“My table?”
“The best in the house.”
Mona cocked a grin. “With the best view, I suppose.”
“And the best service.” Joe’s eyes danced with tomfoolery. In one swift movement, he scooped Mona up and deposited her on the Navaho blanket.
Mona giggled.
Joe climbed aboard. “Let’s see what the chef prepared.” Opening the basket, he fished around for a moment, then gave her a sneaky look. “You’d better close your eyes.”
She scowled.
“Please. The chef can’t work when he’s being watched.”
Mona suppressed another giggle and obeyed. She heard ripping paper, the hiss of a soda bottle, and silverware clinking. “Did you raid the local Colonel Sanders?”
“Eyes closed!”
Mona leaned against the army duffel. He may be poor, but Joe was certainly creative. But was he poor?He seemed to manage just fine, never asking for more than the measly wad she paid him. Where had he found the money to sop up her basement?
“Okay, open!”
When Mona opened her eyes, her heart swelled, and for some reason, she felt dangerously near tears. On a starched white linen napkin Joe had assembled a picnic of smoked lake trout, Ritz crackers, Gouda and Edam cheeses, and Concord grapes. Joe handed her a crystal glass filled with soda.
Mona was speechless. Taking a sip of the soda, she blinked furiously and struggled to find her voice.
“Mona, are you okay? I thought you’d like it.” Joe sounded disappointed.
Mona gathered her composure and met his blue-eyed, gentle gaze. “It’s more wonderful than I could have ever dreamed, Joe.”
A slow smile reappeared on Joe’s face, and in his eyes she saw his feelings clearly written. Her face flamed at the rush of unexpected emotions. She quickly took another sip. “W-where’d you get the finery?” she stammered, holding up the glass.
He looked so cute when he blushed. “You’d be surprised what the Goodwill sells.”
She smiled, grateful to see that he, too, felt the awkward moment. “I guess I’ll have to start shopping there.”
“One man’s garbage is another man’s treasure,” Joe quipped. He began peeling the golden-skinned lake trout with a fork. “Just have to look beyond the obvious.” He raised his eyes to hers, and his words hung in the air.
Mona’s heart thumped—hard. “So when do the ‘others’ show up?” she asked, shifting the topic.
Joe hesitated, then focused back on the fish. “Soon, I hope. It’ll be hard to see them after the sun sets.”
Mona frowned.
“But I’m sure this delicious fish smell will act as a dinner gong.”
“Fish smell?” She began to feel sick.
“Yep, bears love it.”
“Bears.” Mona gulped the rest of her drink.
Joe grinned as he handed her a piece of fish nestled between two Ritz crackers. “Black bears. And maybe a brown one if we’re lucky.”
Mona’s eyes widened. “And grizzlies?”
Joe laughed. “No. Minnesota isn’t known for grizzlies. Wolves, maybe, but grizzlies are few and far between.” His eyes twinkled. “Unless you count the one in the truck with you.”
Mona bit back a smile. “You’re looking remarkably less grizzly tonight.” She eyed his indigo V-necked cotton sweater and black jeans. “I like your footwear;they match the music.”
Joe lifted one of the shiny, midnight black cowboy boots. “Authentic Texas rawhide.” Leaning back against the duffel, he winked at her. “It’s not ev’ra girl who gits ta see maw c’ontra side,” he drawled in a mock Southern twang.
Mona laughed until she hurt. Joe looked happy and relaxed sitting there, trying to catch all the crumbs from his fish sandwich. As she watched him, memory abruptly hit her hard. His easy smile, the way the wind played in his hair—she’d seen that look before. It was the way her father had looked while watching seagulls snap up the fishbones he tossed on shore. She’d forgotten the contented smile her father wore in that delicious, priceless moment. And Joe had captured the memory for her. Mona blinked back another rush of tears.
“Here they come!” Joe pointed to a remote corner of the distant forest, and Mona was profoundly thankful for the reprieve. She didn’t need to spend the night blubbering down memory lane.
She searched the heavily shadowed forest and spied two black bears, one slightly bigger than the other, lumbering toward the dump valley. They were bigger than she imagined, even at this far distance. Gooseflesh dotted her skin. “Are we safe?”
Joe laughed. “Yes. They won’t come over here. I was kidding about the fish. They’ll stay on their side and paw through the trash. There’s enough pickings in this dump to keep them happy ’til hibernation.”
Mona blew out relief. “Well, we certainly have enough to share.” She eyed the spread of food.
“Rip will be glad to hear that. He wasn’t too happy when I locked him in the apartment tonight.”
The sun was low and to their backs. Long shadows reached out from the pine and birch woods and slowly surrounded the truck. Mona ate her fill of fish, exotic cheese, and grapes, listened to country minstrels, and watched wildlife rummage through the discards of society.
At one point, after he’d packed up dinner, Joe leaned into the folds of the duffel and wrapped his arm around her shoulders. She was amazed at the ease she felt with him. As if they had always been together, knew each other inside and out. Or maybe it was just the desire for it that awakened within her. Joe was a man she wanted to know, wanted to let inside her dreams.
But there was so much at stake. Could she let him know the scream inside that drove her to perfection, to sacrifice? And what about Joe? He was like the old English poem Beowulf. Rustic yet charming. And completely confusing. She didn’t even know where he was from. He had simply appeared in her life like an angel and helped her build her dreams. And somehow he’d broken through the carefully constructed walls of her heart. Who was he? Was he destined to sneak in like a thief, snare her heart, and steal it away? Would he leave her empty and gasping in pain if he left?
When he left.
A chill rippled through her. It was too late. The pain was inevitable. Joe would leave, and when he did, he’d take her heart with him. She nestled herself deeper into the nook under his arm. It was suddenly as plain as the North Star winking through the lavender twilight.
Mona was falling in love with her handyman.
The Saturday morning sun was barely peeking above the trees when Joe drove up to the Garden. The lodge emitted a peaceful stillness, and for a moment, Joe thought he’d arrived too early. Then the porch door banged open, and a pretty redhead grinned at him. “Hiya, Joe.We’re eating breakfast. Want some pancakes?”
Her pleasant smile warmed Joe, as did the way she hunkered down and hugged an ecstatic Rip. The dog bathed her face in kisses as she giggled. Joe grimaced.“C’mon, Rip. Settle down. I know you like this place, but you’re overreacting.”
The redhead giggled again, then stood and led them both to the kitchen. The residents looked up from their pancakes to greet him in a cheerful chorus. Joe waved sheepishly. Gabe jumped to his feet and wrapped Joe in a hug that left him unraveled. Their hospitality overwhelmed him, especially in the wake of his horrific behavior the last time he left the Garden. The memory of him slamming the screen door and roaring down the driveway in response to Ruby’s probing words made his face flame.
Joe certainly didn’t deserve the chair they dragged up to the table nor the plate of steaming flapjacks Ruby set in front of him. She must have guessed his shame, because the housemother leaned over his shoulder and spoke gently into his ear. “Welcome back, Joe. We missed you.”
Joe’s guilt eased into gratitude as he sat next to his grinning brother and listened to the Garden family tease one another and plan the work for the day. Joe scooped the hotcakes into his mouth, enjoyed the real maple syrup, and knew his brother had something special going at the Garden.
This was his family, his brothers and sisters. Gabe had what Joe had never given him—total acceptance. Unconditional love. The pancakes began to stick to the lump in Joe’s throat. He swilled a cup of coffee and asked for another.
“Where’ve you been, Joe?” Ruby asked as she filled his cup.
All eyes turned to Joe.
“I’ve been working in town as a handyman.”
Ruby arched her eyebrows. “Really? You’re a man full of surprises. It’s amazing how you always seem to find a niche.”
Her knowledge of his life piqued him. “What do you mean?”
Ruby gave him a knowing, kind look. “You’re always filling a need, blessing people. That’s how God uses you.” She cleared her throat and smiled. “And it hasn’t hurt you in the least, either, has it?”
Joe stared into his coffee, turning over her words. Was he blessing Mona? She seemed to have enjoyed their date last night. Slowly, she’d discarded her mantle of stress and relaxed. He warmed at the memory of the way she’d looked at him when he’d wrapped his arm around her. Her green eyes had filled with wariness, but the fear had dissolved as their evening unfurled. A jolt had rippled through him when she finally leaned her head on his chest. She’d hummed to a Statler Brothers’ tune, poked fun at the garbage-picking bears, and let him charm her with a few stories. Never had he felt so alive, so willing to open his heart to a woman. She asked nothing from him, fiercely demanded to carry her own weight, and resented his intrusion into her life. Unfortunately, this only awakened all his protective impulses.
He had desperately wanted to kiss her. The feeling nearly overpowered him, but he fought the urge, as much for his sake as hers. He didn’t want to lead her down a path he couldn’t follow, and alarms blared when he nestled her close. He needed time to figure things out before he surrendered to the desire to touch those enchanting lips. His first kiss had been impulsive. His second would be planned and offer them more than just a moment of delight.
For the first time in his life he was dreaming of putting down roots. He found his thoughts drifting into a life with Mona, wondering what it would be like to work side by side with her at the Footstep, to wake up to her beautiful emerald eyes each morning. The thought turned him to putty. There had to be a solution, a way to carve out a future.
Thankfully, he had time. The Footstep was on the mend, and no one expected him for a couple of weeks. Maybe God could work it out . . . maybe the Almighty’s plan went beyond using Joe to bless Mona and help fulfill her dream. Joe smiled at Ruby and responded to her comment. “No, I can’t say it’s hurt me.”
Ruby gave him an odd look, as if sifting through the meaning of his words.
“Joe’s goin’ fishing.” The redhead piped into the conversation.
Joe shot her a quizzical look. “How do you know that?”
Her almond eyes curled when she smiled. “You have fishing poles in your truck.”
Joe held up his hands in mock surrender. “Guilty. I was hoping Gabe could get some time off today to go fishing with his big brother.”
Ruby crossed her arms. “Well, he is the foreman of the garden this year, and we have a full agenda today.”She scanned the group with her gray eyes, as if to assess their opinion.
Joe’s heart fell. He’d come upon the idea a few days back, and his excitement since then had built to a pinnacle. He’d be crushed if Gabe couldn’t go, especially since he doubted they would get another chance in the near future.
“Let him go!” Joe recognized Daniel and gave the older man an appreciative smile. “I’ll fill in for him today,” Daniel added.
Ruby drummed her fingers on her arm. “Do you want to go, Gabe?”
Gabe nodded like his head was on springs.
Ruby waved at them, beaming. “Get out of here, you two.”
Bearskin Lake was a sapphire. The sun skimmed it and refracted the blue in jeweled clarity. Observing the green backdrop of woods and the turquoise, cloud-scattered sky, Joe knew God had created a masterpiece when he made the Northern Minnesota Boundary Waters Canoe Area.
Joe deposited the tackle on the beach. “I’ll be right back,” he said to Gabe, who appeared every inch the hopeful fisherman with a thin-brimmed, floppy hat and a standard orange life preserver. Joe had tried to talk him out of the rain poncho, but Gabe was insistent. “I always bring it!” he’d said, as if he were a pro.
Joe rented a canoe from Bearskin Lodge and returned to the lake, canoe balancing on his shoulders. He flipped it easily against his thighs, then lowered it into the water. “Climb in.” He held the canoe steady. “And make sure to balance yourself on both sides,” he added, picturing Gabe flipping into the water and Ruby’s subsequent fury. She’d pulled Joe aside as Gabe changed clothes and gave him a rundown of rules—life preserver at all times, no loud motors, and no handling hooks.
Gabe picked his way to the front of the canoe and sat down on the bow seat. Joe loaded in the tackle box and fishing rods, then eased the canoe into the glassy waters.
As Joe paddled, searching for the perfect patch of weedy shoreline, the song of a loon echoed across the watery landscape. The drip of water from his paddle as he drew it forth and the bump of the canoe splicing waves played in perfect harmony with the whisper of wind through the forest. The sun had cleared the treetops and winked full in their faces, promising a warm, clear day. With Gabe sitting expectantly in front holding the gunwales, Joe felt an unfamiliar swell of contentment.
Gabe cast him a glance over his shoulder. “Do you think it’s a nice day, Joe?”
“I do, Gabe,” Joe replied, his voice hoarse. He should have been here to do this with Gabe years earlier. The only thing missing from this near-perfect day was Mona sitting in the middle, laughing, enjoying the brother God had given him. Joe swallowed a lump that formed in his throat and pushed the thought away. Dreaming of more would only steal joy from the blessings he did have.
Joe guided the canoe toward a small, grass-lined inlet. Tucking the paddle inside, he grabbed a fishing pole. The drugstore in Deep Haven, stocked for the tourist trade, sold just about everything, including Navaho blankets and fishing tackle. Joe checked the fishing line for tangles one last time, then tied on a weight and a lure. Reaching into the minnow bucket, he snared a slimy, finger-length fish. He hooked it on and handed the outfit to Gabe. “Can you cast?”
Gabe nodded, but when he nearly took off Joe’s right ear with the first attempt, Joe decided he wanted to keep his appendages. So he took the pole from Gabe and landed the lure himself in a nice patch of clear water, several feet from the nearest weed.
Gabe grinned wide, eyes hopeful, as Joe handed back the rod and reel. “Catch me some supper,” Joe said, winking.
Gabe hummed a familiar tune as Joe baited his own hook. Casting to the opposite side, Joe joined his brother’s off-melody hum of “Amazing Grace.” Bugs scurried across the surface of the water, and a fish jumped far from his line. “C’mon, smallmouth bass, I got something more delicious than a water bug,” Joe purred to the cloudy water.
“Help!” Gabe’s cry ripped him from his peaceful reverie. “Help, help!” Gabe’s pole curled like a finger, dipping into the water. “I got something!”
“Hold tight!” Joe wedged his pole into the space in his seat and leaned forward on his knees to help Gabe set the hook. “Give me your rod.”
Gabe surrendered the pole. Joe yanked it hard and felt the fish dig in for a fight. “I think you got a trophy. Reel her in!” He handed the pole back to Gabe, who set his jaw and began to reel. Joe watched with pride as his brother fought, grunted, and reeled in the monstrous fish. The catch played hard, sometimes swimming close, other times jerking until the tip of the pole disappeared into the water.
“Hold it up; keep the line tight,” Joe coached.
Gabe followed his every instruction. He gritted his teeth and fought the fish.
Joe saw a silver gleam skim the surface of the water.“It’s a walleye!” he whooped. “Maybe five pounds!”He sc
rambled for the net. “Bring him by again, and I’ll net him.”
Joe dipped the net low in the water. Gabe was laughing and straining to turn the reel. The fish swam close. Joe leaned out and scooped him into the net. The frame strained as he hauled it aboard. He let the fish flop in the bottom of the canoe, securely meshed in the net, as he hugged his brother. “You did it, Gabe! It’s a beauty. I almost hate to eat it.”
Gabe looked horrified. “Eat it? Why? Dad and I always throw them back.”
Joe’s jaw dropped. “You throw them back? You can’t be serious.” Gabe flinched at his words, and Joe immediately schooled his tone. “This is the best-tasting fish in the entire world, Gabe. Trust me, I know. You don’t want to throw a walleye back.”
But he saw the horror in Gabe’s eyes. Gabe couldn’t kill the fish.
“It’s just a fish,” Joe mumbled. Gabe stayed silent, his lip quivering as he stared at his catch. Joe quietly unhooked the fish, holding it down with his foot. He was careful not to rip the walleye’s mouth as he eased out the hook. Then, with a moan, he dropped it back into the water. The fish swam away faster than a U-boat on nuclear thrust.
“Look at him go!” Gabe exclaimed, thrilled.
Joe rolled his eyes.
“Let’s catch another one!” Gabe’s eyes glowed.
Joe gave him an exasperated look. “Why? Just to throw them back? What’s the use?”
Gabe’s face fell. “To have fun?”
His answer was so simple, Joe couldn’t deny its wisdom. Despite his dream of a batter-fried shore lunch, he was here to spend time with Gabe. To know his brother better . . . and maybe let him settle in a place inside his heart.
“Right.” He grabbed Gabe’s pole.
By his count, Joe caught five smallmouth bass, two crappies, a tiny northern he would have thrown back anyway, and a walleye that taunted him with its bulging black eyes the entire time Joe carefully unhooked him. He tossed the scoundrel back gently. “Go play with your brother,” he growled to the escaping fish.
Happily Ever After Page 19