Postcards

Chapter 1

A/N: I know, I know. It's been forever since I've posted a new story, and I apologize for that. Real life got in the way, my muse took a several month long vacation, and I just couldn't find it in me to write anything worth posting. So, I'll let you get on the with the new story.

Oh, and I'll be posting every Saturday, and a huge thanks to my beta, Heather, for fixing all my errors and coming up with an awesome summary.

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"Rise and shine, Bells!" Dad hollered, and I let out a groan. The sun had just risen, not to mention that it was chilly, and I really didn't feel like spending my morning out on the lake fishing.

"C'mon, kiddo! Your tea and Pop Tarts are going to get cold."

Grumbling to myself, I tossed back the top portion of my sleeping bag, shoved my feet into my flip flops, and unzipped my tent.

Every summer my dad insisted on torturing me for the two months I spent with him. Two months of camping in tents, getting eaten by bugs, and fishing way too early in the morning.

Secretly though, I didn't mind it all that much. I rarely got to see my dad since I lived in Jacksonville, Florida, and he lived in Phoenix, Arizona. Sure, I saw him every other holiday, but ever since my mom had moved us to Florida when I was ten, I'd missed being near him.

"Eat," Dad said, shoving the paper plate at me and setting a cup of tea in front of me on the rickety picnic table.

As I ate, I watched him check his tackle box before putting it in the boat that was hitched to the back of the Jeep. My dad lived for fishing, and he didn't get to do a whole lot of it in Phoenix mainly because he didn't have much time. Dad was the captain of the Desert Palms police precinct, and that kept him pretty busy. Yet every summer, he took a two month long vacation and spent it with me. This year, Dad had taken me to Arcadia National Park in Bar Harbor, Maine, and it was gorgeous.

Finishing up my breakfast, I climbed back into my tent to throw on jeans, a t-shirt, and a hoodie. It was in the sixties, for the moment, and I knew it would be chilly on the lake for a few hours still.

Twenty minutes later, Dad was maneuvering the boat to a secret location that one of the park rangers had told him had the best fishing.

"Bet I can catch my five fish before you," he said with a grin as I hooked a worm to my fishing rod. I rolled my eyes at him before telling him he was on. Dad and I always had a running bet on who could catch their fish first, and whoever lost had to gut and clean them. I really hated losing.

As we fished in the cool morning, I caught Dad up on what had been going on in my life. Sadly, it wasn't much. I'd done well in school like usual, and I'd gotten a part-time job during the school year so I could pay for my own stuff.

"What about boys?" he asked, and I wrinkled my nose at his question.

"There aren't any," I said quietly.

"What about that one guy you were seeing? Gerald or Jerry or –"

"Jake?" I asked, and Dad nodded. "Oh, that's been over for months. He's a nice guy, but he's definitely not boyfriend material. He would act all stupid and immature whenever his friends were around."

Dad let out a snort.

"That's a teenage boy for you. Well, you don't need a boyfriend right now anyway. Focus on school for the time being," he told me, and I nodded, having heard it before from both of my parents.

They'd been high school sweethearts who had gotten married straight out of high school and had me before either of them was twenty. It had been rough for them, but they'd believed they'd make it . . . until they didn't. They'd divorced when I was three, and they had shared custody of me, but I lived with my mom. My mom, as much as I loved her, was flighty though and not the most stable of parents. She never remembered to pay her bills on time, she was always doing projects or taking community classes for something, and she tended to have a different boyfriend every month. Basically, I was the adult in our household, and it drove me insane some days.