Tetrault Lake, Montana
Any man worth his salt knew fishing had medicinal qualities that couldn’t be quantified. Better than anything that came out of a bottle. Casting a line into the crystal-clear, blue-green waters of Tetrault Lake on a brilliant sunny day caused wounds to begin to heal, even when a person didn’t want to let go of the punishing pain.
Andy settled onto a log embedded into the sandy shoreline and rummaged through the shiny, fluttery lures in the kit he’d purchased at the bait shop on Highway 37 on their way out of Eureka. He paused to watch Johnny argue with Derrick over whether a Panther Martin lure with its blue-silver pattern would snag a trout before the younger boy’s Fish Creek spinner.
Logan, the middle child, always eager to spur them on, suggested a contest to see who caught the first trout and who caught the most. The first winner handed off his duties to clear the table, load and unload the dishwasher, and take out the trash for a week. All chores assigned to the kid who caught the most fish would be divided between the two losers for a week.
“You had the right idea.” Henry squatted next to Andy and worked to untangle the six-pound line on his small reel. “Even if you didn’t have the guts to go solo with them.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You wanted to do penance by spending time with John’s sons, but you weren’t sure you could handle it alone.” Henry yanked on the line, which only served to knot it further. “That’s why you invited me.”
Henry wasn’t far from the truth. When he walked into the house after his boss decided to close the shop and go hunting with his retired buddies, Andy had been nearly faint with relief.
“I invited you because I haven’t seen you since the funeral.” Andy chose a small lure he hoped had the necessary qualities to interest a largemouth bass. Or any of the numerous trout that lived in this small lake four miles northwest of Eureka. “And I needed your buggy.”
Henry settled back on his haunches and laughed. “They got a kick out of riding in a buggy, didn’t they?”
“It was gut to see them laugh.”
“Rough going at the house?”
“Jah. Madison doesn’t blame me, but they do.”
“They’re young. They have a hard time seeing death the way we do.”
They weren’t Plain, Henry meant to say, but Andy was, and he still had trouble closing his eyes at night when John’s empty face reappeared in his brain. His head lolled. Blood dripped from his nose and the corner of his mouth.
How could a man be giving advice one minute and be dead the next? Where was God’s plan in that?
“I can see the gerbil going round and round on the wheel in your head.” Henry grabbed the lures and picked a spinner for his now detangled line. “You look troubled, my friend.”
“Trying to find Gott’s plan in all this.”
“You mean John’s death and your troubles with Christine?”
Andy had managed a three-sentence summation of the situation in St. Ignatius at Henry’s insistence on the ride out to the lake. “We’re not to worry. We’re not to fear. That’s faith. Is mine so rinky-dink that I throw my hands in the air and fall to my knees, questioning God’s sovereignty?”
“I see a man still putting one foot in front of the other.” Henry paused in his trial-and-error practice flicks of the wrist. “I don’t see a man who has given up.”
“I held a dead friend in my arms.”
“That would shake any man.”
Andy stood. Henry did the same. Together they trudged to the water’s edge. The smell of decaying leaves and mud scented the air like sweet perfume. Andy inhaled. His shoulders relaxed. The lap of the water against the shore provided background music. Bullfrogs chorused. Nature had its own kind of healing medicine. His hand tightened on the rod.
Christine’s words about the Kootenai and their spiritual connection to nature came back to him. “I didn’t recognize the connection we have to nature. We take that for granted. The Natives don’t. They see themselves as part of nature. Their spirituality—what we would call faith—is intertwined with animals and trees and plants and birds. It made me see all those things differently. We’re knitted together with nature, but we don’t acknowledge it or give nature her due.”
Giving nature “her” due meant giving God his. God created the heavens and the earth, the plants and the trees, the wild animals, the livestock, the birds, and the fish, and every creature in the sea. That’s where Andy parted ways with Raymond. And it’s what he should have said to Christine. What he would say whether she decided to come back to him or go her own way.
“‘My soul, wait thou only upon God; for my expectation is from him.’” Henry whispered the words so softly, they sounded like a gentle breeze in Andy’s ears. “‘He only is my rock and my salvation: he is my defense; I shall not be moved.’ Psalm 62:5–6.”
“Now you are a scholar of the Bible?”
“Nee. I was married once.”
Andy stopped midcast. He allowed his arm to slowly fall. “You never mentioned it.”
“No point in it. She died in a buggy accident in Munfordville, near where I’m from, only months after we married. Like you, I came for a new start.”
“Not like me. The woman I cared for chose another.”
“Anyway, I, too, questioned God’s plan. My bishop told me if my faith was based on my ability to understand, I either had to understand everything—which isn’t going to happen—or be tormented by my anxiety when I couldn’t understand.”
“Those are my only two options?”
Not much of a scriptural pep talk.
“Peace is found in trusting Gott. That’s what faith is. Trusting even when you don’t understand. He’s in control of the chaos. It doesn’t have to make sense to us. It does to Him.”
Andy cast his line with the flick of his wrist. “I talked to Noah. I’m not sure it helped, but it was worth a try.”
“I didn’t even think of it. Instead, I considered giving up my faith. I lay on the bed I shared with Vivian and stared at the ceiling for days and nights. The bishop came to me. He grabbed my arm and jerked me upright. He said enough is enough. Get up and start again.”
“And you did.”
“Finally, but I’m saying instead of giving up, you went to see Christine. You came here and got these boys. You’re on the right track.”
Wood ducks squawked in the distance. Ospreys huddled together on the distant shore. Blue jays jabbered. A Cooper’s hawk dipped close to the water, then soared away. “Maybe.”
“For sure.”
“I caught one. I caught one.” Derrick tugged his line back. It bulged in the middle.
“Reel him in. Come on, buddy, you can do it!” Johnny rushed to help his little brother. Logan jumped up from his perch on a fallen trunk. Together he and Johnny cheered Derrick on until he landed a medium-sized cutthroat trout.
“Nice.” Henry helped hook it onto the line they’d fixed for this purpose. “I bet he weighs at least four pounds. That’s some good eats.”
“I got the first one!” Derrick danced a jig around his brothers. “No cleanup for me. One whole week.”
“Lucky dog.” Logan picked up his rod. “Just remember, you’ll be doing my chores for a week when I catch the most total fish.”
After that they all concentrated on fishing. After all, that was the point. To let go of the anxieties, the difficulties, the grief, if only for a few hours. The next fish went to Johnny, a small rainbow trout. After that they could’ve been the disciples fishing on the Sea of Galilee after Jesus gave them a helping hand. They caught eight trout, one after the other, and two largemouth bass. All eating sized.
“Let’s fire up the Coleman and grill these babies.” Johnny high-fived Logan, who pivoted and fist-bumped Derrick. All three had sun-kissed freckles on their noses and grins that produced sizable dimples. They looked so much like John—except for the dimples, which came from Madison. “Did you bring chips and dip? I’m starving.”
Fishing did tend to produce hunger. All that fresh air and exuberance.
“Help me get the cooler and the stove from the buggy.” Andy started up the incline toward the parking lot. The boys trailed after him while Henry stayed firmly planted with his line in the water. He’d caught the smallest number of fish—a measly two rainbow trout. “Your mom contributed a big package of those circus animal cookies with the sprinkles on them. I like those—”
Madison’s blue Traverse pulled in next to the buggy and stopped. Why would she drive all the way to the lake? It didn’t have to be bad news. Maybe she changed her mind and wanted to fish. Andy charged ahead. No need to speculate. She shoved open her door and waved.
“What’s up? Is everything okay?”
“Sheriff Brody called. He knows Henry is staying at the house.” She smiled. Seeing her smile was the icing on the cake of an afternoon on the lake with her three boys. “You can go home.” Her smile wavered. “I mean, you can get back into Kootenai to start rebuilding. The evacuation is lifted.”
Andy halted. He let his head hang for a few seconds. Danki, Gott. One step at a time. One foot in front of the other.
“Does that mean we have to go right now?” Derrick kicked at the gravel with a dirty sneaker. “We can’t grill the fish?”
“No way.” Andy opened his eyes and grinned. “We’re celebrating. You should join us, Madison. We have enough trout for an entire Plain family.”
“I’d love to.” She pointed her thumb toward the SUV. “I was hoping you’d say that. I brought Ben & Jerry’s ice cream to celebrate—all the boys’ favorite flavors.”
The hooting and hollering of John’s boys followed Andy down the incline as he went to tell Henry the good news. It sounded like a hallelujah chorus.