Tides of Truth [02] Higher Hope (8 page)

“Zach’s coming,” she said. “As soon as he finishes digging the hole he’s working on.”

The fishing rods hung on the back wall of the shed. I took down four poles.

“I use the green one, and Emma likes the blue one,” she said. “You and Zach can have the bigger ones.”

Our tackle boxes were on a bench underneath the rods. I found the one we used for catfish. Zach came into the shed. I could see he’d been working. He wiped his forehead with one of the bandannas left over from our head-covering days.

“Did you prove your manliness with the posthole diggers?”

“I hit a few licks, but your brother and father could work for hours.”

I handed him the tackle box. Our fingers touched for a second. I glanced at Zach’s face. It revealed nothing.

“This will be easier than digging,” I said, clearing my throat.

We piled into Zach’s car. The twins sat in the backseat with the fishing poles out the window. I placed the chicken livers at my feet beside a plastic jug filled with ice cubes and water. A picnic basket containing snacks and a quilt to spread on the ground were in the trunk. Putnam’s Pond was just around the bend from our house, and we could have taken a shortcut through the woods, but the twins wanted to ride in Zach’s car. And it was easier to drive than try to carry everything.

“I wish you’d brought your motorcycle,” Ellie said. “I think it would be fun letting the wind blow against your face.”

“Until a june bug flew into your mouth,” Emma responded.

“Motorcycles aren’t safe. Mama says people don’t pay attention to motorcycle riders.”

“Did she tell you that since I’ve been home?” I asked.

“No.”

Zach looked in the rearview mirror. “Emma, do you think motor-cycle riding is a sin?”

“Not unless you go over the speed limit,” Emma answered.

“Or don’t wear a helmet,” Zach added. “I always use a helmet, even in states where it isn’t required by law.”

“Do you always obey the speed limit?” Emma asked.

Zach looked at me. “I’m not sure if going from zero to sixty in less than four seconds is breaking the law or not, but I admit that I’ve gotten a few tickets.”

“Daddy drives five miles faster than the speed limit signs say,”

Ellie said. “So does Tammy Lynn. I’ve watched her plenty of times from the backseat. She’s a scary driver.”

“I am not. I’ve never had a wreck or gotten a ticket.”

“But you drove into a ditch on the way to choir practice at church last year.”

“Trying not to hit a tortoise in the middle of the road. Turn here,”

I said to Zach. “And the car wasn’t damaged. That means it wasn’t a wreck.”

The pond was surrounded by trees, but it was possible to see a glint of dark water from the highway. The gravel access road ended about twenty feet from the pond. Zach parked beneath a large oak tree. There wasn’t a breeze blowing, and the water glistened like an opaque mirror. The twins hopped out and took off running.

“Stay away from the poison ivy patch,” I called after them.

“We know,” Emma answered over her shoulder. “Three shiny leaves grouped together most commonly found growing on the side of trees.”

There was a narrow path through the grass along the southern side of the pond.

“Are there any snakes around here?” Zach asked as we unloaded the car.

“Plenty, but this time of year they’re more interested in getting a suntan than bothering us. Emma and Ellie will scare them away. They come to the water to drink early in the morning and during the evening after they’ve eaten.”

“Eaten what?”

“Motorcycle riders.”

Zach laughed. I led him to a flat patch of ground between the water and a grove of pine trees.

“It will be shady here for a while,” I said, shielding my eyes and looking up at the sun.

We spread out the quilt and arranged everything neatly. The girls were halfway around the pond. They’d found a flock of butterflies and were trying to lure them to land on their open palms.

“I have some swim trunks in the car,” Zach said. “Would it be okay if I changed? These jeans are hot.”

I looked at him in surprise. “No, we don’t swim in mixed company. If a church group goes to the lake, the boys are always separated from the girls.”

“Nobody sneaks through the woods to take a peek?”

“I never did,” I replied, then pointed at the pond. “Anyway, this isn’t a good place to swim. You’d sink down a foot in the mud.”

Zach went to the car for a final load. When he returned, he pointed at my legs. “Should we move the quilt into the sun? It would help you work on your tan.”

My legs were stark white, but my face flushed red.

“That isn’t funny.”

“I just thought you’d want to sit with part of your body in the sun.”

“My biggest goal each summer isn’t baking my skin to a precancerous crisp,” I snapped.

“I didn’t—”

The twins came running over.

“We’re ready to fish,” Emma interrupted. “I’ve never seen so many yellow swallowtails in one place. It tickled when they landed on our hands.”

“Zach, will you bait my hook?” Ellie asked.

I grabbed my fishing pole, scooped up a chicken liver, and took the path to the south end of the pond. I walked until I couldn’t hear Zach’s voice. I baited the hook and cast into the pond. There was a lead shot on the line to make sure the bait sank to the bottom where the catfish scavenged. The twins and Zach were together at the edge of the water, not far from the quilt. I heard Emma laugh. I fumed. My fishing line lay still in the water. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as the girls cast their lines into the pond. Ellie had a much better motion, and hers sailed far out over the water. Zach returned to the quilt, looked in my direction, and waved. I quickly glanced away, then felt like an immature schoolgirl. Morning silence descended on the pond. Except for my mental funk, I had to admit it was a gorgeous day.

“I have one!” Emma cried out.

She moved away from the water as she reeled in the fish. Ellie dropped her pole and came alongside her. Zach looked at me. I saw a flash of gray as the fish flopped around at the pond’s edge.

“It’s a keeper!” Emma screamed.

“Take the fish off the hook and put it on the stringer,” I said.

Emma’s rod was sharply bent, and from the angle of the pole, I could tell she’d brought the fish onto the grass. Zach reached down with his hand. A second later he jerked it back and shook it. I quickly reeled in my line and walked toward them.

“He doesn’t know how to pick up a catfish,” Ellie said.

“Watch out for the spines,” I answered.

Keeping his eyes on the fish, Zach tried again but failed.

“Cut the line,” he said.

“No, let me try.”

Emma had caught a nice fish. I slid my hand over the top of the fish’s head, picked it up, and took out the hook.

“The spines are on both the dorsal and pectoral fins,” I said, holding the fish in front of me. “You can’t let them snap back against you.”

“That’s the top and side,” Ellie said, pointing to the correct parts of the fish’s anatomy.

She handed me the stringer. I ran it through the fish’s gills.

“Zach wore it out wrestling with it,” Emma said.

Zach’s right hand was closed in a fist. A trickle of blood seeped out from between his fingers.

“There’s venom in the spines,” I said. “Do you want to go back to the house?”

“Kyle says to put pond mud on it,” Ellie said. “That works as good as anything.”

“He’s been stung by a catfish?” Zach asked.

“Yeah, when he wasn’t careful,” Ellie answered.

“It hurts.” Zach looked at me. “Tami probably wishes it had stung me in the mouth.”

I stuck the metal end of the stringer in the ground and dropped the fish in the water. It slowly swam to the end of the tether.

“No,” Ellie answered, “she thinks you have nice lips.”

6

“ELLIE!” I BLURTED OUT. “I NEVER SAID THAT.”

“But you know it’s true.”

“Let me see your hand,” I said to Zach, who was laughing and wincing in pain all at the same time.

I rinsed his hand with clean water from the drinking jug.

“Ellie, let’s get back to fishing,” Emma said. “Now!”

Zach and I could hear the girls talking as they returned to their end of the pond. Emma was doing a good imitation of Mama rebuking Ellie when she sinned.

“Ellie is cute,” Zach said as soon as the twins were out of earshot.

“And I totally believe she made that up.”

“She did.”

“And I’m sorry I said you needed to tan your legs. Mine are as white as yours.” He rolled up his jeans to reveal a muscular calf much darker than mine. “Well, they were white before the summer. But even if your legs were green, they’d look a lot better than mine.”

“Nice try,” I said, gently patting the wound dry.

Zach touched the edge of the deepest cut and winced.

“Ouch. Your sisters are tanned from being outside all summer. I just thought”—he paused—“that I should apologize.”

Ellie and Emma returned.

“I’m sorry, Tammy Lynn,” Ellie said. “I made that up about Zach’s lips—even if it’s the truth.”

“That’s not what you’re supposed to say,” Emma retorted.

“Apology accepted,” I answered.

Ellie leaned over and inspected Zach’s hand.

“Is he okay?”

“It’s a bad one,” I said. “A nasty catfish sting can get infected and lead to amputation.”

“You’re kidding,” he said.

“It’s not likely, but it’s possible,” Emma said. “We’ve studied articles about catfish stings, snakebites, and poisonous spiders. It’s part of natural science.”

“Mama’s a good teacher. She teaches about what’s out here and doesn’t put them in a plastic bubble. She says if we know about danger we’re better able to avoid it.”

“A fish stole my liver,” Ellie said, holding up her rod.

“You can bait the hook,” I said. “It’s chicken liver, not an earth-worm.”

Ellie turned up her nose. Emma didn’t share her sister’s squeamishness. She put a fresh liver on Ellie’s hook.

“Three more like the one you caught will give us a nice dinner,” I said.

The girls returned to the part of the pond where the butterflies were congregating. I heard a sound in the grass and glanced down. Something was moving. Zach’s pole was inching toward the water.

“You have a bite,” I said.

He jumped up and grabbed his pole with his left hand. He put his right hand on the reel and turned it a couple of revolutions. The pole bent sharply. He winced in pain.

“Do you want me to reel it in?” I asked.

“Yeah. My hand is really hurting.”

I took the pole. The fish was sitting in the water, not fighting to free itself from the hook. It felt like a rock.

“This is a huge one,” I said.

I cranked the reel, but it did little more than bend the rod more sharply. I backed away from the water. The line twitched to the left. I moved past the quilt, dragging the fish to the surface. Zach approached the water.

“Can you see it?” I asked.

“Not yet.”

“It’s going to take off when it gets close to shore. I’ll have to let out line or it will snap.”

The twins dropped their poles and ran over to us.

“Here it comes,” he said.

“It’s a turtle!” Ellie called out.

I walked toward the water as I continued to reel in the line.

“You hooked it at the edge of its shell,” Ellie said. “How did you do that?”

“Ask Zach. It’s his line.”

The large turtle churned up the mud in the shallow water. Its mouth opened in overt menace.

“What are you going to do with it?” Zach asked.

“I don’t mess with turtles,” I answered. “And we don’t eat turtle soup. If you put your finger in his mouth, you wouldn’t have to wait for an infection to lose it. Emma, cut the turtle loose. The hook won’t hurt his shell.”

Emma ran to the tackle box to get a knife. After she cut the line, the turtle snapped its jaws one more time for emphasis and returned to the depths of the pond.

“I thought we were going fishing at a peaceful pond,” Zach said.

“This is more like an African safari.”

“It’s all about knowing how to live in a world that may be hostile but doesn’t have to be.”

The twins continued fishing. I cast into the water. Zach left his pole by his side. We sat on the quilt. Zach’s hand was beginning to get puffy. Inflamed red streaks ran across his palm.

“Are you sure you don’t want to go to the house?” I asked.

“No, it’s feeling better.”

“It’s swelling.”

He opened the tackle box and handed me the pocketknife.

“You do it,” he said.

“What?”

“Amputate. That way you’ll know I trust you.”

I chuckled. “Let’s give it a few more minutes.”

We sat quietly. True to Bobby’s prediction, no fish showed an interest in the bait on my hook. The twins laid their rods on the ground and continued wooing the butterflies. The pond stilled.

“Sorry about your hand,” I said, watching the red streaks grow longer. “I wanted this to be a nice weekend.”

“It’s not over yet.”

“But in less than twenty-four hours you’ve had a run-in with my mother, shocked every member of my family, upset me twice, and taken a dose of catfish venom.”

Zach shrugged. “That sums it up pretty well, but I’m having a good time.”

“Why?”

“I’m with you.”

I felt a streak of red run up the side of my neck. I concentrated on my fishing line.

“I can see you’d like to change the subject,” Zach said, eyeing me closely. “Maybe now would be a good time to talk about the office.”

“Okay.” I touched my neck with my hand.

“What are you working on?”

“Not much.”

“Should I give you a project?”

“No,” I answered quickly. “Mr. Carpenter called me into the conference room just before we left on Friday for a meeting with a client and asked me to help with a new case. I’m going to be very busy for the next few weeks.”

“A lawsuit?”

I hesitated. “Yes, it’s set up as a slander case, but the real reason behind the litigation is to force a church to sell its property to a real-estate developer.”