Feels like Home (Lake Fisher Book 2)

by Tammy Falkner

  “You’re welcome,” I manage to croak out.

  I follow him to my cabin and walk in to find a beehive of activity. Gabby is with Sam, Kerry-Anne, and Trixie at the table, and they’re putting the finishing touches on their wings. Glitter, glue, and scraps of paper litter the table. Miles sits in his bouncy chair on the floor next to the table.

  Aaron walks over to Sam and pulls Lynda’s old cap down over her hair. She looks up, unsure of what’s going on. “I heard you need a fishing hat,” he says quietly.

  She pulls it off and looks at the front of it.

  “It was your mom’s.”

  “Really?” she asks, and I can see the appreciation for the small, intimate gesture in her gaze when she looks at him.

  “She wore it all the time,” he says. He runs a hand down her hair, and then she pulls the hat on. “She said it was her lucky fishing hat,” he goes on to explain.

  Eli pretends to sulk. “If she gets any luckier, she’ll skunk me every time.”

  “I skunked him today, and I didn’t even have a lucky hat,” she croons.

  “I heard.” Aaron leans down and air-kisses the top of her hat. “You’ll kill it tomorrow.” He looks down at the table. “Did you guys make some fairy wings for me?”

  “Do you want some?” Sam asks. “I can make them.”

  “Of course I want some. How about if we do it together?” He sits down next to her as Trixie and Kerry-Anne migrate away from the table, leaving them alone.

  “Gabby taught them to play jacks,” Sam explains to him as she starts to measure out a pair of wings for Aaron. Trixie and Kerry-Anne settle down on the floor where they can bounce the ball easier.

  “Your mom was good at jacks. She could do tensies without blinking an eye,” Aaron tosses out casually. He watches as Sam’s face lights up, and then he shoots me a wink.

  I grin, and I go to find something to cook for dinner. I guess we’re having company. And they’ll all be wearing fairy wings.

  10

  Eli

  “Knock, knock!” someone calls from outside the cabin door just before it opens. Katie pokes her head inside. “Sorry, I should have waited for you to invite me in,” she says with a wince.

  “You’re at the lake,” Jake says from behind her as he walks in. He’s carrying a big basket full of food. “No one waits for an invitation at the lake.” He walks into the kitchen and sets the basket on the counter. He starts to unload it.

  Up until that moment, Bess had been rifling through our cabinets looking for enough food to feed everyone. Even I knew that we didn’t have enough for that. Unless you counted crackers and cheese, Bess wasn’t much of a snacker, not to mention that we haven’t been to the store since we got here.

  Jake walks over close to Bess and leans down to ask her quietly, “How’s he doing?”

  “Fine, I think,” she says with a shrug. “He only puked once.”

  “That was because of your driving!” Aaron says from across the kitchen. He points at me and says, “She’s a terrible driver, dude.”

  “Tell me about it,” I toss back, and she sends me a warning look. It’s one of those looks that wives send to husbands, the one that means you’re in trouble. My heart takes a flying leap in my chest because she hasn’t even noticed I’m in the room for years, much less scolded me for anything. “What?” I ask dramatically, raising my hands in the air like I’m surrendering to the cops. “The man has a valid point.”

  “My driving is just fine,” Bess complains. “Have you ever thought that maybe your riding just sucks?”

  “She didn’t use her turn signal once,” Aaron continues. He reaches into the basket and retrieves a container of grapes. He pops one into his mouth, chews for a second, then he spits it back into his hand. “That tastes like ass.”

  Bess stares at him, her gaze softening when she realizes it’s from the chemo. “Do you want another juice pouch?”

  Jake elbows me in the side and says out of the side of his mouth, “Not going to lie, dude. I kind of like the taste of ass.”

  “Jake!” Katie hisses at him. She punches him on the shoulder.

  Aaron bursts out with a laugh, just as Bess tries to put a juice pouch in his hand. He makes her wait long enough to high-five Jake and then he takes the juice pouch from her. She lays her hand on his shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze.

  Katie points at both of them, one after the other. “I’m watching you two,” she warns, her face stern. Then she goes into the other room to ask the kids if they want peanut butter and jelly or turkey sandwiches.

  I see that Aaron is struggling to stab his juice pouch, so I reach over and do it for him. “You okay, man?” I ask as I hand it back to him.

  “Chemo has a way of wearing you out,” he says just as Katie walks back into the kitchen.

  “I’m taking the kids with me tonight,” Katie informs him. “The girls are planning a sleepover. Jake already built the blanket fort in the living room.”

  “Dude, you made a fort?” Aaron asks. “Why don’t I get to sleep in a fort?” He takes a dainty sip of his juice pouch.

  “I’ll make one for you tomorrow,” Jake teases. “If you can be a good boy all day long.” He shakes his not-at-all-menacing index finger at Aaron.

  I snort out a laugh. “No worry that you’re going to be making a fort tomorrow.” I toss a grape into my mouth.

  “I hope it’s okay that I already talked to Sam and Kerry-Anne about the sleepover,” Katie says to Aaron. “They were helping with the fort. And I thought you might need a break, after today.”

  “I’ll keep Miles with me,” Aaron says. “He’s a good sleeper, most nights anyway.”

  “Are you sure?” Katie looks worried.

  “I’ll let you know if something changes.”

  She leans down and presses a soft kiss to his hairline. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath while she does it.

  Katie serves sandwiches, fruit, and chips to the kids, cafeteria style, and they all migrate onto the porch to eat sitting on the steps. Katie goes with them, and she takes Miles in his bouncy chair with her, giving me a wink as she steals him from his spot next to my feet.

  “You got a good wife, Jake,” I state.

  “Don’t I know it,” he says as he sits down at the little four-top table in the kitchen.

  I look at Bess, I and see when she stiffens as she stares into the open refrigerator, retrieving nothing. I want to say something, but no matter what I say, I’m afraid it will be wrong.

  “Hey, Bess,” Aaron suddenly calls out.

  She turns to face him slowly, warily, like she’s waiting for a big bucket of goo to dump on her from the ceiling at his command. “Hey, Aaron,” she replies almost caustically, as only a good friend can get away with.

  “Do you still have that camera here? The one you used to carry everywhere?” He drags the straw in and out of his juice pouch as he winks at me. He’s planning something. I just wish he’d told me what beforehand.

  “The old thirty-five millimeter?” she asks. She closes the fridge door and turns to face him. “Probably. Why do you ask?”

  He shrugs. “I was just wondering if you might take some candid shots of me with the kids. Just shots of us doing normal stuff. Summery stuff. Pictures they can look at later?”

  Oh, fuck. He just asked her to take his end-of-life photos with his kids. Fuck me. I jump to my feet and walk to the tiny closet that serves as a pantry. I reach onto the top shelf and retrieve the camera, and take it back out to her. Her eyes meet mine as she takes it from me.

  “I haven’t seen this in so long,” she says, but she smiles at me. And my heart does that plummet again, the one where it feels like my brains are falling into my toes. All because she graced me with an elusive smile. It’s kind of like I just saw Bigfoot, her smiles are that rare.

  She blows the dust off the dials and uses her shirttail to wipe the lens. “There’s a half a roll of film in here.”

  “So, is that a yes?”
Aaron asks. He might be acting casual about it, but I can tell this is important to him. He wants photos so his kids can remember his last summer at Lake Fisher.

  “What do I get if I do it?” She puts her hands on her hips. There’s the woman I fell in love with. There she is! Holy shit, this is the woman I married.

  “My never-ending devotion?” he tosses back.

  She snorts. “Like I would ever want that.” She blows an errant lock of dark hair from her eyes.

  “Come up with something you want. I’ll see if I can make it happen.”

  “I’ll need three very capable men to clean out the shack out back so I can develop the pictures.” She looks at the three of us each in turn.

  Her mother had a small shed in the back corner of the tiny lot that she used for developing the pictures she took. Through the years, it got filled with junk, but it’s still there. It just needs to be cleaned out.

  “So, is that a yes?” she says, parroting what Aaron asked before. She glares at each of us in turn again.

  “I didn’t want any pictures,” Jake says as he shoves half a sandwich into his mouth in one bite. She glares at him. He pretends to deflate. “I’ll help,” he grumbles, mouth full.

  “I just need the junk moved out. And for somebody to get rid of the spider webs.”

  “Consider it done,” Aaron says.

  “And somebody needs to clean off the little table so I can set up the developing trays.”

  “Also done,” Aaron says.

  “Okay, I’ll do it,” Bess chirps as she walks toward the front door, camera in hand. She goes out, and I hear her laugh when Katie teases her quietly about her camera.

  “She just laughed,” I say quietly. I shake my head in wonder. “I haven’t heard that in years.” I look at them. “I’ve missed it. I’ve missed her.” I swipe my hand down my face. “Jesus, I’m a sap.”

  “I still don’t want any pictures,” Jake says, as he reaches for another sandwich and shoves it into his mouth.

  Aaron throws a grape at him. It bounces off his shoulder and rolls onto the floor. Jake bends over, picks it up, and pops it into his mouth. “Five second rule,” he says around his already full mouth.

  “You’re disgusting,” Aaron says on a laugh.

  “Katie likes it when I do disgusting things.”

  “Like eating ass?” I ask. I shove his shoulder. “You should keep that shit to yourself, dude.” But I’m laughing. I haven’t laughed like this in a very long time.

  He waggles his brows at me. “A gentleman never tells.”

  “Mr. Jacobson didn’t raise a gentleman,” Aaron says.

  “Thank God for that,” Jake replies with a chuckle.

  11

  Aaron

  The kids stay awake way too late after eating their sandwiches, mainly because they went on a mission to catch lightning bugs. We’d migrated over to my cabin after the kids finished eating. Mr. Jacobson had shown up on his red golf cart after he’d come home from bingo, and he’d brought a few empty jars with him. “Perfect lightning bug catching night,” he’d grumbled as he’d passed out the jars.

  As the sun set, I’d sat on my porch with Miles struggling to stay awake on my lap while I watched Sam and Kerry-Anne chase each other around the yard catching lightning bugs. Jake and Katie ran around with their two small children, and they all hung out long after the little kids were yawning and scrubbing at their eyes.

  Bess and Eli said their good-nights and headed for their cabin.

  Old Man Jacobson sinks down onto the top step next to me, groaning as he sits down. “That step was farther down than I thought it was,” he says.

  “My mom says that the distance between the ground and her is greater now that she’s older.” I grin at him.

  “And it hurts more when you fall.” He scratches his elbow. He looks at me, finally. “You feeling all right?”

  “I’m okay,” I say quietly.

  “When my wife was doing chemo, she could barely get out of bed.” He slaps a mosquito that landed on his arm.

  “They’re giving me a mild dose.” I shrug. “It’s not that bad.”

  “Is that normal?” He stares at me. “A mild dose?”

  “For now. It’s only for the next two weeks. Then I’m done.”

  He lets out a slow breath. “When does palliative care start?”

  Palliative care is when they give you pain meds and things to handle pain, instead of treating the cancer.

  “I’ve got a few weeks left. Maybe a month or two.” I shrug. “Who knows.”

  “Your two oldest kids are sleeping at my house tonight?” he asks.

  I smile. “I heard Jake built a blanket fort.”

  “Fort, my ass. It’s like a condo, with Christmas lights strung through it and shit. And air mattresses inside.”

  “When we were boys, we had a sheet strung across the dining chairs and a sleeping bag. And we were happy with that.”

  He shoves my shoulder. “I gave you boys pillows, too.”

  I chuckle, and it feels good, so I close my eyes and drink in the sounds. I don’t want to miss a moment. I want to feel everything, all the way to the end.

  “Okay, kids,” Katie calls out. She claps her hands together, and all the kids freeze. “If you’re a Jacobson, go home, take a shower, and get in your jammies. If you’re not a Jacobson, go get your jammies. You can shower at our house.” She claps her hands together again and they all run in different directions.

  Gabby and Jake go with the first wave of kids, and my two girls streak up the steps, their bare feet filthy as they pound up the steps between me and Mr. Jacobson. The boards shake a bit as they run across the porch. They leave their jars with the lightning bugs outside next to the door. In minutes, they’re back outside and they’re both carrying their pajamas, the blankets from their beds, and Kerry-Anne has her stuffed bunny which she never sleeps without.

  “’Night, Daddy,” Kerry-Anne says. She kisses my cheek, and then she runs off after Katie.

  “Wait for me!” Sam calls. She starts off after them, but at the last moment she turns back, wraps her arms around my neck, and kisses me on the cheek. “See you tomorrow, Dad.”

  “Have fun,” I say. I watch as they all walk away, with Jake bringing up the rear.

  Silence settles around us like a warm blanket.

  “Have you told her yet?” Old Man Jacobson asks, his voice quiet and reverent.

  I shake my head. “Not yet.”

  He grunts. “You might want to get on that.”

  I nod. “I will. As soon as the time is right.”

  “Better you tell her than let her find out on her own. Or worse, after the fact.”

  “I know.” I do know. I just don’t want to do it yet. Not with the tension we’ve had between us since her mom died. I want to fix us before I have to break us. “I’m kind of jealous they’re going to get to sleep in the fort.” I force out a chuckle I don’t really feel.

  “Does the little dude sleep well?” he asks.

  “He sleeps almost the whole night. If he does wake up, he just wants a bottle and a diaper change, and then he goes right back to sleep.”

  Miles is heavy on my lap, his head tucked into the crook of my arm at an odd angle, but he doesn’t seem to mind. He fell asleep about a half hour ago. I didn’t want to put him down.

  “You want to go sleep in the fort?” he asks. “I won’t give you a pillow or a sleeping bag.” He holds up his hand like he’s testifying. “I won’t even give you a good-night kiss.”

  That brings a smile. “I have Miles,” I remind him and jiggle Miles a little.

  “I’ll sit with the rugrat,” he says. “As long as it’s asleep.”

  I shake my head. “He might wake up. I can’t guarantee he’ll sleep all night.”

  “Son, it’s not every night you get a chance to sleep in a blanket fort.”

  “A blanket condo,” I correct.

  “It’s not every night you get to sleep in a blan
ket monstrosity,” he goes on to say. I almost see a smile on his face, but he’s not known for his smiles. He’s known for his grumbling. “Plus Jake will need somebody to help him clean that shit up in the morning.” He pokes my knee with his gnarled old-man finger. “Unless you don’t feel up to it.”

  “I feel okay, actually.” And I do. I’m not feeling pukey. No dizziness or muscle aches. I just feel tired.

  “Go sleep in the fort, dumbass.” His voice is soft but firm. He makes a fist in the air between us. “This is the time to grab life by the horns.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “Stop asking stupid questions,” he grumbles. “Put that thing to bed while I set all the lightning bugs free.” He reaches over to grab one and starts to open the first jar. He tips it so that the grateful fireflies can escape. “Well, hurry up,” he admonishes.

  “Yes, sir,” I reply with a laugh. I don’t even try to bathe Miles or put him in pajamas. I do a quick diaper change, since he was only wearing a t-shirt and a diaper, and I tuck him into bed without him even waking up. I stand there and count his breaths, all ten of them.

  “I used to do that with Jake, too,” Mr. Jacobson says from behind me where he’s standing in the doorway to the bedroom.

  “What’s that?”

  “Count Jake’s breaths. I don’t need to do it now because he snores so loudly that I can hear him all the way down the hall.” He makes a sound between a chuckle and a snort. “But a father always worries. That never changes.”

  “I have more worries than I can account for,” I admit softly.

  His hand lands heavy on my shoulder. He gives me a squeeze. “It’ll all work out. We walk by faith, not by sight,” he says, and his words sink deep inside me.

  “Yep.” I blink hard to clear my eyes.

  “Go climb in the fort with those kids of yours.” He rocks his head toward the door. “Go on. They might still be awake if you hurry up.”