I can remember very well the second time I ever held hands with Jake Jacobson. He kissed me that night when we fell into the lake, but it was an awful kiss. It was all tongue and slobber and it really wasn’t anything I wanted to remember. I certainly didn’t go home and write about it in my journal.
We were at a camp cookout. Mr. Jacobson held them every Saturday night. He said it was an excuse to burn a hamburger, but really it was his attempt to bring all the people in the area together. The magic of being at the lake wasn’t in the solitude. It was in the community. It was in finding other kids your age, or getting to meet interesting adults, or the missionaries that came on Sundays to deliver the church messages. The magic was in the community.
So every Saturday night, Mr. Jacobson would cook burgers on the grill and everyone else would bring a dish to share. My dad and Uncle Adam brought key lime pie that Uncle Adam made from scratch. It was so much better than the icebox pies that my dad bought. But you had to eat it quickly or it would melt. For that reason, we left it in our tiny freezer until it was time to eat dessert.
Dad sent me back to the cabin to get it while he finished his burger. “Run and get the pie,” he said. “I think everyone is almost done.” He looked around. Uncle Adam was across the table from him, because when we were out in a crowd like this, they were my dad and my Uncle Adam, and not my two dads. It’s how it was back then. They had to be much more careful to conceal their love for one another than they are now.
I ran back to the cabin and got the pie from the freezer, only stopping briefly to let the cold air cool my face. When I ran back to the picnic area, I stopped short. Jake was sitting with my dad and Uncle Adam. He looked back over his shoulder at me and smiled. “Hey,” he said.
My belly did that fluttery thing that always happened when I was nervous. Times one hundred. Uncle Adam got up and moved to the other side of the picnic table, leaving a place next to Jake. “Hi,” I said to him. I set the pie on the table and sat down next to him.
Dad dished out some pie and passed the rest of it down the table to the others waiting. “So, you were busy today, huh, Jake?” Uncle Adam asked.
“Yes, sir,” Jake replied gruffly. “Pop had me cleaning the bath house. With a toothbrush.”
Dad snickered. Uncle Adam elbowed him in the side. He jerked a thumb toward Dad. “He’s laughing because he had to do that very same thing once or twice when he was young.” He grinned. “I vaguely remember someone borrowing Old Man Jacobson’s canoe and flipping it over. His tackle box sank to the bottom of the lake.”
“Old Man Jacobson turned ten shades of red, and then he went to my mom and told her what I did. She shoved me toward him and told him to do his worst. Five days of cleaning toilets and floors with a toothbrush. I never borrowed anything else. Ever.” Dad smiled about it though. “I learned my lesson,” he said. He leaned toward Jake like they were sharing secrets. “So, what did you do?” he whispered dramatically, wrapping his hands around his mouth.
Jake murmured out of the corner of his mouth, “I’d rather not say, sir.”
Uncle Adam laughed. “It wouldn’t happen to involve a six-pack of beer and a fall from the dock, would it?”
Jake’s cheeks turned pink and his gaze shot all over the place.
“Ha!” Dad cried. “I told you!” He held out a hand and Uncle Adam slapped a five-dollar bill in it. “Thank you very much,” he crowed as he shoved the bill into his back pocket.
“That doesn’t sound very fair,” I protested.
“No, I deserve it,” Jake said.
Dad and Uncle Adam’s eyes met and I saw something pass between them. It was either an “I like this kid” kind of look or an “I’m not sure how to feel about this kid” kind of look. I couldn’t tell which. And that part made me nervous.
“When do you get off restriction?” Dad asked.
“I’m free now.” Jake smiled as he ate the last of his pie. “I was wondering if I might be able to take Katie for a walk with me?”
Dad looked up at the setting sun. “In the dark?” He pointed toward the waning sun. “Absolutely not.”
“Dan,” Uncle Adam chided, “it’s not even dark yet.”
“Fine,” Dad conceded. “Have her home by dark.” He pointed a finger at Jake and I saw him wither. “I mean it.”
“Yes, sir,” he said. He got up and held a hand out to me. “Take a walk with me, Katie?” He waited, holding his breath. I slipped my hand into his, and he gave it a squeeze, and that’s how I ended up holding hands with Jake Jacobson for the second time. And it was amazing.
He didn’t try to kiss me that night, but holding hands was better. My heart was all a-skitter, bouncing all over the place as we walked on the shoreline hand in hand.
18
Jake
My gut is all a-whirl trying to figure out how to talk to Katie. I’m a cop, for Christ’s sake. I’ve interrogated men of all sorts. I should be able to talk to a woman. But for some reason, I’m skittish as a newborn colt when it comes to her.
“I saw Alex early this morning,” I suddenly blurt out.
“Alex?” she asks, her brow furrowing. “Where?”