Feels Like Summertime (Lake Fisher 1)

I sit down to feed Hank and, finally, quiet settles around us. “It’s my favorite place on earth.”

“Jake always liked it here, too. He talked about it all the time.”

I wonder if he talked about me. I shake that thought away.

“He used to tell me stories about the crazy things he did with you and Freddy.”

I smile. “We had some really good times.”

“There’s some famous bridge near here?”

“Oh, wow, I haven’t thought of that in a really long time.”

“He said you guys all jumped off it.”

“If Mr. Jacobson knew we jumped off the Branson Ferry Bridge, he’d kill all of us, and he’d make it a slow and painful death involving toothbrushes and bathhouses.” I shudder. Thank God he never found out.

“Where is it?”

“About two miles from here. We walked in the dead of night to get there, because someone had told us a story around the campfire the night before, about a man who died there. Jumping off the bridge had become a stupid ‘rite of passage’ thing that kids around here did. Freddy was determined he wasn’t going to do it, but Jake just jumped right off. I remember standing there at the railing looking down, wondering if he was going to come up. Then his head popped up from the water and he started to laugh.”

“Jake was always fearless, then?” Laura shakes her head. “That’s one thing I won’t miss, wondering if he’s going to come home at the end of the day.”

“Is his job dangerous?”

“No more than any police officer. But his hobbies, they’re even worse. He jumps out of planes, he flies those big one-person kites…” Her voice trails off. “I can’t remember what they’re called. Anyway,” she says, “he’s always had a bit of a wild side. I never could keep up with him.” She stares at the placid lake waters. “Do you love him?

” she asks quietly.

I nod my head. “I think so. I didn’t expect to, but I couldn’t help it.”

“Freddy told me your husband died. I’m so sorry.”

I suck in a breath. “Me too. I wasn’t really looking for love. But I’m glad it found me.”

Laura stares at me as we both sit and feed our children, and then we go to the grill area to see if the burgers are done yet. I’m getting hungry.

Freddy and Jake are standing over the grill, each with a beer in his hand and several empty bottles stacked up next to them. They’re chatting and talking, and I stop to watch them.

“They seem to have gotten over their issues,” Laura says.

“I doubt they’ve gotten over it. They’ve just decided to move past it.”

Mr. Jacobson barks at them both. “Get away from my grill,” he mumbles. “You’re making a mockery of my good reputation.”

“I don’t remember you having a good reputation, Mr. Jacobson,” Freddy blurts out.

Mr. Jacobson whacks the back of Freddy’s arm with a dirty, greasy spatula. “You had a bug on you,” he says. He gives the spatula to Freddy so he can rinse it off with the hose.

“Ow,” Freddy complains, rubbing the offended spot. “Come and kiss it for me, Jake,” he says. Then he turns the hose on Jake and sprays him.

Jake looks around and the only thing he can find to get back at Freddy with is the great big ketchup bottle. So he opens it up, turns it toward Freddy, and gives it a squeeze.

“Boys,” Mr. Jacobson starts to say.

But they’re both young enough and drunk enough that they don’t care. Freddy sprays Mr. Jacobson with the hose and Jake shoots him with the ketchup. Mr. Jacobson isn’t the type to take it sitting down, though, and pretty soon, it’s a food fight of epic proportions, and Mr. Jacobson is winning, hands down. The whole campground has stopped to watch. Freddy and Jake finally give up once Mr. Jacobson is sitting on them; he has taken away the hose and the ketchup, and he pelts them both with them.

“Enough!” Jake cries.