“Perhaps.”
Even though it was Sunday and he was in his Jeep, people waved and honked at him as they passed. This time, a small outboard motorboat was tied to the pier. He held her life jacket for her to slip into. He figured he looked like any other man in a sleeveless T-shirt, but instead of shorts or swimming trunks, he wore the ever-present long pants, accompanied by a pair of rubber boots.
A quick learner, Anna scrambled into the stern of the boat and leaned to untie the rope. It was another beautiful day. The water surface sent back reflections of the rolling hills and leafed-out trees and bushes without a ripple. Nick had packed two fishing rods, a net, and a tackle box which held all of the other necessary items for this adventure. Anna had told him she’d fished off piers and shorelines, but not in a boat in the middle of a lake. He wanted to be with her when she caught her first fish from Last Mountain Lake.
While they were docked, a flotilla of white pelicans sailed across the water, soon becoming a small squadron of pale wings riding on the thermals searching for food. Her lips formed a perfect ‘O’ as she gazed at the sight before her.
Nick pulled the engine cord and the beat of the little engine surrounded the ethereal with the present. “Cast off now, Anna.”
She threw the rope as far as she could onto the dock and settled back. The air was cool as they wriggled their way along the shoreline.
“We’ll watch where the pelicans dive and head close to the same place. They’re great fishers.”
“You’re quite the outdoorsman. You’ve fished since you were a kid,” she said.
“Yes, and every time I pack my gear, it’s the same ten-year-old excited by the prospect of outsmarting a fish with a hook and a minnow.”
“You’re not talking real minnows?” She shivered.
“Of course! Last evening, while you were probably soaking in your tub, I was on the lake’s edge netting these little guys.” He held up a plastic container.
“Are they swimming around in there?” She leaned closer, obviously feeling safe enough to turn around and look at him while he steered the aluminum boat.
“No. They’re frozen.”
“How are we supposed to fool big fish with frozen little guppies?”
“They’ll see them as hors d'oeuvres.” He held the container closer for her inspection, pretending to twirl a mustache like a cartoon caricature of a famous chef.
“I’d like to suggest you put those little critters back on ice if you don’t want them falling apart.”
“Perhaps, madam is correct.” He bowed his head in acquiescence.
The engine puttered as Nick steered the boat around a bend in the land and arrived in a cove. A slight odor of algae hung in the air. “This area of the lake and land is called Little Arm. It’s a hunting and fishing reserve for seven First Nations Bands,” he said.
“The rolling hills are beautiful. I can almost see white-tailed deer and buffalo in this environment.”
“We can take a break on the shore when you’re ready,” he promised.
“That would be nice. I’d like to examine those yellow and brown flowers.”
“I brought a pan and some butter for a shore lunch.”
“I brought peanut butter sandwiches for a shore lunch,” she retorted.
“Spoil sport.”
“Realist.”
They anchored just as a pelican swooped overhead and skimmed the top of the water. “Looks like a possible place.”
“There aren’t any other boats, though.” She twisted and turned to look around.
“We always keep a good fishing hole a secret.” He brought his finger to his lips.
Just then, someone hollered at him from the shore. Nick waved back and the woman turned her bicycle around and rode off.
“Some secret. I don’t think it’s possible in Regina Beach,” Anna said.
“Seems to be true with the most trivial things. That was Ruthie who works at the hardware. She’ll be telling everyone on her shift today where she saw me fishing and with whom.” He shook his head. “There isn’t room for privacy at a camp in the desert, either.”
He dropped anchor and opened the tackle box; slid a minnow on a hook. “Have you ever done this before?”
She grimaced. “Although I’m an urbanite with a healthy regard for food under plastic wrap, I was introduced to fishing a couple of years ago. But we used artificial bait.”
Anna didn’t tear up or sigh because fishing was an activity that she and Murray had shared. It was one of the many pleasant memories she recalled without the gut-wrenching grief.
“I’ll help you cast out and then I’ll get my line ready.” Nick maneuvered closer and sat with his legs straddling and bracketing her backside and legs, his chest against her back. He held onto the rod and after his arm made a graceful arc, she heard the line reel out. She felt the play in his muscles before the hook landed with a slight plop into the water. Only a red and white bobber floating on the surface was visible.
He nudged her with the fishing rod. As she gripped the handle, his palm covered her hand for a second, and then his arm brushed her breast. “Now you can play your rod like you did from shore.”
Anna kept her eyes on the red and white marker but felt the reactionary tremor from his hand and his arm brushing her breast, deep down in the center of her being. She stole a glance at Nick’s capable fingers securing another tiny minnow onto the hook. She watched him pull the line and twig the reel, all while whistling a tune. She saw the little boy and teenager coming together, making this man. She sensed his movements and knew where he would lean next. Her body shifted to his rhythm so they’d remain in contact until she was sure he had brushed his lips against her neck before he moved back to his seat. Where did his gentleness come from?
He whirled out his line and sat still for a few minutes. “Anna, ‘Fishing 101’ review. Reel in like this.” He demonstrated quickly. “Let it out, this way.” Another fast demonstration. “Then you snap your wrist to set the hook.”
Lines in, they sat quietly for a few minutes listening to the birds. A hawk glided on the wind above the hills and sailed toward the grass searching for food. Ducks gradually appeared out of nowhere paddling and then dipping their heads into the water, tails up.
“Now it’s time to reel in your line and we’ll check the bait. Then you can cast out, like this.” He cast his line again, this time reeling in with her. He was a good teacher.
She enjoyed the sound of his voice mixed with the slap of the water against the side of the boat, the call of the seagulls flying overhead, and the sounds of voices drifting from the shore. Her appreciation of this man was like a grain of sand in an oyster, gradually working it into a pearl.
She wanted him to come closer again and sit with his legs surrounding her, with the heat of his body pressed against her. Her breasts felt heavy.
“Anna?”
“Sorry,” she replied hastily.
“Are you ready for a break? We could dock on the sand and then move to another spot later. The fish obviously aren’t taking our bait.”
“Good idea.”
Nick pulled up the anchor, loaded it in the bottom of the boat, and started the engine. He turned and headed straight for the shore. “Hold on,” he said. The boat scraped on the sand. Anna scrambled out and steadied the bow. Nick followed after her. From there, he took the rope and pulled it further onto shore, securing it to a tree.
“Can you get your prosthesis wet?” she asked.
“Not recommended. That’s why the fancy foot gear.” He indicated his rubber boots.
Anna flattened her hand over her stomach to settle the butterflies which she hoped were caused by the sun on her skin and hunger. She’d eaten breakfast long ago.
He saw her holding her stomach. “
I’m sorry, I don’t mean to upset you.”
“Oh, I’m not upset.” The sun reflected blue streaks in his black hair. A slight film of perspiration glistened above his lip. “Probably just hunger,” she said as she picked up the cooler, more as something to focus on than for the food it contained.
They seated themselves on a fallen log, where their legs touched from hip to knee and their elbows occasionally collided while eating peanut butter sandwiches and drinking ice-cold colas. “Tell me about being in the army,” Anna said.
Nick regaled stories of troop members hoarding donated baby wipes useful for cleaning sand from everywhere, and then pranks they played on each other. She laughed so hard, she almost fell off the log, but he flung out an arm to prevent her from landing on the ground. His impulse to gravitate toward her was irresistible.
When he saw how happy she was, he understood why men in the past kept their war secrets from those they cared about. Today wasn’t the day to get on his high horse and talk about the dangers peacemakers faced every minute of the day. Besides, she already knew about danger. She saw him without his prosthesis, and she probably encountered much more from working in a hospital.
“What about your war stories?” he asked when she stopped giggling. “I’m sure you have some.”
She thought for a minute and giggled some more. The more she laughed, the closer she moved to him. “You’re going to think I’m sick,” she said. “Every profession has black humor events. Unless you belong to the group, these can sound cruel. I just remembered one of them, but I can’t tell you right now.” She continued chuckling to herself.
“Come on, just one story,” he pleaded.
“Okay. Once this man came into the hospital, crumpled over in pain. He was sure something was broken, until a loud, smelly gas explosion echoed through the halls of the ward. He left the hospital feeling fine.” Anna waved her hand in front of her face. Her eyes had watered just retelling the event.
“I’ve been there. After surgery, gas is painful and embarrassing. I probably provided moments of laughter for my health care team.”
“Yeah, you probably did. While we’re in the position of responsibility, we’re professional. Later when we need to relieve pressure, we laugh at the silliest things.” She stretched. “Wow, I feel like I’ve hauled a ton of rocks.”
“The base provides laughter yoga sessions. It’s as good a workout as jogging.”
“Herman told me it’s like an internal massage,” she said.
“Then you’re relaxed enough to outthink a fish. I think we should head back to the water for a little longer.”
“Do you need more sunscreen?” Anna asked.
“No, I’m fine.” Nick moved toward the tree where the rope held the boat on shore.
Though she contemplated sliding her palms along his arms with thirty-strength lotion, she called out, “What can I do to help? Remember, I’m strong.” She flexed a bicep.
“You got it, ‘Rock Queen.’ I’ll get in and you hand me the cooler. Then untie the rope and throw it to me. Then you push us into deeper water and jump into the boat. That way, I don’t get wet.” He winked.
“Just like that! Jump in the boat.” Anna looked at her running shoes, her jeans and her long sweatshirt. It was warm, but it wasn’t sun tanning weather. She passed him the cooler. While Nick’s back was turned, she sat down on the log, took off her shoes and socks, then stood up in the cool sand and pulled her sweatshirt down to cover her lime green hipster panties, shimmying out of her jeans. She wrapped them into a bundle and laid them in the bottom of the boat. She walked over to the tree where the rope was secured and gave the sheepshank knot a tug. It let loose in her hand.
The shift of the boat must have alerted Nick because he looked up. After a quick glance, Anna tried to ignore him, working the rope from the tree and then wrapping it around her elbow and palm as she walked toward the boat.
Busy watching where she put her feet, she raised her head to see him staring at her. “I didn’t want my jeans to get wet. You know how long it takes them to dry.” She threw the rope into the boat and pushed the bow back into the water. “Deep enough?”
“Yes. Get in before you catch a cold.”
She was happy to rest on the warm aluminum hull as she hoisted her body into the boat. Nick used the oar to push them deep enough to put the motor down. As soon as her feet landed in the boat, she took off her sweatshirt, knowing her lime green camisole covered her as much as any sun top would. She dried her feet and legs and pulled on her jeans.
By the time Nick would have had any time to pay attention to her, Anna had her jeans and life vest back on.
“You’re a fast dresser,” he commented.
“Ah, tips from a female action hero’s handbook?”
“Tips that keep the captain off-guard watching a pair of long legs, so he forgets what he’s doing and almost floods the engine.”
“Nick, you didn’t?” She felt a wide smile break over her face.
“No, but I should have. Then we could float around for awhile and keep the ducks company and get to know each other a bit better.”
“That’s sweet, but I thought today was a day for fishing, not talking.”
“All right. I have a bet with Herman that I’ll bring home the supper tonight and you won’t.” He grinned.
“He conned you,” she said. “I’m always good at something the first time around. You’ve heard of beginner’s luck.” She tipped her head back to see the clear blue sky and seagulls flying overhead. “Where’s the next secret spot, Captain Highliner?” she asked in a staged whisper. She couldn’t help herself. She felt as if more weight had been lifted from her shoulders.
A length of wavy hair clung to her cheek. Instead of automatically flicking it back, she pulled it straighter. It was longer. She even felt taller. She knew she was stronger. A few short weeks ago, she would not have allowed herself to be in a position that would require her to hoist herself into the boat and have a good time doing it. Thank you, Uncle John and Murray.
“What’s that little smile about?” Nick asked.
“I’m thinking about the chain of events that led me here.”
“You haven’t explained the relationship between you and John Good. What events led you into my life?”
“I’m almost ready for the story to come out, but not just yet.” She concentrated on her fishing rod.
“You know I’d never tell anyone. I’m not one of the town criers.”
“I know. But I want to feel ready and I don’t right now. Let’s not spoil the day. Let’s just be fishing buddies.” She looked straight in his deep brown eyes. “If you were out with another man, would you be asking him about his past?”
“Probably not. Guys don’t usually do that, except of course if it’s a close buddy.” He paused, then said, “You’re right. Let’s fish.”
Nodding, Anna pinched a minnow between her thumb and forefinger and plunged it onto the barbs of the hook. Then she flung her line into the water and concentrated on the bobber. She eyed Nick as he occupied himself with the engine for a few minutes. The action reminded her of her own hands when she built her miniature houses. Tinkering hands kept the mind focused on anything but the pain.
“Here, Mr. Fishie, here, Mr. Fishie,” she called.
“You’re different, Anna.”
“How’s that?” She glanced sideways quickly then back to her line.
“Well, I could say if another beautiful woman had me all to herself in a confined space, she might want me to put her minnow on her hook, lean into her, and help her cast the rod.”
“And would you like that kind of game?”
“Guys need that kind of attention every now and again to remind us we’re worth the effort.”
She stuck out her chest and batted
her eyelashes. “Oh, I can’t touch anything as creepy as a frozen minnow, Mr. Big and Strong. Will you please, with your big strong fingers, put that tiny thing on this itsy-bitsy hook?” She formed a whine, then tilted her head curiously. “Something like that?”
He grimaced. “No, you can give that up—”
“Nick. Nick, something’s on my line. Help!” she whispered in a panic.
He dropped his rod, grabbed the net, and swung his leg over the seat, tucking in behind Anna. Then eased his hand over hers on the rod. “We’re going to lift it in a quick jerk and set the hook on the count of three.”
When he reached ‘three,’ they both pulled back on the rod. The drag was surprising.
“Whoopee, it’s a big one!” Anna bounced on her seat.
“Careful,” he cautioned. “We’ll lose it if it doesn’t wear itself out. Or it could break the line. When I tell you, reel in some line. Now!” Nick said in her ear. He clamped his fingers over hers.
The fish leapt into the air. “Did you see that?” Anna almost dropped the rod in awe.
“Hold on. You’ve got dinner on the hook,” Nick said excitedly. “Hold the line tight. When I say ‘now,’ you jerk the rod up, and I’ll net him.”
Anna followed his direction precisely. Nick reached past the boat and netted the big white, gold and silver fish.
“It’s beautiful in its prehistoric way.”
Nick grabbed a club to hit the fish on the head. Anna was stunned. “What are you doing?”
“Anna, this is part of the catch. You have to kill the fish. Otherwise it suffers. Then we fillet it.”
She turned toward the fish, then back to Nick. The sun glinting off the scales seemed magical.
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