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The morning dove sounded again and he squinted into the early morning gloom, catching sight of the bird perched on top of the boathouse. He stared at it for several moments and then it flapped its wings and took off for parts unknown.
It would be back. There were some things that were inevitable.
The clock beside his bed told him that it was five a.m. but Teague knew sleep wasn’t on his schedule anytime soon. He frowned and ran a hand across the stubble on his chin as he gazed out at the calm water. It was silent—so quiet out there—and yet his head was filled with noise.
Explosions and gunfire. Voices that belonged to ghosts. Voices that wouldn’t let him go.
Wearily he exhaled and leaned against the window frame, eyes on the boathouse. It took more than a few minutes but eventually the noises faded and he took a step back. His body glistened with sweat and the muscles across his shoulders were still tight.
He couldn’t take another day of nothing. Of sitting on the deck with a bottle for company. He’d always been a man of action and this retreat shit wasn’t cutting it anymore. Restless he reached for his cargoes and pulled them on. But what to do?
He heard the morning dove once more. The call of a loon. A splash from the dock.
Fishing. Yeah. That might work.
Striding from his room Teague made a thermos of coffee, grabbed a couple muffins from the bag he’d not bothered to put away and snatched his worn ball cap from the table near the front door before heading to the boathouse. He couldn’t find his tackle box or his old fishing reel but his father’s would do.
The water was calm and the air crisp as he steered his boat out of the bay toward the lake. He’d grabbed the one that he and Tucker had been given for their fifteenth birthday. It had a small outboard motor, but he used an oar to get going and waited until he was far from shore before firing up the engine. No use in making more noise than he had to.
In less time than it took to drive to town, he was gliding into a small, protected cove where the fishing was always good.
Teague cut the engine and settled back into the boat for a moment, content to sip his hot coffee and let the silence of the Muskokas roll over him. He stared out at the forest that crept down to the lake and then over to the sheer rock face farther up the way. A rare smile lifted the corners of his mouth as a memory washed over him.
“You jump first. You lost the bet. ”
Teague jabbed his twin Tucker and would have pushed him over the edge of the jumping rock, but his older brother Jack stopped him.
“Mom is going to kill all of us if she finds out we ’re here, ” Jack said.
“So don ’t do something stupid, ” Teague ’s other brother Beau warned, making a face.
Just like Beau to ruin all the fun.
“You don ’t want to ruin your pretty face, ” Teague retorted, glaring at the golden boy who stood a few feet from him.
“You ’re a dumbass, ” Beau replied.
“Yeah? ” Teague puffed out his chest. His brothers were older but he and Tucker could take them if they had to. Tucker was wiry and quick as a cat, while Teague was strong, but more importantly, devious as hell and willing to do whatever it took to win.
“Guys, ” Tucker interrupted. “Why don ’t we just jump? It ’s what we came here for. Everyone has done the jumping rock except us. ”
“That ’s because mom will kill us when she finds out, ” Jack said peeking over the edge.
Teague took a few steps closer and glanced down, a wicked grin on his face. “You first, ” he said, pushing Jack before his brother could react. They watched the oldest Simon brother sail over the edge and disappear beneath the surface. For a moment there was quiet, followed by a whole lotta words from below —words their parents wouldn ’t like coming from Jack Simon ’s mouth.
The three remaining b
oys laughed and with a shrug, Beau followed suit.
Then Tucker.
Then with a loud whoop Teague jumped off the rock. He felt free as a bird and stronger than anyone. He felt invincible, like Superman. In that moment he felt as if nothing could touch him.
Beau was right. What a dumbass he’d been. He’d hit the water. Hard.
And lost his swim trunks.
Swim trunks that his brother Jack got to before Teague could, and damn if he hadn’t had to run home through the bush with his junk hanging out. Wouldn’t have been so bad except he’d run through poison ivy and well…
