Rum Spring by Yolanda Wallace Page A

rush off. She tried to prolong his visit. “What do you think of the apartment?”
    He rapped his knuckles against the living room wall. “It is well-made. It should do nicely.” His eyes flicked toward the kitchen, where Marian was singing an off-key version of a rap song. He turned back to Rebecca. “If you decide not to stay, your room will be waiting for you at home.”
    “Thank you, Papa, and thank you for your help today.”
    “It seems like just yesterday you were a newborn babe and I was holding you in my arms. Now you’re nearly grown. How quickly time passes.”
    He kissed her cheek. A lump formed in Rebecca’s throat as she watched him walk away.
    “I thought he’d never leave,” Marian said. “Break out the beer, simmie. It’s time to celebrate.” She picked up the phone and began calling all her friends. “Party at my place. Be there or be square.”
    When Marian’s friends showed up, Rebecca quickly tired of their drunken antics. She retreated to her room. Rowdy laughter seeped through the locked door. Rebecca plugged her ears with wadded tissues and opened a book.
    “So much for being a steadying influence.”
    Dylan baited her hook and, with a quick flick of her wrist, cast her line into the water. The red and white bobber floated on the water’s surface, then quickly sank beneath it. “I’ve got a bite.” She braced her legs underneath her and strained to reel in the fish. “Get the net. I’ve got Moby Dick on the line.”
    Rebecca set her own rod aside and picked up the fishing net. When Dylan pulled her quarry closer to the creek bank, Rebecca dipped the net into the water and captured the fish. She held up a brook trout only slightly longer than her hand. “Did you say you had Moby Dick on the line or Nemo?”
    “I will never show you another movie as long as I live.”
    “I’ll believe that when I see it.” Rebecca gently pulled the hook out of the small trout’s mouth and released the fish into the water.
    Dylan grabbed a chicken salad sandwich out of the cooler and sat on the soft grass. “Dad and I haven’t gone fishing in ages. I had forgotten how much fun it could be.”
    “So this was a good idea?”
    “This was a great idea.”
    “I’m glad you’re enjoying yourself. Some of the best times I’ve shared with Uncle Amos were spent with fishing poles in our hands. We could go all day without uttering a word, but I never felt like we ran out of things to say. Do you ever feel that way? No, you’re the kind of person who has to be doing something at all times or you go stir-crazy. You’re always in a hurry.”
    Dylan tapped her watch. “The clock is ticking. We have only so much time.”
    “Don’t remind me.” Rebecca reeled in a five-pound trout and placed it in the fishing basket at her feet.
    Dylan took a peek in the basket. Six large trout lay inside. She had caught two. Rebecca was responsible for the other four. Fresh fish for dinner. Yum. Rebecca had volunteered their services to cook, but Dylan feared Rebecca might not be the only one who would need help figuring out how to use the temperature controls on her mother’s electric stove.
    Dylan took a bite of her sandwich and debated whether to bring up the subject that had been preoccupying her thoughts for weeks. “I want to ask you something. Your answer’s probably going to be no, but I’m going to ask you anyway.”
    “What is it?”
    “You don’t have to look so serious. It’s not life and death.”
    “Then what is it?”
    “Will you go to the prom with me?”
    “As your date?”
    “Ideally, but if you’d like to go as friends, we could do that, too.”
    “What would you do if I said no? Would you ask someone else?”
    “There is no one else I’d rather be with. If you say no, we’ll find something else to do that night. But I’m not going to ask someone else to go to the prom with me just to be able to say I went. One thing I’m never going to do is settle for second best. It