Free Fourmile by Watt Key

rail.
    “Must be a hundred ten degrees up there,” he said.
    “You need some more water?”
    He glanced out at the blacktop then looked at me. “Yep. A lot of it. You got a swimming hole around here?”
    “There’s Tillman’s bridge about five miles up the road. You can swim there.”
    He pushed himself away from the truck. “Sounds good. Go get your swimsuit on. Ask your mother if she wants to go. Lunch is on me.”
    “Mother?”
    “That’s right. I’m going to get a dry shirt and shorts out of the barn. I’ll meet you out here in ten.”

 
    20
    I knew Mother would be surprised about Gary’s invitation, but I never thought she’d accept it.
    “I don’t think I’ll swim,” she said, “but I could get out of this house for a spell.”
    She changed into a wide-brimmed straw hat and a sundress I hadn’t seen in a long time. Then she moved about the house gathering her sunglasses, three beach towels, and a John Grisham paperback. She held that same resolute expression I’d seen when she decided to hire Gary.
    We loaded the dogs into the farm truck and set out with the windows down, me sitting between the two of them. Gary pulled onto the blacktop and shifted through the gears, and the sound of the truck, the feel of the acceleration through the seat and the tires on the highway and the faint popping of the muffler were all familiar, things pulled from a dark closet. Gary smelled like tar and sweat, but in a good way. Mother held her hat in her lap and her hair swished about her face in the breeze. The heat brought a healthy flush to her cheeks. As muggy and hot as it was, a deep sense of contentment coursed through me and gave me chills. This time, I let my imagination have its way.
    The creek ran tea-colored over polished gravel and white sand. Bay trees and water oaks grew tall from the bank and shaded all but a sunlight-dappled area in the center. The effect was that of a cool tunnel with sparrows and thrushes calling from deep in the tangled walls. The dogs leaped in and waded in circles. After a moment they both turned and looked at us as if to tell us it was okay.
    “We’re coming,” I said.
    Satisfied, Joe lowered his head and started lapping up the cool water. Kabo headed upstream toward the dark shade of the bridge.
    Mother sat on a towel a few feet back from the bank and laid her book open beside her. Gary and I stepped to the creek edge and contemplated the water.
    “It’s cold,” I said.
    He stripped off his shirt and hung it on a branch. The tattoo was in full view. I glanced at Mother and she averted her eyes and placed a hand on her book. Gary waded into the shallows and fell backward and sat up on his elbows. He looked at me and grinned. “Man up, kid,” he said. “It’s worth it.”
    I hung my shirt beside his, backed up, and tackled the water. I fell into the shallows, the water so cold it burned. I rolled over and sat up and crossed my hands over my chest and gasped. Joe splashed up to me and began licking my face until I shooed him away. He didn’t seem to mind and crashed off upstream after Kabo.
    The creek licked my ribs and I felt the heat in my cheeks fade. My body slowly relaxed and I eased back onto my elbows into the coolness.
    “You’re missing out,” Gary called up to Mother.
    She smiled and finally picked up her book.
    “There’s bass in here,” I said to him. “If you walk downstream a little ways you can find some deep holes. They hang out in the cut banks.”
    “You ever caught any?”
    “It’s pretty hard in this clear water, but I used to catch some.”
    Gary stood and looked downstream. “Come on,” he said. “I’ll show you a trick.”
    I got up and waded after him, the cool-off giving me new energy. It was only a second before the dogs caught on to our plan and came splashing after us.
    “Where are you two going?” Mother called.
    “Fishing,” Gary said. “We’ll be back in a minute.”
    Mother set her book down again and watched us until