“What, you’re not even going to wait for us?” Jenelle asked.
“I feel like walking,” I said.
“You can walk up the hill.”
“What?”
“We’re going sledding with the boys,” Jenelle said. “Why don’t you invite Hot Stuff?”
“He and Meg are together.” I instantly regretted saying the words out loud. It was proof that I was interested in Zach.
“I never liked that girl,” Shawna said.
“She’s fine,” I said.
“It’s your fault for not making your move when I told you to,” Jenelle said. “You’ve got to show some interest in a guy for him to notice you. Let’s go. The boys are waiting.”
“I can’t,” I said. “There’s something I have to do.”
“Your homework can wait, Bunting.”
“No, it’s not that. It’s … ” I struggled to find an excuse. “I can’t really talk about it.”
“You should come,” Shawna said. “It will be a lot of fun.” She was wearing a ridiculously short skirt. I hoped she planned on getting changed before she went out to play in the snow.
“Another time, guys,” I said.
“I can’t believe you’re totally ditching us again,” Jenelle said. “What is with you lately?”
“It’s just something I’ve got to do,” I said.
I tried to look apologetic as I left them behind, but Jenelle still sneered at me.
Yesterday’s freakishly warm weather hadn’t lasted. It was cold out, but I didn’t even notice it as I walked. My mind was on Cameron, everything I knew about him and everything I didn’t. All this time I’d thought he was nothing but the stupid guy my sister had fallen for, the guy who’d broken her heart. Other than the fact that he had ruined Annie’s life, I’d never really thought of him as an important person in my life. Well, and why should I? What had Cameron ever done for me? It had been years since he’d seen me. He’d never called. He’d never sent so much as a Christmas card.
At least, I didn’t think he had, but I wondered if he had tried to get in touch. Had Annie kept him from contacting me? Had she removed his cards from the mail? Was it all part of the lie that was my life?
I wondered what Cameron thought of me. Was he ash-amed of me? Did he wish he’d had the chance to get to know me better? Had he been so scared at the responsibility of being a father that he’d run away? I wondered what had brought him back after all these years. Perhaps he’d come back to see me. I even entertained the notion that the reason he was dating Gracie was that he thought it was the only way he’d be able to see me.
I reached the Schaeffers’ house in record time, having kept up a good pace as all the confusing thoughts swirled around my head. I actually felt a bit warm from the exertion, despite the cold. I was also having second thoughts.
I didn’t know Cameron at all. Wouldn’t it be weird if I just showed up at his front door and said I wanted to talk to him? What had seemed like such a good idea when I was at school was now looking completely idiotic. How did one even start a conversation like this? Maybe I could write him a letter. I decided that was what I would do. I would go straight home and write up everything I had to say, then mail it to him.
“Babie?”
I gasped. I hadn’t realized that he was in the driveway. He was loading a bunch of stuff into the trunk of the car parked there.
“That’s a pretty different look you’ve got going there,” he observed.
“Oh,” I said. I patted my shortened and dyed locks.
“If you’re looking for Gracie, I think she’s working this afternoon.”
“No, I was … “ Just about to leave? My heart raced in my chest. Inside my gloves I felt my hands sweating. “Are you going somewhere?” I asked.
He’d packed a bunch of stuff in the trunk and now slammed it closed. Was he getting set to leave town again? Was my father leaving my life again before I even had the chance to get to know him?
“To the pond,” he said.
“The pond?”
“Ice fishing. Gotta go while the ice is still thick.”
“Oh.”
I thought of that camping trip, all those years ago. Had Cameron caught those fish we’d cooked on the fire?
“Remember that time we went camping?” I asked. He broke out in a grin and laughed. When he smiled like that, he was a good-looking guy. I searched his face for traces of me in it, but I couldn’t tell. I looked so much like Annie that whatever I’d gotten from Cameron was probably buried.
“I can’t believe you remember that,” Cameron said. “You were just a little bit of a thing then.”
“I remember we had fun.”
“Yeah, those were good times.” He brushed his hands off on the front of his jacket and his eyes got a faraway look to them, like he was remembering that camping trip.
“Well, I guess I should let you go,” I said. I’d lost all nerve whatsoever. “Be careful!” I turned to head back up the street.
“Wait!” Cameron called. I stopped in my tracks but didn’t turn around. “It’s kind of boring to go fishing alone. Are you doing anything? Why don’t you come with me?”
I felt my face break out in a huge grin, but I composed myself before I turned around.
“Okay,” I said.
“Cool, hop in.”
As I sat down in the passenger seat and Cameron started up the car, I couldn’t believe how perfect this was. We were going on a father-daughter fishing trip. Out on the ice, it would be the perfect time to talk about everything with him. I couldn’t help but feel that he knew that, that he had invited me along for just that reason. Maybe he was ready to finally get to know me.
Seventeen
Cameron parked the car in a gravel lot on the far side of the pond. It was a pretty spot. Tall evergreens hid the rest of the town from view and it felt like we were out in the middle of the wilderness. The smooth surface of the frozen pond and the steely gray expanse of sky only added to the wild beauty of the place. Cameron opened the trunk and began to remove the gear: a tackle box, something that looked like a giant screw with a crank on the end of it, a couple of folding chairs, a thermos, and a fishing rod. He handed me the rod and the tackle box and juggled the other things in his arms.
I followed him down a well-worn path to the pond, and shuffled onto the ice beside him as he looked for a good fishing spot. The pond was deserted. I wasn’t surprised that no one else was crazy enough to come out here in the freezing cold. The fact that it was a weekday afternoon, and most folks were at work, was another good reason no one else was around. It made me wonder about Cameron. Obviously he didn’t have a job, but he must have had one at one point, right? What was it that he did for a living? I knew next to nothing about this mystery man. I glanced over at him and caught him staring at me.
“What?” I asked. He shook his head and laughed. “What?” I repeated, a little bit more of an edge to my voice.
“It’s just, you look so different with your hair like that,” he said. I had a weird dizzy moment as I recalled one of my reasons for dyeing my hair: I’d wanted to make sure I didn’t become Cameron’s next love interest. Of course, all that was before I realized that Cameron was my father.
“Gracie hates it,” I said. I almost immediately regretted bringing up Gracie, but Cameron didn’t flinch.
“It takes some getting used to, but it suits you.”
I wondered what that was supposed to mean. Did my dark hair suit me because it made me look dark and mysterious? Did he think of me as the black sheep of the family?
Cameron settled on a spot. He unfolded the two chairs, then set to work drilling a hole in the ice with the giant screw thing. I sat down in one of the chairs and watched him.
“I used to go ice fishing with my father all the time,” Cameron said. To me, this sounded
like an admission. I nearly fell out of my chair. He used to go ice fishing with his father, just like I was now going ice fishing with my father. I stared at him, but he didn’t look up at me. “You ever gone before?”
“No,” I said. I was about to tell him that my dad didn’t do that sort of thing, but then I realized that wasn’t true. Not the part about him not doing that sort of thing, but the part about him being my dad. How did I refer to my dad without sounding weird?
“The late Mr. Bunting was not much of an outdoorsman,” I finally said.
“And yet he chose to settle down in the middle of no-
where, Shallow Pond,” Cameron said. He’d created a small, perfectly round hole in the ice and now stood back to admire his handiwork and catch his breath. He picked up the fishing rod and knelt down to rummage through the tackle box. “Was your mother from Shallow Pond?”
I wondered if he meant it as a trick question. Was he testing me to see if I’d already figured things out?
“I don’t know,” I answered. I tried to watch his eyes, but he was absorbed in adding a lure to his fishing line. “I don’t really know much about my mother. It’s all sort of a mystery.”
Cameron nodded without giving any sign that what I’d said was not very accurate. He must have thought I didn’t know, and wanted to keep playing along with the lie that everyone had been telling my whole life. He sat down in the other chair.
“It must be difficult for you,” he said. “Your mother dying when you were only a baby, and your dad dying when you were a kid.”
“It is,” I said, even as I thought, but it would be a whole lot less difficult if I knew the real truth about who my parents were.
“I felt lost when my father died,” Cameron said, “and I was an adult. It was like this big giant chunk had been ripped out of me. I can’t imagine how you handled it as a kid. I still miss him. Every day I miss him.”
I didn’t miss my father. I had never known him well enough to miss him. It wasn’t that I was happy when he died. It was more like a numb feeling. It was probably the way a person would feel if a distant relative died.
“I went through some really dark times after my father died,” Cameron said. “I guess I’m still trying to recover from it.”
“I never felt like I knew my father,” I said. “We weren’t close.” I looked hard at Cameron, but he remained stoic. “He was kind of aloof, I guess,” I continued. “But I always thought that was because he hated me.”
My father’s dislike of Cameron now made sense. What father would have anything but hate in his heart for a guy who’d gotten his teenage daughter pregnant?
Cameron attached a lure to the end of his fishing line. He struggled for a few minutes with his gloves on, then took them off to get the job done.
“I only packed the one rod,” he said.
“It’s okay,” I said.
“It’s going to be pretty boring just sitting there.”
“Isn’t ice fishing pretty boring in general?”
“Yeah, I guess it is. I like it though. It’s quiet out here. It gives me a chance to think about things.”
He was right about the quiet. We couldn’t hear a thing out in the middle of the pond. Every once in a while the wind would blow hard enough to rustle the trees, but that was pretty much it. Otherwise, an eerie silence hung over everything. The world could have ended and we were the last two people left alive; that’s how quiet it was.
“Can I ask a question?” I asked. I wondered if he would be annoyed at me for disturbing the quiet, but he smiled, so I figured I was safe.
“You can.”
“Why did you come back to Shallow Pond?”
“Circumstances beyond my control,” Cameron said. I didn’t know what that meant. He shook his head after a moment and added, “That’s a load of crap. It wasn’t really beyond my control.”
“What wasn’t beyond your control?”
“It’s a big mess. I don’t really feel like getting into it.”
I nodded. Cameron hadn’t really answered the question, and I was still completely clueless about him and his life. I tried to pretend I was satisfied with his non-answer, but
I wasn’t, and after a minute or so I tried again.
“The thing is, when I make it out of this piece-of-crap town, I don’t see myself ever coming back unless maybe my life depended on it,” I said.
“I take it you are immune to Shallow Pond’s bucolic charm.”
“This place is hell.”
“Yeah, I hated this town when I was a teenager too,” Cameron said. “I couldn’t wait to leave.”
“And you did,” I pointed out. “So, seriously, why move back here?”
“Now that I’m older, I realize this place isn’t so bad. There’s something to be said for small towns.”
“So you moved back here because you suddenly decided you liked small towns? It didn’t have anything to do with someone who might live in this particular small town?”
Cameron turned to look at me. There was a flash of emotion in his eyes that quickly subsided. Had I pissed him off? Had I surprised him? Did he suddenly realize that I’d figured out who he was in my life?
“I moved back here because I lost my job,” he said. “I was flat broke and I needed a place to live.”
“Oh,” I said. “I’m sorry.”
“Apology unnecessary. It was all my fault.”
What do you say to a comment like that? I waited for him to say more, but he didn’t. He turned back to his fishing, staring at the hole in the ice as if hoping to telepathically bring the fish to the surface.
“What did you do?” I asked.
“I don’t really feel like getting into it,” he repeated.
“I mean, what did you do for a living, before you got fired?”
“Oh. I was a teacher.”
I’m not sure why, but this surprised me. I hadn’t really had any idea about what Cameron did, but I kind of pictured him working at some boring office job somewhere. He didn’t really seem like the teacher type. He was too young. Also, he didn’t really act like a teacher. Maybe it was because I was used to Shallow Pond’s teachers. Probably only the most pathetic teachers in the world could be enticed into working at a school in this crappy town.
“Maybe you could get a job at the high school,” I suggested.
“Not likely,” Cameron said.
We sat silent. I could feel the cold seeping up through the soles of my shoes. Either it was getting colder, or sitting there with nothing to distract me made me notice it more. I hunched over a bit against the cold, then shoved my gloved hands into my pockets to keep them warm.
“Hey, I’m sorry,” Cameron said. “Are you cold? There’s hot chocolate in the thermos if you want some.”
I took him up on his offer. I unscrewed the cup from the thermos and poured out some hot chocolate into it. It was still scalding hot. I burned my tongue on the first sip. It
was also super sweet.
“How is it?” Cameron asked.
“Hot,” I said, “and extremely sweet.”
“Sounds like someone I know,” Cameron said.
“What?”
His face, already pink from the cold, turned an intense red. I realized he must have been referring to Gracie.
“Sorry,” he said. “My father always used to make a thermos of hot chocolate when we came out here. I wasn’t sure how many packets of hot chocolate mix to add.”
“It’s okay.”
“Could I have a little?”
I poured some more into the cup for him and passed it over. His gloved hands fumbled to take the cup from me, and he smiled. This is what it would have been like, I figured, to have a real dad. We would have shared fun moments like this, laughed together while doing stupid father-daughter things like ice fishing. It wasn’t lik
e I had some sort of nightmare childhood, but I felt like I’d been cheated out of some of the usual rites of passage. My father should have been there to help me ride a bike or to practice with me when I signed up for the softball league in middle school. I’d never watched a professional sports game on television. Maybe I would find it insufferably boring, but I should have at least had the opportunity to spend a Sunday afternoon watching a Steelers game with my dad. It wasn’t fair, and I was about to say this out loud—about to let Cameron know that I wasn’t okay with the fact that he hadn’t been there my whole life, and I didn’t think that he could make up for it this late in the game.
“I think I got one,” Cameron said.
“What?”
“A fish! Here, grab this!”
He meant the cup of hot chocolate. He passed it to me while clutching the rod with his other hand, spilling some of the hot chocolate over the sides of the cup. Startled, I took it, and watched him as he attempted to reel his catch in. I sipped from the cup as he grappled with the line. He wasn’t quick enough. I saw the line go slack.
“What happened?” I asked.
“He got away.”
“I can’t believe a little fish outsmarted you.”
“It happens. It’s okay. There’ll be others.”
“I wouldn’t be so sure about that. It is a Shallow Pond, you know.”
“Okay, smartypants,” he said. “It’s your turn.”
“What?”
“You’re catching the next one.”
“I don’t know how to.”
“What, afraid that a little fish will outsmart you?” He laughed at this, so I thought he was joking, but then I realized he was handing the fishing rod to me. He was serious.
“I don’t know what to do,” I protested.
“I’ll help you. Just shout if you feel anything tug at the line.”
I put the cup of hot chocolate down on the ice and accepted the fishing rod. I held it in a clumsy grip until Cameron directed me where to put my hands. It wasn’t riding a bike or practicing softball, but it was a start. Cameron smiled at me and I thought I saw pride in that smile.
Shallow Pond Page 13
