Page 82 of Born Daddy

“My summer friends. Not the same as my school friends.”

He didn’t want Tate to think about, mention or speak of Cam that day. Not for Rogan’s benefit, but for Tate’s. He had enough on his plate already with meeting so many new people.

“I think we should get a rowboat, maybe go out there some day. What do you think?”

Tate nodded eagerly, and for a moment, Rogan forgot they had an audience. Rogan’s dad cleared his throat.

“The Sox will be on in a bit. Anyone want to join me? We won’t be putting the burgers on for another couple hours.”

Rogan sensed he needed to give Tate a chance to absorb and decompress before they spent more time with his family. There were still several hours to go that would also include sharing a meal.

“Actually, I was thinking I’d show Tate around a bit. He’s never been to the lake before.” Rogan turned to his mom. “Unless you need our help in here?”

She made a shooing motion. “You guys go on, enjoy yourselves. I don’t have much else to do, so me and Kathy were going to sit outside and catch up a bit.”

One of the first things Rogan had noticed was that Kathy’s husband wasn’t around. Gerry was probably in-between girlfriends, but Norm always showed up at their summer get-togethers. He’d get the story later, but in the meantime, he had a boy to take care of.

“Okay, Mom. We won’t be too long. I was going to go up the causeway, then head down to the beach.”

As they’d driven past the small bit of land right at the lake’s edge that was part of his parent’s property, he’d noticed that the yearly sand delivery had already been made. They didn’t have a dock like most of the other lakeside residences, so the sand made it possible to bypass the sharp rocks that edged the shoreline.

“Oh, in that case, can you check and see if the Robinsons have their corn stand up? It’s still early in the season, but it would be nice to have some to roast on the grill later.”

She reached for her purse and he waved his hand at her.

“Mom. Stop. I’ve got it.”

It still amazed him after all these years, that she still behaved as if he were a kid headed to the convenience store to pick her up a gallon of milk.

“Do you have small bills? Because they might not have change.”

He sighed. “Mom. Seriously. Don’t worry about it.”

“I have some ones and fives, if that helps?” Tate glanced back and forth between Rogan and his mom.

His mom smiled at Tate. “That’s so nice of you to offer. I guess I’ll leave it to you both to handle the corn situation.”

Tate smiled back at her and Rogan almost let out a loud sigh of relief. He’d been counting on his mom’s naturally accepting nature to save at least most of the day and, so far, she’d come through. Everyone else had apparently handled whatever opinions they had about Tate and Rogan’s association by removing themselves from the room. Once his dad and Gerry had scurried off to the den, Kathy had escaped and made her way outside. Of course, Rogan didn’t believe it was so much a statement about Tate, more that she was lost in her own mind with whatever personal issues she was dealing with.

After reassuring his mom they’d be gone for less than an hour, they headed out. Rogan began by showing Tate around the property, then led him down the old path he and his siblings had worn into the ground from tromping back and forth through the woods whenever they’d go to the pond on the other side of the causeway crossing the lake. This is where they’d spent many carefree hours catching frogs and turtles and fishing for sun bass. They’d scrounge around for a sturdy stick, tie a piece of string with a hook then add worms they’d dug up themselves.

Rogan dropped to the cool ground, dragging Tate down with him. They sat cross-legged next to each other, the scene not much different from when he’d been a child. The area was still free of detritus, the way it remained in Rogan’s memories. It was as if the constant wear that he and all the other kids had made in the earth had prevented anything from regrowing, even long after they’d all moved on and become adults.

Rogan glanced sideways at Tate. He appeared contemplative as he stared straight ahead. Perhaps distant memories of his own had come to life, ones he either cherished or recoiled from. Then again, the distance between Rogan’s childhood recollections and Tate’s were unevenly matched. Any disappointment or anguish Rogan had faced as a kid had already faded to nothing more than an echo in his mind. At Tate’s young age, the hurts of the past were still within an easy grasp.

“You told me about your trip to the Nantasket Beach that one time. Were you ever sent to any camps, or anything like that? Massachusetts is such a rich tapestry of lakes and woods.”

Tate narrowed his eyes, his gaze remaining on the scene before him, the intermittent ripples of water from the kisses of fish searching for bugs on the surface the only motion on the otherwise still pond.

“It is. And other than one home I was in for a brief period of time that had a small patch of woods between the house and the neighbor, I never did.” He shrugged. “I was supposed to go to one of those special camps they do for foster kids, you know, some state-funded thing? But a couple days before I was scheduled to leave, I was transferred to a new home in another county. Whoever the kid was who took my place got to go instead of me.”

Tate’s self-defense mechanism of discounting his own needs so he wouldn’t be let down was highlighted to Rogan once again. Even if Rogan didn’t grant Tate’s every desire, he’d at least make sure Tate understood that not everything was out of his reach. He didn’t have to settle. Tate’s willingness to go along with Cam’s infidelities, his eagerness to always be a good boy no matter what so he’d never be discarded, had to be erased. Rogan wouldn’t stand for Tate being cast aside in favor of other’s needs. Himself included.

“You know what I think?”

Tate turned to Rogan with a creased brow. “About what?”

“I think we should come back to the lake as often as we can. It’s beautiful here in the fall, too. We can hike through the woods, fish in the lake—even get a boat to go out to the island. And my mom makes the best blueberry pie you’ve ever tasted. She’d love for us to go pick berries for her.”

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