Chapter 6
A few weeks had passed and the days were growing longer. The sun had risen above the horizon but was still obscured through the trees on the eastern shore of Teeter's Lake. It had been sunny and warm for two weeks, and the warm lake released a thin fog into the low lying portions of ground around the public boat ramp. The boys and men of the church were scattered throughout the parking lot, some re-spooling their fishing reels, others finishing their coffee. Most of the boys were at the water's edge throwing rocks and sticks into the water and bragging about the fish they were planning on catching that day. Some of the men who didn't own boats were joining with those who did, and others were setting up their folding chairs in the grassy areas along the shore.
Paul pulled his truck into an empty space, turned off the engine and turned to Jonas. “Boy, I don't want any trouble outta you, y'hear? I mean it. You sit and fish, that's it. If you gotta piss you go piss, but otherwise, keep your trap shut and just fish. I don't get many days off, and the last thing I wanted to do was to come fishin' with a bunch of holy rollers. So mind your p's and q's, keep quiet, and fish, and when we get home, you're gonna tell your mom we had a grand ol' time. Got it?”
“Got it.”
They both exited the truck, and Jonas stood at the tailgate while Paul lowered it.
Paul handed Jonas a rod and reel and a pocket sized, clear, plastic tackle box with only a few hooks and bobbers in it. Paul grabbed his own rod, reel, and tackle, and together they walked toward the grassy area at the end of the parking lot opposite of the ramp where Rev. Harkness had already staked out a spot along the shore.
“Well, hello there Jonas!” Rev. Harkness waved. “And you must be Paul. Nice to meet ya.” The reverend extended his hand.
“Lemme put this stuff down here.” said Paul. He placed his gear on the grass and shook the pastor's hand. “Yeah, I figured I'd bring Jonas on down here and maybe catch us some fish.” Turning to Jonas, he said “Put the stuff down there next to mine, and go back to the truck for the lawn chairs.”
“So how's work going for ya?” Rev. Harkness asked.
Oh god, he wants to talk. “Oh, not bad. It's work. And you?”
“Good, good. But I tell you, we had a problem last week during the service.”
Paul stared at him blankly.
“The problem was, you weren't there. Ha ha!” The pastor stopped reeling in his line in order to slap his thigh.
“Yeah, well, y'know work gets all crazy, workin' a lot of overtime, and I just can't seem to wake up in time.”
“Oh, I'm just kiddin' ya, Paul. We're happy you and Jonas could make it out here today. I tell ya, all the boys in the church just have a ball out here. And the dad's get to spend some quality time with 'em. Can't beat it, brother. You want a Coke? There some in the cooler on the other side of me here.”
“Oh, that's alright. I brought a cooler in the truck. It's probably too heavy for the boy, I better go help him.” said Paul. He was really just looking for an out from the conversation with Rev. Harkness. Damn jabber jaws is gonna ruin the whole day, he thought as he walked toward the truck.
At the truck he told Jonas to set up the lawn chairs a little further from Rev. Harkness. “All his yackin' is gonna scare the fish away.”
Paul waited for Jonas to walk away, then he opened the cooler, pulled out a can of Coke, pulled the tab back, and set it on the floor of the bed. He then opened the toolbox
next to the cooler, discreetly removed a metal flask, took a few large swills, and chased it with the Coke.
All of the boats were in the water, and the shore anglers were spread out along the water's edge. Returning from the truck, Paul sat in the lawn chair next to Jonas.
“Alright,” he said while picking up his rod and reel, “let's see if we can't catch us some fishes.” He released the hook from the line guide nearest the reel. Setting the handle of the rod on the ground to his left side, he pulled a few feet of line off the reel with his right hand and held the hook in front of him. He pulled a nightcrawler from the Styrofoam container and shook the dirt off, then with one smooth motion, he fed the worm onto the hook. Paul attached a large bobber about eighteen inches above the hook, and a squeezed two sixteenth ounce lead sinkers onto the line about an inch above the hook. He picked up the rod by the handle, pressed the bale release, drew the pole back, and with a flick of his wrist he set the tackle to flight. The line whizzed off the reel, the bobber followed a high arc through the air before it splashed down and eventually came to rest with concentric rings of ripples emanating from it. He gave the reel a turn and listened for the click of the bale engaging while he took in some slack from the line. Then he sat the pole on the ground beside him and settled into the lawn chair for a relaxing day of fishing. Jonas was still struggling with getting the worm onto the hook.
Paul sighed heavily, “Ugh! What's your problem, boy?”
“The worm won't hold still.”
“Would you? If someone was trying to stick a big metal hook in ya, would you just sit there and take it?”
“No.” Jonas hated when Paul lectured him.
“Well okay then. Just grab hold of him and run it through.”
Jonas did as Paul instructed and cast the bait into the water about twenty feet from the shore and close to Paul's bobber.
“There you go. Now just relax and enjoy a day of fishin'.”
Jonas sat in the lawn chair and stared at his bobber for what seemed to him like hours. Within a few minutes, the boaters had all found their “honey holes” and turned off their engines so as to avoid scaring the fish. In the still of the morning, Jonas heard a woodpecker knocking on a maple tree across the lake.
“You think woodpeckers get headaches?” Jonas asked.
Paul quickly shushed him. Jonas turned his gaze back toward his bobber and waited. For the next twenty minutes Jonas shifted between watching his bobber and watching Paul chain-smoke. He kept his Winston's in the breast pocket of his t-shirt, and when he finished one he would light a new cigarette with the butt of the old one. Every time Paul lit a new cigarette, he would flick the old one into the lake. Rev. Harkness saw this out of the corner of his eye, and he would frown at Paul, but he remained silent.
“Should I cast it somewhere else? I don't think there's any fish right there.” said Jonas. “I think we should move our chairs over there.” he pointed.
“Damnit, Jonas, you gotta be patient.” Paul said with disdain.
“But I wanna catch a fish.”
Paul takes off his sunglasses and looks sternly and Jonas. “Boy, you sure do forget fast. I told you in the truck you gotta sit here, shut up, and fish. Now if you don't wanna listen to me, I'll take your ass home.”
“But I don't wanna leave, I wanna catch fish.” Jonas insisted.
“I swear to God, I'm leaving now!” Paul shorted. “C'mon, get your shit together and get in the truck.”
Jonas wanted to cry, but he held it in. Rev. Harkness heard Paul and spoke up, “Well if you're going to leave, Jonas can stay here with me. I'll take him home when we're done. He'll be just fine.”
Paul continued reeling in his line and gathering his gear. “You do what you want, preacher man. I'm leaving'.” He turns to Jonas and points his finger in his face. “And you can bet I'm gonna tell your momma about this.”
Paul stomped off toward the truck with a rod and tackle box under one arm and a lawn chair in the other. He threw his gear into the bed of the truck, jumped in the cab, started it, and pushed the pedal to the floor. A cloud of dirt and a thousand “tinks” of gravel hitting the underside of his truck were all they could see or hear of Paul.
Jonas slowly moved his chair over toward Rev. Harkness.
“Listen, forget about him. He's just being a jerk. Are you okay?”
“I'm alright, I guess.” Jonas replied. “He's like that all the time. Except when he's sleeping. Even then he just look
s mean.”
“Well, it'll be alright. He'll get down the road and cool off some. You'll see.” Rev. Harkness consoled him. Changing the subject he asked Jonas, “So where do you think all the fish are? I haven't gotten a bite this whole time.”
“I dunno. Maybe over there.” Jonas said, pointing to a patch of water lilies. “Bass like to hide under the lily pads and wait for smaller fish to go swimming by. Then they just jump out and eat 'em.”
“Sounds like a plan to me. Need some help casting over there? If you get hung up in those lilies, you'll lose your worm.”
“No, I can do it.” Jonas said as he awkwardly cast his line toward the lilies. The cast was short, and the bobber splashed down fifteen feet in front of his intended target. “Right there.” he said as he took in the slack.
“It's as good a place as any, I suppose.” chuckled Rev. Harkness.
“Yep.” agreed Jonas, before catching a glimpse of the bobber dipping under the surface of the water. It dipped under again.
“You got a bite!” said the reverend excitedly.
Jonas quickly pulled the tip of the rod backward to set the hook, and he began struggling to reel in the catch. “It's a fighter.” he said.
“Ease out on the drag, or he'll snap the line when he runs. That's it. Keep reeling.”
Every few seconds the fish would change course and try to escape, causing the line to pull from the reel with a buzzing sound.
“Let him run. Let him run.” Rev. Harness said. “Looks like a bass, fighting' like that. They'll wear out and eventually let you bring 'em in. Lemme grab the net.”
Jonas fought for a few more moments before finally bringing the fish into range of Rev. Harkness' landing net. It was a largemouth bass, and a large one at that.
The reverend extended the net under the fish, while Jonas tried his best to keep the tip of the pole as high as he could. The reverend reached into the net and grabbed the fish by the lower jaw. He lifted the bass out of the net and Jonas got a good look at his catch.
“How big is it?” Jonas asked.
“Oh...” he eyeballed the fish, “about fourteen, maybe fifteen inches. Let's measure.” It was far from being one of the ten pound lunkers frequently adorning the covers of fishing magazines, but it was definitely the biggest fish Jonas had ever landed. Rev. Harkness laid the fish on the ground at Jonas' feet and retrieved a measuring tape from his pocket. “Looks like... sixteen and a half! That's awesome, son. Good job!”
Jonas couldn't help but to grin like the Cheshire Cat. “Man, I can't wait to show momma.”
“Here. Let's get a picture.” said Rev. Harkness. “That's a whopper. Hold it high. There you go. Now smile.” The flash discharged and the moment was forever captured and converted to ones and zeros and stored on the memory card of the digital camera Rev. Harkness received as a birthday gift from the congregation. “Now go ahead and turn him loose.”
“We ain't gonna eat him?” Jonas asked.
“No, let him get bigger. We can come back next year and he'll be huge. Besides, you know that feeling of pride you have from catching him? Don't you want other people to feel that? If you don't put him back, nobody else will have a chance to enjoy that same feeling.”
After thinking, Jonas carried the fish to the edge of the water and bent over. He
placed the fish into the water, holding it by its tail, and gently moved the fish backward and forward to move water through its gills to refresh it after the tiring fight and the time it spent out of the water. Within a second or two, the fish became excited and tried swimming away. Jonas released the tail, and the fish darted away into the bluish, green waters of Teeter's Lake.
They continued fishing until the sun was high. Jonas caught two small bass, a handful of medium to large bluegills, and a rather large catfish, while Rev. Harkness caught three small bass. Rev. Harkness looked at his watch then reeled in his line.
“I guess Paul had your lunch, huh?” he said as he placed his pole on the ground and reached for the hand sanitizer in his tackle box.
“Yeah. I am kinda hungry. Should I call my momma?”
“Well, do you like bologna and cheese? I got three in the cooler here. I'll give you one. I've got some chips and a couple Cokes in there too.” The reverend said rubbing his hands together.
“Sure, thanks.” said Jonas, stowing his gear beside his chair.
“No problemo, kiddo.” The reverend said, trying his best to be cool. “Y'know...it doesn't really get much better than this. A bright blue sky, a calm breeze, and cold Coke.” He reached into the cooler and pulled out two plastic bottles of Coke.
“Paul don't know what he's missing'” proclaimed Jonas, satisfied with his catch thus far. “He coulda been catching 'em all day. He's probably drunk on the couch right now.”
“Well, I don't doubt it. But hey, how about that first one you caught. What a lunker, eh?”
“Yeah,” Jonas replied between teeth covered in bologna and American cheese. “At first I was afraid it would break the line and swim off, but I wrestled him in.”
“You sure did. You think the afternoon will yield any better results?”
“Why not?” Jonas shrugged.
The two sat in their folding lawn chairs and silently chewed on the sandwiches as they stared across the water. Rev. Harkness thought about what an ass Paul made of himself and how badly he felt for Jonas. Meanwhile, Jonas thought about the fish he had caught and imagined them all lined up on a stringer, waiting to be gutted and cleaned. The bologna and potato chips were sufficient, and they took away the rumble in his stomach. What Jonas really wanted though, was a fried fish dinner. He imagined each bite from the bologna was a different side dish. Corn, green beans, homemade french fries and hush puppies. It was a veritable feast, the centerpiece being a large, silver platter with three bass lying on a bed of lettuce, garnished with lemon wedges.
Rev. Harkness interrupted, “Your momma says you made a new friend, huh?”
Jonas smacks his lips and takes a swig from the Coke. “Yeah. He used to be a pastor too. Last name is Chambers.”
“I've heard of him. Never met him though. Your momma doesn't seem to like him.”
“She don't like him. What did you hear?”
“I heard he got involved in some kinda money scam, and when people lost all their money, he quit. I heard his wife...well, you should probably ask Dolores about it all. It ain't my place to tell, seein' as how I don't know him properly.”
“She said he's a liar and a thief, but I don't believe her. He seems like a nice, old man to me. He's never lied to me, and he's never stolen nothing from me. I don't know why Momma don't like him. He's nice. He even bought me an ice cream one day.”
“Is that so?”
“Yep, because he almost left his hat on a bench, and I took it to him.”
“Well, seems nice to me, I guess. I don't know, Jonas. Like I said, I've never met him, but your momma has. So I'd probably listen to her.”
The two finished their sandwiches and Cokes, and in a few minutes they were fishing again. The afternoon was not as productive. They had a few bites between the two of them, but nobody caught anything. Even the boaters, who can cover far more water than the shore fisherman, were disappointed by the fishing in the afternoon. By the early evening, everyone's resolve had broken and the boats started to return to the ramp. Those who kept the fish they caught proudly showed off their stringers of bass and blue gill. Dave Hawkins, a deacon in the church, had caught a twenty pound catfish. Rev. Harkness showed everyone the picture of Jonas' bass from early in the morning.
The reverend and Jonas loaded their gear in the back of the reverend's SUV and drove away to take Jonas home.
“You think Paul's gonna be home?” Rev. Harkness asked.
“I hope not. I hope he never comes back.” Jonas replied. “He's so mean. I don't know why momma married him in the first pl
ace. He don't do nothin' but get drunk.”
“Well, sometimes people are blinded by love, Jonas. They don't really see people for who they are because either they're lonely, or they want that person to fill some kinda void they have in their lives. Any number of reasons, actually. People do all kinds of crazy things for love. Between you and me, I don't care too much for him either. But Jesus does. Jesus loves him even though he treats people poorly.” The reverend had a knack for turning every conversation into a sermon.
“I guess your right. But it still don't change the fact that he's mean. I wish Jesus would make him act nicer. That would be a miracle.”
“Ha! Well I guess so, Jonas. Maybe tonight, when you say your prayers, you should ask God to open Paul's eyes so he can see how mean he's been. You never know, maybe you'll get that miracle. Don't know til you ask.”
Once home, Jonas ran to the door to tell Dolores about the bass he caught. Dolores met the reverend at the door.
“Well hey there!” she said, slightly confused as to where Paul was. “How was the day? Did you catch a big one?”
“You shoulda seen it, momma. It was huge! I fought with him and fought, but finally I reeled him in. Pastor's got pictures.”
“Yep, look.” He showed Dolores the pictures from the digital camera. “And there's some blue gills. Here's a monster ol' Hawkins caught. I tell you, every year he catches the big one. I think I might have to ask the board for a raise so I can get me a boat, maybe I'll catch 'em the way he does.” Rev. Harkness joked.
“Well that's great, I'm glad you had fun. Listen, why don't you get washed up for supper, Jonas? I gotta talk to the pastor for a bit.”
She walked Rev. Harkness out to his vehicle.
“Paul didn't stay?” she asked.
“No. I tell you what, that guy has got a temper. He was fishin' for maybe twenty minutes before he stormed off in a hissy about somethin'. The whole time he was really mean to Jonas. Is he like that when you're around?”
“No... I mean yes, but it's not like that. He's just a little grouchy. He works a lot, you know.”
“Well, it's not my place to say anything, but that boy of yours is a great kid. Really is. It's a shame for Paul to be treatin' him like that. I didn't have a lick of a problem with Jonas all day. He's a good kid, Dolores, but he's coming up on puberty soon, and if whatever is going on between him and Paul ain't settled soon, I think he might end up getting himself into trouble. Y'know, lashing out, begging for attention and all. I've seen it a lot. You remember the Jenkins boy, what was his name?”
“Jarvis.”
“Yeah, Jarvis Jenkins. He was the sweetest boy on the earth, just kind-hearted and gentle. Then puberty hit right around the time the Jenkins' got divorced, and he just went wild. Drinkin', smokin', runnin' with the wrong crowd. It's just that Jonas is a good boy, and I'd hate to have him go through what Jarvis did.”
“Oh, I know. I know. Jonas is a good kid. And Paul does drink a lot. I've tried to get him to slow it down. He's just...well, he's just Paul. I don't know why I'm always makin' excuses for him. But he's never hit Jonas, or me for that matter. He's a hard worker, and when things are good, pastor, things are really good. He just gets a little alcohol in him and he thinks the world should work the way he wants it to.”
“Right. Right. Well listen, Dolores, if you ever need anything don't hesitate to call. You've got my home number and the church number? Just gimme a call if you need anything. I worry a lot about you and that boy.”
“Thanks, pastor. Thanks again for keepin' an eye on Jonas. He really wanted to go so bad, and with Paul ducking out like that, I'm just glad he managed to turn it into a good time.”
“No problem, Dolores. Anytime. Tell Jonas I said good night, I gotta get home and walk the dogs. You know Sue ain't gonna do it.”
“At the next ladies meeting, I'm gonna tell her you said that.” Dolores said jokingly.
“Alright, but I better start seeing Paul in the pew next to you two.” he replied.
Dolores walked back inside the house and let the screen door shut behind her. She walked to the kitchen and checked on the fish sticks and french fries in the oven, and she set the table for two. She then sat down and sighed. She was disappointed in Paul, and she wondered where he could be. She had a few ideas and most of them involved the three bars in Allardale.