On the road the next morning, Rory asked Cary to look up what there was to see in the Twin Cities. They could either stay there for a day or two or simply drive on. Cary got on the internet on his phone and started researching.
They’d talked about Cary’s adventure in the park over dinner that night in Huron. Rory complimented Cary profusely for going to talk to the boys when it was so hard for him to do so. Cary agreed that he’d felt proud of himself and how surprised he’d been with how easy it was. “But a lot of that was because you told me how to approach them. I don’t know what to say in that sort of situation. Knowing what to say made it much easier. It was exactly right; you knew the perfect way to approach them.”
Rory wouldn’t accept much of the credit. “I’m sure you put it in at least some of your own words. That’s probably what sold it. You spoke like kids your age do. That made it sound like it was coming from you, not an old man who’s well past it.”
Cary ignored Rory’s self-deprecating remark. “That surprised me, too, that I could do that. But once I’d started and they were listening, it got easier.”
“So now you know the fundamentals. Figure out what to say before you meet the people or person you’ll be confronting. And think about not only what you’re going to say but also how you’re going to say it; it should fit the emotions or mood of the situation. But you’re several steps ahead of most people at this.”
“How’s that?”
“You’re very good looking. People respond better to good-looking people than to other people. If you walk up to someone and smile, they’re already on your side.”
“Still uncomfortable.”
“Practice makes perfect.”
« »
The drive to Minneapolis wouldn’t take long. While Cary was researching and fussing with Morris, Rory was thinking about how the boy had done the day before, and what had to come next. He had to help Cary build self-confidence. He himself had done that by hanging and training with Bobby and Bobby’s dad. His friendship with Bobby had been a pivotal factor in Rory’s personal growth. The road passed under them. South Dakota had become Minnesota but the scenery hadn’t changed much. The sameness allowed his mind to wonder, and his thoughts returned to those early days and Bobby.
« »
“I won!” Bobby was ecstatic. He’d been unable to keep up with Rory since they’d started running up the Madison Street hill every day. Until that day. He’d put on a burst of speed at the end—almost killing himself was how it had felt—but he’d pulled ahead just as they reached the top.
Rory had thrown his arm around Bobby’s shoulders. “You were bound to, eventually,” he panted. “You’re a much better athlete than I am. It was just a matter of time till your legs caught up to the rest of you.”
Bobby was too spent to talk. He just smiled at Rory.
They’d been training for almost a month. Rory hated the weightlifting, the sparring, the sit-ups and pull-ups. He didn’t mind the running. At least that was outside and not in the basement. He was surprised, though, that it had taken Bobby this long to equal him on the hill. Bobby was a natural athlete—Rory could see that even if the boy was just fourteen—and Bobby pushed himself harder than Rory did. The fact Rory had been able to beat him made Rory aware that maybe he wasn’t as bad as he thought he was. At running, at least.
He was aware that some of his problems with self-esteem came from the way his father treated him. But awareness did not equal a rejuvenation of the spirit. He still heard negativity every day from the man, and it still hurt, and the injury to his psyche wouldn’t be solved in a week or a month or a year.
But his ability to run was a good thing. It was something he could take pride in. No way would he tell his father about it. That would just invite more criticism and put-downs. He didn’t tell his father anything if he could help it.
A couple of weeks later, when Bobby was now regularly beating Rory up the hill, even if not by a whole lot and still working very hard to do it, he told Rory he’d made a decision.
“I’m going to try out for the football team next year. The JV team. I’m not ready to face those varsity elephants, and neither are you yet. We’re too little. But as sophomores? We probably will be bigger. I know we’ll be stronger. Anyway, we’re doing it.”
“Huh? What do you mean, we? Are you out of your mind? I’m not going out for football. You’re crazy!”
“Am not, and you are. Are going out with me. I’m not doing this alone. We’re in this improving-ourselves business together. You and me. The pair of us. I’m going out, and you are, too. It’s a done deal.”
Rory was aghast. “No it isn’t! You can do it. You’re the athlete. I’m the weak, wimpy sidekick who roots you on. I’m shy and a big nothing. No way I’d make the team. I couldn’t even be the water boy. Couldn’t lift the pails.”
“They don’t have pails.” They were walking back down the hill by then. “They have squirt water bottles you carry in a hand-held bottle carrier. And you’re as strong as I am.”
“No I’m not. You’re lifting more than I am now.”
“Yeah, five pounds. Well, you certainly can’t deny you’re stronger than you were.” Bobby was glaring at him. “A lot stronger. You’re so used to your dad putting you down, you don’t realize how much stronger you’ve gotten. I just show it more than you because I’m bigger boned than you. You’re fine, just naturally slender. And changing the subject isn’t going to help. We’re going out for football.”
Rory shook his head. The idea of going out for football was insane. “What, you think I’m going to tackle some 200-pound running back coming at me full speed ahead?”
“No, I think you’re going to be a receiver and run routes and catch passes and outrace the defensive backs. You’re as fast as I am, faster actually, over a long distance that isn’t all uphill. I’m trying to match you. But when we go out for the team, just try not to let the linebackers hit you. That’s for me to do. I’m going to be a running back. I’m going to run over those guys.”
“Football’s a rough game,” Rory argued. “I’m not into rough!”
“Then why are you doing all the physical training we’re doing? Why are you working with Dad? Sparring and self-defense? Trying to elude him when he’s coming after you? Your object was to toughen up. Why learn how to get tough if you’re not going to use it?”
Rory wasn’t giving in. “I might be toughening up, I don’t know, but I’m still me. I’m still afraid of almost everything. Still afraid of other guys, and that’s what you get playing football: other guys, big guys, trying to smash you.”
“And you’re learning how to avoid getting hit hard and how to hit back. That’s what we’ve been doing. Getting stronger so we’re not afraid of being hit, and if we are hit, it won’t hurt as much. Football will give us a chance to see that getting tackled, getting roughed up, is something we can handle. Learn that and we can give back what we’re getting. You need that. So do I. I want to be a running back because they get hit the hardest, but running backs get to hit the people trying to tackle them, too. I want to prove to myself I can do that. Don’t you want to prove that to yourself, too? Don’t you want to prove that wimp label doesn’t actually fit you any longer?”
« »
Rory, now a mature, independent man, still couldn’t believe Bobby could have talked him into it back then. But he had. He cheated a little, as Rory figured out eventually. Bobby had begun letting Rory win some of the hill runs. Even at fourteen, he was wise enough to see Rory needed a confidence boost more than anything else. He took it upon himself to provide it. Rory could see that now.
The two men still argued over who had helped the other the most. They’d both become successful when older. Neither had thought that possible when they were thirteen and had only started to think it possible at fourteen.
« »
“Find anything that looks interesting?”
Cary shrugged. “Minneapolis just looks like a big city, much like St. Paul does. It’s right across the river. The two of them seem like just one big city. Like we have at home. I’d kind of like to get away from big cities.”
“You could have said that when I suggested we look at the Twin Cities.”
“I thought you wanted to visit here. That’s why I agreed.”
“Actually, I wanted to make you happy. But we can drive right through if you want. If you can’t tell me what you feel, how can you tell anyone?”
“I can’t. You know that. But if you want the truth, I am kind of tired of driving. Morris is, too.” Cary grinned.
“You speaking for him now?”
“Yep.”
Rory laughed. “Well, I have a suggestion. Two possibilities. But they’re only that. If neither of them interests you, say so and we’ll just forget I even mentioned them.”
“Okay.”
“So,” Rory said, “the first one is we could go to a baseball game. The Twins are playing the White Sox. Target Field is right downtown. It’s a night game. We could have dinner and then go to the game.”
“What’s the other suggestion?”
“You don’t like baseball?”
“No!”
“Now why did I guess that? Okay, you might like this one. We’re in The Land of Ten Thousand Lakes. What I’m going to suggest is that we take advantage of that. Rent a cabin on a lake, stop driving for a couple of days, relax, rent a boat, hire a guide, and go fishing.”
Cary grinned. “We’re right next door to Wisconsin. Are they proud of their lakes, too?”
“No. With them it’s their beer.”
“Ugh. I hate beer. And as for suggestion number two, I like all of it except maybe the fishing. I’ve never done that.”
“Me, neither. It’ll be an adventure. And if we don’t like the fishing part, we’ll probably have a cabin by a wooded lake. We could hike instead.”
Cary smiled. “Sign me up.”
« »
Rory called Harper back in L.A. After some catching up, he asked, “The sitcom you’re working on: you’re shooting scenes on location for backgrounds, aren’t you?”
“Sure. They’re out there in Minnesota right now.”
“Great. Cary and I want to take a couple of days off from driving, and he’s eager, eager I tell you—” he looked at Cary who was listening and now rolling his eyes “—to go fishing. You must have a location scout out here, and he has to be hooked into a travel agent or at least someone who knows the area. We want to rent a cabin on a lake where we can rent a boat and some gear and probably hire someone who can show us the ropes. Neither of us is into fishing at all. We know nothing about pulling a fish out of a lake. Or finding a good cabin and a boat that won’t leak or tip over.”
“No problem at all. I have your number. I’ll have the guy call you for particulars.”
Three hours later, they were sitting across the desk from a well-past-middle-aged man with a bushy beard going white. They were in the man’s office. The office was in a log cabin well off the highway, about two hours north of the Twin Cities. It was surrounded on three sides by deep forest; the other side was a lake. Rory had spoken on the phone to the man Harper had set him up with. He told him he wanted a nice—he emphasized the ‘nice’—cabin on a lake that had fish in it that weren’t difficult to catch, but the cabin should have modern facilities yet be private and quiet. They weren’t interested in being around a lot of tourists or other fishermen. They also would need everything necessary for fishing.
The man had called his contacts, and now Cary and Rory, accompanied by Morris, were speaking to the man they’d been directed to see.
“I’m Cap Fuller,” the man said. “This is my lake.”
“How can you own a lake?” Cary asked. The man had a friendly air about him like some men do, and Cary wasn’t as intimidated as he usually was when confronting strangers.
Cap laughed. “You have a great, great grandfather who was wise enough to buy up land back when this was still the wild frontier. It’s also a small lake, and it’s in the middle of a forest. I own a lot of that, too. Now, I understand you want a very nice cabin and equipment and such to catch yourself some fish. You’ve come to the right place. Come with me and I’ll show you the cabin I have.”
“Cabin? Not cabins? You only have one?” Rory was surprised, thinking this was a commercial venture.
“Fewer headaches if you only have one set of guests at a time. People come here want privacy and quiet and great, uncrowded fishing. I take it that’s what you want?”
“That sounds perfect, actually, but if I’m not being nosy, how can you make a living renting one cabin at a time?”
Cap grinned. “I bought Microsoft and Amazon early. I only rent the cabin out so I don’t sit out here alone and become a hermit.”
“Okay. Well, we’ll need a guide, too. Someone with patience with newbies who can teach us what we don’t know. If you’re here alone, is that going to be you?”
“No, I have someone much better. Someone who really knows the lake and the boat and everything worth knowing about catching fish. What time are you wanting to go out tomorrow? I can have him here then.”
“I’ve heard it’s best if you go out at the crack of dawn, but Cary here is a teenager. I’ll be lucky if I have him out of bed by nine.”
“That’ll work. There’ll still be hungry fish in there. You just have to know where they’re hiding. So, say, 9:30? Time for breakfast and all?”
“Sounds good. Uh, I thought there’d be a communal dining room. What do we do about meals?”
“Your cabin is fully stocked. When I get a rental, I stock it. Anything special you need, tell me and I’ll get it. But you do the cooking. Or there’s a decent restaurant about 15 miles down the road.”
He took them to their cabin and left them there. Rory was surprised: the place was more than just luxurious. He’d been surprised by how much this was costing him, but it made more sense now. The cabin was like one of those country ‘cabins’ in 1940-ish films; the place looked like a 5th Avenue mansion that was owned by a millionaire. It had plush furniture, an oversized fireplace, expensive throw rugs over a highly polished plank floor, a ballroom-sized living room, three bedrooms, each with an en suite bathroom, a separate kitchen with an eating nook, and a great view of the lake from a wide screened porch.
Cary chose the smallest bedroom, though all of them were large enough to throw a football in. He always deferred to Rory, letting him have his choice, though Rory had told him time and again to choose what he wanted. “I do,” Cary always said with unaffected seriousness.
There was a BBQ grill on a back porch off the kitchen. Rory slapped two thick rib eye steaks on the grill after baking two large Idaho potatoes for an hour and a half. Cary helped by making a salad. Rory showed him how to sauté spinach lightly in butter and lemon. They ate well that night, and Cary wanted to turn in early. Riding in a car all day had proved tiring.
Rory knocked on his door in the morning. “Eight forty-five! Time for a quick shower. I’ll have breakfast on the table in ten minutes. We should be done plenty before nine-thirty. Cap said our guide would knock on our door then. Up and at ’em, Tiger.”
They’d just put their dishes in the dishwasher and were wiping down the counters when there was a knock on the cabin door.
“I’ll get it.” Rory was closer to the door, and he went. He opened the door and found a young teenager poised ready to knock again.
“Hi,” the kid said. “I’m Ryan. Your full-service fishing guide. Anything about fishing and boats, I’m your man!”
The kid was kind of cute, Rory thought. About Cary’s size, too, and probably around his age though perhaps somewhat younger. He was wearing shorts and a tee shirt, just like both Rory and Cary were. He had dark brown hair and eyes, eyes that were sparkling, and a round face with even features. Rory thought he was cute on first appearance, but after giving his spiel, the boy smiled broadly, and Rory had to rethink his first impression. This boy was beyond cute. Smiling, he came close to rivaling Cary in the looks department. What sold the package and tied it up with a colorful bow was the self-confidence the kid exuded.
This boy showed no shyness at all. Rory tried to imagine Cary saying he was the best kid actor around. Never in a hundred years would anyone hear that sort of remark from Cary. This boy radiated self-confidence and fun. Just his smile and body language broadcast it.
“You guys ready to boogie? Time’s a-wastin’ and the fish are getting anxious having heard I’m the one leading the expedition today. They know some of them are going to end the day in the frying pan. You ready to move out? Day’s not getting any younger.”
Just then Cary walked into view. Ryan stopped speaking and stared at him. Rory grinned. He thought it possible Ryan’s mouth had dropped open. Quite obviously the sight of Cary had distracted him. Cary did have that effect on people.
It didn’t silence Ryan, however. “Wow! You’re not from around here, that’s for sure. Minnesota doesn’t cultivate many movie stars, and that’s what you look like. Maybe the front man with a boy band. That where you’re on the road to, or from? Hollywood? Headed to your next gig? Anyway, I’m Ryan. What’s your name?”
Cary smiled. “I’m Cary,” he said, giving Rory something to think about. Not Wyatt, Cary. He wondered, why the change? But Cary was still speaking. “And we’re here to fish, not for a beauty contest. But there’s been some sort of mistake. We hired a guide, not a kid. You selling Boy Scout cookies? You’re certainly not a fishing guide. You don’t look old enough to be much use out on the lake. I doubt you know anything about that. Maybe you’re delivering pizza and came to the wrong place. Anyway, we’re going fishing if the guide ever shows up. We’ll have to talk to Cap again, see why he’s late.”
Rory couldn’t believe it. Cary, talking like that? Challenging someone he’d just met? Teasing him? Playing with him? It was unthinkable! And now he watched Cary grin. Cary grinning was always a remarkable sight, and now it appeared to be being done intentionally, probably meant to flummox Ryan. Rory could only think of one reason Cary would do that. Perhaps Cary was as startled by Ryan’s good looks as Ryan was with his. This was his response; but it wasn’t something he thought Cary had in his bag of tricks.
Rory continued to watch, fascinated by what he was seeing. Ryan got a perplexed look on his face, though it was quite obviously being put on. “I guess you’d know, what with your vast experience and all, what a fishing guide looks like. You know, old and grumpy, poorly shaven or not at all, probably liquored up this late in the day, potbellied, bloodshot eyes, smelling a bit like day-old fish left out in the sun. Nope, that’s not me. I just smell of healthy boyhood, and my eyes are clear and bright. As for finding the fish and helping you get them into the boat, you’ll soon see me in action.
“But that’ll only happen if we get a move on. Don’t really have the time to stand here jawing with you. But you don’t look like the sort to get your hands dirty, so I’ll do all the fetchin’ and carryin’ that’s needed. I mean, how many times have you dug for bait in your life? Huh? Huh?”
And then he grinned, showing it was all for show, and Cary couldn’t help himself. He grinned, too. The pair of them looked like they could ornament a Christmas tree. They were adorable.
Out on the lake, Ryan was in the back of the boat, tending the motor and the tiller. He’d done as he’d said, carried the poles and lure box and bait pail to the boat, and he’d kept the boat steady while the two virgin fishermen climbed in. He told them where to sit and somehow did it without sounding bossy.
Then he’d passed along a spray can of SPF-70 sunscreen and made sure they used it. “The sun reflecting off the lake’ll make you guys as red as ketchup if you’re not careful. And I’ve got these for you.” He reached into the boat’s side compartment and pulled out three floppy hats with wide brims all around. “You’ll find these very useful. Might get sunstroke without them. No shade on the lake.” He put one on, too.
He motored them to a place not far from shore, then shut down and let the boat drift. “Okay, school’s in session. Don’t worry; I’m an easy grader.” He grinned again and Rory took a quick glance at Cary. Rory saw he’d been watching Ryan all the time the two had been together. Cary had the appearance of a moth that was attracted to a bright light. A moth named Ryan.
Ryan did appear to know what he was doing. Ryan showed them how to bait a hook, talked to them about lures and sinkers, told them about bottom-feeding and top water fish, showed them how to cast. Then he had Cary move so he was straddling his seat facing the water and had Rory move so he was on the other side of the boat from Cary for balance. Ryan got right behind Cary, also straddling the seat. He gave Cary the fishing pole, its hook baited, and sort of hugged the boy, held his arm and helped him cast his line. Then he moved back a little. But not too far. He worked with Cary until Cary was casting the way Ryan wanted him to.
After that, Ryan moved back to the stern and started the motor and took them to another part of the lake. There he stopped and had Cary cast his line. In only a few minutes, Cary felt movement on his line. He had a finger touching it, just as Ryan had told him to do so he could feel anything that was happening below.
“Okay, that’s a fish nibbling on your bait. You want to wait till the movement is stronger. That’s when he’s decided to eat it. When that happens, jerk the rod upwards. Not too far, but a solid jerk. You’re trying to set the hook in Mr. Fish’s mouth.”
The line moved abruptly and Cary, ready for it, jerked the pole up.
“Perfect!” Ryan yelled. “See the line running off your reel? You’ve got him. Now you play him.” Ryan moved so he was next to Cary again, ready to help if needed. “Tighten your drag on the reel like I showed you. Yeah, just like that. He can still run, but it’s harder now, and he’ll get tired of fighting the drag. He’ll turn around to make it easier to swim, and when he does, the pull on your pole will ease up, too. That’s when you start cranking in the loose line. See? Like right now.”
Cary began reeling in. Then he stopped because the fish had turned around again and the line was playing out.
“Let him run a bit, then give it a little more drag. Yeah, that’s good. We’re doing it this way because if you just tried to reel him in, he might be strong enough, heavy enough, to break the line. You’re using 8-pound line. Most bass are under 10 pounds, but they’re good fighters and you have to play with him and have patience to land him. Let me in here for a minute.”
So saying, Ryan moved forward to where he was basically cuddling up to Cary. He took hold of the rod and felt the fish fighting the line. “He’s a good-sized fish, Cary. Keep playing him as you are, letting him run when he wants, reeling in when he stops. If you get tired, let me know and either your dad or I can take over while you rest.”
That brought a response from Rory. “Hey, I never did get the chance to introduce myself, what with you two squabbling and all. I’m Rory, and I’m no dad. I’m Cary’s friend and traveling companion.” He laughed. “I’m way too young to have a son Cary’s age.”
“Oh, well, then. Hi, Rory.” Then Ryan turned back to Cary. “And just how old are you?” he asked.
“I’m fifteen,” Cary said. “How ’bout you? I’d guess you’re twelve.”
“Twelve! I’m fourteen, almost fifteen! Twelve? You’ve got to be kidding!”
Cary laughed. “Well, you don’t look fourteen.”
“You don’t look fifteen, either.”
The two boys grinned at each other. Rory just watched them, not able to keep from smiling.
After a pause, a lengthy one that Rory figured would end when the shy one dropped his eyes, it was actually Ryan who did that. He wasn’t intimidated, however. “My youthful appearance, and vitality, I may add, comes from clean living. I avoid liquor and girls. Those are the two things that age a fellow. Hey, watch your fish!”
He was still up against Cary’s backside. “You want help?” he asked. “You look like you’re doing fine by yourself.”
“No, I think I’ve got him. I want to bring him in.”
“Great, keep doing what you’re doing and he’ll tire out before you will unless he’s bigger than I think. I think he’s a good-sized fish, probably a bass. They put up a fight, and the best part is, they’re delicious.”
When, a good ten minutes later, Cary brought the fish up to the boat, Ryan netted it and lifted it over the gunwale. “Man, she’s a beauty. I’d guess eight to nine pounds. They usually don’t get bigger than ten. He’ll make a great meal for both of you.”
Rory spoke up. “I’d say there’s enough for three, but to make sure, we should stay out here long enough to catch a couple more. Cary’s probably getting tired of my conversation, and having someone else at the table would be a blessing. Why don’t you join us for dinner? Do you know how to cook fish?”
Ryan smiled. “One of my best things.”