by E. Ayers
“It does sound like fun, and I’m sure Shawn would love it.”
“Then say yes.”
***
All Cassie wanted was for a simple commitment from Trent, but he failed to give one to her. Deep inside, she knew his resolve was eroding. It was only a few hours drive and the thought of lounging on the beach beckoned like the bright beam from the lighthouse.
Not wanting to make too many plans for the short visit, she immersed herself in her work. She had the school board meeting Tuesday evening, and she had to have everything organized for her presentation. There was no reason why those classrooms could not eventually be used, and in the meantime, she did have two smaller rooms on the main floor that would suffice.
Totally absorbed in the project, time flew. Pushing her shoulders into the chair and reaching as far as possible above her head, she stretched. Panic ran through her as the time on the clock registered. Oh, no! She grabbed the phone and called Trent.
“Hi, Shawn, It’s Cassie. May I speak to your father?”
“He’s in his woodshop. I’ve got to go get him.”
“Before you do, was there anything in particular that you wanted to do today?”
“Nope!”
Quickly she asked, “Ever been fishing?”
“Nope. But Daddy has. He’s got fishing poles and everything in the garage.”
“Really? Do you think he’s got three of them?”
“Oh, he’s got a whole big bunch of them.”
“I know there’s a nice lake at the State Park. Think we could talk him into going fishing?”
“He said you’ve got to have a license to go fishing, and that costs money.”
“I don’t know for sure, but I think it’s only a few dollars. And I guess we’d need bait, but I have no idea what the fish at the lake would like to eat.”
“Worms. Isn’t that what goes on the hook?”
She grinned. “I have an idea. Why don’t I hang up and make a few phone calls to see if I can buy fishing licenses today. And while I’m doing that, you can ask Daddy about what we need for bait. Tell him I’m going to call him back in about thirty minutes, and if we can work this out, we’ll all go fishing. If not, you’ll need to think of something else we can all do.”
“Okay. Do I hang up now?”
“Yes, Shawn. Goodbye.”
The little voice on the other end of the phone said a hurried bye.
She pulled the city directory from a drawer and began to make a few phone calls. It took several calls before she found a place to buy fishing licenses. Shawn wouldn’t need one, as he was under the age of ten. She was also pleasantly surprised to discover that the licenses were only a few dollars, and she could buy bait at the same place. I’ll pack a few sandwiches and we’ll have a picnic.
***
“Hello,” Trent answered.
“Hi, did Shawn tell you what we were discussing?” Cassie asked.
“I can’t spend a bunch of money.”
“Just how much is a bunch?”
“You know what I mean.”
“Seriously, Trent, the license is dirt cheap. Getting caught without one is a huge fine. Our licenses and the bait will be less than twelve dollars. Shawn said you have fishing poles. The way I figure it is once we have the licenses, we can do this often, and it will only be the cost of the bait.”
“Are you sure that’s all?”
“Yes. It’s the hunting licenses that are expensive. I thought maybe I’d pack some sandwiches for us, and we could have a picnic.”
“I’ve got a better idea because I doubt you have a cooler. I’ll bring the drinks and the sandwiches. I’ve got orange juice, apple juice, or Pepsi.”
“I’ve got bottled water and flavored water. I’ll bring my own beverage and some extras. I’ve also got pretzels, chips, and some mini bags of cookies. I can make a salad. I’ve got a bag of greens and some grape tomatoes.”
“Plastic forks?”
“No. Do you have them?"
"I do.”
"Super!"
“You’re on. Give me about forty-five minutes. I’m covered in sawdust, and I’ll pick you up.”
She smiled when she hung up the phone. For once, he wasn’t fighting with her about the money, and maybe that’s because they were sharing the expense. Gleefully, she changed into jeans and a tee shirt. But when she checked in the mirror, her heart sank. Colleen had been voluptuous and rounded. The image in the mirror was that of a young boy. He didn’t seem to mind the other night, but maybe he was too horny to care.
Turning sideways and peering at the reflection, only served to emphasize the smallness of her breasts. She popped the tee shirt over her head and quickly found something more feminine. The pale blue silk knit hugged her body and was cut lower in the front. At least it shows what little I have.
Rummaging through her jewelry box, she found a small pendant that hung teasingly low. She put matching earrings in her ears, then pulled her hair into a ponytail. Taking one last brief glance in the long mirror, she smiled as she left her bedroom, hoping the jewelry would pique Trent’s interest and Shawn wouldn’t know what he was seeing.
~~8~~
When Cassie’s doorbell rang, she grabbed her package off the counter and opened the door to Trent and Shawn. “Welcome!”
“Wow, this place is awesome,” Shawn said with wide eyes and a bright grin.
She put her parcel by the door and offered to show him the birdcage.
“You have a bird?” Shawn's eyes lit up.
“No, it’s a porch, but all the residents call it a birdcage. There’s a nice view of the city.” She opened two French doors to a small balcony fully encased in a decorative wrought iron fence.
Shawn pointed. “You can see the river from here.”
“And there’s the hospital, and if you look real hard, you’ll see the green strip that is part of the park.”
“Quite a view,” Trent reiterated.
“Would you believe I’m not real fond of such heights?”
“Then why rent the place?”
“It was a good deal, and these upper floors are quiet.”
Trent shook his head and stepped back inside. “Come on, Shawn. We’re going fishing.”
“I put my items in the brown paper bag.”
Trent lifted the bag from the small table by the door. “Where are we going?”
“Daddy, you said we were going fishing.”
Before Trent had a chance to answer, Cassie said, “The Outdoorsman in Riverton. We have to get bait and our fishing licenses.”
“Oh, another stop?” Shawn made a very sad face.
“We have plenty of time, son.”
Cassie grabbed her purse and a sweatshirt. “I’m ready. Does anyone need to use the bathroom before we leave?”
Shawn looked at his dad.
“Right through there.” Cassie pointed to the powder room.
A minute later, Shawn returned. “Your bathroom sure smells good.”
“Thank you. It’s from the potpourri I keep in there.”
“What’s po-po-pa--”
“Potpourri. That stuff I had in the bowl next to the sink. It’s mostly chips of wood and dried herbs that have special scenting oils on them. Years ago, people put garden herbs and flowers on the floors, so when you walked on them, it made the room smell good.”
Shawn looked at her as if she were telling him the biggest lie.
“Really. And it was a very long time ago. They called it strewing.”
“Uck! Grandmom gets upset if we track in leaves or dirt. People really put those things on the floors?”
She nodded. “Today we copy those scents by using potpourri. It smells good, but it’s not scattered on the floor.”
“Daddy, can we get some of that for our bathroom?”
Trent glared at her, and she laughed.
***
Trent drove across the downtown bridge to the area of River City known as Riverton. It took a little
longer than expected to obtain the licenses. A single day’s license was cheap, but if Cassie and he got the one for the year, they could go fishing more often. Trent conceded and then chose the bait. He was about to pull out his credit card, when Cassie reminded him that she was buying the licenses and the bait, because he brought the sandwiches. She handed the cashier the money, and when she got her change, she handed a quarter to Shawn. “It’s for the machines on the way out. Just one quarter, but you may use it however you want.”
“Really? Wow!” Then he looked at his father. “May I?”
“Just don’t expect that you’ll always get a quarter.”
“What your dad said is true. But sometimes it’s fun to just be able to spend money like that.”
Shawn gazed at the bank of dispensers and finally settled on the plastic balls that contained temporary tattoos. Cassie could see the look of displeasure on Trent’s face.
Opening her change purse, she found another quarter. “I think I need one of those, too. Does spoilsport want to give it a try?”
“No thanks,” Trent replied.
She laughed as she handed the quarter to Shawn.
“Do you want one of these or the girl kind?”
“Whatever you think I should have.”
“You need a pretty one.”
She fingered the edge of her neckline and smiled at Trent. “Maybe I should consider getting a real one.”
Trent’s eyes narrowed.
***
Twenty minutes later, Trent pulled into the parking space at the park and unloaded the things from his car. A long pier extended over the lake and it took two trips to get everything out there.
Cassie and Trent were busy baiting the poles when a park ranger walked up to them and asked to see their fishing licenses. He looked at their permits and then at Cassie. “You’re Dr. Jones from the University.”
“Yes.”
“I took one of your classes because I needed it for my degree. I figured it would be boring, but you made it interesting.”
She looked closely at his face, but she didn’t recognize him. “Thanks. I’ve always enjoyed teaching. History is exciting. I'm glad you enjoyed it.”
The young ranger took another moment to explain what they could expect to catch with worms and the size.
Trent thanked the man and then went back to baiting rods. He cast the line and then handed it to Shawn. “Slowly reel the line back in. You need to pay attention to any tugging that you might feel. Hang onto the rod and let me know.”
She chomped on her lower lip for a second. “I haven’t done this since I was a little girl fishing with my grandfather.”
***
Trent knelt down behind Cassie and took her hand in his as he helped her cast the line. If Shawn hadn’t been there, he would have kissed her neck, instead he breathed in her wonderful scent before returning his concentration to fishing.
Cassie had the first hit, but then the line went dead. When she reeled it back in, it was missing its hook.
“That most likely was a turtle,” Trent said.
She raised her eyebrows. “And now it has a hook in its tummy?”
“Guess so.”
“Oh, no. Will it kill it?” she asked in a whisper.
Trent shrugged.
It was obvious that the joy of fishing suddenly left her, but the excitement of Shawn’s bobber being pulled under water instilled enthusiasm in all of them. Cassie reached in her purse and pulled out a small digital camera to capture the moment.
Trent grabbed his son’s rod and helped him reel it in. “Cas, grab the net and be ready.” A few seconds later, Trent was barking orders. Cassie grabbed the pole while Trent swooped the large fish into the net. “Nice! You did a great job, Shawn. I think we’ll have him for dinner tomorrow night.”
“I caught a fish! I caught a fish! I did it!”
“What is it? Ohmigod, there goes your line, Trent!” Cassie shouted and grabbed his pole.”
“Easy, do it the same way as Shawn.”
Trent dropped the fish into an old, ice-filled cooler, then took his line from Cassie. Shawn was so excited that she put her arm around his waist and pulled him into her lap.
“Hold my line while I put another worm on your hook.”
Trent pulled in another trout and deposited it into the cooler. Someone else on the pier also caught one and Trent helped the legless man in the wheelchair with a Vietnam Veteran cap by scooping the large fish into his long handled net. Then things calmed down for a little while, until Cassie accidentally cast her line over Shawn’s, tangling both lines. Cassie caught a little sunny and carefully removed the hook and set the small fish free.
They caught several more fish, and Shawn was thrilled with each one. It didn’t take him long to learn what to do.
Trent looked at the overhead sun and then at his watch. He decided it was time to pull in their lines and have sandwiches, so they retreated to the picnic tables on the shore. Trent handed his son a small, unmarked pill bottle along with Shawn’s sandwich. The boy took a bite of his bologna sandwich, emptied the contents of the bottle into his hand, popped the pills into his mouth, and swallowed.
“I do hope you are planning to have dinner at my house tomorrow. Looks as though we have at least four nice fillets of trout.”
“I’d love to have dinner at your house. This has been so much fun.”
“Good, it’s a date. And what exactly is that pendent?”
“Don’t ask.”
“What do you mean?”
Her eyes narrowed and she looked at Shawn engrossed in his salad.
“What?”
“Have you ever heard of The Mano Fico?”
Trent shook his head.
“It’s an ancient Roman symbol with a fig flower and a hand.” She held her hand up and tucked her thumb between her index and middle finger. “The fig flower is supposed to represent the female…” She held her hand palm up. “Because it looks like a female’s…”
Trent shrugged.
She eyed Shawn and then pointed to her lap.
“Oh!” Heat warmed his cheeks.
“The hand represents today’s single finger salute.”
He nodded.
“Fico is where we get today’s F word.”
Trent held up his hand to signal her to stop. She raised her eyebrows at him and continued. “The amber is exactly what you probably think it is except the whole thing has been modernized. This is the fig flower, and instead of the hand, this is the phallus--”
Shawn’s head shot up and he looked at Cassie.
Her fingers covered her mouth. “Please tell me that’s not part of his vocabulary.”
“What?” Shawn asked.
Trent watched the flush rise up her neck and over her cheeks. “I don’t think so,” he answered. “Not a word I use on a regular basis. I doubt that I’ve ever used it in conversation.”
“What?” Shawn asked again.
This time it was Cassie who answered, “Phallus, it’s the symbol of a man’s penis.”
“What’s that got to do with your necklace?”
Trent realized his son was listening to the adult conversation, and Cassie’s giggle wasn’t helping matters. “Cas has an interesting symbolic necklace.”
Shawn gazed at the pendant, then squinted his eyes, and wrinkled his nose. He put his fork down and in a flash was at Cassie’s side, staring intently at her necklace. Then he picked it up and studied it. “Looks like a fancy bell with a clacker that’s too big.”
“Clapper, not clacker,” she corrected.
“What’s the yellow stone?”
“It’s not exactly a stone. It’s the fossilized remains of tree sap. Do you know what a fossil is?”
Shawn nodded, dropped the pendant back onto her chest, and then fingered an earring. “They match. So where’s the penis?”
“It’s not really a penis. It’s an abstract, an artistic interpretation. The amber would be considered the penis.”
“So why would you wear such a thing?” Shawn asked.
“For good luck. It represents being fruitful and since we wanted to catch lots of fish - which would be fruitful, I figured today would be a good day to wear it.”
Shawn scooted away from Cassie, then cupped his hands around his father’s ear and whispered, “I need to tinkle.”
“Over there. I’ll watch you.” He pointed to a bank of portable potties.
As soon as Shawn was out of earshot, Trent whispered, “You handled that well.”
“Thanks, and you haven’t stopped staring at my necklace.”
Now it was Trent’s turn to blush, as an impish smile crossed his face. “It was a remarkable night.”
“So put Shawn to bed and come to my place. I’d love to do it again.”
“That’s an offer that I won’t refuse.” An uncomfortable bulge had formed in his pants. “I’m glued to this seat until I can take my mind off of you.”
“Guess that means I clean up. Is Shawn done eating?”
“Yes. If he wants more, I have fruit.”
“I’ve got cookies.”
She cleared the trash and put the other things away. She was slender and sinewy. Her white-blonde ponytail swished over her shoulder and across her back several times. But when she leaned across the table to grab the bag of chips, he thought he’d lose all control, as he was staring down her shirt.
“Do you realize you’re flashing me?”
She looked down at her shirt and then at him, as she stood upright. “It wasn’t intentional. I just hope you appreciated what little I have.”
“Definitely. I think they are perfect on you." He watched her blush, then asked. "How many more pieces of erotic jewelry do you own?”
“Two. A male figure copied from a cave drawing, and crystal that floats through a ring. The male figure I've never worn, and probably never will. I love wearing the crystal. The only thing people see is the crystal, not the interpretation.”
“You are a vamp.”