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The Sunday before Halloween was unseasonably warm. The fall spectacular of color was nearly gone, vibrant reds, oranges, and yellows replaced by the dull brown and gray of dying foliage. Most of the trees had lost their leaves entirely, the maple, the oak, the beech, though the evergreens did their part to ward off the death knell, and Crystal Lake had a ton of them. They filled in the large gaps and spaces the skeletal trees had given way to, and the water shone like diamonds under a sharp, bright fall sun.
Cam saw the lake sparkling in the distance as he pulled in behind his father’s truck. Rufus raised his head, nostrils quivering, as the scents from the forest drifted in from the half-open window.
For a moment, Cam sat back and enjoyed the view. The sun was warm on his face, and the driveway he was parked in led to a cabin at least fifty feet ahead, and beyond that, the lake. An area had been cleared to his left, maybe to make room for an outbuilding of some sort, but sad-looking stumps and a tangle of dead weeds filled in the space. The cabin was elevated, though the incline to the water was steep and covered with a combination of pine and paper birch trees.
Cam got out of his truck, and Rufus ran ahead as he slowly made his way up the driveway. As he got closer, he could see the cabin’s windows were all broken and the steps leading up to the small porch were rotted through. He wondered where his dad was and skirted the cabin, spying his father as he came up to the back of the place. Harry Booker was dressed in red plaid and faded jeans. A Red Wings ball cap covered most of his wiry white hair, and he leaned against a tall birch tree, peering through the forest out over the lake. His shoulders were slumped forward, and Cam could tell he’d lost some weight.
For the first time in his life, Cam thought his dad looked old. He didn’t much like that thought and immediately pushed it away as he joined Harry at the tree.
The two men watched Rufus run mad along the shoreline, chasing whitecaps as the water rolled in and barking at nothing.
“That dog is crazy,” Harry said with a wry smile.
Cam chuckled. “You got that right.” In the distance, the drone of a plane engine cut through the air, and a wave of melancholy washed over Cam. It was so strong, it brought a lump to his throat, and he had to clear it in order to speak.
“This is a great spot,” he said, watching his father closely. Was it just Cam, or did he look pale? His features a bit pinched?
“Sure is,” Harry replied with a small nod. “I’ve lived here all my life, and the sight of this lake through the trees still makes my heart ache. Th
ere’s no place like home, and we’re lucky enough to live in a little corner of heaven on earth. The air is clean and the water is alive. All the fishing a man could want, and fishing is all a man needs.” His dad cracked a smile. “Besides a good woman.”
“Mom will be glad to hear that,” Cam replied with a chuckle.
“Your mother is the best thing that ever happened to me.” His dad pushed off from the birch. “Did I ever tell you how we met?”
“No.”
“Well, your mother was a hippie, and I was fresh out of the army. That should tell you something. She liked that Led Zeppelin. I was more of a Johnny Cash man.” Harry was silent for a little while, and the two men stood beside each other, eyes on the water.
“She was dating one of my pals, Charlie Korner. And Charlie decided he was going to set me up with one of your mother’s girlfriends. Kimberly was her name. We went for dinner and then took a boat out to Pottahawk Island. Your mom and I spent the whole night arguing. That girl still likes to prove a point.” Harry chuckled. “If I said white, she said black. If I said no, she said yes. It got pretty heated when we got into politics. I was a proud Republican, and she was not. When she told me that I was stuffy and had no imagination, I got hot under the collar. I remember Charlie and Kimberly trying to intervene, but it was like we forgot they were there. Then your mama dared me to ditch my clothes and skinny-dip. I told her she was crazy and called her a hippie. She stripped right there in front of us and ran into the water. The moon was high, and I’d never seen such a beautiful woman. I ditched my clothes and followed her in, wanting to prove a point. All I proved was that she was the woman for me, and Charlie and Kimberly never forgave us. I showed up at her place the next night with a bunch of half-wilted flowers, and I never let her go.
“This thing with the widow Barnes—”
“It’s Blue, Dad.”
“This thing with Blue. Is it serious?”
“Yeah,” Cam replied, kind of shocked at his answer. “For me it is. She’s kind of hard to read sometimes, but I think she feels the same way.”
“And the child?”
“Tawny’s not going anywhere.”
Harry scratched at his chin and slowly nodded. “Good. That’s good. A man knows when the right one comes along. A smart man never lets her go.”
Cam’s father was generally a man of few words. This entire conversation was so out of the box that he didn’t know what to think. On one hand, this was a side of Harry Booker he liked—maybe even needed. On the other hand, it made him nervous. His dad was acting weird.
“What are we doing here, Dad?”
His father turned and looked at the house. “There’s nearly two acres with a lot of waterfront. The cabin will have to be torn down. There’s nothing left to do with it. But we can rebuild.” He pointed to the left. “And up on that hill, something for your sister, if she’s inclined to come back to the lake.” He turned yet again. “Your brother Nash is just over the rise.” He was quiet for a few seconds and seemed lost in thought. “Wouldn’t that just be amazing. To have all you kids here, together. Kind of a legacy, I suppose.”
Cam turned in a full circle, an ache in his chest he couldn’t explain. He was a Michigan boy through and through, no doubt about that. The mountains that crested the distance, the lakes and wildlife that snaked through them, were a gift.
“A Booker family compound sounds good,” he said, turning back to his father. But the man wasn’t paying attention. He was deep in thought.
“The universe is a funny thing, Cameron. She fools us. Her way of keeping order, I guess. She makes a man think he’s got plenty of time. Makes him think there’s always a tomorrow. That man goes about his business feeling safe. He’s arrogant to cling to that assumption but doesn’t know it. He has a family and busies himself with work. With providing. Making sure the bills are paid and there’s a roof over his head. To him, those things are important. He misses hockey games and football games and piano recitals because there’s always tomorrow and he has a good woman who picks up his slack. He spends too much time at work. Too much time in the garage fixing a damn lawn mower and sneaking smokes. And then he finds out there might not be a tomorrow.”
“What’s going on, Dad?” Real fear, cold and hard, clawed at Cam. And Rufus, sensing the turmoil, nudged him repeatedly, his cold, wet nose offering what comfort he could.
