Chapter Twenty-Four
I f ever there was a time to dress to impress, it was for her date with Nate. Brooke was settling for the same plain dress she’d worn to Gates’s graduation when Cornelia knocked on her door. “Honey?” she asked. “How’s the gussying coming along?”
“Not very well.” Brooke opened the door and gave a halfhearted spin in her cap-sleeved black dress.
“Hmmm,” Cornelia said. “When was the last time we went shopping?”
“A few years ago,” Brooke said carefully, trying not to make her mother feel like she’d done something wrong. It was true, though. As soon as Brooke left the house, Cornelia acted like her job as a mother had come to an end.
“I have an ivory silk blouse I think would be just perfect with that gray thing you have—the one that looks like a miniskirt in the front and shorts in the back?”
“My skort?”
“Yes, that’s the thing. And you could pull the top half of your hair back to show your beautiful face. I’ll even let you borrow my diamond earrings.”
“Really, Mama?” Brooke had only called her mother Mama twice in her life—once when she had her wisdom teeth out and was still high on whatever it was they administered to her, and in that moment where it just somehow felt right.
“You know you can look in my closet any time you like.”
That was astonishing considering it had always been off-limits. “Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. They’re just clothes, and you’re my favorite daughter.”
“I’m your only daughter.” Brooke chuckled. It’d been a long time since Cornelia was in such a good mood. She wanted to savor every moment.
“Is Nathan coming to pick you up?”
“Yes.” Brooke grabbed her phone from the dresser to check the time. Her hand shook as she held it. “He’s supposed to be here in ten minutes.”
“Plenty of time,” Cornelia soothed as she went to fetch the promised items. “Your reservation is for six thirty?”
“That’s what he said.” Brooke happily unzipped the old black dress. It was far too funeral-like for a date. Then again, maybe it was perfect. Judging from the sound of Nate’s voice over the phone, the date might not be a happy occasion.
Brooke waited in the kitchen so she could see him pull up. She’d wait for him to come to the door, of course. Every young man was required to shake her father’s hand before she was allowed to leave with him. It didn’t matter how old she was or if her father already knew the guy. It was an inflexible rule. She was so antsy, she kept hitting her wiggling ankle on the table leg. Finally, she got up to help her mother with the setting of the dining room table performance. Waiting patiently was not working. She’d just set out the water glasses when she heard a high-pitched quacking sound. It sounded like a duck screaming in distress.
“Cornelia, do you hear that?”
“Trigger!” Cornelia yelled, looking out the window. “Something’s caught up in my vegetable net!”
Brooke was already running toward the front door. Cornelia’s vegetable garden was in a raised bed off to the right of the house. It had posts holding up green netting to keep the pests out. As soon as Brooke made it down the front steps, she saw what was causing the ruckus. There was a mallard twisted into the net and hanging by his bright orange webbed foot. He was all feathers and wings in a full flapping panic. Brooke was afraid to get near him. A few minutes later, Trig appeared with his rifle.
“No!” Brooke blocked his path. “No. Please. You can’t kill it.”
“That duck has probably got a broken leg by now,” he said, checking to see if there was a bullet in the chamber. “I have to put it out of its misery.”
“Daddy, please. I’ll get him out. I’ll get the clippers and cut around the net. Please put the gun away.”
“It’s just a duck, Anna Brooke. People hunt them all the time.”
“Please. I’ll handle this, okay? I’ll take care of it. You can go inside.”
“I will not leave my daughter out here alone to wrestle with an injured duck.” He walked past her, and Brooke knew she’d lost. There was no arguing with Trig once he made up his mind.
As if on cue, Nate turned into their driveway. “Nate’s here! He’ll help me.” If it hadn’t been for her determination to save the duck, Brooke might’ve been nervous seeing Nate’s car heading toward her. But now, not only could this date be the end of her fantasy that Nate was her soul mate, but she had implicated him in the rescue of a terrified duck. Not to mention, he was about to shake her father’s hand while he held a loaded rifle.
Through the front windshield, their eyes locked. Nate’s expression gave nothing away. “Y’all need some help?” he asked as he opened his car door.
Trig placed the rifle barrel down next to his leg and held out his hand. “I was just about to handle this.” The two men shook. Nate glanced over at Brooke and must’ve seen the distress in her face.
“If you don’t mind, Mr. Warter, I’d be happy to release him.”
“Yes!” Brooke grabbed him by the hand, and they jogged together toward the duck. “We’ve got this, Daddy!” she called to him behind her. She swore she could hear Trig chuckle. She hadn’t called him Daddy since she was a child.
“All right. Y’all call for me when you realize he’s too far gone to save,” Trig said as he took his rifle back up the steps and into the house.
Nate and Brooke, dressed for a nice dinner and not for a dirty duck rescue, exchanged glances. “Should I get a towel?” she asked. “Maybe throw it over him? One of us can hold him while the other one gets his leg out. I’ll get some clippers, too, in case we need to cut the net.”
Brooke sprinted inside. When she came back out, Nate was holding the duck calmly in his arms, soothing it. The skinny orange foot was still stuck in the net, but the duck’s wings were tucked, his little body held tight. Brooke snuck around behind them and carefully snipped the net to free him.
“There you go, little buddy,” Nate said, placing him gently on the ground. The duck quacked and walked in a circle with an obvious limp.
“Poor baby. He’s hurt,” Brooke said.
“Maybe there’s a wildlife place we can call?”
Nate and Brooke sat on the edge of the raised garden bed and searched wildlife rescues online. There were only two and both were closed. The duck sat in front of them, unmoving. “Don’t worry, little guy,” Nate said. “We’ll figure something out.”
“I’ll call Fred,” Brooke said. “He’s got a squirrel. Maybe he’ll take a duck too.”
Less than half an hour later, Brooke and Nate had missed their dinner reservation and instead had a quacking duck sitting in the back seat of Nate’s car. In a strange way, Brooke couldn’t help but feel protective of it the whole way to the gas station. The duck felt like it belonged to them, like their adopted child.
Fred was out back. Nothing alarmed him. He was just as slow and languid as ever as he closed the fiberglass door of his houseboat, telling Whiskey to stay inside. He took his time climbing off the boat, while Nate and Brooke stood by their opened car door. When he finally sauntered up, he chuckled when he saw what was in the back seat.
“Welp,” Fred said, pulling on his long beard. “Looks like we got us a plain ol’ mallard. Green head, bright orange feet.” He reached in and easily picked up the duck, looking him over carefully before tucking him under his arm. “I’ve got some seed in the store he might like.”
“We can take him to the wildlife rescue in the morning,” Brooke said. “He just needs a safe place for the night.”
“I’ll make him a nest inside Whiskey’s crate. He’ll be safe.” Fred walked away like he’d rescued ducks a million times before.
“Thanks, Fred.” Brooke was hesitant to leave. The duck kept staring at her and quacking from Fred’s arms like he didn’t want to be separated from her. It tugged at her heart.
“You don’t think Whiskey will try to eat him, do you?” she yelled.
“I’ll keep Whiskey away.”
“Do you think his leg is broken?”
Fred stopped walking and turned. “Doesn’t look like it. Probably just wrenched it.”
“So you think he’ll be okay?”
“I do. We’ll let him rest here for the night and if he’s doing all of the proper duck things in the morning, we’ll release him.” The top part of his beard stuck straight out as he bit his bottom lip to appraise her. “Do you need more time with him?”
Brooke looked over at Nate, and he nodded. “I think I do.”
“Come on up,” Fred said. “Y’all want a beer?”
“Yes, please,” Brooke said. A beer for dinner was better than nothing. She and Nate followed Fred up the step ladder and helped themselves from an open cooler filled with ice and beer. “Did we interrupt anything?” Brooke asked, suddenly realizing that Fred had a life outside of being everybody’s go-to guy.
“Naw. Just said goodbye to my sister. Have a seat.” He pointed to several empty lawn chairs spread around the boat deck. Brooke and Nate sat next to each other. “Now, don’t go telling Dottie about any of this duck business. I hate it when she’s right.” Whiskey’s metal crate was by the door underneath the helm. Nate jumped up and opened the latch so Fred could deposit the duck inside.
“What was Dottie right about?” Brooke asked, not wanting to admit that she’d overheard his conversation with Dottie.
“She said there would be a duck in your life, but she saw a fake one. I guess that makes her only half right.”
Brooke shot a look at Nate.
“Do you know if there were any numbers on the fake duck?” Nate asked.
“She didn’t say.”
The twinkle in Nate’s eye was back for a second. “I think this little guy’s a good omen.”
“I’ll go get that seed,” Fred said, leaving them alone briefly.
“He’s a lucky duck.” Brooke giggled.
Nate reached over and touched her arm. She instantly turned nervous. “We need to talk,” he said.
She nodded. “Do you still want to try to get some dinner once Fred returns?”
“Yes,” Nate answered.
The duck wasn’t happy in the cage and kept trying to chew on the wires, his bill clunking against them. “Do you think he’s okay?”
“He’ll calm down. He’ll like it better once Fred gets him some food and water.”
“I hope so.” She couldn’t hold in her curiosity any longer. “Whatever it is that you have to tell me—is it bad?”
He shook his head. “I wouldn’t call it bad.”
She couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes. “Okay.”
Fred came back out with a bowl full of bird seed and two wrapped sandwiches. “Y’all hungry? Looks like you missed some dinner plans.”
“Thanks,” they both said, each taking a sandwich.
Fred put the dish in the crate, and as soon as he locked the latch, the duck ate like he’d just been served the finest seed in all of Goose Island. Fred chuckled and went inside the houseboat to get a bowl of water.
“We’ll go out for dessert,” Nate said, opening up the paper to see a meat-filled Cubano sandwich inside.
“I make a pretty good banana pudding if you want to come to my house,” Brooke said. Back in their camp days, Nate used to give Brooke his cookies, but he never shared when they had banana pudding.
He tilted his head at her. “You remember.”
“I do.” She paused for courage. “I have to tell you something,” she began, “but I feel weird about it.”
“Your nana put an offer in on Camp Dogwood.”
She sat straight up. “How’d you know?”
“Because I contacted the bank this morning. I was going to see about making an offer too.”
“Oh, no! Are you going to bid against her? Do you want me to talk to her?” Nate could afford to buy Camp Dogwood?
“No.” He took her hand. “My relationship with that place is complicated. Your nana buying it is perfect.”
Brooke relaxed. “She’s been to the lighthouse with your grandparents.”
Nate nodded knowingly. “I remember.”
“You do?”
“I didn’t put it together until you said she knew my granddad. I saw her there once. She was just Miss Grace to me. Our grandfathers used to smoke cigars and get into all kinds of trouble.”
“Is he still alive?”
“My granddad? No. Between my grandmother and my parents, I think he died of a broken heart. It didn’t take long.”
“You had to go through all of those deaths alone. So did my nana. My granddaddy died around that time too.”
Nate nodded solemnly. “I guess we have that in common too.”
“You and my family were grieving for many of the same people. Nana went a little crazy, and you became strong and resilient.” As soon as she said it, she felt horrible. “I take that back. Nana’s not crazy. She’s just whoever and whatever she wants to be.” She thought for a second. “Maybe that’s because she’s strong and resilient too. She knows life is short and unfair, and that sometimes societal rules are outdated and hold us back.”
Nate looked peaceful, genuinely happy that Camp Dogwood was about to be owned by Brooke’s family.
“I’ll introduce you to her,” Brooke said. “Again.”
“Tell you what,” Fred said, appearing in his narrow doorway with a strange fatherly look on his face. “I’ll make sure this duck is safe, okay? But y’all have got to git. There’s something going on with you two. I don’t know what it is, but what I do know is that y’all certainly don’t need me here watching.”
Nate stood, holding his sandwich in one hand, and offering Fred his other. “Thanks, man.” They shook like old friends.
“Thanks so much, Fred,” Brooke said, hugging him tightly. She’d always been grateful for Jessa’s uncle Fred.
“I’ll see y’all in the morning and we’ll decide together if the little guy can be released,” Fred said. He looked Nate straight in the eye. “You take good care of my girl now.”
“I promise,” Nate said.
Brooke knew in her soul that Nate meant it.