The Summer Girls Page 66

“I know.”

“What are you doing? Are you going fishing?”

“No. I’m setting out my rods.”

“At this time of night?”

“I had to wait until everyone was asleep. It’s a surprise. I want to have fish for Delphine in the morning so she’ll come. I’m going to set my rods the way the old man told me that he did. He set his rods and left them, and when he came back he had a fish.”

A few days earlier Mamaw’s neighbor Mr. Bellows had been fishing on his dock. Mamaw had gone over to talk to him. They’d known each other for years. When she returned, she told Nate that he could go to the neighbor’s dock and watch him fish. When he’d told her he was afraid, she’d said the best way to learn the ropes of fishing was to watch those more experienced. Then she told him that the old man—Mr. Bellows—had been a good friend of Papa Edward, and that if Papa were here, he would have taught him how to fish, just like he’d taught Carson how to fish.

“Nate,” Mamaw said gently now, “I understand it’s a surprise. But you know it’s against the rules to go out on the dock alone.”

“That is my mother’s rule. It’s not Carson’s rule. I’ve decided I don’t want to be with my mother anymore. Or my father. I don’t like it when they fight. I want to stay here with you and Carson. And Delphine. So I have to obey Carson’s rules. And Carson never told me that I can’t go out on the docks alone. So I’m not breaking Carson’s rules.”

“Well, if that doesn’t take the cake,” Mamaw muttered to herself. To Nate she said, “Dear boy, you present your argument logically. However, your basic premise is wrong. You do not get to decide if you’re going to stay with Carson or your mother. Your mother is your mother. Period. That will never change. Secondly, when it comes to you, your mother’s rules are the rules of this house as well. Thus, there is no going out on the dock alone. Not tonight. Not ever.”

Nate’s shoulders slumped. “But I must set up my rods. I already made my bait balls. I spent four dollars and twenty-three cents on the ingredients and hooks. That leaves me with only seventy-seven cents of my five dollars. I don’t have any more money for another batch.”

In for a penny, in for a pound, Mamaw thought to herself, and closed the door behind her. Besides, what was the harm? He was filled with all the crazy dreams and schemes of a boy.

“All right, Nate. If I go with you, then you won’t be breaking the rules. Hand me a few of the rods.”

The night was cooler than expected. The stars and the moon were blocked by cloud cover, so it was especially dark. Nate carried a flashlight, which lit their way along the stone path. Mamaw had never liked traipsing in the wild at night. She couldn’t see the snakes and spiders and other creepy crawlies she knew were in that grass. When her feet stepped onto the wood of the dock, she felt much better. She followed Nate just a short way down the dock; then he stopped and put down his gear.

Mamaw held the flashlight for Nate as he pulled a plastic garbage bag out from his tackle box.

“These are called mud balls,” Nate told her, lifting the mushy balls from the bag. Mamaw had to lift her nose higher, they smelled so bad. “The old man next door taught me how to make them. He told me to use cat food and bread mixed with mud. He said this’ll sure bring them around and to make sure I used the damn cat food.”

Mamaw chuckled to herself. That did indeed sound like Hank. “His name is Mr. Bellows.”

“Mr. Bellows,” Nate repeated as he worked.

“You’re very good at that,” Mamaw told him. “Did you ever do it before?”

“No. Just with the old man, Mr. Bellows. My father has some good poles and rigging in the shed at home, but he only took me fishing one time. That was two years ago when I was seven. He got mad when I made mistakes. He doesn’t know how to make mud balls. He didn’t catch any fish, either. Mr. Bellows catches many fish. He’s a much better fisherman than my father.”

Mamaw sighed, feeling for the boy. She didn’t interfere as Nate carefully attached a leader to the bottom of the line. When he pulled out the hook that looked like a fish with bulging red eyes and several claw hooks, he looked up at Mamaw and smiled. She had purchased that one for him, not having a clue what kind of a fish it caught, just because she thought it was so comical. She stepped in to help him bait the hooks.

Nate cast the lures out and spent a good deal of time spacing the rods evenly along the deck railing, making sure that they were each approximately two feet apart.

“The old man, Mr. Bellows, said a tangled line is the kiss of death,” Nate told Mamaw. “I know it isn’t really a kiss. It means that it’s a bad thing for the line to get tangled.”

“I see.” Mamaw found it fascinating how Nate took the details of his task so seriously. She watched as he carefully tied each of the poles by the handle to the railing of the dock with a piece of nylon rope. He tied double knots, saying he wanted them to hold the fish until he got back in the morning.

“Looks good and tidy,” Mamaw told him. “I think it’s time we went back to our beds.”

As they walked up the dock, every few feet Nate looked back to make sure the poles were where he’d left them.

“I’m sure we’ll catch something,” Nate told her as they entered the house and closed the door behind them.

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

Carson woke from a strange dream about her mother with her heart pounding, tears running down her face, and a profound sense of longing. She blinked heavily in the dim light of predawn. In the dream it was foggy and she was swimming through choppy water. Her mother was calling to her but she couldn’t reach her. She hardly ever dreamed of her mother, but this time . . . even awake, it still felt so real.

A strange ear-piercing noise echoed from outside. Was it a bird? Or someone crying? Waking farther, she lifted her head, alert, and sharpened her listening. That was no bird. That was a dolphin’s scream!

Carson whipped back her blanket, thrust her feet into her flip-flops, and tore through the house, out the door. Outside, the dolphin’s screams pierced the air, frantic and fearful. Nothing like she’d ever heard before. As she ran she cried out, “Delphine!”

The sky was overcast and the water was rough with the current and wind. Her heart was pumping hard in her chest as she raced to the end of the dock. She searched but didn’t see the dolphin. Then she froze and listened hard. The screaming was not at the end of the dock at all. It was behind her, nearer the shore. She gripped the railing and looked over the side.