Chapter 10
Chapter Ten
O n their way home from her session at Vanderbilt that afternoon, Ava told her mom about Lucas’s absence.
“I can’t believe he didn’t come,” she said, dropping her appointment card for tomorrow’s testing in the cup holder.
The prospect of seeing him had been the light in the darkness of her lost promotion, and now, even that had fallen apart.
“Maybe he wants time alone to work through whatever it is he’s dealing with, and you interfere with that.”
“I just want to help.”
Her mother put the car in gear. “You’re so used to your incredible efforts getting you want you want, but sometimes less is more. You have no control over this.”
“You’re so right,” Ava said. “What do I do then?”
“The only other time you didn’t have control was when your dad died. How did you deal with that?”
“I worked. I worked to hide from myself.”
“Then maybe you should see what happens when you don’t try to hide. When you just breathe and let the situation be what it is.”
Once they were back at the cabin, Ava sat by the lake trying to do that. She eyed her dad’s fishing poles still wrapped in paper.
I wish I could talk to you right now, Dad.
You always had the answers. I just lost everything I’ve worked for.
I don’t know where to go from here. And now I’ve found Lucas again, but he’s MIA, and I’m struggling to know the purpose in that.
There was no way God sent me back just to say hello and let Lucas leave again.
I need a grounding force. Please show me a sign that you’re with us.
A fish jumped, but that had been happening since she’d been there. Ava scanned the tree line, the water, the clouds—anywhere she could get an answer from her dad, but there was nothing.
“Whatcha doing?” Martha asked, coming outside.
“Just wishing I could talk to Dad.”
“Mm.” Her mother crossed her cardigan over her chest. She peered out across the water. “It’s actually chilly.”
Another fish jumped, prompting Ava to get up and unwrap one of her dad’s rods.
“The fish are asking to get caught,” she said, ripping off the paper and balling it up.
She tossed it in the house so it wouldn’t blow away.
“Dad always said early morning and evening are the best times for fishing, but the fish seem to be everywhere all the time here.” She surveyed the rod, fiddling with the reel.
“It’s probably because of the deck. They like to hide under it. ”
Her mother smiled.
Ava dug through her dad’s tackle box in search of a suitable bait.
“Looks like he’s got a few jigs. Those work for catching bluegill and crappie, but I want to see if I can find a good spinner.
I’ll bet I could catch a nice-sized trout today.
I wonder if the lake’s been stocked—this is the time of year. I think they do it in late fall.”
Her mother squinted at her, and she realized she’d been rambling on.
“Gosh, you sounded like your dad just then. You and he had a special bond. I still remember when you two would take your fishing trips out here. He’d set his alarm for five in the morning, and when he got up, you were already dressed with your little pink tackle box.”
“I remember.” Ava located a spinner bait and threaded the line through the eyelet. “I loved those days with Dad. He never told you, but the night before he always filled the cooler full of soda, chips, chocolates, cookies—anything I asked for.”
Martha laughed. “And to think I stressed out about making sure you all had a day’s worth of sandwiches.”
“We ate your sandwiches, I promise. But we also ate everything else.” The memory amused her. “I haven’t thought about that in probably over a decade.” She tied a Palomar knot the way her dad had taught her.
The sound of his direction floated into her mind.
Don’t tighten it too much. You’ve gotta lick the knot and then pull the standing line and the tag end. That’ll tighten it all you need …
She clipped the end of the line and got the rod ready for casting, wiggling the reel.
“I miss him.”
“Me too,” her mother said.
When Ava cast the line into the lake, it was as if she’d cast her life out there as well, and a sense of freedom came over her.
Her life before the accident was still tethered, just like that line, but separate, and she felt the expansive divide between her New York life and the one she’d lived as a girl.
Slow and steady … Pause and then reel … That’ll catch ya a fish .
“I feel like I can hear him when I’m fishing. I wish I’d have known that eighteen years ago. I’d probably have fished every day.”
Her mother walked up beside her on the edge of the deck. “Remember he used to tell you that if he was the first of us to go, he’d send you an enormous largemouth bass?”
“I’d totally forgotten that! He told us when he bought that bumper sticker that said, ‘My heaven is a lake.’ He used to say, ‘Just know that after I’ve gone I’ll be busy fishing.’”
Her mom put her hand on her heart. “Maybe that’s why you didn’t see him. He’s off fishing.”
The all-too-familiar lump formed in Ava’s throat. “Maybe.”
Dad, send me that largemouth bass. I know you can do it.
Ava reeled in and cast the line again. Then, she waited. The water lapped rhythmically, calming her as she moved the rod back and forth just a little to attract the fish.
Martha took a seat in a chair and propped her feet up on the firepit.
Ava’s heart soared when she got a tug on the line. “I got something.”
Martha leaned forward expectantly.
Ava reeled, holding her breath, anticipating the quiet moment when she could connect with her father. She just knew he would communicate with her if he could. She cranked with all her might. Both she and her mother had a laser focus on the line. When the fish came out of the water, her hopes fell.
“Well, I caught a little trout,” Ava said, trying to conceal her disappointment. She unhooked the fish and threw it back into the water.
The fish darted away.
“Maybe next time,” her mom said.
Ava had been hoping for the connection with her dad. Her near-death experience had given her the illusion that she could reach him. And now she was pulling her mom into the fanciful idea. It was difficult to tell what was real and what wasn’t anymore.
The evening weather was so mild that Martha set the outside table for dinner. They’d made a pizza, and the fire was going. With the string lights on and stars overhead, along with the quiet swishing of the lake onto the shore, it felt magical.
Ava stared out at the water, lost in thought.
“It’s funny. I lost the position at work, and I can’t talk to Dad about it. And Lucas wasn’t at therapy today. All in all, this might be one of the roughest days I’ve had, apart from the accident. But the lake has helped, I think.”
“I’m sorry your day didn’t go as you’d hoped,” her mother said, sliding a slice of pizza onto her plate. Her mother leaned back in her chair. “I hope Lucas is okay.”
“So do I. He’s so different, but there are these little moments and gestures that are the same.”
“An introspective demeanor usually only comes from having had to manage big life experiences. You learn to spend time with yourself and ponder things before you jump in.”
Was Ava lacking the life experiences required to give her a wider perspective?
She was always quick to move, and she ran on her instincts.
She rarely slept on any choice, so sure of her gut that she didn’t need to think long about her decisions.
Was she naive in that idea? Well, if she was, she was dealing with enough to get perspective now.
“It takes good and bad experiences to build a person. That’s why we go through hard things. They slow us down, make us think, give us perspective. ”
Then something occurred to Ava: What if Scott Strobel hadn’t stolen the promotion from her at all?
She’d been so focused on the fresh perspective she had to offer, that she hadn’t stopped to consider the wealth of experience Scott brought to the table.
Had McGregor chosen him over her, not because of her absence, but because of his knowledge?
Did she even want to have the position anymore?
Work had barely crossed her mind since she’d been there.
She’d been so focused on Lucas that she didn’t have time to think about what she wanted.
She’d been so sure of herself until her mom had made that comment about life experience.
What did she want? Who was she after the accident? Had she been changed too?