We sat on the beach at Harveys Lake, sand crunching into our shorts because we didn’t have a blanket or even towels. When we headed out, Dad just wanted to drive; we didn’t know where we’d end up. At least he’d thought to change out of his air force clothes.
Jack lifted his nose in the air, sniffing different gusts. The fishy odor of the lake, the buttery popcorn scent from the concession stand, and the whiff of hot dogs breezed over us—a smorgasbord that smelled like summer.
Towels carpeted the beach. Brightly colored umbrellas looked like happy mushrooms sticking out of the sand. So many people laughing, playing, splashing in the water. Jack yanked at the leash. No sitting around for him.
“You want to go for a walk?” I asked.
He barked and jumped in answer.
“Dad?”
“Yep.” He pushed himself up and dusted off his shorts. He always looked younger out of his uniform, especially in shorts and a T-shirt. Sometimes people thought he was my bachelor uncle instead of my dad.
As we walked, I kept Jack close by. We stuck to the loose, white sand, away from the actual shoreline so as not to bother people. Jack zigzagged on the leash like a divining rod—nothing was getting by him. He’d smell every smell on this beach before we left. I grinned, but when I looked up at Dad, I saw he was lost in thought.
“What are you thinking about?” I bet I knew.
He shrugged.
We passed a huge building with white letters on the roof: SANDY BEACH. Good thing they spelled it out for me—I never would’ve known. Jack snarfed up the ketchupy leftover of someone’s hamburger without even stopping. His ears were erect, his step bouncy.
Dad sighed as we passed under the shade of the building. “I’ll be going to the funeral.”
I’d been to only one funeral, and I always tried not to think of it. Not to think of all the other ladies crying, not to think of the pastor who spoke but didn’t really know my mom. Not to think of her body lying there with everyone staring at her. Her favorite flowers rested on top of her coffin. Dad had bought them. She would have liked that, everyone said. No, she wouldn’t, I wanted to yell. It means she’s dead.
When someone dies, it’s weird because then there’s a kind of party afterward. People eat and some drink beer and then they actually tell stories and laugh. Laugh—while you sit there knowing that even right now, a hoist is lowering your mother into the grave. A backhoe is pushing dirt over her. I swiped at my eyes. I must have gotten some sand in them. “I’ll go with you,” I said to Dad.
He didn’t argue.
Jack pulled us along. Speedboats zipped out on the lake. The farther away we got from the building and paddleboats, the less populated the beach became. The arches of my feet were getting sore from pushing through the sand.
Dad pointed to some patchy grass and a lone tree. “Let’s sit over there.”
We caught a bit of shade. Some high schoolers were out chicken-fighting in the water, the girls on top of the guys’ shoulders tugging at each other and shrieking. Just as I leaned back to rub my foot, Jack took off.
I leaped up and ran. “Jack!”
He headed toward this boy and girl tossing a Frisbee. They didn’t even seem to notice him.
“Jack!” Behind me, Dad whistled.
Then I saw—as if in slow motion—Jack spring up and catch the Frisbee. He trotted to me with the Frisbee in his mouth, the leash trailing behind him. But as I bent to grab it, he took off, stopped, and waited.
The boy laughed. “That was a good catch!” The girl was smiling, too.
I neared Jack. “C’mon, boy. Give me the Frisbee.”
He huffed and planted his front paws in the sand, ready for takeoff. The boy and girl moved closer. Jack didn’t move at all, but his eyes darted between the three of us.
“Gotcha!” The girl lunged for the Frisbee.
Jack hightailed it out of there, running right over the blanket of some adults.
“Dad, get him!” the girl yelled.
By now, my own dad had joined the chase. Jack bounced between us like a pinball in a machine. His eyes shone with excitement and his ears were red. Like a deer, he leaped and darted; there was no catching him.
Finally, their mom stood up with a sandwich. “C’mere, boy!” She waved it around. “C’mere!”
Jack’s eyebrows lifted and crunched down as his gaze flitted over his pursuers. He took a halting step toward the lady, and she stretched her arm out with the sandwich. “Ham!” she called out to me, smiling.
Taking another step and then another, Jack inched closer until his nose was almost touching the bread. I moved slowly in. His nose twitched, being that close to the ham. He dropped the Frisbee and I snatched the leash.
“Yay!” The girl threw up her arms.
Their mom smiled at me. “Can I give him the sandwich?”
“Yeah, of course!”
She glanced over at Dad and me. “Y’all boys look hot. Whyn’t you join us for some lemonade?”
Dad said, “No, no, we don’t want to bother you. Thanks for helping us get the dog, though.”
Waving him off, she pulled out paper cups and poured us some lemonade. “No bother a’tall.”
Oh, man, that cold lemonade right then was the best thing I ever drank in my life.
She invited us to sit down and eat, so before Dad could protest again, I had my butt down and my hand on a plate. The boy and girl came over, asking if I was from around here. Their accent was about as strong as their mom’s, and I was sorry to hear they were just visiting their grandma and heading back to North Carolina in a few days.
But, for a moment, as Dad and I sat eating their ham sandwiches and tangy potato salad, we were all in one spot, talking with our mouths full and laughing. There was no war here, nobody dying, no one being mean. We threw the Frisbee until we couldn’t see it anymore. The sun turned orange and drifted behind the mountains, and everything became dark again.