Chapter 23 #2
“Not only that,” said Teddy. “He missed the big bicentennial celebration. Grandpa Karl and Grandma Lila did not make exceptions. Judd spent the Fourth of July in our bedroom. But to answer the why of it, your dad did that because he’s a protector.
He feels the need to keep people safe. That’s why he’s a cop.
I don’t know if he was just born that way or maybe I made him that way because I always needed someone looking out for me.
Hell, Clay. To be honest, I still do. I can’t get out of my own way. Bad wiring or something.”
Teddy stood and walked over to the tiny kitchen, held his wristwatch under the light, and looked at the time.
Then he glanced up at his nephew and said, “I know you and your dad don’t get along all the time.
He’s been in a bad place since your mom got sick.
I know he wants to protect her. To save her.
But he can’t do it. It’s tearing him up inside.
And you … Well, Clay. Hope you take this as a compliment—you don’t need protecting.
You got a strength in you like your dad’s.
Maybe even more so. You’re good at stuff.
Everything you try. I know seeing your mom sick hurts.
And it’s all you’ve ever known since the day you were born.
But no matter what happens, you’re going to be okay.
Not because of me and Aunt Deb. Not because of Sue and Carol.
Not because of your dad. But because of you. ”
A sadness spread throughout Clay’s entire body.
It was like Uncle Teddy was saying that Clay’s troubles didn’t matter.
They didn’t matter because they couldn’t hurt him the way they hurt other people.
But that didn’t feel true. He did hurt. Just because he was good at violin and fly-fishing and school didn’t mean he didn’t hurt.
“You ready to go back to sleep?”
Clay shook his head. “Still not tired.”
“Me either,” said Teddy. “So listen up. Official sunrise is in one hour. That means we can legally be on the river in thirty minutes. Those big browns will still be hunting until the sky lightens up. I say we go down to the river, tie on a couple of deer-hair mouse patterns, and see if one of us can hook a monster.”
“Yeah,” said Clay, “can we?”
“Shh. Glad you’re excited. I am, too. But let’s try not to wake up your Aunt Deb. That means we don’t have to brush our teeth. That okay with you?”
Teddy and Clay dressed, headed out to the shed, and geared up. They wore headlamps down to the river, scared a big doe who’d bedded down near the trail, and watched her bound away.
“Wow,” said Clay. “We were almost close enough to touch it.”
“They’re beautiful animals,” said Teddy. “That’s why I can’t hunt ’em.”
“I don’t want to hunt ’em either.”
“Better to piss off some trout and let ’em go.”
“Yeah…”
Teddy watched Clay stare off in the direction of the doe, who was now out of sight, hidden by the trees and brush.
They continued down to the stream and cast mouse patterns for trout.
Huge flies compared to the insect patterns.
The size of a real mouse, they were made of spun deer hair, foam, and a length of stripped rabbit for the tail.
Clay and Teddy couldn’t see their flies and had to listen and feel for the strike.
The big trout became uninhibited in the dark, leaving the safety of the depths to hunt the surface.
Clay missed two strikes. Teddy hooked one, but the heavy fish broke off before he could get it in the net.
Clay hooked up on his next strike. The fish made several runs, taking Clay’s line into the backing, but Clay, at thirteen years old, had learned how to fight a big trout.
Let it run to tire itself out and so it doesn’t break the line, but keep the rod tip up to steer the fish away from the fast water where it can use the current to its advantage.
“Attaboy,” said Teddy on his way over to help. Clay managed to get the trout’s head out of the water and skate it into Teddy’s net. He’d landed a twenty-inch brown, the biggest fish Clay had ever caught.
“Take the hook out first,” said Teddy. “Then reach into the net, hold the tail firm, and gently cradle the belly.”
Clay followed his uncle’s directions. Teddy removed a cheap disposable camera from his vest pocket and snapped a picture, blinding Clay with the flash.
“Now let that big one go the way I taught you. He’s going to be plenty tired after that fight, so give him some help.”
Clay faced upstream, then lowered the big trout into the water, holding it steady so the current would flow through the fish’s gills.
Then Clay gently rocked it back and forth to increase the trout’s oxygen intake.
After half a minute, he could feel the fish’s strength return.
It struggled to escape, and he let it go.
The stars disappeared as the sky lightened to periwinkle and then a rich azure.
They decided to call it quits, hike back up to the trailer, and dive into bacon, eggs, and toast. It was a perfect morning, thought Clay.
At least that’s what he thought before he saw his father’s squad car parked in front of Teddy’s trailer.
That’s when Clay knew his mother was dead.
And now, thirty years later, Clay sees another squad car he didn’t expect to see, this one parked in front of Judd’s house. Different house. Different car. Different millennium. But Clay gets the same sick feeling.