Chapter 5
The clinic's on-call physician took in Charlie's black eye while he was stitching the cut over the other one, took note of the occasional cough. "So," he said, and Charlie felt another tug. "You must be here on vacation."
Charlie tried to smile. "Yes. I'm having a little trouble mixing my family and my friends." He jerked involuntarily.
"You shouldn't have felt that," the doctor mused, and Charlie automatically apologized.
The sharp pain became a tug again, and he wondered for a while why he was the one apologizing.
"Blood and water," the doctor said.
Charlie tried to frown. The mouth part worked, but his forehead wouldn't wrinkle. "Excuse me?"
"People say it's 'oil and water' that don't mix, but I always thought it should be 'blood and water'. Not as bad as it looks." The doctor stood and snapped off his gloves. "You can open your eyes now."
Charlie looked up at him warily. "How many?"
"Only four. My nurse will be in to bandage that and clean you off a little. How much longer will you be here?"
Charlie struggled to sit up on the table, and the doctor extended a hand. "Three more days," he answered.
"Have your own physician remove those stitches in seven, then." The doctor turned toward the exam room door while scribbling on a chart. "Enjoy the rest of your vacation," he said, and paused at the door to speak with the nurse entering.
After her work was done, Charlie hopped off the table and joined the three anxiously waiting for him. As soon as the door to the waiting area opened, Sam and Don were on their feet, simultaneously speaking.
"Buddy, I'm so sorry…"
"…Charlie, man, that was so stupid…"
Charlie held up a hand for silence, the way he did in an unruly freshman class. It worked on Don and Sam, too. He looked at Jenna and smiled. "Let's go to breakfast," he said.
She smiled back. "Are you sure?"
The group walked towards Don's SUV, Charlie and Jenna in front. "Yeah, I'm okay. I already had a headache." Charlie looked at Sam and Don, who were cowering behind them like frightened puppies. "It's all right, guys. I probably shouldn't have snuck up behind you."
Both of the men started to protest, but Charlie went on. "This isn't exactly the vacation I had planned, but we can salvage something out of this." His tone became wheedling. "Let's not dwell on this, okay?"
Sam and Don gave each other one last glare as they all climbed in the SUV.
"We'll go to breakfast, and plan something else for the morning," Charlie looked at them hopefully. "Okay?"
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Don was not happy. He glanced back at Charlie and flicked his line again.
After this morning's campfire accident, the three had eaten a late breakfast in town, then gone West to Jacksonville, a historic town proud of its Gold Rush heritage. All the way there Charlie had tried to convince them to try fishing again in the afternoon. "It's okay," he said, and paused to sneeze. "I'll sit on the bank. You guys should do what we all came here for."
"Fishing's best in the mornings," dismissed Sam, but Charlie persisted.
"We went in the afternoon last year. Fish have been known to be caught in the afternoon. Statistically,…"
"…Charlie, lay off the numbers for a while," Don had interrupted. "You're on vacation."
Sam had glared at him again, then, like Don had no right to say that to Charlie. Don's face heated again just remembering that. Sam had known Charlie for a few weeks, last year. Don had known Charlie his entire life, and he had always had Charlie's best interests at heart. He needed a vacation as much as Don did; the last couple of months, trying to coordinate his schedule with Don's enough so that they could get away together, he had been working almost non-stop.
"I only meant that this is your time, too," Don had said, feeling angry that he felt like he had to explain himself.
"It's my vacation also," Jenna chimed in, and everyone looked at her.
"Baby, I'm sorry," Sam offered. "We've been ignoring you."
She smiled. "It's not that. It's just that I was hoping to do some sketching, and also for some one-on-one time with Charlie. We could both sit on the bank this afternoon…"
And that's how he had ended up parallel to Sam, hip deep in the river, again. Trying to get Charlie fish for dinner, which Jenna promised to cook using her special campfire recipe. Charlie seemed happy enough, dividing his time between watching Jenna sketch and watching them fish, but this had not been the plan.
Don hated it when a plan fell apart.
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"That guy," thought Sam, as he waited for a nibble, "cannot be Charlie's brother."
Sam looked back at his wife and Charlie on the bank. He was looking at her sketches — something she hardly ever allowed — and smiling. Sam had to admit, he did seem to be having a good time, all things considered.
At least the sound of the river, once you were right in it, muted the sound of Charlie's coughing. He felt bad about that. He knew Don hadn't had the fish yesterday, he had let it go on purpose. He had thought there would be plenty more, and he didn't expect Charlie to end up in the drink.
He peeked sideways at Don. He didn't look quite as happy as Charlie. He was strung tighter than the line on his reel. Sam sighed. Don did seem to want Charlie to have a good time…he just acted like Sam shouldn't be part of it. He sighed again. He was probably projecting. Jenna would tell him he was projecting. It's just that he didn't have many close friends, and he and Charlie had hit it off so well last year.
Maybe he was jealous.
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Jennie turned another page, and this drawing had no background. It was almost an anatomical rendering of a Chinook, and Charlie marvellled at the preciseness. "These are so incredible," he said. "The one you sent me last year was great — it's hanging in my office, and everyone makes positive comments — but I can see a real improvement. I'm not surprised they're offering them for sale at the Lost Creek Marina. You should have a showing."
Jenna blushed. "Oh come on, Charlie, I'm not that good." She turned another page. "But I have enjoyed getting back into art, and I never would have if you hadn't given me that first sketchbook. This is my fourth. Oh!"
The wind had picked up, and a breeze caught a loose sheaf of paper in the book, tossing it down the bank. Charlie was on his feet, calling, "I'll get it!" before Jenna had time to react.
As he jogged after the paper, Charlie didn't notice his brother preparing a side-armed re-cast. He didn't see the hook at all, he just felt something…like someone had shot him in the arm.
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Having just checked on Charlie and Jenna's position, Don made the cast. His hook snagged on something behind him — a clump of dirt on the bank, maybe — and he gave a great tug. He didn't expect that the pole would be ripped out of his hand. The splash of it landing in the river seemed to be echoing all around him, and he grabbed for it when he heard Sam yelling.
"Cut the line! Cut the line! The current is taking him!"
Don turned toward the voice and saw Sam throw his fishing pole out onto the bank while he followed it as fast as he could, trying to get…Don froze. Trying to get to Charlie?
"CUT THE LINE!" Sam yelled again, and he saw Jenna jump off the bank with a fillet knife — she must have taken it from the gear they had left there. He saw her reach up, slash at something. Sam was heading downstream, where Don had seen another group of fishermen earlier. One of them had grabbed Charlie as he floated past, and once the line was cut, started hauling him out of the water.
Don finallyfelt his feet moving, and he almost stumbled as he reached the shoreline and climbed up on the bank. He ran as fast as his hip boots would allow down to the group huddled over Charlie. When he got there, he pushed someone aside, saw the hook embedded in his brother's upper arm, heard him coughing and sputtering, taking ragged breaths.
"Congratulations, Don" he heard Sam say. "You got a 140-lb. Spring Californian."