Page 35 of Where Are You Now
Another fish jumped, prompting Ava to get up and unwrap one of her dad’s rods.
“The fish are asking to get caught,” she said, ripping off the paper and balling it up. She tossed it in the house so it wouldn’t blow away. “Dad always said early morning and evening are the best times for fishing, but the fish seem to be everywhere all the time here.” She surveyed the rod, fiddling with the reel. “It’s probably because of the deck. They like to hide under it.”
Her mother smiled.
Ava dug through her dad’s tackle box in search of a suitable bait. “Looks like he’s got a few jigs. Those work for catching bluegill and crappie, but I want to see if I can find a good spinner. I’ll bet I could catch a nice-sized trout today.I wonder if the lake’s been stocked—this is the time of year. I think they do it in late fall.”
Her mother squinted at her, and she realized she’d been rambling on.
“Gosh, you sounded like your dad just then. You and he had a special bond. I still remember when you two would take your fishing trips out here. He’d set his alarm for five in the morning, and when he got up, you were already dressed with your little pink tackle box.”
“I remember.” Ava located a spinner bait and threaded the line through the eyelet. “I loved those days with Dad. He never told you, but the night before he always filled the cooler full of soda, chips, chocolates, cookies—anything I asked for.”
Martha laughed. “And to think I stressed out about making sure you all had a day’s worth of sandwiches.”
“We ate your sandwiches, I promise. But we also ate everything else.” The memory amused her. “I haven’t thought about that in probably over a decade.” She tied a Palomar knot the way her dad had taught her.
The sound of his direction floated into her mind.
Don’t tighten it too much. You’ve gotta lick the knot and then pull the standing line and the tag end. That’ll tighten it all you need …
She clipped the end of the line and got the rod ready for casting, wiggling the reel.
“I miss him.”
“Me too,” her mother said.
When Ava cast the line into the lake, it was as if she’d cast her life out there as well, and a sense of freedom came over her. Her life before the accident was still tethered, just like that line, but separate, and she felt the expansive divide between her New York life and the one she’d lived as a girl.
Slow and steady … Pause and then reel … That’ll catch ya a fish.
“I feel like I can hear him when I’m fishing. I wish I’d have known that eighteen years ago. I’d probably have fished every day.”
Her mother walked up beside her on the edge of the deck. “Remember he used to tell you that if he was the first of us to go, he’d send you an enormous largemouth bass?”
“I’d totally forgotten that! He told us when he bought that bumper sticker that said, ‘My heaven is a lake.’ He used to say, ‘Just know that after I’ve gone I’ll be busy fishing.’”
Her mom put her hand on her heart. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t see him. He’s off fishing.”
The all-too-familiar lump formed in Ava’s throat. “Maybe.”
Dad, send me that largemouth bass. I know you can do it.
Ava reeled in and cast the line again. Then, she waited. The water lapped rhythmically, calming her as she moved the rod back and forth just a little to attract the fish.
Martha took a seat in a chair and propped her feet up on the firepit.
Ava’s heart soared when she got a tug on the line. “I got something.”
Martha leaned forward expectantly.
Ava reeled, holding her breath, anticipating the quiet moment when she could connect with her father. She just knew he would communicate with her if he could. She cranked with all her might. Both she and her mother had a laser focus on the line. When the fish came out of the water, her hopes fell.
“Well, I caught a little trout,” Ava said, trying to conceal her disappointment. She unhooked the fish and threw it back into the water.
The fish darted away.
“Maybe next time,” her mom said.
