouched under the chair, crying, crying—then the screams … His stomach churned, his muscles quaked. It was the screams he couldn’t take.
Stop! Stop!
They faded.

Opening his eyes, he saw the pale green of the grass swaying in the autumn breeze. He glanced sideways. Maddie huddled in her mother’s lap, tears sparkling in her eyes, and Luke knelt beside them, solemn. The screams had ceased; the air cleared, but not the thrumming in his head. Looking at Laurie and the children clasped together in stunned wonder, Cal understood their silence. What was there to say?

Laurie drew a breath, but before she could speak, he rasped, “I’m sorry,” then staggered up and started for the house, blood pulsing in his ears. Inside, he splashed water on his face and buried it in a towel. His breathing slowed, and the tension drained from his muscles, replaced by lethargy and a slow throb in his right temple. If he could walk to the end of the earth, he’d drag himself right then. He was only half surprised when Laurie came inside.

“The kids are in the yard.”

He nodded without turning.

She laid a hand on his arm. “Thank you.”

“For?”

“Caring enough to be concerned.”

Cal snorted. “I scared the wits out of her. She’ll never roast another marshmallow as long as she lives.”

“I told her you thought she was in danger.”

Thought she was. Not knew, not saw. Just imagined in some warped place in his brain. Cal pulled away. “Would you mind going now?”

It was a long moment before the door closed behind her. He didn’t watch her descend the stairs, gather up the kids, and drive away. But he heard them go. He spent the rest of the day in the woods. It was a bad habit, really, running away from life, but he’d just about mastered it.

A little before nine that night, he called Rita James. “Here’s the scenario. We’re having a picnic, roasting fish on a campfire. The kids are toasting marshmallows, and a spark flies up, maybe toward the kid, maybe not. I freak out, tackle her, and sit there panting like a rabid dog so I won’t burst out crying.”

“Sounds like a natural reaction to the situation, given your history.”

“I’m a pyrophobic fireman.”

“You’re not pyrophobic. Fire triggers post-traumatic stress and causes panic symptoms. It’s not fire you’re afraid of, it’s failure. Let go of the guilt, and you know the rest.”

Cal leaned against the counter. “As easy as that, huh?”

“What do you want me to say?”

“How about telling me I’ll be normal again.”

Rita sighed. “What’s normal? You had a death experience with extreme personal trauma. You already take on more than the usual responsibility for things beyond your control, and you have a marked inability to separate the possible from the impossible. Given all that, you have to play the hand you’re dealt.”

“Can I bluff?”

She laughed low. “Probably. Knowing you.”

“Thanks, I guess.”

“Cal, it hasn’t been that long.”

“Hasn’t it? Feels like forever.”