Feels Like Summertime(7)
“Did you meet him in the military?”
I nod. “Yes. Love at first sight.” I take in a deep breath. “There’s no better feeling, is there?”
He says nothing, then he tosses a rock toward the still water of the lake.
I realize that I’ve been talking about myself. “What did you do with yourself, Jake? You said you don’t live in North Carolina anymore?”
“I’m a cop.”
“Wow. Really?”
He glares down his nose at me. “Why are you surprised?”
“Honestly?”
“No, lie to me,” he deadpans. “Of course I want honesty.”
“You were kind of famous for the amount of trouble you could get into.”
He laughs. “I vaguely remember you being right there with me when I got into a bunch of that trouble.”
The crunch of gravel sucks me out of my summer memories. They’re one of my favorite places to go when things go bad, which they have been for a while now. “Jake!” someone bellows.
Jake gets to his feet and shades his eyes with his hands. “That’s Pop,” he says.
The old man drives the red golf cart directly onto the sand. “I need your help with something,” he says to Jake.
“Can it wait a minute?”
“If it could wait a minute, I wouldn’t be coming to get you, would I?” the old man grumbles. He looks around Jake and his eyes fall on me. “Well, I’ll be damned.”
“Hi, Mr. Jacobson,” I call out.
“You grew tits,” he replies.
I look down at my boobs. “Yes, I did.”
“Good job.”
“I do aim to please.”
“Pop,” Jake complains, “don’t talk about her tits.”
“Why not?” the old man crows. “Those are some impressive tits.”
“He’s got you there,” Jake says, leaning closer to me like he’s whispering.
“Cabin 112 has a leaky roof, Jake,” Jake’s dad says. “I need you to fix it.” He points to a toolbox on the back of the golf cart.
Jake points to the same box. “You think I’m going to fix a roof?”
“I just had a stroke, son. I’m not going to fix it myself.”
Jake sighs.
His dad looks around Jake to talk to me again. “I had a stroke and I still can’t get this boy to do anything.”
“I’ll do it, Pop,” Jake replies. “Can you wait a minute?”
“Why?” Mr. Jacobson barks. “You going to kiss her goodbye, or something? I’ve seen you do that before.” He motions for Jake to continue by rolling his finger. “Get on with it. You have work to do.”
“It was good to see you, Katie,” Jake says, his eyes intently staring into mine.
“You too, Jake,” I say softly. “It has been a long time.”
“Too long.”
Suddenly, Mr. Jacobson barks out, “What time is supper, Katie?”
“What?”
“Supper. What time should I arrive?”
I point to my chest. “You want me to make you supper?”
He scratches his belly. “A man’s got to eat.”
“I haven’t exactly been to the store yet,” I admit.
“No problem,” Mr. Jacobson says. “I’ll bring steaks.”
“Oh…well…okay.”
“You don’t have to, Katie,” Jake rushes to say. “I’ll cook your damn steak, old man.”
Mr. Jacobson grins. “Good. You can do it at Katie’s cabin. We’ll use her grill.” He revs the engine on the gas-powered golf cart. “The day isn’t going to get any longer, boy,” he says to Jake. “We’ll see you at six,” Mr. Jacobson calls out to me.
“See you then,” I call back. Jake hops on the golf cart with Mr. Jacobson and they start to drive away. Then suddenly the cart screeches to a halt, with sand and gravel flying.
“My dog!” Jake yells.
The dog is still covered in soap and my youngest daughter is laughing as she makes a cone of bubbles on the dog’s head. “You can get him later,” I yell back.
“Are you sure?”
I nod. “Positive.” They start to leave again. “Hey, Jake!” I yell.
He turns back and looks at me. I cup my hands around my mouth.
“Bring a salad! And some potatoes! Wrap them in tin foil! And a loaf of bread would be nice!”
Jake looks at me without saying a word for a beat longer than I’d expect. Then they drive away.
Gabby comes to sit next to me on the sand and dusts her hands together. “Was that old man talking about your boobs?” she asks.
“Yes.”
“Cool.”
“They’re joining us for supper.”
“Okay.”
“What kind of dog is that?” I ask.
“A big one.”
“No joke.”
“His name is Sally.”
“Did Trixie name him?”
“Yep.”
I grin to myself. “Jake is going to love that name.”
6