Songbird (23 page)

I can’t stop laughing. “Way to go, Mr. Franklin.”

Callie’s head swivels in my direction. It’s kinda scary.

“Keep laughing, Devin McAllister. And don’t worry. I won’t be trying to jump your bones for the duration of this trip. Maybe
ever
.”

I grin.

Once Pam’s gone, Mr. Franklin turns toward the porch, takes one long look at his only daughter, and bursts out laughing.

“You’re both jerks!” Callie groans and heads inside the house.

I try to contain my laughter as Mr. Franklin makes his way up the steps. He grins and offers me his hand.

“Greg Franklin. How pissed is she?”

“Devin McAllister. I think she’s traumatized, sir.”

“Yeah, well, she’ll get over it.” He grins and opens the door. “It’s good to meet you, Devin. Come on in. I bet you could use a beer.”

“You have no idea.”

Mr. Franklin gives me a fatherly slap on the back and leads me inside.

I
t’s true what they say. Men really do stick together.

Dad and Devin sit at the kitchen table, cracking jokes and laughing as if they’ve known each other for years. They drink their beer and make plans for all of us to go fishing this afternoon. I didn’t even realize Devin liked to fish, but he’s talking about the difference between a treble hook and a weedless hook, and it’s totally impressing my dad. They’ve already called the local sporting goods store to see if they can buy Devin a one-day fishing permit. Seems silly to buy a license for one afternoon of male bonding and ass kissing, but what do I know?

“Callie never liked to fish much,” Dad says, “but she loved baiting the hook.”

“Is that right?” Devin smiles at me.

I shrug and continue licking my banana freezer pop—Dad’s peace offering and his way of apologizing for his own little taste of afternoon delight.

I’m an adult. Of course I don’t expect my father to be celibate, but did I really have to see
Pam Ford
on top of my father? The woman who gave me
Ds
in Algebra out of the kindness of her heart? The teacher who encouraged me to embrace my creative side because there was no way I’d ever get a job as an engineer or accountant or anything that remotely involved numbers?

It’s just weird.

After lunch, the three of us climb into Dad’s pickup and head to the sporting goods store. I stay behind in the truck and play on my phone, thinking this whole license deal will only take a few minutes. Half an hour later, the two most important men in my life walk out with two new rods, dozens of multi-colored fishing lures, and a tackle box full of other crap I can’t identify.

“What? No boat?”

Devin smirks. “I tried. He wouldn’t let me.”

“No sense paying full-price when they’ll just go on sale in the fall,” Dad says as he puts the gear in the bed. “We’ll look then.”

I roll my eyes.
Boys.

Dad drives us to his favorite fishing spot on the Holston River. I spent most of my summers here when I was a kid. My dad did his best, but he didn’t really know what to do with a girl all day, every day, and I liked to bait the hook, so it was a win-win for both of us. Sometimes we’d go out in his fishing boat, but we both preferred to stay on the shore. Once the bait hit the water, I always lost interest. Dad didn’t mind if I explored as long as I stayed within view. I collected rocks and shells, and when I got older, I started bringing my camera along. It’s a peaceful place and one of the prettiest spots in our hometown.

The three of us walk the short path to Dad’s favorite spot.

“I think I’ll look around a little before we get started,” Devin says.

Dad nods. “Stay on the trail, son.”

Son.
The word sends shivers up my spine and tells me what I already suspected. He’s accepted Devin . . . already.

I hope he’s still this accepting when he finds out we’re having a baby.

“Want me to go with you?”

Devin shakes his head. “Nah. Spend some time with your dad.”

He leans down and kisses my forehead before wandering off.

“Well, that was subtle,” Dad says with a grin.

“I guess he thinks we needed some bonding time of our own.”

“That’s nice of him. You baiting?”

I nod and reach for his rod. Sure, they bought a bagful of pretty lures, but Dad says there’s nothing like live bait. I’m just enough of a tomboy to agree with him.

He casts his line into the water. “Devin seems like a good man.”

“He is.”

“Kind of surprised how fast you’re moving, though.”

“Right back ʼatcha, Dad. Since when are you and Ms. Ford such good friends?”

His ears redden. “We’ve actually been . . . friendly for a while now.”

“Obviously.”

“I really am sorry about that, Cal. Time just got away from us and—”

“It’s fine. Not my business. If she makes you happy, then I’m all for it. I’d just rather not
see
it.”

Dad chuckles. “Understood. And she does make me happy.”

“Good. You deserve it.”

“So do you.”

We grow quiet as we watch his line bobble in the water. I know it’s the perfect opportunity to tell him about the baby.
Should I wait for Devin?

“Spit it out, Callie.”

I sigh. He knows me so well. Still, I try to stall.

“Spit what out?”

“Don’t misunderstand. I’m always happy to see you, but a spur-of-the-moment visit makes me think there’s a little more to this weekend than just introducing me to your boyfriend. What’s up?”

I look downstream.
Where is he?

“There is something we’d like to talk to you about.”

He nods. “I don’t see a ring on your finger, so I’m guessing you haven’t eloped.”

“Nope. No elopement.”

“Should I be worried?”

Before I can answer, Devin reappears and sits down next to me. Happy to have a distraction, I grab his rod and bait his hook. He casts his line and then leans over to kiss my cheek. Out of the corner of my eye, I see my dad watching us, and I see him smile.

“Callie, why don’t you take a walk? I’d like to talk to my new fishing buddy here. Guy stuff. You wouldn’t be interested.”

Looking between the two of them, I wonder if this is such a good idea, but I do want them to have the chance to get to know each other before we drop our baby bomb. Maybe some more male bonding between the two of them will make the news a little easier to hear.

“I saw a snake on the trail, so stay close, okay?” Devin says.

Normally, his request would make me cranky, but snakes are no joke.

“I’ll just walk upstream a bit. Look for some shells.” I kiss both guys on the cheek. “Don’t kill each other.”

They both grin as I walk away.

A
s an attorney, I’m a cynic by nature. I prepare for the worst and hope for the best, which is pretty much how I approached this weekend with her dad. I’ve only been fishing a few times, but Mr. Franklin seems impressed with what little I know, and I’m happy to learn. Honestly, I’d do just about anything to get this man’s approval, and if that means an afternoon of fishing in the blistering sun, then that’s what I’ll do.

There’s little to do while fishing except talk and watch your line, but I’m having trouble doing both because Callie’s standing upstream, with the legs of her jeans rolled up to her knees. She’s walking through the water, her blonde hair glistening in the sunlight, looking content and peaceful and beautiful. I wish I’d brought my phone just so I could take a picture.