Free Fourmile by Watt Key Page B

on the towel and motioned at me with his chin. I brought the fish over. The inside of the cooler was scrubbed clean and a Ziploc bag of ice cubes lay across the bottom. I placed the fish inside and he closed it.
    “I hope everybody likes ham and cheese,” he said.
    Mother smiled and reached for a sandwich. “I didn’t know your kitchen was so stocked,” she said.
    Gary opened the thermos and began filling three cups with water. “Best accommodations I’ve had in a while,” he said.
    Mother got the other two towels out of the beach bag and we spread them side by side. I sat in the middle and we faced the creek and ate our lunch while the dogs lay in the shade under the bridge. Gary chewed slowly and seemed to be catching up on his thoughts of that other place he carried in his head. Mother glanced at me occasionally, but mostly stared over the water. I could tell she wasn’t completely comfortable and maybe not seeing the creek at all, but not sure where to look or what to say.
    After a few minutes Gary got up and took the cooler back to the truck. He stayed there for a moment, kneeling beside Kabo and scratching behind the dog’s ears. When he came back he dropped a plastic grocery bag in my lap. “For the trash,” he said.
    Mother wiped her mouth with the corner of her towel. “That was good, Gary.”
    “I never had a bad picnic,” he said. “Foster, let’s clean up and see if we can get some more fish.”
    I watched him catch two more bass that afternoon. I tried a few more times myself, but despite his encouragement, I wasn’t able to get the fish to approach me. By the time we started back upstream the creek was darkening with the shadows of late afternoon. The bird calls were less and more shrill in the breezeless air and the thrumming of the cicadas had faded. Squirrels fussed from the treetops, waiting for us to move on so they could come down and feed. I walked beside him, the dogs trailing us, finally too worn out to care about dashing ahead. My skin felt tight and sunburned on my face.
    Mother packed the towels while Gary and I put our shirts and shoes back on.
    “That’s an interesting tattoo,” she said.
    Gary pulled his shirt on. “Yeah,” he said. “I guess sometimes you get caught up in the moment of things.”
    “Must have been quite a moment.”
    Gary looked at her. She smiled and looked away.
    He started for the truck. “I was young,” he said.
    “You’re still young,” she replied.
    We loaded the dogs and then Gary opened the truck door for me and I swept by and climbed in. He followed and leaned over me and opened Mother’s door. She said “Thank you” and got in beside me. Gary popped the bandanna out the window to get the sand off and tied it around his head.
    “And that?” she said.
    He looked at her. “I’ll bet I get more use out of this rag than anything else I own.”
    “You don’t seem the type to be into fashion.”
    He grinned and started the truck and pulled out from under the bridge. “I don’t want you to take it the wrong way, Linda, but whether you’re into it or not, I think you look real nice today.”
    I stared straight ahead, not wanting to look at either one of them.
    “Thank you,” she said again.
    I couldn’t help glancing at her. She looked out the window and smiled to herself. She hadn’t taken it wrong at all.
    The sun was setting and the air coming through the truck was cool on my sunburned skin. The sound of crickets played from the forest at the edge of the road and the smell of pine sap and dust flowed into my nose. I felt like I could have ridden that way forever, between the two of them.
    “We got a little behind today, Foster,” Gary said. “We’ll finish stripping the roof in the morning and head into town to get the shingles before lunch.”
    Mother turned to me. “You know I have to work tomorrow,” she said. “You think you’ll be okay by yourself?”
    “I’ll be okay,” I blurted out.
    “I’ll keep him busy,”