A Love Story

Chapter One

Jodi Jackson and I first made love the summer we were seventeen, and that changed everything.

She was the campground owner’s daughter.

Our fathers had been friends in high school and remained so all the way through the Marines. Mom, Dad, and I had come to northern Wisconsin from Iowa for a month’s visit, but we’d stayed longer, and I’d kissed Jodi a lot during those last couple of weeks…

****

We packed a lunch in a cooler and canoed Big Sand Lake during the morning under a blue, sunny Wisconsin sky. At noontime, we ate chicken sandwiches and drank root beer on a beach, a soft breeze cooling us. We sat cross-legged on a blanket in the hot sand and faced each other, our picnic basket between us, lunch finished.

Jodi’s eyes shone green as emeralds, and we were both tanned honey-brown from hanging out at the beach and fishing in a boat on Big Sand Lake. What are you looking at? Jodi asked.

Your eyes, I said. I’m looking at your eyes.

Got two of them. Like you.

Yours are crossed.

They are not! Her face opened into a grin, an angel’s face with a snub nose, round cheeks, and full pink lips. You know how many ears Davy Crockett had?

Not another riddle!

"Three ears. Right ear. Left ear. And the wild frontier."

She laughed and waggled a finger in my face. Her curly blonde hair—sun-bleached in front, darker in back, almost red—bounced with life. She was a five-foot-two dynamo who loved riddles and sometimes popped them into the conversation without warning. They were all stupid, but I couldn’t help but laugh anyway.

She traced a finger across my shoulder, and my skin tingled. You’ve got a really nice tan. I love the little cleft in your chin. She leaned forward and teased my lips with a butterfly-light kiss. What are you thinking about?

My heart knocking around in my chest, I slid the picnic basket aside. I wiggled closer to her and looped my arm around her neck. I drew her to me and kissed her softly parted mouth. She kissed me back—a lethal kiss for both of us. A zing of adrenaline shot through me. Did she know she made soft humming sounds when we kissed?

I know where there’s a deer-hunter’s cabin in the woods, she said, her eyes riveted on mine.

Not smart. Close like this, I noted the sprinkling of freckles across her nose and on her cheeks.

Smart’s not how I’m feeling. She reached out and stroked my cheek. Her seductive touch was fire.

You sure you want to do this? I asked, my heart knocking around again.

Don’t you? she asked softly.

When she said that, I forgot to breathe for a second. Yes, I said in a whisper. But I don’t have a condom. I never expected...

I’m nowhere near ovulation, she said. We’re safe.

I blinked. I’m sure I looked confused. Three years ago, as a freshman in high school in Family Living class, I remember reading right along with girls about menstrual cycles and other stuff like fertile awareness and ovulation. The girls seemed to already know about everything, and I didn’t pay much attention. I figured when the time came all I’d need to know was how to roll on a condom, which our teacher Mrs. Dickerson demonstrated one day on a small banana, while students snickered almost uncontrollably, hands plastered over their mouths.

Now here I was with this beautiful, feisty girl who was into me, and I was without a condom. This was no laughing matter.

We’re safe, Jodi said again. Nothing to worry about.

You sure?

She raised an eyebrow, as if to tell me she knew what she was talking about. I believed her. Who else but Jodi would know about her own body, right? Besides, she wanted to be an environmental biologist. She knew everything about plants and animals and insects and reproduction and all that stuff.

We made love in the musty cabin on the lower half of a set of squeaky, rickety bunk beds. Jodi wore a yellow t-shirt and matching shorts, a white bikini underneath. I wore a white t-shirt and cutoffs. She smelled of sunshine and lilacs and tasted of clean sweat. Her hair was soft and silky in my hands. At six-two, two hundred and five pounds, I had a tough time maneuvering on the bunk bed with Jodi. Luckily, she had no hang-ups about sex. She laughed and screamed, my heart thumped a million beats a second, and we both had fun. In fact, we worked so well together we did it twice.

After we had time to catch our breath and I realized what we’d done, the thought of not using a condom worried me a bit. I didn’t say anything, but Jodi seemed to sense my concern—feminine intuition, I guessed. She stroked my cheek and said, Don’t worry, sweetie.

She’d never called me that before. I loved it. Did she have any idea how indescribably wonderful she was? When she said, This is definitely the safe time of the month, I didn’t give condoms another thought. Being with her was the greatest thing that had happened to me in a long time.

Later, while Jodi and I sat on the dock where we’d tied the canoe, dangling our feet in the water, a guilty feeling overtook me. Had I used Jodi to escape the fact that cancer had a deadly grip on my dad, and I was watching him slowly die? I’d had no right to use Jodi like that. The last thing in the world I wanted to do was hurt her. Or maybe she was taking pity on me. A romp in a deer hunter’s cabin to help me forget for a while.

Why so silent, Michael?

Just ... thinking.

Jodi jumped up, grabbed my sides, and started tickling me. I struggled to stand and catch her wrists. I caught one but lost my balance. Laughing, we tumbled backward into six feet of cool, blue lake water.

****

That night, Dad took Mom and me to supper at Barefoot Charlie’s, a log-cabin roadside bar and restaurant where they served the best deep-fried fish in the northland. When I pulled open the heavy pine door for Mom and Dad, a stuffed black bear standing on its haunches, mouth wide open, teeth bared, greeted us. Inside, mounted fish hung everywhere on the walls—northern, bass, crappie, and muskie.

We sat at a corner table. The place was packed with tourists, most of them wearing jeans and light flannel shirts, just like us. Anyone who looked closely at Dad could tell he’d die soon. He looked old and gaunt with gray skin drawn tight against his cheekbones. It was hard to imagine he’d once been young, handsome, and athletic. That he’d taught me how to punt, place kick, and run with a football.

You having a good time? he asked me.

Great time. Terrific.

I knew you’d like northern Wisconsin.

Home’s where you should be, Peter. Mom touched Dad’s hand, then looked at me across the table with her wide, dark eyes. Tell your father we should go home.

The other fishermen and tourists in Barefoot Charlie’s were eating and chattering and laughing about the stringer of walleye they’d caught or the thirty-pound muskie they’d battled to the boat before it spit their bucktail. Not Mom and Dad and me. We were deciding when to leave our rented cabin here in upper Wisconsin, close to the Wisconsin-Michigan border, so Dad could go home to die, probably within a few weeks. Home was Grandview, Iowa, four hundred miles south. I would be head of the household within a few months—maybe weeks. Me. Michael Panther.

My eyes lowered to the red-and-white checkered tablecloth. The lighted candle on the table flickered into little suns on the silverware by my napkin. Looking up at Dad, I said, Mom’s right. We should go home.

He blew out a sigh. I’d really like to stay, but I don’t have many good days anymore.

Then you need to be home, Mom said. Close to your doctor. And a hospital.

She’s right, Dad.

A young waitress appeared at our table, pad and pencil in hand. How are you folks this evening? she asked, and smiled. Would you like to order from the bar first?

I stared at the menu. Suddenly the aromas of baked northern, broiled shrimp, fried catfish, jumbo French fries—all Charlie’s specialties—turned my stomach.

This was the end of our last family vacation together.

Our last family outing. Ever.

****

After we ate, I drove us back to Ghost Bay Campgrounds on Big Sand Lake. Dad’s buddy, Travis Jackson, owned the resort. It consisted of a lodge, five cabins, and maybe thirty trailer/tent slots hacked out of the wilderness.

His daughter, Jodi, was his chief helper. His go-to girl. The girl who’d called me sweetie earlier. The girl I made love to. Twice.

Dad and Travis had grown up as buddies in Grandview and had played high school football together. Then they joined the Marines but eventually got separated during their tours of duty. Travis’s parents—Jodi’s grandparents—still lived in Grandview, Iowa, same as Mom, Dad, and me.

On the way back to camp, I drove. I’d been doing all of the driving lately. Dad sat in the front seat with me, Mom in back behind me. She was pretty good about not being a backseat driver. I turned the air on and closed the windows.

I’m tired as hell, Dad said, truly sounding weary, tilting his head back on the headrest and closing his eyes.

You want some fresh air? I asked. I can turn the air off and open all the windows.

No, that’s all right.

We should start packing tonight, Mom said. It’s a long drive home and we should leave early.

I guess we should, Dad said, opening his eyes and sitting straight. What time is it?

Ten o’clock, I told him.

We’ll bring the gear up from the boat, he said.

No, I’ll do that, I said. Maybe you should go straight to bed.

He’s right, Pete. Mom reached over his seat to pat his shoulder. I’ll do the packing."

My fingers flexed on the steering wheel.

Well, there it was. Tonight, I’d have to tell Jodi I was going home tomorrow. Leaving wouldn’t be easy, not after what had happened between the two of us this afternoon. Somehow I’d have to convince her that parting would be best for both of us, before we really got too serious.

You can do this, Michael!

Chapter Two

I met with Jodi in an empty cabin. The renters had left that morning.

Even with moonlight shining through the cabin windows, I could barely see. I felt my way into a chair at the kitchen table as Jodi pulled the curtains across the windows, enveloping us in total darkness.

The rasp of a match cut the silence, and the smell of oily fumes filled the room as Jodi lit a kerosene lamp. She adjusted the wick low, replaced the chimney, and set the flickering light on the cupboard. All the Ghost Bay cabins were like this one—small but neat and clean with a kitchen area, two bedrooms, and a shower. One of Jodi’s jobs was cleaning them after the occupants left. I’d helped her several times. Hauling the trash away to the dumpsters was my main job. That and moving furniture while she mopped floors.

But this was the first time Jodi and I’d met secretly in one of them. This would be the perfect time and place to—but finally the responsible part of my brain held up a stop sign. Not tonight.

Jodi stood beside my chair and circled my neck with her arms. She kissed me on the cheek and tousled my hair with her fingers. Her scent was flowery and wonderful, always a lilac scent.

Tomorrow night we’ll take your dad walleye fishing, she said. I can find them early, I know I can. He likes walleye fishing at night. She settled down on the small sofa by the door and patted the seat. Come sit by me, Michael.

My Adam’s apple bobbed in my dry throat. I have something to tell you.

Guess what else is happening?

Jodi, listen...

The Cedar Valley County Fair starts this weekend. Maybe I can show you some real excitement.

You’ve already done that. Believe me.

They have rides, music, dancing, and a bungee jump.

Jodi, listen. I really do have something to tell you.

She rose from the sofa, pulled out a chair at the table, and sat across from me. In the dim lantern light her blonde hair shone like platinum. What is it?

I’m going home tomorrow. I said it calmly and as straight out as I could, but my throat tightened before I finally managed to say what else was important. I’m sorry. Really sorry.

Jodi sat back, her jaw slack. You said yesterday you had a few days left. Maybe you could talk your dad into another week.

We’re heading home in the morning.

She reached across the table and gripped my hands. Oh, Michael, your dad...?

I nodded and explained Dad was having problems again, blood in his urine.

Oh, my God! Jodi gripped my hands harder. I feel so sorry for him—for all of you, really. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost my dad or mom.

I dragged my hands away from hers and leaned back in my chair. I don’t know what I’m going to do, either. My dad’s been a major part of my life.

What happens to us, Michael?

You’ll be here, I said with a shrug. I’ll be in back home in Iowa. We’ll always be friends... My words trailed off into silence.

There are telephones, she said. We can write—no reliable cellphone service this far north. But they’re building more towers around here. We’ll be able to call and text. We have high-speed Internet. I have a laptop. We can email each other. Chat. Skype.

Sure.

I could visit my grandparents at Christmas and Easter. They’d love to have me. Maybe next summer you can come back. That would be so cool.

I reached across the table so we could hold hands again. Hers felt chilled now. I squeezed them because I wanted her to know I was serious and what I was about the say was the absolute truth. When I first arrived here, I expected to have the worst summer of my life, watching my dad die. I—

But you’ve had fun, haven’t you? We’ve had fun swimming, fishing—she smiled—and ... fooling around.

I loved that naughty smile. I could get used to her smiling at me like that all the time.

Listen to me, I said, and squeezed her hands harder. I expected Dad to die right here, maybe. But you turned what I thought would be a horrible summer into a memorable time. An awesome time. The time of my life.

Her face lit up brightly. So you have had fun?

Yes! Absolutely. I’ll never forget any of it. I’ll never forget you...

She slipped her hands from mine and laced her fingers together on the table. What else are you telling me?

I’m leaving in the morning—that’s all.

Doubt crept across her face like the dark shadows in this room. Her eyes stabbed me. You’re saying this is it, aren’t you? We’re finished.

Why lie? Why make this any worse than it had to be? Still, I didn’t want to hurt her. I really, really liked her. She didn’t deserve to be hurt—I had no choice. I swallowed and said, Look, Jodi. You have to understand...

I understand perfectly. She flipped a hand in the air. Goodbye, farewell, see you never—that’s it?

"Jodi, I do care for you. But when I get back to Grandview, I need to bust my ass at football. I should have been working out all summer in the gym, lifting weights. I should’ve been on the field, running drills, kicking and punting. I’ll need to study like crazy."

You wasted this summer with me—swimming, boating, fishing?

I didn’t say that.

"How about all that