Summer at Forsaken Lake (27 page)

Charlie threw her arms around him. “It’s okay, Dad, really. It was all a long time ago. Nicholas and I have
already agreed—we’re not going to say anything to Mom or his dad. Like you said, it won’t change anything. And who knows, even though you and Mom didn’t last forever, you two must have been meant to get together. I mean, if you hadn’t,
I
wouldn’t be here, right?”

Blinking back tears—the first Charlie had ever seen in his eyes—Jimmy smiled. “Thanks, Charlie. You’re the best.”

“And you know, Dad, you have a
great
family, and we all love you … and your stupid ostriches.”

He nodded. “How did you get to be so smart, anyway?”

“Simple. I got my brains from Mom,” Charlie said, grinning mischievously. “Now come on—I’ll race you back to the barn.”

* * *

The days following Charlie’s return from her dad’s farm were a blur of activity in and around Nick’s house. Finishing
The Seaweed Strangler
became the top priority for Nicholas and Charlie, but they were also determined to spend as much time as possible sailing
Imp
and
Goblin
before the three Mettleson kids boarded the train to New York. And so, days were spent sailing, biking, swimming, playing baseball, and shooting the final scenes, while evenings were devoted to editing and adding the sound track and other final details to the movie, and planning the “world premiere” extravaganza that Hetty and Hayley had
dreamt up. No one argued about bedtimes; by nine-thirty, they were all exhausted, and when the lights went out, sleep came instantly.

Hayley and Hetty, the official co-hostesses for the movie’s premiere, created and printed invitations using Charlie’s computer, and then addressed, stamped, and mailed them to everyone on the guest list for the party, which had morphed into an end-of-summer barbecue
and
movie premiere. As the days rushed past, that list somehow grew from a few names to more than thirty as Nick reached out to friends and neighbors, and Charlie invited Little League teammates and a handful of friends from school.

Franny, obviously, would be there, and even volunteered to help Nick with the food. On the way back from the ostrich farm, Charlie had tried to persuade her dad to come, too, but he admitted that, under the circumstances, it would just be too uncomfortable. Instead, he made Charlie promise to bring a copy of the movie the next time she came to stay at the farm.

And then, just two days before the party, Jo Mettleson called to tell Nicholas that she wouldn’t be able to make it, either. She was swamped at work, and even a quick trip to Ohio was out of the question at the moment.

“Besides, you three will be back here in no time at all,” she reminded him.

The twins were very disappointed, but her promise of a surprise that would arrive the day of the party—which
kept them busy guessing for several hours that afternoon—seemed to take away some of the sting of disappointment.

“I’ll bet it’s a cake,” said Nicholas, in an attempt to end the debate. “She has that friend who makes those crazy cakes—you know, the ones that look really cool, but don’t taste very good.”

“Do you really think so?” Charlie asked. “We already have dessert. Mom just bought a million blueberries—she knows how much you and Nick love her blueberry pies.”

“No such thing as too much dessert,” said Nicholas.

Nick looked at him like a proud father. “Amen,” he said with a pat on the back.

* * *

The day of the party finally arrived.

Charlie and Nicholas had declared the movie complete the night before and burned the final copy onto a DVD, toasting their achievement with ginger ale.

“We did it,” said Nicholas. “Hard to believe it was only a few weeks ago that I found that old can of film in Dad’s hiding place.”

“I know—it seems like I’ve been striking you out forever,” Charlie said, giving him a good-natured punch on the upper arm.

“The summer’s not over yet.”

“That’s what I like best about you, Nicholas—you’re an optimist, even when you have no reason to be.”

“I don’t know; I think today might be the day.”

“Are you serious? Let’s go. Right now. I’ll get my glove. Hey, Nick!” she shouted down the stairs. “Meet us out at the barn in five minutes. Nicholas wants me to strike him out.
Again
.”

Nicholas couldn’t help laughing at her confidence as he grabbed his bat and followed her out into the yard. “One of these days, Brennan.”

But not
this
day. She caught him off guard with a first-pitch curve for a called strike, and then, after fouling off the next two pitches, he struck out on a knee-high fastball.

“Hang in there, Nicholas,” said Nick. “You’re getting good looks at the ball. You’re going to make good contact. Just a matter of time.”

* * *

At noon, the local florist delivered a huge bouquet of daisies with a card addressed to Hayley and Hetty.

“They’re lovely,” said Hetty, reverting to her British accent.

“Quite,” Hayley agreed. “
Another
surprise? Maybe that will be the cake. I hope it’s not chocolate.”

The first guests—Zack, Joey, and Kirk, also known as the Three Stooges—arrived a few minutes after five, followed by Ryan Crenshaw, another of Charlie’s teammates. Nicholas smiled to himself as he remembered the first time he saw Ryan flail wildly at one of Charlie’s curveballs and end up in a heap on the ground. He, at least, had never looked
that
bad against Charlie. Meanwhile, Pistol barked his own greetings, and Hayley and Hetty stuck name tags on the boys and pointed them all toward the enormous bowls of Franny’s secret-recipe guacamole and chips waiting on the folding tables that lined the shore in front of Nick’s house.

Next to arrive were Mrs. Bishop and her son, Mikey.

“Is Will here?” he asked, over and over. “Will is my friend.”

“Sorry, Mikey,” said Nicholas. “He couldn’t be here today. But I’m sure he’ll come soon to thank you for what you did.”

As the party got under way, Charlie and Nicholas took on bartending duties, while Nick, wearing a pristine white apron, built two fires—one in a stone-lined pit on the narrow beach, to be used for marshmallow roasting and s’more making after the movie, and the other in a
large grill that he’d constructed out of an old fifty-five-gallon steel drum. When the coals were ready, he set to work, cooking rows and rows of hamburgers, hot dogs, and chicken to accompany the potato salad, sweet corn, and fresh-picked green beans that Franny had prepared.

As the sun dropped lower and lower in the sky and the screening time drew close, the twins, fueled by too much soda, could barely contain their excitement and actually started cleaning up—without being asked! Nicholas and Charlie, growing more anxious by the minute, set up the big-screen TV and DVD player (on loan from the owner of Deming Appliance, yet another friend of Nick’s) in the living room, checking and double-checking that everything was just perfect.

At seven-forty-five, Hetty made her way through the crowd, ringing a little bell as Pistol helped herd the crowd toward the house. Once they were inside, they sat wherever they could—squeezing onto the couch, the matching wing chairs, and the dining-room chairs that had been moved for the occasion—with the younger audience members sitting Indian-style on the floor. The twins stood before everyone, and at the stroke of eight, Hetty rang her bell once again.

Hayley stepped forward and read from a yellow index card. “Ladies and gentlemen! Welcome to the
world
premiere of
The Seaweed Strangler
!” She waited for the cheering and applause to die down before continuing. “Before I introduce the directors, let’s all thank my uncle Nick
and Charlie’s mom, Franny Brennan, for cooking all that food.”

More applause and cheering, followed by Hetty, reading from her index card. “And we want to thank our dad, who started this movie a
long
time ago.” She added, proudly, “He’s not here today because he’s a doctor, and right now he’s in Africa, helping people.”

Nicholas cleared his throat. “C’mon, Hetty. Hurry up.”

“Oh, fine,” she said, sighing dramatically. “And now it is our pleasure to introduce the people who
finished
the movie, Miss Charlie Brennan and Mr. Nicholas Mettleson!”

Charlie spoke first, blushing at the attention. From her baseball career, she was used to people cheering her, but not from
inches
away. “Hey, everybody—thanks again for coming. Especially you, Mom—you’re the best. I just hope you all like the movie. It was a lot of fun working with Nicholas. We both … learned a lot this summer, I think. Um, that’s all. Your turn, Nicholas.”

Nicholas forced himself to look up from his shoelaces. Desperate to avoid making eye contact with anyone, he focused on the wall behind the audience. “Um, hi, everybody. I really don’t have anything to—” He stopped midsentence, his mouth hanging open in utter disbelief.
“Dad?”

Thirty heads spun around to see Will Mettleson leaning against the door frame, a wry smile on his face.

“Daddy!” screamed the twins as they raced to him
and launched themselves into his arms. He lifted them, squeezing tightly as they buried their faces in his chest.

Nicholas, momentarily forgetting his personal rule against public displays of affection, rushed to this thinner, tanner, and bearded version of his father and threw his arms around him.

“What are you doing here? I thought you were going to be in Africa for two more weeks.”

“Got a reprieve. Things weren’t as bad as we’d feared, and on top of that, my replacement showed up a couple of weeks early. Besides, I heard that Hayley and Hetty were throwing a party.” He winked at Nicholas.

“How
did
you know about the party?” Nicholas asked.

“Oh. Mom.”

Will nodded. “I was able to get ahold of her from Amsterdam the day before yesterday. But look, I’m interrupting—you were right in the middle of a speech.”

“Under the circumstances, I think they’ll understand if we’re a few minutes late getting started,” said Nick, reaching out to shake his nephew’s hand. “Good to see you, Will. Been a while.”

Will glanced around the room, taking it all in. “Too long. The house still looks exactly the way I remembered it. Just perfect.”

“There’s someone else here who’s probably a little surprised to see you,” said Nick as he gently nudged Nicholas aside.

Will’s eyes met Franny’s in a moment right out of a
1940s movie. She smiled up at him from her spot on the couch, her eyes sparkling.

His lips formed her name, but no sound came out.

“Hi, Will,” she said.

With every eye in the room on them, Will and Franny glided silently across the room toward one another, coming to a stop just a few feet apart.

“Franny,” Will repeated, his voice still barely a whisper.

She moved in close, her arms held wide, and hugged him; it was the hug of two old friends—heartfelt, but colored by a thin glaze of regret.

“I always knew you’d come back,” she whispered.

When they pulled apart, Charlie was at her mother’s side. Franny put her arm around Charlie’s shoulders and pulled her close. “This is Charlie. She’s my baby. She has a sister, Natalie, who’s in her second year at Hiram. Charlie and your Nicholas here are quite a team.”

Will stood openmouthed, first looking at Charlie, then turning to Nicholas. “Wait.
This
is the Charlie you’ve been writing about all summer? You know, you never mentioned that Charlie is a girl, Nicholas. I’m sorry to stare, Charlie. I just assumed you were …”

“Nope—sorry,” said Charlie. “I’m a girl.”

“No, no, don’t apologize. I didn’t mean … It just never occurred to me that Nicholas was spending so much time with … Look, I’m pleased to meet you, Charlie. Thanks for showing Nicholas around this summer. Sounds like he was in very good hands. And I can’t wait to see this
movie,” he added, pointing to the banner that the twins had hung over the fireplace.

“I can’t believe you never told him about me,” said Charlie, poking Nicholas in the side. “Actually, Nicholas did most of the work on the movie. Almost all the ideas—the good ones, anyway—were his.”

“It was a team effort,” said Nicholas, struggling not to blush. “Charlie—and the twins—everybody helped.”

Suddenly, Mikey appeared at Will’s side, tugging on his shirt. “Hi, Will.”

Will recognized him immediately, and his eyes lit up. “Mikey Bishop. My gosh. You haven’t changed a bit.” He held out his hand, which Mikey shook and shook, stopping only when Mrs. Bishop put her hand on her son’s shoulder.

“Let him go, Mikey,” she said. “You can talk to him later. Right now I think he wants to talk to his own children.”

Will smiled, grateful for her intervention, and then held up a hand. “Look here—everybody—we can all catch up later. I’ve disrupted things long enough. The show must go on, as they say. I’m pretty sure I’m not the only one who wants to see this movie.” The audience cheered in agreement, so he playfully shoved Nicholas to the front of the room and then joined Franny on the couch.

Nicholas took a few seconds to collect himself before starting over. “Ummm … so, before we get started, I was just going to say that my dad started this movie when he
was fourteen, but never got to finish it because he had some, um, ‘equipment problems.’ When I found it, I didn’t know any of that, but over the past few weeks, well, Charlie and I learned a
lot
of stuff about what happened back then, and that made us even more determined to finish it. Dad, I know it’s not exactly the movie you were making, but I hope you like it anyway.”

Charlie turned off the lights and hit
PLAY
on the DVD player. The crowd clapped and cheered as Will’s original footage, announcing the title of the movie in enormous seaweed letters, flickered on the screen: