Bobby Cole - The dummy line

“Hey, Katy, don’t pay any attention to the pictures on the walls, and don’t tell Mom, OK?” Jake knew that wouldn’t have deterred him when he was her age, but Katy was the kind of kid who typically would do what was asked. On his last trip to the camp, he had covered up the really bad ones (or good ones depending upon your perspective). All that could be seen easily were a few Texas girls in bikinis.

Jake suspected that the guys who owned this club never brought out their wives or girlfriends, based on the sheer number of pinups on the walls. Or maybe they did and the women just didn’t care. Morgan would have walked in, looked around, and run right back out. Her idea of roughing it was a Hilton. Throw in a few nudie pictures, and it would hit the fan.

“Please go to the bathroom, Katy, while I rack up the balls.”

“Aw, Dad.”

“Please.”

“The door doesn’t lock.”

“It’s just me…and I’m not going to bust up in there while you’re doing your business.”

“Uhhhh…OK.” She shrugged and plodded off as though she were doomed.

Once the balls were racked, Jake picked out a cue and stuck his head out the door to check on the fire. It was still roaring strong.

“It won’t flush!” Katy hollered, sounding perplexed.

“You must have broken it, girlfriend.”

“Dad, I’m serious.”

“Sorry. I forgot to turn the water on. Hang on.” Jake found the water key and a flashlight that worked for a few seconds if he shook it real hard. He walked to the far end of the lot, shook the light, found the water service, and hurriedly turned it on. Jake never wasted time in the dark.

“Try it now,” he yelled as he stepped back inside.

“Thank you!” she responded over the flush.

Jake smiled. All this with the bathroom made him think of Sanford and Son. His dad really liked that TV show. He would belly-laugh when Fred flushed the toilet. A lot of things reminded him of his dad.

Katy came bounding out of the bathroom, and the World Pool Championship began. She loved to shoot pool and was slowly grasping the fundamentals. Jake was a patient teacher, refraining from comment when one of her striped balls disappeared each time he stepped out to check on the fire. After Katy had won two games, they decided to go roast marshmallows. They talked and enjoyed the fire. Katy asked a million questions about the stars, to which Jake knew only a few answers. She could tell when he was making something up, so he was careful. He loved his time with her. It was very relaxing.

Watching her eat marshmallows, Jake realized how open-minded she was to even consider spending a Friday night and the better part of a Saturday in a hunting camp. She had even passed up a birthday party at the skating rink to be here. She was so vibrant and full of life. He wanted to hold her-to protect her from all the pains of growing up.

Girls. They’re so cool. Make that little girls, he thought. All his buddies warned him about the hound-from-hell teenage-girl years ahead. But maybe all this bonding they were doing now would help him…them…through the rough years that surely were ahead.

“Katy, listen…that’s a whippoorwill…hear him? You can never count his whistles…you’ll always fall asleep first. He can go all night.”

“That’s cool. What does he look like?” she asked and stuffed a blackened marshmallow into her mouth.

“To tell you the truth, I don’t think I’ve ever seen one. The legend is he’s an Indian brave who’s lost his girlfriend on the Trail of Tears, and he’s constantly whistling trying to find her,” Jake said in a scary voice.

Katy stared at him, listening to the distant whippoorwill’s somber song. She cocked her head a bit like she wasn’t quite buying that part of the story.

“You always know it’s spring when you hear one. The old-timers say you’re supposed to drop and roll on the ground three times when you hear the first one each spring or you’ll have bad luck all year.”

“Is that true?”

“No, it’s just superstition.”

Jake poked the fire. It kicked up some sparks, and the conversation continued. They discussed school and the American Idol TV show. Then she asked a question that really surprised him: “How much does it cost to be a member in this huntin’ club?”

“Why do you want to know?” he asked, very suspicious. “Did Mom ask you to find out?”

“No, she didn’t…really. I’m just curious.”

Jake didn’t want to lie, so he told her the truth, and nothing else was said about it.

Finishing his Coke, he realized it was almost eleven. It’s too late to call Tate’s house, even if I could get a cell signal.

“Let’s go to bed. We gotta be up by four forty-five. We have a pretty good walk in the morning.” Jake yawned.

“We never told any ghost stories,” Katy realized.

“Well, it’s late and I’d rather not tonight.”

“You’re scared…aren’t you?”

“No ma’am, I am not. Now come on, let’s go to bed.”

“Just one story please…It doesn’t have to be a ghost story. Pleeeease?”

“OK. Let me think,” Jake said, poking the fire. “Well, once I was in Dallas on a business trip and we were headed to the airport. There were five lanes of traffic.”

“Five-wow!” she replied like she understood.

“Yeah, it’s not like West Point at all…anyway, this truck with a bunch of construction workers passes us doing about a hundred miles an hour, and when they pull into our lane, this cooler falls off the truck. It’s sliding in our lane and we can’t get around it and it’s too big to run over. The truck is long gone. So we had to stop and-”

“Who’s ‘we’?” she interrupted.

“Uh…me and uh, anyway, that’s not important,” he replied. “So we stopped and I got out to drag the cooler off the highway so it didn’t cause an accident. When I grabbed the cooler, it was too heavy to move. Curiosity got the best of me, so I opened it, and guess what was inside?” he said excitedly.

“I dunno,” she said, growing more interested, her eyes wide with anticipation.

“There was a bag of ice and a Ziploc with a bloody big toe in it.”

“Oh my goodness. I bet they were going to the hospital…Did y’all catch the truck?”

“No. There was no way. They were long gone, and we were in a rush ourselves.”

“So what did you do?”

Pausing for dramatic effect, he slowly shook his head and said, “All we could do was call a tow truck.” Jake kept a straight face for a few seconds, then broke into a big grin.

She stared at him inquisitively. She smiled as the light clicked on in her mind. “That was a good one. I believed you for…about one second.” Katy was still smiling.

“Come on, let’s go to bed.”

“OK.”

The camper had warmed up considerably. Katy threw on her pajamas and climbed into her sleeping bag on the top bunk. Jake locked the door, set the alarm clock, checked it again, and looked over their clothes one final time, then turned out the overhead light.

“The turkeys are gonna gobble like crazy in the mornin’,” he said, tucking her in. “I have a good feelin’ about our hunt.”

“Me too, Dad,” she said sleepily.

“Good night, Katy. I love you. Thanks for coming,” Jake said as he patted her form in the sleeping bag.

“Good night, I love you more.”

Jake pulled off his shirt and blue jeans. He would sleep in his boxers in the bunk right underneath Katy.

The whippoorwill was still going strong. Inside the camper was perfectly quiet, except for the buzzing sound of the electric heater. Jake relaxed and thought through the day’s events: the hassles of work, the unspoken uncertainty of his marriage, and the joys of being with a gregarious, carefree nine-year-old. Jake smiled and closed his eyes.