Feels Like Summertime(11)

“All summer? At all?”

“No,” she says softly.

Suddenly, my dog runs around the corner, and he’s pulling Katie’s youngest child. She has a crease on her cheek and her face is rosy. She climbs up onto the couch and my dog puts a paw on her leg, like he’s making sure she’s still in place. Katie pulls her daughter into her lap.

“Trixie, this is my old friend, Jake,” she says. Trixie buries her face shyly into Katie’s neck, so I’m not sure if I’m supposed to say anything to her.

Pop bellows from the porch, “Those steaks aren’t going to cook themselves!”

“I better go get that,” I mutter.

“Sally can stay with me?” I hear Katie’s daughter say quietly.

“Of course he can.” Katie brushes her daughter’s hair back from her face, her fingers tender. “You don’t mind, do you, Jake?”

I don’t think I could pry the dog away from the girl if I tried. “No, you can keep him for now,” I say.

I go out onto the porch, and see that Gabby and Pop are using rocks from the driveway as betting chips. Pop has a stack of five. Gabby has a big pile. “She’s kicking your ass, huh?”

He grunts at me.

Gabby smiles. “I’m going to win his hat if he keeps on going.”

“I’d like to see that,” I say.

I get the steaks and put them on the grill. A few minutes later, Pop walks up to me. He’s not wearing a hat. “Something is wrong,” he says quietly.

“What do you mean?” I lay the last steak on the grill.

“With this family,” he says. “Something is wrong.”

“You’re delusional, old man,” I joke, but I suddenly realize how serious he is. He’s not kidding. His gut is telling him something is off.

“Katie jumps at her own shadow. She hasn’t taken that cap off since we got here, and her kids flinch if you look at them wrong. Something is not right.”

“Did she say anything to you?”

“Who?” Pop asks. He pretends to be interested in the steaks.

I nod toward Gabby, who is still sitting on the porch. “The oldest daughter.”

“She just said her dad can’t help them. That’s all.”

“Where is he?”

Pop glares at me. “I have no idea. But you need to find out.”

“Okay,” I say, more to myself than to Pop. “I’ll find out.”





10





Katie





Alex runs into the house and dashes to his room. He comes back with a football, which was one of the two toys he chose to bring with him. The other one was a stuffed rabbit his dad won for him at the fair when he was four. He sleeps with it, but he would never admit that. Jeff spent about eighty bucks trying to win that bear, with Alex on his shoulders the whole time, cheering him on. He could have gone to a department store and purchased a bear cheaper, but he wanted that one.

“Where are you going?” I call to Alex.

He skids to a stop in the doorway. “To throw my football.”

“Don’t go far,” I say, and then I motion for him to proceed.

He slams the door behind him so hard the windows rattle.

I take the pie out of the oven and set it on the counter to cool. The door opens and Jake walks in. “Do you have any tenderizer?” he asks.

I shake my head. “I don’t have anything,” I reply. I open a cabinet that Gabby filled earlier. “Unless you need baked crackers that look like fish or a juice pouch, you’re shit out of luck.”

He walks over close to me and appraises the juice pouches. Then he shrugs and reaches for one.

“Wait,” I say. I reach into the fridge and get him a cold one instead. He grins at me.

“You always did know the way to my heart, Katie,” he says. He pops the straw through the pouch and sucks it hard.

I snicker. “The last time I tried to find your heart, Jake, I found your dick instead.”

He chortles. “Dick…heart… It’s about the same thing when you’re a sixteen-year-old boy.” His eyes narrow. “You doing all right, Katie?” he asks, his voice soft.

I nod and avoid his eyes, which are skimming all over my face. I turn away and pretend to adjust the juice pouches in the refrigerator. “I’m fine. Happy to be here.”

“What brings you back to the lake?”

“Some much needed rest and relaxation.” I grab a stack of paper plates and get a handful of knives and forks out of the silverware drawer. “Grab those paper towels, will you?”

I turn to walk toward the front door, but Jake grabs my elbow. “Katie,” he says quietly.

I blow out a frustrated breath. “What?” He tugs a little harder on my arm until I stop completely and meet his eyes.

“Pop thinks there’s something wrong with you.” His eyes skitter around my face, and I wish my arms weren’t so full so I could pull the brim of my cap down a little. “Tell me there’s nothing wrong with you, Katie,” he says, his words as soft as a whisper.

“There’s nothing wrong with me,” I reply, but even I can hear the warble in my voice.

“Would you tell me if there was?”