Photo Op

by Coleman, Lynn A.

  “Tell me more, Mom.”

  “Nothing to tell,” she fumbled through her words.

  “Uh-huh. You’re attracted to the pie man.”

  “Amber, please. I merely said he had handsome eyes, and you know how I’ve always loved green eyes. I’ve photographed hundreds, but I’ve never fallen in love with any.”

  “Love.” Amber sobered. “Mom, are you all right?”

  “I’m fine, sweetheart. No problem about the money; it’s a gift for Chad. Let David know that is how I’m looking at it.”

  “Thanks again, Mom.” Amber giggled. “And I’ll be praying about your handsome, green-eyed pie man. Maybe there will be another wedding in the family.”

  “Huh. Nope, all of you will be hitched after Chad ties the knot with Brianne. That’s it; no one else to marry off.”

  “Mom.” Amber paused. “Isn’t it possible the Lord might want you to have another helpmate? I mean, Daddy’s been gone for nearly twenty years. Wouldn’t it be nice to have someone to talk to and be with now that we’re all grown and married?”

  Dena leaned her head against the wall in the kitchen. “I don’t know, Amber. I’ve been single most of my life. And I’m rather set in my ways. I’m not sure I want someone interrupting my routine.”

  “Fair enough. Love ya, Mom, and thanks.”

  “You’re welcome.” Dena listened to the dial tone on the phone for a moment before she hung up the receiver. Love. Marriage. Companionship. Do I want those, Lord?

  Wayne’s handsome image replayed in her mind for the umpteenth time tonight.

  Dena took in a deep breath. Stop being a foolish old woman, she admonished. The roll of the surf echoed through the night air. A stroll on the beach will help me clear my mind. I hope.

  ❧

  Wednesday morning met Wayne with continued frustrations. The lobstering was more than bad this year—it was downright ridiculous. He pulled in only five keepers. He scanned the gray ocean as fog drifted over the sea. A call to the local game and fisheries warden was in order. It didn’t seem possible they’d overfished the lobsters in Squabbin Bay, but… Wayne removed his cap and rubbed the back of his neck.

  He scanned the coast and saw a figure walking along the beach. I wonder if it’s Dena Russell. He turned the wheel and headed his boat toward shore. Ever since he met one Dena Russell, his mind had been tossing around the idea of dating like a loose buoy floating on the waves.

  He put the engine to idle and leaned over to pick up another one of his buoys. Again, he found the pot empty. He filled the bait bag and tossed the pot overboard.

  Another skiff peeked out of the fog. Who’s that? he wondered. He watched for a moment to see if he recognized the vessel. But the fog was too thick, and the boat slipped farther into the gray mist. That’s odd. He set the boat in gear and debated about going closer to shore. The cottage she had rented was on top of the cliff. And who else would have such a huge camera lens, except for a professional?

  He eased the boat closer toward shore and squeezed the air horn.

  Dena turned and focused on him. He brought the boat a bit closer. She walked toward him.

  “Hi,” he called out.

  “Hi. You’re lobstering?” she asked.

  “Trying—not too many today.”

  “Which buoys are yours?”

  He pointed out. “The red with a silver stripe.” Each fisherman had his own color design on his buoys so they were easily identified one from another.

  “Perhaps you should not pull the same pots as your partner.” She grinned. “You might catch more.”

  “Partner?” Wayne aimed the boat toward shore and cut the engine. “What partner?”

  Five

  Dena watched Wayne toss an anchor and secure the line. “What do you mean, a partner?” he asked. “I don’t have a partner; haven’t for years.”

  But hadn’t she seen someone… ? “I thought I saw someone pulling a pot earlier with those markings.”

  “How? Is that a telephoto lens?” He stood on the boat as if he were a part of it. His body shifted with the waves as the boat bounced up and down in the mild surf.

  “Yes. And yes, I did notice him through the lens.”

  “Did you snap a picture?”

  “No, I’m afraid not, why?”

  Wayne rubbed the back of his neck. “Because if you did see someone pulling up my pots, they were stealing.”

  “Oh, sorry, no.” Now why hadn’t she taken a snapshot of the man? Because it was gray and not a very picturesque photograph, she reminded herself.

  “Guess that would have been too easy.” Wayne hiked up his hip boots and slipped over the stern of the boat.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t have any reason to believe the person was doing anything illegal.” Dena felt foolish. She’d witnessed a crime but knew little. She hadn’t even paid that much attention to the details of the boat or the man’s clothing, nothing. She’d been too busy thinking about another lobsterman, the one before her right now.

  “I and a few other lobstermen have been having a bad year. If we have a poacher, that could explain it. Besides me, only Ben Costa has pots in this area.”

  “I’ll be happy to watch, and if I see anything, I’ll photograph it.”

  He let out a deep breath. “Thanks. I doubt whoever it is will be back this week. But you never know. How early were you out here?”

  Dena looked down at the small patch of sand on this relatively rocky coastline. “I was up at four. I thought I’d get some sunrise shots in.”

  “Sun doesn’t rise ’til close to six. What woke you up so early?”

  Of course, a fisherman would know when the sun rises. Dena cleared her throat. “Unable to sleep.”

  “Dena, I—” He coughed. “I was wondering if you’d like to go to dinner one night this week.”

  Dena wrapped her waist with her arms and braved looking straight into Wayne’s handsome green eyes. “I—” What did she want to say? That she was a widow and didn’t date? What kind of an excuse was that? “I don’t date,” she stammered.

  “Oh, well, I haven’t been on one since the last time my sister set me up on a blind date fourteen years ago. So, I guess I’m really asking for you to join me for dinner. More of an opportunity to get to know one another at a time when a pie isn’t involved.”

  Dena chuckled. “No pie is a good plan.” She wanted to get to know this man. More than that, her prayer time had been filled with prayers for him and Jess. For her upcoming graduation and the changes that would happen to their small family after she graduated.

  Dena remembered all too well what it was like when Jason graduated college and Amber left home to live on campus. But the final blow had been when Chad enlisted in the armed services. Through the air force, he had gained his college education and his flying experience.

  She locked her gaze back on Wayne. “All right, I’d love to.”

  A smile creased his ruggedly handsome face. “Great. How’s tonight?”

  “Jason has a midweek prayer meeting.”

  “Right. I forgot it was Wednesday. I could pick you up before the meeting, and we could go together.”

  Heat washed over her body. “This is a small town, right?”

  He knitted his eyebrows, then they rose slightly. “Oh, yeah. I forgot. Okay, we could go to the restaurant in separate cars… . Wait, that won’t matter. Half the town will see us at the restaurant anyway.”

  Dena chuckled. “True. All right, let’s light up those phone lines tonight and arrive at the church together. If I’m going to make a fool of myself…” She couldn’t believe she let that much of her inner thoughts slip out.

  Wayne reached over and grasped her hand. “Dena, I’ve got to be honest. I’m attracted to you, but I’m scared. I’m an old man set in my ways.”

  “Old? You? Do you have any idea how old I am? Far too old for dating or even…” She cut herself off.

  “You can’t be a day over thirty-nine.” He winked.
/>   “Hmm, that would put me at the ripe old age of six when I had Jason.”

  Wayne let out a low chuckle, then his gaze met hers. “We’re both old enough not to mince words. Let’s see if this is something the Lord is doing in our lives.”

  “Agreed.” Yes, the Lord needed to be central in this relationship, if there was even going to be a relationship. Perhaps she was just jumping the gun. Perhaps the Lord had intended for them simply friendship, nothing more. “When should I be ready?”

  “Five forty-five.”

  “That’s precise.”

  “It’s the Yank in me.” He grinned.

  They said their good-byes, and Dena watched him pilot his boat out of the inlet. The fog had lifted, and a bright blue sky emerged. “Okay, Lord.” She looked toward heaven and held out her hands. “It’s Your move.”

  Fear knotted in her stomach. She let out a long sigh. “Give me peace, Lord.”

  ❧

  After returning his boat to the harbor, Wayne spent the rest of the morning finishing the Gallager job. His mind focused more on the upcoming evening than on the job at hand. He nailed and renailed the railing five times. If he kept that up, he’d be paying the customer.

  He stopped by old Ben Costa’s house and talked with him about this year’s fishing. Wayne noted that his hauls were similar to Ben’s, small and decreasing weekly. Then he stopped by his parents’ house and turned over their garden in time for their summer visit. By four o’clock he needed a shower and some serious time to get ready for his date.

  Date. The word nearly lodged in his throat. After all these years, he finally asked someone on a—he coughed. “Date.” He took the stairs two at a time and sealed himself off in his bathroom.

  He pulled out a pair of jeans and an off-white cable-knit sweater, one his mother had knitted for him years ago. A pair of leather Top-Siders, and he had his outfit. He glanced in the mirror. “Show the real you, Wayne. Or it’s not even worth her time or yours,” he challenged himself.

  At five o’clock he made his normal midweek call to Jess. “Hi, honey. How you doing?” he asked.

  “Fine, Dad. I’m cramming for my archaeology exam.”

  “I’ll say a prayer for you tonight.”

  “Thanks. Trev said he’s looking forward to seeing you on Saturday.”

  “Great, I’m looking forward to meeting this man.”

  They talked for another ten minutes about her week, finals, and how full her schedule was. Graduation ceremonies were days away. Wayne planned on attending everything a parent could.

  “Well, I’ve got to go, sweetheart.”

  “Okay. Short call tonight, what’s up? Everyone’s okay, aren’t they?” she inquired.

  “Everyone’s fine. I—” Did he dare tell her that he had a dinner date? “I made plans to join someone for dinner.”

  “Great—give Bob and Wendy my love.”

  Was he that predictable that his daughter knew everything about him? Or at least she thought she did. “Actually, I’ll be going out with Mrs. Russell—”

  He pulled the phone from his ear as Jess shrilled out, “All right, Dad!”

  After they said good-bye, he hung up the phone and grabbed his keys from the kitchen table. His old truck with faded blue paint didn’t look like a vehicle one would use to escort a woman on a date. On the other hand, he was going to be himself. And part of who he was rolled on four wheels and served a function. It wasn’t his top priority. That was his daughter, his blessing from God, a true miracle. The message of grace played out day after day in his life, seeing the way the Lord took his mistakes and washed them and turned them into blessings. “You’re awesome, Lord. Keep me from worrying about my appearance tonight. Help me focus on just being myself.”

  ❧

  “Hello?” Dena answered the phone.

  “Hi, Mom. Marie said she forgot to invite you for dinner tonight. If you haven’t made anything yet, you’re welcome to come on over.”

  “Thanks, Jason, but I’m busy.” Dena curled the phone cord around her first finger. How does a woman tell her grown son she’s going out on a date?

  “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

  “Later.” Dena hung up the phone and glanced at the clock. She had five minutes, if her clock was set the same as his. Tires crunched the oyster-shelled driveway. Guess not, she mused.

  Years of travel made her aware of how flexible time could be for some cultures. But Wayne said he was a Yank, and New Englanders typically arrived five to ten minutes before they were expected, in order to be on time. She walked over to the kitchen door that met the driveway and opened it.

  He stepped out of his truck wearing blue jeans and an off-white fisherman’s sweater. She laughed. She was wearing the same outfit.

  “What’s so funny?” Wayne examined himself, twisting around, looking for something that might be hanging off his backside.

  “Nothing. We just have similar tastes in clothing.”

  His gaze landed back on her. His lips thinned and turned up at the corners of his mouth. “Who made your sweater? My mom knitted this one years ago.”

  “I purchased it in Scotland.”

  “You have seen the world, haven’t you?”

  “Not completely, but, yes, I’ve traveled quite a bit.” He stood there a step below her. The top of his head was covered with a myriad of curls. She stepped back into the kitchen. “Come in. I’m just about ready.”

  Wayne entered the house with a confident stride. Why am I so nervous? Wayne doesn’t seem to be, she pondered. “Make yourself comfortable. I’ll be back in a sec.”

  “No problem. I forgot to ask, where would you like to go?”

  “You name it.” She headed to the bedroom. “It’s your town; wherever you recommend will be fine with me.” Get ahold of yourself, girl. You’re fifty-two years old and butterflies flew out a long time ago. At least she thought they had. Okay, face it. You’re attracted to him. Now get a grip, she scolded herself.

  Facing the mirror, she slipped on the only pair of earrings she’d brought up for this trip—pearls. They blended well with the sweater, but normally she would have put in something darker that would offset her jeans. Oh well, it’s not a beauty pageant. Just a casual dinner. “Ha,” she quipped out loud. A final brush of her hair, and she had primped as much as she could. After all, he was in the other room and waiting.

  “Okay, Lord, guide us.” She opened the door and saw him staring out the sliding glass door, looking out over the ocean. “It’s a beautiful view, isn’t it?”

  “Yes.” He turned and faced her. “Both of them.”

  They stood for a moment in an awkward pause. He cleared his throat. “We better get going so we’re not late for church.”

  “Good idea.” She scooped up her Bible and followed him to the door. He held it open for her.

  A gentleman. “Thanks. Would you like to take my car or yours?”

  His smile faded. She watched his eyes go back and forth from her car to his truck. It took a moment, but then it hit her. Her red Mercedes convertible to his old truck shouted volumes. “I don’t mind going in your truck.”

  His shoulders straightened. “I’m fine with either; you pick.”

  She stepped toward his truck. “Then yours; we won’t have to shuffle vehicles.” She hoped she didn’t sound like a snob. The Mercedes had been the one vice she’d allowed herself. She’d been making good money for the past few years, and it had always been her dream car. She loved driving it up to Maine from Boston. So often it stayed parked in the garage.

  “It’s not much, but it runs well,” he weakly offered.

  “Wayne, don’t misread my offer about the car. I’m as comfortable in a truck as I am in my car.”

  He nodded.

  She didn’t have a lot of money, but she made a comfortable living. The price of the Mercedes had been a real bargain, and she figured that if she treated it right, she’d have the car for twenty years, maybe more. It felt like a frugal investme
nt at the time, but right at this moment, she wondered.

  “I suppose I’m a little sensitive about my truck.” He chuckled. He opened the passenger door for her. “It just seemed wiser to keep this one, do the work myself, and have a few more dollars to help Jess pay for her college education.”

  “Makes sense to me.” She stepped up and sat down on the bench seat. He scooted around the truck and entered the driver’s side. “I didn’t even have a car seven years ago. I was still helping the kids with their schooling.”

  “How many children do you have?” he asked as he turned on the engine.

  “Three. Jason is my oldest; he’s thirty-three. Amber lives in Nashua with her husband and three children. Chad, who you might have met on Sunday, is my baby.”

  “Jess is my only. I’m not sure I could have handled more than one,” he stated.

  “They can be a handful. Bill died when Jason was only thirteen. Raising three kids through their teen years on my own was tough at times.”

  “I can imagine.”

  The tension between them dissipated quickly. Dena relaxed, and she sensed Wayne was relaxing, too. “I bought the Mercedes five years ago. It was my dream car. I hardly get to drive it, which is why I don’t mind driving up to Squabbin Bay every once in a while to see the kids.”

  “My dream car is a classic Mustang convertible.”

  Dena laughed. “That was my second choice. But unlike you, I don’t work on cars, and I figured that I’d have a pretty hefty maintenance bill on a car like that.”

  “True, if you can’t do the work yourself.”

  He pulled into a small parking lot. The restaurant sat on a bluff overlooking the ocean. “Squabbin’s has the best seafood in town. But it also has a healthy turf menu.”

  “Sounds great. I’m starving.”

  He cupped her elbow and led her into the restaurant. Yes, she thought, we definitely could become close friends.

  Six

  Dena sat stiffly beside him in his truck.

  “That wasn’t too bad, was it?” he asked.

  Dinner had been wonderful. They found they were similar in their life views and personal tastes. Arriving together at church raised more than a few eyebrows. Wayne thought Pastor Russell almost fell over. One stern look from Dena, and Pastor Russell cleared his throat and continued the prayer meeting. She must have been quite a disciplinarian, he mused.