Feels Like Summertime(4)
But to be honest, I don’t trust myself either.
3
Jake
In the truck, Pop grumbles about the dog, about the air conditioning, and about the way I drive. “Are you trying to freeze me to death?” he asks as he turns a vent away from him.
I flip the air off and lower the window. The dog comes forward in the backseat and puts his face beside mine so he can get closer to the window. His breath smells like a decaying body, so I open the back window, he sticks his whole upper body out, and his big ears slap him in the face.
Before Pop left the hospital, they gave him a handful of prescriptions, so he sat in the truck with the dog while I had them filled. He’s been in a better mood. Maybe circa 1970. If he wasn’t grumbling about something, he wouldn’t be Pop. But today…today, he’s working hard to annoy me.
We pull up to the house and I cut the engine of my truck. I look over at Pop. “Can you get out by yourself?”
“I can manage,” he says. He ended up with no lasting effects from the stroke, except for some occasional one-sided weakness. They sent him home with a cane. It was a bad idea, because Pop will just try to hit people with it, I’d wager. “What are you going to do with that dog?”
I look back at the beast. “I have no idea.”
“You can’t bring it in the house until it has a bath,” he says on a heavy sigh. “Get some shampoo out of the bathroom and take him down to the lake.”
“You want me to get in that cold-ass water?” I jerk my thumb toward the lake. “What if he doesn’t like water?”
“He’s a dog. Who cares what he likes?” He shoots me a glare and I know I’m not going to win this one.
“I’ll give him a bath.”
“Now.”
“Yes, Pop. Now.”
“Right now.”
“Are you going to be a bundle of sunshine the whole time I’m here?” I ask as I get out and take the dog’s leash, letting him out the back door. He sticks close to my leg, glaring at Pop.
“Depends. How long are you staying?”
“As long as you need me to stay.”
“I’ll stick my bundle of sunshine straight up your ass,” he mutters. And he goes to the house and lets himself inside.
I look down at the dog and wonder how the heck I’m supposed to wash this thing. It’s bigger than me.
Dad comes back to the door and throws out a bottle of shampoo and a towel. Then he slams the door shut. “Fine, old man!” I bellow at him. “I’ll wash the damn dog!”
“You will if you want to come inside!” he bellows back after he cracks the door just long enough to let his words tumble out.
“You want to take a bath?” I ask the beast.
His tongue lolls out and he pants at me, but he doesn’t complain. Of course, that probably just means that he has no idea what I’m talking about. What with him being a dog and all. I scratch my head.
Suddenly, I hear happy screams coming from the lake and the sound of giggles. I follow the noise and come to a dead stop as I step onto the sand.
My heart starts to thump. “Katie?”
The girl turns to look at me over her shoulder. She looks just like Katie did eighteen years ago, with her long, narrow body, flat chest, and her long dark hair. How could that be?
“Mom,” the girl says, looking at a woman who’s sitting on the sand, and she points at me, her eyes wide and wary. “Who’s the strange man who’s calling your name?”
The woman who was sitting on the sand lumbers to her feet. “Katie?” I say again.
“Oh, my God… Jake? Is that really you?” She tugs the Army hat she’s wearing down lower over her forehead, and I have to bend over to look her in the eye.
“Katie?”
Then she’s moving across the sand toward me, and she’s in my arms. Immediately it’s like eighteen years disappears. Poof. Seems just like yesterday when I said goodbye to her and then never saw her again. We were sixteen years old and I thought I would die.
“Are you really here?” she asks, her voice breathy and wild.
“I can’t believe it,” I say. I still can’t catch my breath.
“I can’t either.” She motions toward the teenager who looks so much like her. “This is my daughter, Gabby.”
“God, she looks just like you,” I say. Gabby waves at me, her fingers slender and long, like a piano player. Just like Katie.
“She’s got some of her dad in her too,” Katie says, looking at her daughter, her gaze tender. Two smaller kids run up and Gabby wraps her arms around them like she needs to keep them safe. From me? Not hardly. “This is Alex, and this is Trixie.”
“When did you arrive?” I ask.
“This morning.” She scrubs at her eyes with her fists. “We drove all night.”
“I know the feeling. I had to pick Dad up and drove all night to get him.”
She grins. “Where is the old bear?”
“He’s at the house. Probably sitting there with his shotgun, waiting to blast me if I don’t wash the damn dog. I should have left his ass at the hospital.”
Her brow furrows.