The two children were stuffing their faces with peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and munching contentedly. Marcus managed peanut butter-covered thumbs up, while Sophie nodded enthusiastically.
Karen giggled and turned her face back into the sun. Eyes closed beneath her sunglasses, she enjoyed the heat on her face, the cooling breeze relaxing her further.
“Mommy! I saw a fish!” Sophie announced excitedly.
Karen turned back around, slightly dazed from the sudden awakening.
“What did you say, honey?”
“I saw a fishy!” The little girl was pointing over the side of the boat.
“Careful, Soph. Don’t lean over the boat like that, you might fall in!” James warned.
“I didn't see anything.” Marcus shrugged.
“It was big!” Sophie enthused and held her tiny hands apart. They stretched behind the range of her slight shoulders.
“Wow!” Karen said with mock astonishment, subtle enough for her daughter not to register it.
“Judd never said anything about fish in here...I should ask him...maybe get some bait and rods. You and me could go fishing, buddy?” James smiled at Marcus. His son looked less than impressed.
“Or maybe not...” James said pursing his lips in annoyance, turning his attention back onto the lake.
34
The bell above the door tinkled gently as James entered Judd Reynolds’ store.
“With you in a second!” a voice came from the back.
James sauntered around the dusty lamps and tables scattered around the shop. There were stuffed animals for display. A fox with a wide, crazed, unblinking gaze stared at him. James eyed it suspiciously before turning his attention to a majestic, full-chested eagle.
“Ah, James! Nice to see you. Want can I do for yah?” Judd hobbled.
“I didn't know there were fish in Blackwater Lake! Sophie saw one the other day when we were out having a picnic. I was looking to pick up rods and bait, take out the young fella. We’ve never been fishin’ together.”
Judd looked perplexed. “Eh...I...James, there are no fish in Blackwater. At least, not anymore...that lake is barren as a desert now...”
James frowned. “Sophie...must have seen something else then...?” he said raising a single eyebrow questioningly. Hopefully.
“I don’t know what.” Judd scratched at his chin, rubbing at his protruded jaw. “Some strange goings-on in that house ovah the years...”
James badly wanted to get out of there. His stomach was knotting. This move had to be perfect.
James did not tell Karen about the conversation. He didn't want to startle her; God knows she had been freaked out by the revelations about the house. James did not want to escalate her anxiety. He purchased the fishing rods at the hardware store after making a hasty exit from Judd’s. He bought bait and returned to the house.
James informed Marcus they would go fishing underneath the old timber bridge. Eli Bluth, the owner of the hardware store, had suggested it, Marcus didn't mention fishing the lake and neither did James.
As they drove out of town, James decided to take advantage of their time alone, and asked Marcus about the house.
“So, buddy, now we’re out of the house, what do you honestly think of it?”
“It is nice...pretty cool actually. I'm happy that Mom is smiling again.” He was still non-committal, but more positive than before the move.
“You're being very mature about all of this, I'm proud of you.” James patted his son’s leg.
“Thanks, Dad.” Marcus offered a weak smile.
When the two arrived at the bridge over Otter Creek, James made a left turn after they crossed. The path was narrow, barely enough space for the car. Branches pawed at the windows. The road began to wind back on itself. The trees cleared as the rocky terrain evened in gradient. They drove onto an open bank next to the river that had not been visible from the road.
James got out of the Pontiac and opened the trunk. He had put the backseats down so that he could lay the fishing rods and the black tackle box on flat grounding.
Marcus was in the car changing his shoes. James had bought him a pair of salopettes. These were Wellington boots crossed with trousers, with braces to go over the shoulders to hold them up. He had told Marcus they would improve the experience.
“I feel stupid, Dad. I look like I'm wearing dungarees!”
“What's wrong with dungarees?” James said stepping into view from behind the car. He was wearing a pair.
The boy snorted with laughter. He covered his mouth as spittle flew out.
James paraded up and down the embankment, swinging his hips and pouting, “I could be a model, you think?”
Marcus was on his hands and knees whooping.
“Stop!” He gasped. “Please stop! I can’t breathe!” He lapsed into another giggling fit.
When their laughter had become subdued enough, James said, “I guess we should catch these fish, then?”
Marcus nodded, still smiling.
James fetched one of the poles from the open trunk and the tackle box. He knelt on the ground. Marcus sat cross-legged.
“Okay. This is the rod. This is the reel. We attach that here...” He snapped it into place on the underside of the fishing rod. “The line comes out like so...” James pulled and the spool clicked as it spun around, releasing a measure of its nylon line. “We put it through these hoops, allllll the way to the top, okay?” he smiled at his son who returned it.
“Next the lead and hook.” James reached into the large black box. He retrieved a small wooden container. He opened it and inside was a selection of metallic hooks. James removed a medium Size 8; it was the thickness of a sowing needle and the bend, the size of his pinkie nail. He pushed the end of the line through the eye of the hook. He tied a half blood knot in it and held it up for inspection.
“Finally, the most important part. Actually, scratch that...the casting is the important part. You don’t want to hook your face by accident!”
James guffawed but Marcus had a look of abject horror on his young face.
“The next step is the bait.” James salvaged another box from the large black one. This one was plastic. James popped the lid off and Marcus could hear the sound of slithering; slimy squelching. James pulled a long, moist worm out of the container. He stole a look at his son before lancing the poor creature on the hook. Its segments contracted from the shock.
There was a sharp intake of breath from the boy. James smiled to himself.
James pushed himself up from his position. Knees cracked. He let out a groan.
“Okay. We take a position. Not too close to the trees behind us. And we watch for others; don’t wanna hook somebody else!” he nudged Marcus playfully. “Hold it straight, bring it back slowly...” James did so. “And whip it forward!” The hook and the unfortunate annelid flew forward and disappeared with a faint plop into the gushing water.
“That's it. Simple as that. Wanna go?”
Marcus didn't look so sure but nodded anyway. He assumed control of the fishing rod.
“Okay, so we’ll reel it in first.” James said pointing to the spool. Marcus slowly wound the line back in again until the hook and the dripping worm, which was still wriggling, were dangling from the end.
“You're gonna bring it slow and cast!” James said, mimicking the movement in the air.
The boy nodded. He sheepishly brought the fishing rod back and fired his hand forward sharply. He didn't, however, bring the rod forward. Marcus had simply let it slip through his hands. It clattered to the ground behind them.
James could not stop laughing. Marcus, at first, went into a huff but eventually saw the funny side.
“Woops...” he said simply and their mirth restarted. Tears were running down James’ face.
“Okay, okay!” James gasped for breath. “Let’s try it again.”
Marcus assumed mock seriousness as he readied himself again. Hysterics threatened to break out.
<
br /> “For real this time.” Marcus promised solemnly.
Marcus planted his feet, checked behind him, gripped the pole and drew it back. He quickly launched the worm past his head and into the froth.
James clapped.
The father and son spent the rest of the afternoon fishing Otter Creek. They waded out into the water and fished for a while.
They caught a few fish but released all but one each. The men decided Karen would be making fish tonight for dinner.
35
As they drove back into Blackwater, James spotted a florist in the town square. A variety of merchant stalls were set up.
“Hold on a sec, let’s have a look here...”
He pulled the car up to Eli’s Hardware. The two wandered around the small collection of stalls. Marcus spotted one with a selection of novels and comic books.
“Can I have a look there?”
“Sure thing, buddy. I'm getting flowers for your mom.” James pointed at the florist. “Stay here or come to me. Don’t go anywhere else without me!” He warned sternly.
“Dad...where am I gonna go?” Marcus put his hands up in the air and spun around.
“Fair enough...” James grinned.
Blackwater was like a dream. The smiles of those walking in between the stalls and those looking out from them, were contagious.
James browsed the flowers. A rainbow of colors resulted in a change so drastic that it hurt his eyes.
“Hi there!” A sing-song voice said.
James greeted the lady. She had a nest of hair and a loose ‘flower power’ tunic.
“I'm looking for a nice bunch of flowers for my wife.”
“An occasion?”
“No, just a little thing to say ‘I love you’.” He felt awkward saying it to someone else.
“How lovely! Do you know what her favorites are? Maybe a favorite color?”
James strained. He knew the answer to this one. He had to dig deep for it but the memory was there; a distant walk before their courtship. They had gone for lunch at Faneuil Hall. They passed dozens of food vendors; butchers, delis, gelaterias, patisseries. All the sights and smells an intoxicating assault. They eventually reached a florist. Karen stopped them.
“They’re all so pretty, aren’t they?” she beamed. Bending to smell a flower.
James didn't know what to say. He had no idea what any of these flowers were.
“Yea sure.” He managed.
“Can I have some carnations please? Pink.” Karen smiled at the vendor. “Oh, and those blue ones as well.”
James was returned to the present.
“Carnations.” He said simply. “Pink and blue.” He then looked at the selection, unsure that his choice was even possible. It was.
The former hippy reached into the sea of colors and produced a handful of each color. She selected a hand tie and a tiny bag which she filled with water and secured at the base of the stems. She gave the glowers a quick mist spray before handing the bunch to James in exchange for her fee.
James, feeling happy with himself for being so thoughtful, thanked the lady with a smile and wandered off to find Marcus.
Marcus was absorbed in a comic book when James found him.
“Whatcha got there, son?”
“Avengers. Tenth Annual. There's a new X-Men character – Rogue. She’s a baddie in this though.” He said without looking up from it.
“Cool...” James nodded coolly. He had no idea what the boy was talking about, but he was happy that the boy was talking.
“They’re superheroes, Dad.” Marcus said as if reading his father’s mind. “Avengers are Spiderman, Iron Man, Thor, Captain America. X-Men are mutants like Wolverine, Magneto, Professor X. You heard of them right?” Marcus looked up from his comic.
“I have actually. So...they form a team? Even though they are separate comics?” James had made a connection. Here was the opening; he could use this as his road into making up for lost time with his eldest. Sophie had the benefit of her father’s presence. Poor Marcus had an essentially absent father. James knew he had been a bad father.
“Yea! Well the Avengers are, X-Men have always been a team, although the comics do focus on single characters. Like Wolverine.”
“Maybe I should read some...sounds cool...”
Was he in danger of overusing the word? Was it still cool to say ‘cool’?
Oh man, I'm totally blowing this, James thought.
“I’d like that. It would be nice to talk to you about stuff...” Marcus looked awkwardly back at the comic in his hand. He turned pages back and forth. He was desperate for his father to say something.
“Do you want to grab a few? My treat. Pick good ones for me too!” He ruffled his son’s hair. It was messy already. The mussing seemed to actually improve it.
“What do you think of these flowers for your mom? Think she’ll like them?” James said holding the flowers up for inspection. Marcus turned briefly from his intensive hunt.
“She’ll love them!” he said with a bright smile.
That’s my boy, James said with relief.
36
“Oh my! What’s this for?” Karen said in awe of the flowers. She quickly narrowed her eyes at James, “What did you do?”
James laughed. “Nothing! I just wanted to bring you some nice flowers...I realized I’ve never done that. There's a market in the town square. I spotted the flowers on our way back. We stopped off, Marcus got some comics too.”
“I love them! I would have expected you to get roses or something obvious. How did you know I like carnations?”
“I remember when we went to Faneuil Hall for lunch freshman year.” He smiled ruefully.
“Oh James! You remembered from then? After all these years? How romantic!”
“Shucks!” he waved his hand effeminately.
She giggled. “I'm serious!” she said laughing. “Thank you, Jay.” She stood on her tiptoes, kissing him lightly on the forehead.
James was the first to wake the following morning. Today was the first day of business for ‘Dawson’s Legal Representatives’. Eli Bluth was his first client. He was reaching an age where he was contemplating making a will.
James kissed Karen as he left the bedroom. She roused with a smile, let out a satisfied moan and snuggled further under the covers.
At the bottom of the stairs, on a table with a lamp, Karen had placed the flowers in a vase. They were dead.
“What the hell!” James leant into the dry, color-drained bouquet. He examined the wilted flowers. The water was gone from the vase.
Even so, the plant couldn’t have died so soon! Diseased flowers? Fuck!
James cursed the hippie.
James popped two slices of bread into the toaster. He fancied a bowl of cereal too but the only kind they had was Cap’n Crunch. James liked to steal the kids’ cereal from time to time. He had heard little Sophie complain that there was less in the bag than the day before. Karen had told her she must have been mistaken. James secretly cackled with glee. This time he would do without.
I'm getting soft, James thought amused.
The toast announced its arrival and James grabbed it with burning hands and was out the door.
Eli Bluth arrived at 10am. James stood to shake his hand as he entered the office. Crumbs dropped from his lap onto the desk. He frantically wiped at it.
“Mr. Bluth...” James extended his hand.
“We know each other, James. Call me Eli.” The rough handed man said as he returned James’ handshake.
“Okay, Eli.” James smiled. “Have a seat...” James proffered his hand to one of the chairs in front of him.
Eli Bluth sat.
“This is quite a simple process. The template is the usual ‘I, Eli Bluth, being of sound mind and body, hereby....etc’. We are just gonna sit and talk about what you want to do with your assets. I’ll make a few notes and draft the will. You can give it a read, we’ll finalize it and you sign it. And we’ll get it witnesse
d.” James said simply. “Making sure you remember everything you own is the only problem!” He joked.
“My son is gonna take over the business after me. I want him to be one of my executors. I’d sure appreciate it, James, if you would act as my second executor.”
“Good. That’s easily arranged.”
“My wife...she can have everything. All the shares, money and property.” Eli nodded.
“Fine. We can quote your son first and then say, ‘everything else, I leave to my wife---’ sorry, Eli, what’s your wife’s name?”
“Ellie. Eleanor.”
“‘Everything else, I leave to my wife, Eleanor.’ That's as straightforward as it comes, Eli.”
“That’s it?” Eli said surprised.
“Well, you can stick around and see the completed thing. You can take it away and give it a read. Come back tomorrow and I can make any corrections and we’ll finalize everything. One thing though, Eli; whilst I'm not charging you for making the will, I’ll have to charge your family a small fee for acting as executor when the time comes. Of course, that’s only if I outlive you!”
The two men laughed.
“I’ll be back later.” Eli said. “I want to get the shop open. My son isn’t in today.” And with that the burly hardware store owner bustled out with a wave.
James smirked. He liked Eli. He was a no-nonsense guy.
James reached over to one side of his oak desk and pulled the typewriter towards him. He opened the drawer to his right, pulled out a stack of paper and laid it on the right hand side of the type writer. He loaded a fresh page into the feeder. James lined the page up and started punching the keys.
James returned home later that evening to a distraught Karen.
“James! The flowers - they died!”
“Yea...I saw...”He grimaced. “Sorry ‘bout that.”
“Oh.” Karen was taken aback. “I thought they had died on their own.”
Blackwater Page 11
