Her Holiday Family

by Ruth Logan Herne

  She helped Jenny finish things up while Charlie sat nearby, talking over the events of the day, and by the time Max returned, supper was on the table and Beeze had been relegated to the front porch.

  “I’m not all that hungry, but I’ll sit with you.” Charlie pulled out the chair where he usually sat. “As long as none of you pester me about eating.”

  “The smells aren’t bothering you?” Tina asked.

  “Not as much, no.”

  “Good.” Tina beamed at him, happy to see him looking more at ease.

  Jenny’s sigh said she’d follow his direction about not fussing, but wasn’t thrilled with his pronouncement, and Max just grinned and said, “More for me, Dad. Leftovers tomorrow. I’m okay with that.”

  “Earl will be thrilled, too.” Tina held a forkful of pasta aloft and breathed deep. “I could live on pasta. Cooked any way, anytime. Short women should not have this kind of affinity for carbs. And the oven-roasted broccoli is perfection, Jenny. Thank you.”

  “I grabbed the broccoli right across the street at Barrett’s Orchards,” Jenny told her. “I love having all their fresh produce so handy.”

  “Lacey’s apple fritters aren’t anything to wave off casually, either,” Max noted. “We did some racing through those orchards when we were kids,” he added. “It was a great place to grow up. The farm on one side of the house, the lake on the other.”

  “Isn’t it funny to have people live in the same area, but have such different experiences?” Tina observed as she twirled more spaghetti onto her fork.

  “As in?”

  She indicated the village north of them with a wave. “Living in town had its upsides, and I helped at the restaurant a lot, but there were no games of hide-and-seek in the orchard, or grabbing a boat and taking off to fish when they were biting. Not until I bought my own, anyway.”

  “You like to fish?” Max looked surprised when Tina nodded.

  “Love it. That’s how I kept my sanity running the café all these years. Some days I’d just grab my little rowboat with its pricey trolling motor and cruise the docks, looking for bass and perch.”

  “I haven’t had fried jack perch in over a year,” Charlie lamented.

  “It’s late for perch, isn’t it?” Max glanced from the calendar to Charlie and Tina.

  “You can find them here or there if the weather’s good and the wind is from the south-southwest,” Charlie said.

  “Do you want to go out, Dad?” Max stopped eating and faced his father. “They’re calling for a nice day tomorrow. Sunny. Wind out of the south. I can grab a few hours off and take you around the lake. We could catch enough for a family fish fry between us.”

  “I’ll go out with you when I’m feeling better,” Charlie replied. “But the thought of eating fresh perch sounds mighty good. As long as you boys don’t mind cooking it in the garage. The smell might be a little tough, otherwise.”

  “That’s what the old stove is for,” Max declared. He looked at Tina.

  Something in his expression said he’d do this, but could use help. Which was just plain silly because a guy like Max didn’t need help with anything. With tomorrow’s decent weather forecast, one last day on the water sounded good to Tina. And better than watching her business being swept away. “Max and I can go out tomorrow if Jenny can come down to the hardware store and spell us.”

  Charlie’s face brightened, and when Jenny saw that, she agreed wholeheartedly. “I’d be glad to get out of this house for a little bit,” she declared. She sent Charlie a teasing smile. “I think Dad is tired of me fussing over him, so he’d be relieved to have me gone, and I’d get to see how things are going at the store.”

  “It’s a date.” Max met Tina’s gaze across the table and grinned, and she had no trouble reading that smile or the double entendre of his word choice. “Me. Tina. Worms. And a boat.”

  “Good.” Jenny met Charlie’s smile with one of her own. “Then we can have a nice fish fry on Saturday night. Unless you’re too tired to have a crowd around, Charlie?”

  “Not if there’s fish on the menu,” he declared, and for just a minute he sounded like the Charlie of old. Strong. Determined. Decisive.

  Tina met Max’s eyes across the table and read the “gotcha” look he aimed her way. She couldn’t wiggle out of a fishing date with Max, not with Charlie’s hopes up.

  And the thought of hanging out with Max on the water, handling smelly worms and flapping fish, could prove interesting. Tina was at home in two places: a kitchen and a boat. So if Max thought he was being altruistic by going fishing with her, he had a lot to learn. She might have messed up in the old boyfriend department, but when it came to fish, Tina Martinelli knew her way around Kirkwood Lake.

  * * *

  The unseasonable warmth tempted multiple boats onto the late-season water the next day, anglers wanting one last spin before packing things up for the winter.

  Temptation wasn’t goading Max into the boat. Love for his father was. He gassed up the motor, checked the anchor and loaded supplies. Fishing poles, bait, tackle, life jackets, compass, a cooler for fish and one for sandwiches, and a thermos of coffee.

  He eyed the lake, appraising.

  He didn’t fear the water after losing Pete. He hated it. Big difference. But the only way to make his father’s fish fry a reality was with fish. And there weren’t too many jack perch hanging out on shore. He tucked two flotation devices beneath the backseat, and wished he’d thought to do the same before Pete and Amy went cruising that night. If they’d been sober, with the right equipment, would they be here now, living life?

  His heart ached, but his mind went straight to God. I know what I need to do, Lord. I’m not shirking this confrontation, I’m just busy with stuff on this side of the lake. I’ll make it a point to go see the Sawyers once things are settled with Dad. And the store. And the lighting gig. And if anyone tells You that small towns don’t come with their own share of drama, well, they’re wrong. But I’ll go see Mary and Ray. Soon.

  Tina’s approach pushed his thoughts into actions.

  “We could have used my boat.” She settled onto the seat of Charlie’s much bigger rig and made a face at Max. “It’s not the size of the boat—”

  “It’s the heart of the fisherman,” Max finished one of Charlie’s favorite sayings, but went on, “That didn’t stop Dad from buying this, did it?”

  “Well, with a crew like yours, I suppose a bigger boat could be deemed a necessity.”

  Max eased the boat away from the dock, turned it around and headed toward deeper water. “But here is where I give in to your expertise. I know the big perch usually seek deeper water in fall, but do you know any hot spots?”

  “Warrenton Point with today’s breeze, at the end of the longest docks. If not there, then the off side of the west curve, just north of Kirkwood Lodge.”

  “She can talk the talk,” Max teased as he aimed for Warrenton. “But can she back up the talk with action?”

  “Time will tell.”

  He revved the motor, steering the boat through open water. As they drew closer to the point, Max decreased his speed, then idled the engine. His intent was to have a successful trip for his father.

  Fish weren’t always cooperative and that was a reality every fisherman faced, but today the fish were fighting to be caught.

  They brought in eighteen good-size jack perch in the first forty minutes, evenly split. “I will never cast an aspersion about your fishing abilities again,” Max noted as he reeled in number eighteen. “I forgot how nice this can be when you troll into a good school of fish.”

  “Not much time for fishing in the army?”

  What should he say? The truth, that he avoided the water purposely? No. “Lack of time, lack of desire.” He stared out across the lake, looking at the long, sweeping curv
e of the west shore, but seeing Pete’s face. Hearing Pete’s laugh. He sighed. “And busy working my way up. That didn’t leave too much time to kick back and do much of anything, actually.”

  “Those captain’s bars say you’ve done all right,” Tina noted as she shifted her line to the other side of the boat. “And it can’t be easy to give that all up. Doesn’t it become ingrained? The love of adventure, the joy of service?”

  “It does.” Max rebaited his line, then cast it toward the docks on the opposite side of Tina’s rod. “But I faced a few enemies these past few years that wanted me dead. And I decided it would be a shame to have that happen when I’d never been gutsy enough to move outside of my military comfort zone.”

  * * *

  Outside his military comfort zone? Tina frowned as she studied a slight shift in the wave patterns.

  “Most people don’t describe hand grenades, snipers, IEDs and long desert tours as comfort zones. Doing so either makes you odd or oddly exciting.” Tina paused and adjusted the angle of her rod. “And I’m not exactly sure how to classify you yet, so I find that more than a little disturbing. An unusual predicament for me.”

  His smile rewarded her. “I think I like disturbing you, and let’s just say when you do a job well, it’s easy to get caught in a rut. I wanted to change things up. When Mom called me about Dad’s diagnosis, I realized I might be running out of time, and that was stupid on my part.”

  “They don’t think you’re stupid.” Tina left enough bite in her tone to let Max know she wasn’t quite as convinced.

  “Well, they love me.”

  She frowned and reeled her line in as she acknowledged his comment. “They do. And we’ve fished this out or they’ve moved off. Let’s try the lodge.”

  “Your wish is my command.”

  He stowed his line, backed the boat away from the point, then aimed west into the late-day sun. “Gorgeous day.”

  “And possible snow tomorrow, so it’s good we took the time to do this now. I don’t ice fish. Not even for Charlie.”

  “Do you think he’s going to make it, Tina?”

  The question took her by surprise.

  Her heart paused. Her breath caught, because the look Max gave her over his shoulder said he’d read the reality of Charlie’s condition and wanted her truthful answer.

  She looked off over the lake and shrugged off tears. “No.”

  Max nodded as if she’d confirmed what he already knew, and Tina realized that despite their close parent-child relationship, he might have trouble discussing this with Jenny. Jenny believed heart and soul that with God, all things were possible.

  Tina believed that, too, but she’d watched her parents die, seen her best friend’s family suffer through the loss of their son, and she knew that while God wanted his people healthy and happy, the human body was a frail vessel.

  Max pulled into a deep-water crevice off the end of the lodge. He stood, turned and grabbed his pole, but not before Tina saw the anguish in his eyes.

  She wanted to cry. She wanted to give him hope. She wanted his father to be healthy and happy and ready to rock more grandbabies on his knee, show them how to build a campfire and take them trolling through migrating swans and geese in the boat.

  Charlie’s timeline said that wasn’t likely to happen.

  Max pulled himself up. He drew a breath, then slanted her a look that said more than words as he jutted his chin toward her pole. “Let’s get this show on the road, woman. These fish won’t catch themselves, and there’s a bunch of Campbells coming for supper tomorrow night.”

  His words said he was ready to deal with whatever came his way, as long as Charlie Campbell got his fried perch dinner. Tina figured if the fish didn’t cooperate, Max would dive into the water with a net to make sure there was plenty of food. If this was to be Charlie’s last perch dinner, Max would see it was a great one. Tina was certain of that.

  * * *

  “Forty-two fish?” Jenny hugged Max and Tina in turn, and Charlie looked suitably impressed when they lugged the cooler full of fish up into the front yard of the Campbell house. “That’s amazing.”

  “Well, our little Tina knows her way around the lake,” Max drawled. His grin said he was proud of her, and the combination of Jenny’s surprise, Charlie’s joy and Max’s pride made her feel like she could handle anything. Even in Kirkwood Lake. That realization felt good and surprising all at once.

  “I’ll clean fish,” Max announced, and he set up the old fish-cleaning table that Charlie kept stored in the boathouse. “Do we want to order pizza and wings for supper? I should have these guys filleted and on ice just in time to catch the Thursday-night game. You up for that, Dad?”

  “Could be.” Was it the sight of the fresh fish or the thought of a football game that brightened his father’s eyes? Max wasn’t sure, but it felt good.

  “I’ll turn on the floodlights,” Jenny told him. “It’s getting dark soon and I don’t want you cutting yourself.”

  “Thanks, Mom.”

  “I can help.” Tina moved over to the small table and pulled up a stool. “I know how to fillet perch.”

  Max handed her an extra knife. “Don’t expect me to say no. There are eighty-four little fillets here, and that’s a lot of skin-zipping and slicing.”

  “It is.”

  “I’m ordering the pizza to be ready at game time. Is that okay?” Jenny called from the house.

  “Perfect. And if some of those wings are Buffalo-style, you’ll make me very happy,” Max called back.

  “Is there another kind, darling?”

  Max laughed, because raising five boys and two daughters had schooled his mother on the intrinsic differences. Cass and Addie liked the country-sweet wings with a hint of fire.

  The Campbell boys had always tussled for the hotter side of life from early on. Maybe that was what pushed him into the service, the “let’s best each other” guy-speak he’d grown accustomed to as a kid.

  Now?

  He was all right with tough, but he yearned for more. He longed for a chance to be all the things his father had been to him. A kind and giving man, a loving dad, a humor-filled confidant.

  “Tina, I ordered hot wings for you, too. With extra blue cheese. I hope that’s okay?” Jenny’s voice cut through the thinning light from the far side of the screened porch.

  “Perfect. Thank you!”

  “Hot wings?” Max sent a look of interest her way as he zipped through the motions of cleaning fish.

  “Mmm-hmm.”

  “Skilled fisherwoman?”

  She grinned at the full cooler. “So it would seem.”

  “And you clean up well.”

  “I do what I can.”

  He leaned over, forcing her to look up. Meet his gaze. She did but his proximity made her look nervous. Max decided he liked making Tina Martinelli nervous. And while his head cautioned him to sit back and be quiet, his heart pushed him forward. She sent him a mock-frown as if interrupting her focus was a terrible thing. “What?”

  “I think I’m falling for you, Tina. And I’m not too sure what to do about that because you’re determined to go and I’m intent on staying.”

  Her mouth opened. Her eyes went wide, as if the last topic of conversation she expected over a pile of perch was a declaration of affection. A declaration he probably shouldn’t make because Max understood the rigors of fall-out, and when folks found out what he did, or rather what he didn’t do, people’s respect for him was likely to nosedive. But spending the day with Tina, talking, fishing, trolling the lake for the first time since Pete and Amy’s accident...

  He felt like he was home, finally.

  “You’re not like anyone else, you’re the prettiest thing ever and your fighting spirit makes me feel like I can fix things. Old wrongs
, cranky motors and rusted-out tools.”

  “Max—”

  “Well, now, I didn’t say all that to interrupt your work, and I don’t intend to eat pizza and wings while I’m smelling like fish, so we’ve got to hustle if we’re going to have cleanup time, but...” He drawled the last, leaned back in his seat and let his eyes underscore his words. “I just thought you should know.”

  He’d silenced her.

  He decided that might be a good thing to remember for future reference, because strong women like Tina didn’t do quiet all that well.

  “You don’t play fair, Max.”

  “I thought we ascertained that in the car last night.”

  Her frown said she remembered their conversation.

  “Except I’m ready to be done with war, which brings us back to the first part of the saying.”

  “And I’m not a game player. Ever. Toying with people’s hearts and emotions doesn’t make the short list especially since my heart’s been run ragged the past few years.”

  The guard in her tone said she’d erected boundaries for good reason. “Tell me something I don’t know.” He zip-skinned another fish, like Charlie had taught him years before. “Women tend to be a confusing bunch, if not downright crazy.” She bristled and that made him grin. “But not you. And when I asked myself, ‘Why is that? What makes Tina Marie Martinelli different?’ I knew right off what the answer was. Because she’s honest.”

  She darted a look at him that said he should stop, not go any further.

  “Forthright.”

  “There’s a compliment and a half for you.”

  “Faith-filled.”

  Her jaw softened. Her eyes did, too.

  “And when I’m not with her, she’s all I can think about.”

  Her chin faltered.

  Her eyes went wet with unshed tears. “Don’t mess with me, Max Campbell.” Her voice came out in a tight whisper.

  “Two things you should know about me, Tina Marie.”

  She met his look with her jaw set and her mouth firm, determined and ready to clean his clock if needed. And he decided that riling Tina was a new kind of fun. He liked it, but he held her attention with a straight-on look. “I don’t mess with anyone. I talk straight, I shoot straight and I mean what I say every time.”