Coming Home (Norris Lake Series) (28 page)

Chapter 28

"Hey Charlie, don’t forget to bring the twelve packs,” Bo called towards the truck. 

"All right.  All right.  I am coming.  Don’t get your panties in a wad."  Charlie yelled grabbing the Busch and the Coleman lantern from the truck bed.  He sauntered down the gravel launch to where his buddy sat on the bow of the flatbottomed fishing boat.  He smiled every time he saw that boat.  It was his pride and joy.  He’d sunk more than $15,000 in the body alone.  It was a sleek, blue metal flake Sea Ray, which could throw a rooster tail 10 foot high and top 60 miles per hour.  One of the two live bait wells held a swarm of shiners and the other one was filled with raw chicken parts.  About 20 plastic milk jugs were piled on the floor of the boat. 

"Get in and let’s get going before the night is gone." Charlie said.  Bo reached into the boat and pulled out a heavy flannel shirt tugging it on over his longsleeved shirt.  A white cloud accompanied his every breath confirming that the winter cold was on its way.  Charlie climbed into the driver’s seat and pushed the ignition switch.  The Johnson sputtered a moment balking at the cold and then roared to life.  With one practiced shove, Bo launched them onto the black lake.  Charlie snapped on the running lights as they roared off towards their usual fishing cove up towards the dam. 

"Go ahead and light that lantern," Charlie called his voice whipped away with the passing wind.  Bo leaned down to light the lantern.  It was an old ritual with them as was their weekly Saturday night fishing trip.  They’d performed this same ritual every year for as long as they could remember, starting when they were in high school.  They were still at it long after both had retired.  Bo turned his face to the wind watching the water for hidden logs or other obstacles.  After 15 minutes running at a rapid clip Charlie turned the boat towards an inlet.  Across the back of the cove lay a rocky face over 100 feet high. 

In the daylight, one could see trees and wild grass growing off the outcroppings of the cliff in places.  A rope swing hung off a tree on one edge of the rocks, the no one the fishing buddies had ever met could figure out why.  The two old timers had been around when TVA started surveying for the dam long before it was build.  Point 19 was actually a landmark for the construction crews who had worked for TVA.  Teenagers would gather on the top of the rock face, build campfires, sit on old worn concrete picnic tables and drink beer, pretending that they had a hideaway that went unknown to their parents and other adults.  Little did they know that the construction crews and their parents found this spot long ago. 

Point 19 was the perfect spot for anyone who wanted to cash in on their auto insurance policy or for any teenager who had boosted a hot car for a joyride.  This was the spot where the lake was fed by one of the hundreds of underground rivers that flowed beneath the bedrock all over the hills of east Tennessee.  The water was abnormally deep, frigid cold and crystal clear.  Any car that was pushed over the cliff at Point 19 wouldn’t normally be recovered and even if it was found. It was unlikely that divers or salvage crews could be talked into dragging all of their equipment out to such a remote, forlorn spot. 

Charlie and Bo also knew that Point 19 was the best place bar none on the lake to go jug fishing.  They mostly caught catfish and carp, but every great once in a while the prize would be a rockfish.  Rockfish grew very big.  The largest one on record was caught only a few miles away at the outtake pipe for the TVA electric power facility.  There in the warm water, a teenager playing hooky sat fishing on a snow covered bank and hooked a 97 pound monster. 

To Charlie and Bo, jug fishing was better than pole fishing because it didn’t required any expertise or patience.  After all, there were better things to do such as drink beer and reminisce about the good old days. 

"Hand me one of those jugs." Charlie called as he stopped the boat along the side of the cove.  He caught it neatly, unwrapped the line and shoved the hook through the back of a large shiner.  Tossing it overboard, he grabbed another, with an extra long set up and this time baited the hook with a piece of chicken.  Between the two of them over the next 30 minutes, they set out about 30 jugs, and then anchored out away from the cove to pass the time.  Bo set the lantern up on the bow of the boat as he leaned over to get another beer. 

“Hey Bo, where’d you get those shoes?”

“My
granddaughter gave them to me.” Bo answered

“They are god awful ugly.  I don’t think I have ever seen such bright blue tennis shoes,” Charlie jeered.

“Me neither, but I couldn’t tell her that.  She’s only nine.  Why all the conversation about my shoes?”

"Hell we’re not really here to fish anyway, you know that," Charlie said as he lit another cigarette.  "It’s just a habit anymore.  If we missed one of these nights, the world would probably stop all together.

"You’re right," Bo agreed nodding his head. "My son has been telling me lately that I’m getting too old to be out here doing this kind of thing."  

"What did you tell him?" Charlie asked pointedly looking over his glasses at his friend. 

"I told him to mind his own damn business and that I’d rather get old out here on this damn lake than to be kept prisoner in one of those nursing homes that he’s always preaching about."  Bo answered taking another swig of beer.

Charlie smiled and chuckled to himself.  Bo’s son had been trying to move his old man to an old
folk’s home since his mother had died and Bo would have none of it.  It was an ongoing argument between the two of them.  Charlie was glad that his friend wasn’t going anywhere at least any time soon.  He didn’t want to have to come on these trips alone and finding another partner was out of the question. 

"Hey throw me another beer," Charlie said.  Bo opened the top of the cooler reaching his
hand down through the ice.  He swished it around a few times with no luck. 

"All out if Busch, bud.  I guess it’s time to go check the lines."  Finishing the first 6-pack was a signal, so Charlie started the boat and idled toward one end of the cove. 

Bo leaned out over the bow lantern in one hand searching for the first jug.  "Here it is. A little to your right." he called pointing towards the spot with his free hand.  He turned his baseball cap around backward on his head, set the lantern on the bow and leaned down to grab the jug.

"Anything?"  Charlie called from the  driver’s seat. 

"Naw.  Baits gone though. Next one,” he said tossing the jug to the bottom of

boat.  Bo picked up the lantern looking for another jug. 

"There’s another one," he called pointing toward a red channel marker.  He pulled up against buoy and grabbed it.  Some of the line was wrapped around the chain which held the channel marker in place. 

"Hey, there’s something on this one."  Charlie put the boat in neutral hurrying over to Bo with a net. 

"Pull it in.  Don’t just stand there," Charlie growled impatiently. 

"It’s heavy whatever it is."  Bo said as he pulled on the line hand over fist.  "I think
it’s a good one." 

Charlie dipped the net into the water.  A silver form appeared and he scooped the fish into the net. 

"Hey, we got one, Charlie. We finally got one," Bo yelled gleefully as he helped Charlie pull the net on to the boat.  "It’s a rockfish."  He dropped onto his knees trying to grab the struggling fish. 

"It must be about forty to forty-five pounds," Charlie marveled watching Bo trap their trophy and hold it up. 

"Yeah, it’s a beauty for sure."  Bo agreed putting the fish on a stringer, tying one end to the boat and dropping the fish gently back into the water. 

"Hey
let’s see if there are anymore.  It must be out lucky night,"  Charlie smiled dropping another 6-pack in the cooler. “Let’s go look near those cliffs of sheer rock.” 

Chapter 29

She could hear the blasting rumbling up the valley.  She knew that the noise was for a good cause and looked forward to seeing the condos that were going to be built in the spring.  Talk around town was they were supposed to have an unobstructed view of the lake and the Appalachia’s beyond. 

"Who knows,” she said to herself, “I may even buy one."  She walked along the long wooden bridge leading to the Andersonville boat dock.  Off to each side, blue gill and carp swam lazily in the warm sunlight, mixing shadows on the bottom of the lake.  She peered over the old weathered railing and watched them for a moment wondering at how clear the lake was.  She could see through all the way to the shallows of the lake bed as gray rock shadows and deep green lake grass lay like a soft blanket.  The sunlight glinted off the water’s surface and reached its fingers around the rocks creating shadows and gulleys; perfect hiding places for little fish and other types of underwater life. 

A small brown house-like structure stood at the end of the plank.  It seemed to float in time to the waves.  As
they walked through the door of the building she was hit full force by a pungent stink. To one side of the building stood a long tank of water brimming with minnows.  Next to the tank a three foot by two foot square wooden box stood perched on top of spindly legs.  A glass top reflected the glare of a warming light which attracted its occupants, hundreds of brown, black eyed crickets.  She shuddered as she thought of having to put her hands into the box to get bait and reverently promised herself that she would never do anything that nasty. Yuck!  Disgusting!

Behind the counter an old man sat on a tall stool.  His hair gone gray with age.  A striped tabby cat the identical shade of gray riveted her attention on his hands as he deftly tied lures for his fly fishing friends.  Adorned with a brown fishing vest and blue work pants, he looked as if he belonged to the store rather than it belonging to him. 

"Hey little lady.  What can I do for you?" he asked with a pleasant smile which revealed a few missing teeth and a dip of Skoal in his lower lip.  He picked up a glass coke bottle, spit into it and set it on the counter in front of him. 

"I was hoping you got my message.  I needed the Sweet Sue gased and ready to go this morning,” she said trying to hide her revulsion at having the bottle so close to her. 

"Uhmm.  You are Sarah Jackson, right?" he continued.  "I will need to see your driver’s license and it’ll be $40 for filling it up, you know.”

“You’ve known me all my life, Mr. Arnold. Why do you need my license?”

“Can’t be too careful can I and it’s part of the process.  I don’t deviate, sweetie.  You know that.  Just show it to me so we can get you going.” 

I suppose you remember how to run one of them things don’t you?" he queried as he peered over the tops of his glasses as if she were still 16 and going to steal a boat. 

"I certainly do know how to drive one. I learned from my Dad on the Sweet Sue when I was growing up.  I just thought I would take a day to myself and get away from the office.  It will be nice to be somewhere that I can’t be reached by all those darn phones.  I guess you don’t have that problem too much out here do you?” she asked. 

"No phones.  Not too many calls especially this time of year either when all of the kiddies have gone back to school and the summer folk have gone back to town.  This Indian summer has kept business going, but you’re right, not too many calls.  You live in Knoxville?" he continued warming to the thought of having someone to pass a little time with. 

"I live in Nashville now but wish I still lived here.  There aren’t enough career opportunities in Knoxville.  Nashville’s growing with new industries. If they keep widening I-40, it will look like something you’d find in California.  It’s eight lanes now, and really busy during rush hour." she answered. 

"Well I wouldn’t go there for all the tea in China.  Knoxville is busy enough for me.  I was raised in the days when Knoxville was still a speck on the map and Farragut wasn’t even a town.”  He paused and spit into the bottle. “No, there’s been too much progress.  All it can cause is trouble if you ask me," he complained as he walked out from behind the counter. 

"You know which one is yours.  Now be careful of the other house boats and stay to the right of the channel markers,” he said gruffly.  Sarah handed Mr. Arnold two of the new twenty dollar bills.

She smiled a little as she bent to pick up her bag and cooler and followed him out the door towards the boat.  "I’ll be careful.  I mean it’s a beautiful day and as long as I don’t get run over by a skier, what could happen?" 

"Need to have it back here by dusk.  Don’t be out past then, ‘cause the running lights don’t work.  Your dad asked me to fix them, but I haven’t gotten around to it yet".   He turned and walked back into the store throwing her a wave as an afterthought. 

She climbed onto the house boat and set her items on the table under the shaded roof. 

“Hey, Caitlyn.” Caitlyn walked toward her along the dock.

“You ready to go girl?” Caitlyn responded.

“Yes, you are just in time. Let’s go. I’ll start the motor, you untie us.” Sarah instructed.

Caitlyn threw off the lines as she heard the engine start.  It sputtered once and Sarah pulled the choke out a little.  She turned the key again and the engine roared to life.  Pushing the throttle forward, she pulled away from the dock and out onto the lake.

“You didn’t bring, Pattycake?” 

“No, I left her at my dad’s for the day.  She’ll be okay and it will give him something to complain about when I get home.” 

“Isn’t that the truth?  They wouldn’t be called parents unless they complained about something we were doing.”

The warm morning air and bright sunshine promised that it would be a good day for laying in the run.  Caitlyn took a deep breath and could smell the sweet heavy scent of freshly cut hay from nearby fields. 

“The air smells wonderful out here doesn’t it? I feel as if we’d never left.” Caitlyn mused.

The lake’s surface was as smooth as glass, not a whisper of wind.  Fish jumped every now and then, probably chasing minnows or waterbugs; filling their tummies.  The lake extended in every direction.  The
water’s edge was lined with tall leafy trees intermixed with pines.  The leaves were just changing colors as fall approached.  The dogwoods were halfway scarlet already. In another two months they wouldn’t be able to even wear shorts much less lay out in the sun.  By then, the days would be short and the air would be cold and crisp. 

Sarah turned the house boat out of the cove and headed towards a sand beach where they’d had spent many afternoon as teenagers.  She and her friends would meet at the dock and go over on one of their parent’s boats to the secluded beach and then lay in the sun, drink beer and play their music as loud as they could.  There were no parents to complain or say "no" since it was an area of the lake that was barely accessible.  The shallow water only allowed house boats and flat bottomed fishing boats access. 

Caitlyn sat on the back of the boat, feet up, sunning herself and letting the stress of the past week fall away.  Sarah sat in the captain’s chair behind the wheel and stretched her long brown legs out in front of her curling her bare toes, enjoying the warm sun on her exposed skin.

The boat chugged on for about fifteen minutes. Spying a sandy beach, Sarah pulled the house boat up to the shore and was pleased to see that they had the spot all to themselves. 

“Wake up sleepy head.  Let’s get busy,” called Sarah. 

Caitlyn had layed down flat on her back her feet dangling over one side of the boat.  Her short white t-shirt covered a yellow bikini top and cut off blue jean painter’s pants spattered with dried paint covered a matching yellow bikini bottom.  She tied up her long red hair with a black metal alligator clip so she’d receive sun on her back.

Sarah too was wearing a bikini though hers was in the form of a pair of tight shorts and brief t-shirt-looking top.  Her outfit was covered by a loose fitting baby blue sleeveless top and a cut off pair of gray sweat pants.  Her short brown hair glinted in the sunlight and a spattering of freckles crossed her nose and cheeks.  Perched on top of her head was a light blue visor emblazoned with a Nike symbol.  Sarah jumped off the front of the boat and tied it to a nearby stump.  She grabbed two lawnchairs and tossed them off the front of the boat on to the sand. 

“Let’s set up right here,” smiled Sarah.

“Looks good to me.  I’ll get the cooler.  You get the radio.”

They both layed their blankets out on the lawnchairs and set the cooler between them. 

Sarah set the radio within arm’s reach and turned it on low to a soft rock station. 

Gazing across the lake at the wall of rock Sarah remembered the times that she they’d jumped off the lower cliffs into the deep water below.  The rock face was at least a hundred feet tall and pepped with outcroppings and a few trees. 

“Hey, you remember when Curtis put up a rope swing off one of those tall maple tree up there?” She said pointing to the far side of the lake.  

“Yeah, that was a blast,” Caitlyn said smiling to herself.  Actually, she remembered when she and Curtis had gone to jump off the cliffs and wandered into one of the caves that peppered the rock shoreline of Norris Lake.  Boy that had been one warm afternoon! 

“I’m glad we came.  I’ve missed you and home.” Caitlyn reflected and then sat back on her blanket and let the sun wash over her skin warming her as if she were stepping into a warm bath. 

“Me too,” Sarah agreed leaning back and turning to grin at her friend.

Sarah and Caitlyn relaxed in the sunshine.  Sarah could smell the sweetly wet fishy smell of the lake as it lapped up against the shore.  They listened to the radio and drank sodas from the cooler taking a minute to dip in the cool water.  About noon, they had a lunch of pimento cheese sandwiches and Fritos. 

Hours later, Sarah reached down for her watch which rested next to her on the arm of the lawn chair.  Squinting against the sun, she sat up and tried to make out the time on the dial.  It was about 4:30 p.m.  The sun would be waning in the next few hours and though it wouldn’t get dark until about 8:00 p.m., she knew that they would have to get the boat back to the dock and then go home and change.  Her mother expected her over tonight for dinner, something that she dare not be late for.  Though she loved her mother with all her heart, lately their main topic of discussion was - when did she plan on settling down with a good man so she could and give her mother some desperately needed grandchildren. 

No, she wasn’t quite ready for that yet.  After all, she was recently divorced at 35 years old.  There was lots of time before she thought about spending her time attached to one man again.  She’d let her older brother be responsible for the grandchildren, after all, he’d been married five years and already had two toddlers.

“Hey Caitlyn, wake up.  Sarah reached out a hand to rock Cat’s shoulder. We need to get the boat back before it gets dark and my mom’s expecting me.  You know how she is when I am late for dinner.” 

“Don’t I….I remember that very well. She’s a bear when you’re late.” Caitlyn snickered as she stood up from the lawn chair. “Remember the time we snuck out and fell asleep in the boathouse, then didn’t get in until the next morning?”

“She exploded.  It was like watching Mt. Vesuvius blowing.  I was grounded for a month.” Sarah giggled.

“Yeah, then she called my father who grounded me for two months with hard labor.” Laughed Caitlyn.

They both smiled remembering the old times and gathered up their towels, each putting their belongings back on the house boat.  Sarah finished her coke and dropped the can into the trash bin. 

Off in the distance they could hear another boat approaching.  It was probably a skier or fishermen tearing across the water to another fishing hole.  The boat was getting closer and closer.  Standing on the corner of the houseboat, Caitlyn looked up at the lake and saw an expensive flatbottomed fishing boat throw rooster tails of water high into the air as it skittered across the water.  She could tell that the two men were each holding a beer can. 

“Look at that,” she yelled to Sarah, shaking her head. “Idiots.”  Sarah wondered when people would realize that alcohol and boating just did not mix.  It always led to trouble of some kind or another.  She knew that from
firsthand experience. Her parents had a houseboat for as long as she could remember.    Spending almost every weekend of her life on the water while she was growing up, she had seen one of her friends fall out of a boat and get hit with a prop.  The prop had cut him across one shoulder just narrowly missing his jugular.  It had almost killed him.  It was also her parent’s  houseboat they’d been on when Beth had disappeared.  She’d swore off alcohol while boating after that night.  She had little patience with rednecks who didn’t respect what could happen on the water when alcohol was involved.