Chapter Six

"There's only one choice for me, Michael. I'm keeping this baby."

I leaned back in my stool. "Do you think that's fair to the baby?"

"Excuse me?"

"Have you thought about adoption?"

"You'd give your own child away?"

Chapter Six

Most of the mourners attended a huge luncheon buffet at the Elks Lodge, where Dad had been a member for thirty-five years. Later as I drove Mom home in the afternoon, I felt mentally and physically exhausted. But I wobbled into the house and went straight to the phone in the family room to call Jodi.

Mom, smoking a cigarette, settled down at the kitchen table and poured over the guest book.

"Michael?" Jodi said.

"Hey."

I tugged at the coiled phone cord and slouched on a stool at the family-room bar. I pulled my dark tie loose. Unbuttoned my white shirt.

"Funeral go okay?" Jodi said. "Dumb question, huh?"

"Good as can be expected." I told her about the visitation, the funeral, the burial, and the luncheon. "Mom held up pretty well."

"How about you?"

"I did okay, I guess."

"It's terrible you had to go through all that."

I pulled off my tie and laid it on the bar. "How about you? How are you doing?"

"Sick every morning but still going to school."

"Sick?"

"It's called morning sickness, Michael."

"Right." I felt stupid.

"I thought you'd call earlier."

"I did," I said. "I talked to your dad. You were out."

"I mean call again so we could talk."

Now she sounded pissed.

"Sorry," I said. "Dad in the hospital and everything else going on...football...school...getting ready for the funeral...I just didn't think about calling again."

"When I first thought I was pregnant, I kept telling myself, 'No! This can't be!' I prayed everyday you'd call. I didn't know what to do or how to tell my parents. I felt so alone. So guilty. So ashamed."

"I know that feeling."

"I hated the thought of putting this burden on my folks. And I feared what they might think of me."

"This should've never happened, you know that?"

"But it did. We can't undo it."

I kicked off my shoes. "I realize that."

"I told Mom first. She was upset, but she didn't yell. She just kept shaking her head and saying, 'How could you? How could you?' Pop went kind of crazy, yelling, stomping around. 'You weren't raised like that!' he kept shouting. 'Raised like what?' I shouted back."

"When I talked to him the other night," I said, "I could tell he wasn't happy."

"Did you tell your mom and dad?"

"Just Mom. I told her the first night you told me."

"What'd she say?"

"She suspected something was going on between us at Ghost Bay. She didn't seem surprised at all."

"My parents had no idea. I think they thought I was too much of a tomboy to get involved."

Jodi was silent a moment. Then she said softly, "I realize I said crappy things to you that last night in that cabin at Ghost Bay when we said good-bye."

"I didn't blame you. Still don't."

"Later I started to understand how you were feeling, your dad dying. I understand why you said you didn't have room for anyone new in your life at that moment. How confused you must've been."

"I'm still adjusting," I said.

"May...I ask you something?"

"What?"

"Are...you going with anyone? Did you make up with Christie?"

I tangled my fingers in the phone cord. Christie had been my girlfriend before Mom, Dad, and I left for Ghost Bay. "That was practically over when I left for Ghost Bay, I told you that. She didn't want me to leave. She didn't want to be left alone all summer. We talked a bit when I got home, but she'd moved on."

"You haven't found someone new?"

"I'm not interested."

"Really?"

"I've got grades, SATs and football to think about." I figured now it was my turn to ask Jodi a question: "What about you and Luke?"

"Luke...?" Jodi sounded as if she didn't remember him.

"Luke, the redheaded guy who came to visit you the morning my folks and I left Ghost Bay."

"He's on a carrier in the Persian Gulf. His name's Luke McAllister."

"Did you date him when he was home?"

"Why?"

"Just wondering..."

"Yes." Then she added hastily, "But he hasn't written or anything. He's not part of my life, Michael."

"You're sure?"

"He's not the father, if that's what you're thinking."

"How do you know?"

No answer.

"How?" I asked.

"I know! That's how I know."

"You and he—"

"I know," she said flatly. "Okay?"

Silence stretched between us, except for Jodi's raspy breathing. I untangled my fingers from the phone cord and changed ears. "Have you thought about your choices?"

"There's only one choice for me, Michael. I'm keeping this baby."

I leaned back in my stool. "Do you think that's fair to the baby?"

"Excuse me?"

"Have you thought about adoption?"

"You'd give your own child away?"

"What's better for the baby, Jodi?"

"I'd never give this baby away. My mom and pop don't want me to, either. At least we agree on that."

"Lots of girls do adoptions, I think."

"I'm not one of them."

"My mom says a girl can even pick the adoptive parents."

"I know that, and there's nothing wrong a girl who adopts her baby out, but that option's not for me..."

I dragged my hand through my hair. The phone felt hot on my ear. I suddenly realized more than ever that dealing with Jodi wasn't going to be easy.

"...and I could never," she went on, "end the life of my own flesh and blood, if that's one of your choices. I hate the word abortion."

"I'd never ask you to do that. But if you keep the baby you're putting both of us in a bind. All of our plans might change. Everything..."

"The most important thing right now is this life growing inside me."

"How about an already-made family for the baby? A family with a home and where the parents have good jobs?"

"Don't you get it, Michael? This baby is mine and I'm going to keep him—or her—and raise him with or without your help."

"It can't be mine," I said. "A baby just doesn't fit in with my plans right now. You have plans, too."

"Sometimes people fuck their plans up."

I sat up straight; my ear twitched. I'd never heard Jodi talk like that before; she really was pissed. "Look, Jodi—"

"Stick with your plans, Michael—I don't need your help."

I blew out a weary breath. With a flick of my hand, I swatted at my tie, sliding it down the bar and onto the floor. Dad's funeral today, the luncheon, feeling drained, this conversation—I suddenly wanted to hang up. Maybe Jodi sensed that because she said in a softer tone, "What I really want to say is I'm going to be at Grandview soon."

"How soon?"

"My grandfather's having some kind of laser eye surgery. He doesn't see very well. Wears big thick glasses. I thought I might as well go early so I can help Grandma and Grandpa out. I'll be seeing you..."

"Do you know the exact date?"

"I'll call when I find out."

"All right."

"Good-bye, Michael."

"See you," I said, as she hung up.

I slammed the receiver into its cradle. I did deep breathing, like when you're lying flat on your back and getting ready to bench press 250 pounds. Stay calm, Michael. There's a good chance this baby isn't yours. Wait and see. It's going to be a redhead.

Coming Monday—Chapter Seven: Jodi arrives in Grandview.

Chapter Five

Don't worry, Dad. I'm still calling the plays. I'll make you proud of me. Mom, too. I'll play college football. I'll make something of myself. That's a promise.

Chapter Five

I missed Friday night's football game. It was the night of Dad's visitation at the funeral home. I wanted to play, but I wanted to be with Dad. And with Mom. The coaches told me my place was with my folks, not on the football field. But I knew that.

So as Dad's casket lay bathed in a soft light at the funeral home, as mourners filed by, women kissing me on the cheek, men shaking my hand as I tried to make small talk, the Falcons won without me, 35-0.

As I'd promised Dad, we'd kicked ass. I wished I could've been there to play. Wished Dad could've been there to watch. Mom, too. Anywhere but the three of us at Runge's Funeral Home.

         

Saturday morning, the morning of Dad's funeral, dawned with a bright sun rising in a cold, blue October sky.

Dressed in all black—dress, shoes, nylons, hat, and veil—Mom slipped her arm through mine, and we marched slowly up the aisle to our pew in the front of St. Alphonsus Church.

"Are you all right?" she whispered. "You feel shaky."

"I'm fine," I said, but my body felt drained, my legs weighted with lead.

From the choir loft, organ music filled the small church with somber tones. Business associates of Dad's sat scattered everywhere, pale light filtering through stained-glass windows and bouncing off many bald heads. Dressed in tailored suits, wives sat or knelt by their executive husbands. Dad had no other friends but business people. And Travis.

I spotted Christie Ridgeway, my ex-girlfriend, and Ozzie Harrington, my best friend, sitting together in back. Lots of other guys from the football team were also there. Coach Flynn, too.

I went through the service in a daze, my eyes fixed on Dad's coffin, draped with a huge American flag, covered with a spray of red and white mums. I tuned out Father Wilkes when he stood at the head of the coffin, microphone in hand, swishing its cord, starting his eulogy: "Pete Panther...devoted family man...beloved father...cherished husband..." Listening was too painful, but a warm feeling spread through me when I thought of Dad showing me how to place a football on a kicking T, how to choke up on a baseball bat, how to shift a manual transmission.

Dad had been an Army veteran, a college football player, and a high-powered executive for John Deere, a leading farm implement manufacturer in the country. He'd built a million dollar home for the three of us to live in, but none of that made any difference. Cancer killed him anyway.

After the service, Mom clung to my arm again as we stepped carefully down the church steps. Despite the chill in the air, I felt as if I were sweating.

"I'm so sorry it had to end like this," Mom said. "Your dad told me once the worst part was his having to watch us watch him suffer."

Tears rushed to my eyes.

"This way please." A somber-looking funeral attendant touched our arms, directing us to a limo.

Another attendant held the door open for us. "A lovely service," he said.

When the limo door closed, Mom took my hand and squeezed it. Somehow I survived the painfully slow ride through town, over the Government Bridge and across the Mississippi River to the National Military Cemetery at the Rock Island Arsenal, where Dad had requested burial.

When we got there, as I stepped out of the limo, the sunlight nearly blinded me. Mom clutched my arm again. Now she felt shaky. "You okay?" I asked.

"Yes." I could hardly hear her.

Thousands of white marble tombstones—no bigger than desktops, all the same size, sitting on edge in short green grass—stretched out around us in precise rows under the blue sky.

Under the shade of a metal pavilion, the priest droned the 22nd Psalm over Dad's casket: "The Lord is my Shepherd; I shall not want... Even though I walk in the dark valley I fear no evil... I shall dwell in the house of the Lord."

A military honor guard—a soldier, a sailor, and a marine—fired rifles into the air. I jumped with each shot, though I knew the shots were coming. After setting their rifles upright on the ground so they formed a tripod, the military men folded the flag from Dad's casket and gave it to Mom.

I was the last to leave the casket.

I stood over it, head bowed, hands laced over my chest, feeling a dull heaviness everywhere inside me.

I felt sad that Dad should have to die without my telling him I might be a father. It was as if I'd lied to him. But had death made him omniscient? Was he looking down at me this very moment, knowing the truth about me? Did he know if I was the father of Jodi's baby or not? Tell me, Dad. Did I make Jodi pregnant?

As I trudged back to the limo parked under the shade of an oak, feeling pissed at the world, I picked up a stone and hurled it at a sycamore tree trunk. The stone thunked! off the bark and fell to the ground.

I bit my bottom lip.

Don't worry, Dad. I'm still calling the plays. I'll make you proud of me. Mom, too. I'll play college football. I'll make something of myself. That's a promise. I'm not the father of Jodi's baby. The real father is...is...is Luke! That's his name: Luke! He's the father. A redheaded guy. He called Jodi 'girlfriend.' She kissed him in the woods.

When I climbed into the back seat of the limo, sat beside Mom and closed the door, she was tangling her fingers around and around, aching for a cigarette. I grabbed her hands to calm them; they were cold. "Don't worry, Mom. Everything's going to be all right. We don't have a thing to worry about."

Coming Friday—Chapter Six:  A war. Michael vs. Jodi

Chapter Four

Dad reached to touch my hand. His touch was always cold. "I'm sorry this is so hard on everyone."

"I'll be all right. Mom, too."

"I know both of you will."

"I don't mean just now," I said. "I mean in the future. I'll make something out of myself. I promise you, I'll be somebody."

Chapter Four

The next morning, I stayed home from school. Mom had already called the doctor and made arrangements for Dad to be admitted to St. Luke's. I stood by as he sat in a chair by the front door dressed in his baggy jeans, a too-big white sweatshirt, and sneakers. He hadn't eaten breakfast. Couldn't swallow. His eyes were bleak, his lips bloodless, but he was alert and talkative.

"Jodi Jackson called last night," I reminded him.

A half smile lit his face. "She miss you?" he asked in his whispery voice.

"Not exactly. She wanted to know how you are, and Travis and Lois wanted to know."

"You told her the truth?"

"Yes."

He nodded. "I don't know if I'll be out in time for Friday's game." He hadn't seen my last two football games. But he'd dragged himself to my first four. The weather had been nice in the evenings, about fifty degrees—no wind, rain, nor snow yet—and at that time he'd been feeling a little better.

"No sweat," I said. "We'll kick ass." Tears misted in my eyes. That was another thing happening to me a lot lately: Tears all of a sudden. No warning.

I pulled back the curtain and looked out to make sure the car was still running. I'd started it earlier and turned the heater on. I wanted Dad to be warm and comfortable while I drove him to the hospital. Mom scurried around in the bedroom and bathroom, getting Dad's electric shaver, aftershave, and other stuff ready for him.

Dad reached to touch my hand. His touch was always cold. "I'm sorry this is so hard on everyone."

"I'll be all right. Mom, too."

"I know both of you will."

"I don't mean just now," I said. "I mean in the future. I'll make something out of myself. I promise you, I'll be somebody."

"Remember, don't be like me, though. Work all the time.  Not much time for the ones you love most."

I smiled. "All right."

"I told your mom not to mourn. Not even for a day. Move on."

I wondered how Mom would do that: Move on without Dad. He was her life. My life, too.

Suddenly I wanted to tell him about Jodi, that he was going to be a grandfather. The daughter of his best friend was going to have my baby. At least she'd said it was mine. I wasn't really sure.

I couldn't tell him, though. Not like this. Everything confused and uncertain. I couldn't give him something else to wonder about besides his dying and meeting God. And my making a girl pregnant, if it were true, wouldn't make him very proud of me. I didn't want him to remember me like that, a player who had messed with the daughter of his best friend.

"A million's not worth anything," he said, "unless you've got family. Remember that. Stay close to the people you love. And who love you."

"For sure."

"They're more important than anything else."

"All right."

My throat ached again, this time from choking back tears.

Mom came into the room, Dad's overnight bag in her hand. "I think we're ready," she said.

"I'm in no hurry," Dad said.

That's the last real conversation I had with Dad.

The day he entered the hospital he lapsed into a coma and died the next day in hospice without regaining consciousness. Mom and I sat at his bedside nearly all the time. A nurse gave him morphine so he could rest comfortably. His last rattly breath jerked his head twice, and then his head fell to the side. I touched his cold, papery hand.

Mom gripped my shoulder. "Come away, Michael, he's gone."

She kissed him on the lips.    

He died at 7:00 P.M. I'd never hear his voice again. Feel his touch. Smell his cologne. But I felt relieved.

Rest in peace, Dad.

I called Jodi the night Dad died, but she was gone so I talked to Travis, my knees shaking, afraid of what he might say to me because of his daughter's pregnancy.

I started off by telling him everything I could about Dad, dreading the inevitable shift in the conversation to Jodi and me. "The funeral is Saturday," I said, after about twenty minutes of rambling on.

"I won't be able to come."

"Oh...?"

That surprised me.

I didn't know if I was glad or not about Travis's not coming to Grandview for the funeral. I wanted him to be able to pay his last respects to Dad, but I feared facing him. Though Jodi was seventeen, she was still his little girl. He'd be rightfully pissed at me.

"I start driving a semi that day," he said. "Things have slowed down at the resort. Weather's been bad. Vacations are over. Everyone's back in school. Can't help it. I've got to drive. Need the work."

"I understand. Dad does, too."

"How's your mom holding up?"

"Fine. She's tough."

"I believe that."

Then came the dreaded lag in the conversation. The dreaded silence. I was feeling guilty again. And shamefaced. I decided to take the plunge. Pretend I was brave. I grabbed a breath. Exhaled. "Jodi, tells me she's coming to school here in Grandview the second semester. To live with her grandparents."

"She told you why, didn't she?"

"Yes."

"I'm not happy with her. Or with you, Michael."

"I'm sorry... Neither one of us intended anything to happen. We just...I don't know..."

"Whether you intended it or not," Travis said, "that doesn't change anything. Fact is, my daughter's pregnant. I'll live with it and make the best of it. We all will. But that doesn't mean I like it. Or that it's right."

"I'm sorry about her cross-country season. Her chance at winning a scholarship. I'm sorry about everything."

"She won her first two races. She improved her personal best time in each one."

"Oh wow!"

"But then she started throwing up after running a mile or so. We couldn't figure it out. She'd never done that before."

"I feel terrible. Look, I'll do whatever's right, whatever I can...you know, whatever's necessary...and beyond..."

"I know you're going through a bad time right now. I'll talk to you later about it."

"All right," I said, eager to end this conversation.

"Tell your mom me and Lois are thinking about her. We sympathize with both of you."

"Thanks."

After I hung up, my shoulders sagged. Travis wasn't happy with me, and I didn't blame him.

I was a bit pissed at myself, too. I'd been so much on the defensive I hadn't mustered the courage to ask him if he thought there was a possibility somebody else might be the father of Jodi's baby. Like that guy Lou. Or whatever his name was.

The guy who kissed Jodi in the woods.

I mean, I saw him kiss her.

Or maybe she kissed him.

Coming next—Chapter Five: Laying dad to rest.

Chapter Three

"Maybe I'm not the father," I said. "She had a boyfriend before I met her. Remember, he came to visit her the morning we left."

"A redheaded boy," Mom said.

"He was home on leave from the Navy."

Chapter Three

Snapping out the lights in the den, I trudged up the stairs and into my room. I closed my door, locked it, and collapsed on my bed in the darkness without undressing.

I wanted to be alone.

I stared at the black ceiling. My dad's dying, my making a girl pregnant, the daughter of my dad's best friend—this stuff was supposed to happen to other people. Not me. Not Michael Panther.

No reason, no logic—life sometimes grabs you by the throat and throws you against a wall.

I let out a long, low groan.

The confusion I felt was so real it pulsed through my veins.

While I'd been at Ghost Bay, Jodi'd had no time for anyone else but me. But before I'd arrived...or after I'd left...she'd had plenty of time to hook up with someone else. Especially with what's-his-name. Lonnie? And I wasn't the first guy she'd been with, that was for sure. I mean, a guy can tell.

A tap at the door.

I didn't get up. I didn't say anything. I lay flat on my back, spread-eagle, still staring at the ceiling. With the blinds down and the curtains pulled, lights out, the darkness was so thick in my room I couldn't tell if my eyes were open or not.

Three more taps, loud and quick.

"Michael, are you in there?"

"What do you want?"

"I'm coming in."

Mom twisted the doorknob, pushed on the door. "I need to talk to you, Michael."

I didn't answer.

"About Dad," she said. "Unlock the door."

I snapped on my bedside light, dragged myself off the bed, and unlocked the door for Mom. Opened it. She didn't come in, just stood in the doorway. My mom's beautiful, no doubt about it. Tall, long black hair—I think she touches it up a bit—porcelain skin, blue eyes, and a shape like a cheerleader's. Still. Maybe a guy shouldn't say all that about his mom, but it's true.

I shuffled back and dropped down on the foot of the bed.

Mom said, "Why didn't you tell me you were off the phone?"

"I forgot you wanted it."

"Michael, Dad is so weak, I think we should talk to his doctor tomorrow. He's disoriented. Sometimes I'm not sure he knows who we are. The pain seems to be bothering him more."

"All right, we'll talk to the doctor. Definitely, I think Dad should be in the hospital."

"I agree." I hoped mom would turn around and leave. I had to think, think, think. But she didn't. She waited a second and asked, "What did Jodi say?"

"She's pregnant."

I said it straight out like that. I didn't know what else to do. I wasn't trying to be a smartass. I was simply too weary and too stunned to try to hide anything. Besides, there was no point in keeping the news from Mom. She'd find out when Travis and his wife Lois came to town for Dad's funeral. Maybe in a week or less.

Mom's eyebrows jumped. Her wide-eyed look seemed to ask, Oh Lord, what have you done? "That's why she called?"

"And to ask about Dad."

"She's positive she's pregnant?"

"That's what she says."

Mom didn't seem too shocked or too angry, like I'd thought she'd be. She didn't blow her cool and scream at me. She looked at me with tired eyes and said," I knew something serious was going on between you two."

"You knew?"

"By the way you looked at one another, acted around one another. All the time you two spent alone together."

"I wonder if Travis and Lois suspected."

Mom shrugged. "What were you thinking, Michael?"

"I wasn't."

"Do you realize the jeopardy you've put yourself in? Jodi, too?"

"I know."

Mom eased into my room and planted herself next to me on the bed. "You're going to be heaped with decisions you never dreamed of making."

"I figured that."

"And with new responsibilities. Especially if Jodi keeps the baby."

"Mom, stop..."

"Making a girl pregnant will change everything, Michael. Your whole sense of reality."

If Mom was trying to tell me I wasn't going to play football for a big-time college after I graduated next spring, she was wrong about that.

"Did Jodi say what she intends to do about the baby? Adoption? Keep the child?"

"She's going to keep it." I scratched the side of my head. "Adoption—that sounds good to me." Then I started thinking. "But I'll bet Jodi wouldn't give up a baby. I'll even bet her folks wouldn't want her to do that. I mean, they all seem so close-knit, living there alone in the wilderness."

"The choice is hers, Michael. No one else's. Hers alone."

"Not mine?"

"I'm afraid not."

I rocked back and forth. "But that's not fair. If she has the baby adopted, I'm home free. But if she keeps it—like you said—my life will change."

"Drastically."

"It's like she's gained control of my future."

"That's right."

"Why don't I have a voice?"

"You simply don't."

"Can't you see how unfair that is, her power over me? Over my life?"

"That's the way things are, Michael."

"I can't believe this. I'm not ready to be a dad."

Mom nodded, her dark eyes level with mine. "You should've thought of that before you did what you did."

I puffed out a sigh. I couldn't deny that.

"You're not the one who's pregnant," Mom said. "Not the one who has to carry a baby for nine months, your body all stretched out of shape, then go through labor and birth and wonder if you'll ever be you again."

"It's still not fair."

"No one said life was fair."

I bowed my head. Mom was right again. If life were fair, Dad wouldn't be dying.

Suck it up, Michael.

"She might change her mind and opt for adoption," Mom said. "Unwed mothers have lots of control over the process now. Like even picking out the adoptive parents."

"I can't believe this is happening to me."

Mom sat there, lips pursed, deep lines cutting across her forehead. "It's happening to all of us, Michael. Not just you."

I kept rocking back and forth. I realized I'd dumped a big load on Mom. She was already trying to deal with Dad's dying, her future without him, and now she had another problem to wrestle with. She was probably thinking, What's next? Will the sky fall on me?

"I'm sorry," I said. "I never expected this to happen." My voice sounded strangled, as if my throat were closing off. "I know you're trying to deal with a million other things...I'm sorry..."

Mom dropped a warm hand over my fists clenched in my lap. "You and Jodi are going to have to talk things through carefully. And you'll have to talk to Travis and Lois."

"Maybe I'm not the father," I said. "She had a boyfriend before I met her. Remember, he came to visit her the morning we left."

"A redheaded boy," Mom said.

"He was home on leave from the Navy."

"I remember him."

"They walked off into the woods together, down a path toward the lake. I saw them kissing."

"I'm sure she knows who's responsible, Michael. Are you going to tell Dad?"

"Why? I don't want to hit him with something else to think about. Are you going to tell him?"

"No. What does Jodi intend to do about school?"

I explained as much as I knew about Jodi's coming to Grandview, living with her grandparents, and going to school here.

"That's good, Michael. Very good. You'll be able to talk to her face to face. And work things out. Decide what to do."

"She went to school here for a semester when she was a sophomore. She helped out her grandparents. Her grandpa had some kind of surgery."

"Well, at least her surroundings won't be entirely new to her."

"I still can't believe this his happening."

"I'll give you all the help and support I can." Mom squeezed my hand. "This is very serious, but you're not alone."

I swallowed. My throat ached from swallowing so much. "Thanks," I mumbled, and suddenly felt shamefaced and guilty because I knew I'd disappointed my mom. If Dad knew about this, he'd be pissed, I'm sure. What the hell's wrong with you?

But I tried to shrug off those feelings of shame and guilt.

No reason to feel like that until I found out the truth from Jodi. No reason to fear she had power over my future and me. What was that other guy's name? The redheaded guy who came to see Jodi the morning my folks and I left Ghost Bay, the guy who undoubtedly made her pregnant—what was his name? Lester?

He's the guy Jodi should be bugging.

Not me.

Coming next—Chapter Four: Michael goes one-on-one with Jodi's dad.

Chapter Two

The hair on the back of my neck prickled. "Are you saying...?" I left the words hanging in air.

"Yes..."

"We did it just that one time."

"Twice, Michael. Remember?"

"Right." My eyes crashed shut for a second. "Twice."

"Hello! It only takes one time. Tell me you didn't know that."

Chapter Two

That was August.

This is October. Two months later.

"Jodi's on the phone," Mom said, bustling into the family room, where Dad and I sat watching the Turner Classic Movie Channel on cable.

The room was warm.

The glow from the fireplace, the wide-screen plasma TV, and the twirling Miller Lite beer sign behind the bar cast a soft light over everything and created lots of shifting shadows.

Pushed back in his lounge chair, Dad slumped wrapped in his old brown robe over his plaid pajamas, his bony wrists, hands, and ankles sticking out, his feet tucked into loose leather slippers. He'd been sleeping a lot lately, either in bed or in his chair in front of the TV. He was awake now. He loved old movies. John Wayne, Cary Grant, Humphrey Bogart—he loved all those old guys.

"Who's on the phone?" Were my ears telling the truth?

"Jodi Jackson." Mom handed me the cordless. I perched on a stool at the bar. "It's Travis's daughter," she told Dad, pronouncing each word distinctly. "It's Jodi. Calling from Wisconsin."

He blinked at Mom and nodded, his eyes lighting up a bit.

My heart skipped. I'd thought of Jodi a lot since my return home from Ghost Bay. But I took a deep breath now and told my heart to be still. Travis probably wanted to know about Dad; Jody called for him. But why wouldn't Travis have called for himself to ask about Dad? He'd done that about two weeks ago. And about two weeks before that.

Mom stood watching me, head tilted, nosy, of course. I gave her a signal with my head and eyes that meant I wanted her to leave—Please? She hurried away.

I clutched the phone to my ear. "Hey! What's up?"

"Hey."

I swiveled on the stool and propped my elbows on the bar.

The last night I spent with Jodi at Ghost Bay, trying to say good-bye, she and I parted on bad terms. I rejected the idea of a long-distance relationship with her: Phone calls. E-mails. IMs. Facebook. My balking at keeping our relationship alive hurt her. She thought I was totally blowing her off, so I figured she didn't want to engage in a lot of lighthearted chitchat right now. She was probably still seriously pissed at me. But then why had she called, wanting to talk to me? "How've you been?" I asked.

"Oh...fine." Her voice was clear and strong. "How's your dad?"

I glanced at him. He was staring at the TV. Bogart was piloting some old boat down a river in Africa, a skinny actress bitching him out because he drank too much.

"He has some good days," I said. "Then some bad ones. Today has been a bad one."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

"He spent two days in the hospital during the middle of the month. He seems weaker than ever now. Completely drained."

"That's terrible."

"I thought he should've stayed in the hospital, but he demanded to come home."

"Sounds like something my pop would want, too."

"There's no hope, really. Seeing him suffer kills me."

"I understand. I'll tell Pop how things are going."

A moment's silence separated us before I asked, "How are your folks?"

"They're fine."

"Does Travis want to talk to Dad?"

"I didn't tell him I was calling."

I looked at Dad again. His head had dropped; he'd fallen asleep. "I'm glad my dad got to spend some time this summer with your dad. It was like his last request. To spend a few weeks with Travis. Turned out to be six weeks."

"I'm glad, too. We did have some good times, didn't we?"

"Yes, we did," I said, wondering if she were remembering the deer hunter's cabin. "We had great times."

"I'm sorry about that last night, my yelling at you."

"Forget it, I understand."

"How's football?"

That got me started. I told her we were 6-0, clawing our way toward the state playoffs. Ranked No. 4 now in the state. I was racking up yards at tailback. I'd had three one-hundred-yard games running the ball. I was punting and place kicking like crazy. I raved about the forty-five-yard field goal I'd kicked last Friday to beat Central in the final quarter, 20-17. I kept rambling on like my mouth had a mind of its own before realized I wasn't giving Jodi a chance to tell me about herself.

"Sorry," I said. "When I talk football, I get wound up. How's your cross-country season going? You blowing everyone else away?"

God, I hoped she was. That would be awesome.

"I had to quit, Michael."

"Quit? Why?" She must have sprained an ankle. Pulled a hamstring.

"I'm pregnant."

I wasn't startled. I didn't gasp in horror. Actually, I didn't think I'd heard the word right. "You're what?"

"Pregnant."

I heard the word that time. My mouth dropped open, and my heart rumbled. Pregnant! "You're kidding, right?"

"Don't I wish."

"How do you know?"

"I used one of those tester kits you get at the drugstore. EPT—early pregnancy test."

"And...?"

"It came out positive."

I flicked a look Dad's way. He was still sleeping. Then my eyes darted to the doorway, where Mom had left. Empty. The hair on the back of my neck prickled. "Are you saying...?" I left the words hanging in air.

"Yes..."

"We did it just that one time."

"Twice, Michael. Remember?"

"Right." My eyes crashed shut for a second. "Twice."

"Hello! It only takes one time. Tell me you didn't know that."

Rapping my knuckles on the bar, I sore.

"Don't beat yourself up," Jodi said. "I should've said no."

"God, we did it twice. Like we wanted to make sure." I sagged back in the stool. I tossed my head back, closed my eyes again, and tried to stop my world from spinning. "What are we going to do?"

"I'm going to have the baby. I thought you should know."

That announcement sent a chill shooting through me. I sat straight up.

Mom came into the room, folded her arms. Had she been listening on another line? She said, "I need to use the phone when you're finished. My cell phone's dead."

Jodi was trying to tell me something. I slapped my hand over the mouthpiece. "Mom, I can't hang up right now."

"It's all right. Just let me know when you're finished."

"Dad's asleep," I said. "Maybe he should go to bed."

Mom agreed.

As Mom was waking Dad, helping him out of the chair, I said to Jodi, "I'm sorry. I didn't hear all that. My mom's getting ready to put Dad in bed. What did you say?"

"I'll be transferring to Grandview at midyear. Where I go to school, when I start showing, they'll make me quit. I'll miss the year. At your school I can go as long as I want, then transfer to TAPP."

"To where?"

"The Teen Academic Parenting Program," she said. "T-A-P-P."

"I didn't know there was such a program."

"Well, there is, and I can graduate in May, like I'm supposed to."

Jodi pregnant, going to school at Grandview, Iowa, my hometown—the thought was unbelievable. I tried to breathe slowly. "Where will you live?"

His arm around Mom's shoulder, Dad struggled toward the door.

"With my grandparents. Wisconsin has programs for pregnant teens in big school districts, too, but the nearest one is too far away to drive, especially in the winter."

"That would be a problem."

"And if I moved there I wouldn't have anyone to live with. Not anyone I know very well."

"So you'll be going to school here? Grandview High?" I still couldn't believe it.

"I've gone there before. For a semester. When Grandpa had his heart surgery, I came to stay with Grandma and him to help out."

"I remember you told me that."

"Don't worry, Michael. I'm not going to mess up your life. I just thought you should know about the situation we're in."

"You're sure you're..." I faltered, unable to say the word, afraid to turn the implications loose in my mind. That would make Jodi's pregnancy real. "You're sure?"

"I'm sure, Michael."

"You're positive?"

"I don't want to believe it either, but I'm totally pregnant."

I swallowed. "Oh wow." I didn't know what else to say.

"I better hang up. Or this phone call will cost Pop a fortune."

"Don't—"

I wanted to ask her if those EPT things were accurate.

"Good-bye, Michael. I'm sorry about your dad. I'll tell Pop."

"Wait!"

Click!

The phone went dead and then its buzz! buzz! buzz! flooded my ear. I stabbed the phone's OFF button and slumped back in the stool again.

Jodi Jackson is pregnant!

The daughter of my dad's best friend!

And she’s coming to Grandview! To live with her grandparents. To go to school here. My school. Grandview High.    

It was mind-boggling.

How can she be pregnant?

How did this happen? Where were my brains that sunny afternoon when I hooked up with Jodi in a deer-hunter's cabin?

I smacked a fist off the bar. I'd been falsely accused. Obviously. I mean, what about the guy I saw kissing Jodi the morning I left the Ghost Bay campgrounds, the morning after Jodi and I fought? What was his name? Tall guy with red hair? Larry? Lester? Something like that. He came to see her just before I left. Called her girlfriend. What about him?

Easy for Jodi to lie to me over the phone, when she didn't have to look me in the eye.

Has to be him. Has to be.

I didn't make her pregnant.

Not me.

Absolutely not.

No way.

Coming next—Chapter Three: Dealing with Mom

Chapter One

She kissed me back—a teasing kiss—a lethal kiss for both of us—and squeezed my hand. "I know where there's a deer-hunter's cabin in the woods."

"Not smart."

"Smart's not how I'm feeling, Michael."

Chapter One

Jodi and I first made love the summer we were seventeen. But the moment the magical spell that had swept over us faded, I felt guilty.

This is what happened:

Packing a lunch in a cooler, we canoed Big Sand Lake during the morning under a sunny Wisconsin sky. At noontime, we ate chicken sandwiches and drank root beer on a beach, a soft breeze cooling us.

"What are you looking at?" Jodi asked.

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.

"Your eyes," I said.

"Got two of them. Like you."

"Yours are crossed."

"They are not! 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 loved riddles and sometimes popped them into the conversation without warning. They were all stupid, but I couldn't stop laughing anyway.

Now she traced a finger across my shoulder, and my skin tingled. "You've got a really nice tan, Michael. I love the little cleft in your chin... What are you thinking about?"

I slid the picnic basket aside. I wiggled closer to her and looped my arm around her neck. My blood raced. I drew her to me and kissed her softly parted mouth. I'd kissed her a lot during the past six weeks while on vacation here with my mom and dad. She was the campground owner's daughter.

She kissed me back—a teasing kiss—a lethal kiss for both of us—and squeezed my hand. "I know where there's a deer-hunter's cabin in the woods."

"Not smart."

"Smart's not how I'm feeling, Michael." She reached out and stroked my cheek. Her touch was fire. My heart leaped.

"You sure you want to do this?"

"Don't you?" Softly.

"Yes." A whisper.

We made love in the musty cabin on the lower half of a set of squeaky bunk beds. Twice. She wore a one-piece yellow swimsuit under cutoff jeans. I wore only a swimsuit. She smelled of sunshine and lilacs and tasted of clean sweat. Being with her was the greatest thing that had happened to me in a long time.

But later, when Jodi and I sat on the dock where we'd tied the canoe, dangling our feet in the water, that guilty feeling invaded me. I'd used her to make myself feel good. I'd had no right to do that. I didn't want to hurt her.

"Why so silent, Michael?"

"Just...thinking."

She 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 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, muskie.

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

"You having a good time?" he asked me.

"Great time. Terrific."

"I knew you'd like northern Wisconsin."

"Home's were 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, Michael."

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 my 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. Home was Grandview, Iowa, four hundred miles away. I would be head of the household within a few months—maybe weeks—according to Dad. 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."

"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 smells of baked northern, broiled shrimp, fried catfish, jumbo French fries—all Charlie's specialties—made me sick.

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 Resort on Big Sand Lake. Dad's high school and Army buddy, Travis Jackson, owned the resort. Consisting of a lodge, five cabins, and maybe thirty trailer/tent slots, the place was hacked out of the wilderness.

His daughter, Jodi, was his chief helper. His go-to girl.

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

On the drive back to camp, Dad sat in the front seat with me. I turned the air on and push-buttoned the windows up. Mom sat in back and cracked her window to blow out smoke from her cigarette. I wished she'd give up that stupid habit. I didn't want to lose another parent to cancer.

"I'm tired as hell," Dad said.

"You want some fresh air?" I asked. "I can leave the air on and open the windows."

"No, that's all right."

"We should start packing tonight," Mom said.

"I guess we should," Dad said. "What time is it?"

"Ten o'clock," I told him."

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

"I'll do that. Maybe you should go straight to bed."

Mom said, "He's right, Pete. 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. Parting wouldn't be easy, not after what had happened between the two of us this afternoon. After I left Ghost Bay, I didn't think I'd ever see Jodi Jackson again.

Coming next—Chapter Two: A phone call from Jodi.