Close to Famous (19 page)

“You ever catch a bass?” he asked me.

“No sir.”

He handed me a pole. “I think you're tough enough to do it.”

We walked down the road to a lake that was hidden back in the woods.

Lester sat down on the grass. “I love this place. I don't have to go far to find a fish. My daddy fished here until the day he died.”

I thought of the dead fish over the sink and how Lester's daddy had dropped dead in the kitchen.

Lester looked at the lake. “They're biting today.”

I didn't see anything biting.

“They know we're here,” Lester whispered, “and we're just going to sneak up on them.”

Lester put a worm on his hook and one on mine. “Now the thing about fishing is this—if you forget everything else today, remember, you're a whole lot smarter than the fish.”

I laughed and thought that would look good on a T-shirt. Maybe I could get one made for the first day of school. I watched him toss his line into the water. I tried to copy him, but my line didn't get too far out in the lake.

“Now we wait,” he said.

That didn't seem too exciting. “How long do we wait?”

“Till we get a nibble.” He smiled. “When I was in the army sometimes I'd picture this lake back home and see myself right here with a fishing pole.”

This little lake sure was pretty. There were rocks along the bank and wildflowers growing.

“When you're going through a tough spell, it's easy to think that's all your life is about. You forget the good things, forget the quiet places. But they're always inside of us and we can pull them up when we need to set ourselves right. I think that's why my pop fished. It just set him right.”

I looked at the lake and felt a little guilty that I was trying to fool a fish that wasn't bothering anybody. Lester got a snap on his line. He yanked his pole, reeled it tighter, and up came one ugly fish.

“Well, Horace,” Lester said, “we meet again.” He laughed and held the fish up so I could see it. It was not happy about getting caught and made a real fuss on that line. Lester took the hook out of its mouth. “I'm going to send him back in the lake to get ready for our next meeting.” He tossed the fish back in. “See you next time, Horace.”

“You call the fish Horace?”

“My pop called all basses Horace.”

“Why?”

Lester put another worm on his line. “Why not?”

“Excuse me, Lester, but how come you threw the fish back in?”

He laughed. “It makes him smarter.”

I sat there waiting for something to happen. You can wait a long time when you're dealing with a smart fish. Lester caught Horace two more times. My line didn't get tight once, but there were other parts to fishing. I felt the sun on my head, heard the birds chirp, and sat next to Lester, peaceful as anything.

“Waiting,” he told me, “is a powerful thing. Most folks today just rush off to get something done. You learn to wait, my young friend. You learn to wait and listen and not be afraid of the quiet. Too much noise in this old world. On a battlefield when you're getting shot at, you don't have time to think things through. You've just got to do as you've been trained and follow your best instincts. It's here in the quiet waiting for a fish that you can fill up for when the tough times come.”

I knew I'd heard something important. I wondered if he'd taken me fishing to tell me that.

“Do you know much about the Iraq War?” I asked him. We headed back up the road carrying our fishing poles.

He looked down at me. “I wasn't in that war, but I've followed it.”

“I was wondering what it was like for my daddy. We only got a couple of letters from him and he mostly talked about playing baseball, not fighting.”

“There's lots of different situations that he could have been in, Foster.”

“He was brave,” I told him, “and he was real responsible.”

“That's a fine combination for a soldier. I was always looking for people who could fill that bill. I imagine his team counted on him a lot. If I were his CO, I'd a had him be a help to some of the men who weren't as brave, so he could encourage them.”

Daddy was one of those go-to people. He'd have people coming out of the woodwork trying to find him when things got tough because he always knew what to do. “I could see him doing that.”

“Yeah.” Lester squinted in the sun. “Keeping your cool and doing your job the best you can goes a long way in the army. A mighty long way. I imagine your daddy was a hero lots of times, more than you could count.”

I smiled.

“I knew a man like your dad. He always had a good word for people, he always gave a pat on the back, he'd carry a wounded friend out of harm's way. Every day he made a difference.”

“I bet my daddy did that.”

“I bet he did, too. I know the ache of not having him with you, but I hope you can fill that hurt with pride in how he did his job.”

I grinned. “Yessir. I can.”

Broken places need something to fill them in. I just kept walking with Lester, filling myself up with all he had to say.

When we turned up the road past the broken fence, I saw the Chevy parked in front of the Bullet.

“Your mama made good time,” Lester said.

I ran carrying the fishing pole. Mama was out back hanging up wet clothes on the clothesline. She burst into a tired smile when she saw me. I put the pole down and hugged her with everything I had.

“I missed you!” I shouted. “But I did real good.”

“I missed you, too, Baby.”

I was holding on to her arm when she said, “That arm's a little sore.” And she pulled it away. It had a big bruise on it—black and blue.

“What happened?”

“I fell down,” she said softly.

“You need a bandage?”

“No.” She went back to hanging up her clothes. I felt the tightness go over my chest. I grabbed some clothespins and helped her. I carried the clothes basket into the house, saluted Lester's daddy's dead fish, and flopped on my little bed tucked under the nose of the Bullet.

That's when I saw it. The pillowcase, that is.

Not just any pillowcase, Daddy's Las Vegas pillowcase!

I hugged it to my heart. “Mama!” I unzipped it and took out the plastic bag that had all of Daddy's stuff—his dog tags from the army, his letters, his container of mints, his donkey key ring, his little flag of Ireland.

And then it hit me. Mama saw Huck. That's how she got it!

Mama walked inside the Bullet smiling.

“You saw him.”

“Just for a little bit. It wasn't right for him to have your daddy's things.”

I looked at the bruise on her arm. Mama put her hand over it like she was trying to hide it.

“Did Huck do that?” I asked.

“I told you I fell.”

I TRIED TO talk to Mama over the next few days about how seeing Huck was a bad idea. All I got from her was, “He's not going to bother us anymore. I took care of it.”

Then how come he started calling?

“Is this my little Foster child?” he asked when I answered Mama's phone. “Now you know who this is.”

I sure did, which was why I hung up.

Another call. “Now, where exactly are you living in West Virginia? I got a cousin up there and I've been meaning to pay him a visit.”

I hung up again, and when Mama came home, I let her have it.

“
How come you told Huck where we were?
”

“Foster, I didn't tell him. I had some papers from Fish Hardware in the car and he saw them.”

“He knows we're in Culpepper?”

“I'm not sure about that.”

“
You said he wasn't going to bother us anymore.”

This wasn't like Mama. I had a nightmare that an army of Elvises surrounded the Bullet singing his greatest hits. They lifted the trailer up with me and Mama in it and carried us back to Memphis.

“What is the matter with you?” Mama demanded.

“Nothing.” I looked at the Las Vegas pillowcase with the palm tree and the slot machine and just ached for Daddy. I know Mama went back to get it for me because she loved me, but how could it be worth it if she had to see Huck?

“How did you fall?” I asked her again.

She was folding clothes and didn't look up.

“How did you fall and hurt your arm, Mama?”

“Oh, you know, I was walking down the street and tripped over something and fell facedown.”

Mama was wearing shorts and a shirt without sleeves. I didn't see any marks that looked like she'd fallen facedown. “How come you don't have any scratches?” I asked.

“I guess I fell easily.”

I can't tell you how much I wanted to shout, “You're lying!” But I didn't.

“You're lucky,” I told her.

“Yeah,” she said. “Lucky me.”

The only other time I remember Mama lying to me was when she came back from parents' night and told me that Mrs. Ritter said I had potential.

I needed fresh air.

I needed to figure out what to do.

I walked right to the Church of God FOR SALE. Perseverance Wilson had planted some pretty red flowers around the steps.

“Come sit with me, Foster.”

I headed over. She took a thermos and two cups out of her bag.

“You like iced tea?”

“Yes, ma'am.”

She poured me a glass. I took a sip. “That's good.”

“I flavor it with a little lemonade. Have a cookie.” She took out a tin and opened it.