by Leigh Duncan
But Bob Richards was on the line and, from the sound of his voice, Jess sensed trouble.
“Have you read today’s paper?” asked the head of POE. “The Editorial page?”
“No.” Adam had dawdled over breakfast which, in turn, had delayed her arrival at On The Fly. She had bypassed the usual coffee with Sam and gone straight to work. “Is there something I should know?”
“There’s a piece in there about our funding. The author makes a compelling argument for development. He asks why the state is spending money on land it can’t use when the economy has forced us to slash education and road budgets. The way he puts it, it sounds like the POE is robbing the schools in order to build another park.”
“Not true,” Jess protested. “The money for Phelps Cove comes from a different revenue stream altogether.” Once the state owned the land, POE would manage it using bond money that had to be spent on protected habitats.
“You and I know that, but most people may not understand the difference. I’m concerned.” Bob was headed for the capitol where he’d poll support for POE and do everything he could to make sure it was rock solid. Meanwhile, he wanted Jess to draft a rebuttal for the paper.
“Will do,” she agreed after they’d discussed strategies another minute or two. As she headed to her office, other concerns faded into the background while her thoughts narrowed in on protecting Phelps Cove.
Chapter Six
A few minutes before nine on a cool Saturday morning, Dan squared his shoulders against the car’s seat back.
“Let the games begin,” he whispered, spinning the wheel to make the final turn toward On The Fly.
He loved a good challenge, and Jess Cofer promised to be a doozy. She’d start off giving instructions, but he was certain he wouldn’t need much help. He’d read the books, after all, and might even be able to show her a thing or two. Though there was always the possibility he’d mess up on purpose. If he did, would she slip her arms around him to demonstrate?
He thought it might be worth finding out until one look at the circus-like atmosphere of the crowded parking lot told him his rival for Phelps Cove had pulled a fast one. The white tents were new since his visit ten days ago. So were the meaty smells and smoke billowing from charcoal grills. He spotted Sam beside a makeshift gate that led to the field alongside the store and headed toward the manager who had exchanged his pumpkin-colored shirt for the same model in bright blue.
“Hey, Doc. Didn’t expect to see you today.” Sam handed a short fly rod to an even shorter boy and gave the child’s father a disposable fishing vest.
“This is the orientation class, isn’t it?” He nodded toward the freshly mown field. “Jess pretty much said it was mandatory before she’d sell me the rod I like.”
“She was supposed to call.” Sam removed his baseball cap and ran a hand through his sparse hair. “I don’t suppose she told ya the class is mostly for kids?”
“She must have forgotten to mention that part,” Dan answered, sparing the men and children lined up in the grass an amused glance.
“Guess so. You gonna stick around?”
He nodded. No small effort had been required to clear the day’s schedule. “I think I will.”
Sam’s brow furrowed as he studied an array of toy-size rods. “None of these’ll work for you. I’ll get ’cha one from inside, if you don’t mind waiting a minute or two.”
“I have the one Jess lent me in the car,” Dan offered. Lately, his schedule had been so tight, he hadn’t even had a chance to try it out.
“That ol’ thing? Nah,” Sam scoffed. “I can do better than that.” He turned away. “Adam, will you watch things?”
Jess’s son nodded from his perch atop a split-rail fence. “Yes, sir,” he called. After Sam hurried off to get the appropriate equipment, the boy shot him a glance, little fingers visibly tightening their grip on the top slat.
“Hey, Adam,” he called. “Mind if I join you?”
He took the boy’s shrug for permission and made his way to the fence. “So, what’s happening here today? Your mom hold these classes often?”
Adam’s focus on the people in the field never wavered. “Not all the time, but a lot. This one’s for kids and their dads.” He pointed to the closest pair. “They’re gonna learn to fly fish together.”
The wistful note in the child’s voice twisted something in Dan’s gut. He cleared his throat. “You fish with your mom. That’s pretty special. I hear she’s the best.”
“Yeah, she’s pretty good for a mom,” Adam nodded. “But sometimes, I wish I had a dad.” As if he were imparting a very important piece of information, he added, “Mine’s in heaven.”
Dan looked around for help. He had no idea what to say next. With Sam nowhere to be seen, he went with the truth. “I don’t have a dad, either. Guess that makes you and me sort of the same.”
“Really?” Adam’s eyes grew wide. He thrust up his hand and let it hang in midair.
Dan eyed the child’s one-handed grip on the fence rail when the rail shifted beneath Adam’s weight, but the boy adjusted his position without losing his balance.
“Hey,” Adam said frowning. “You’re supposed to give me a high-five ’cause we’re the same.”
“Whoops.” Dan slapped the boy’s hand and grinned, realizing Adam was as agile as a cat. “Thanks for reminding me, tiger.”
Adam leaned forward far enough to check the empty space at Dan’s side. “How can you take the class if you didn’t bring someone with you?”
The question presented a welcome chance to steer the conversation in a different direction, and he took it.
“I think your mom was pulling a trick on me,” he said, pointing toward Jess. In the shorts and shirt he’d come to think of as her work uniform, the woman was everywhere at once, tanned legs counting off a dozen feet or more between each father-child duo, toned arms placing hula hoops on the ground in front of the pairs. When she stopped to tug the ponytail of a dark-haired girl and smiled in response to some comment from the child’s father, a feeling he couldn’t identify stirred in his chest. “Do you think she’d do that?”
Adam’s mouth scrunched to one side as he gave the matter serious thought. “I think she did,” he said at last. He peeked up from beneath a wide hat brim. “You should trick her right back.”
“Hmm.” Dan rubbed his chin. “That’s a good idea.” One he was all in on until he saw Jess’s stricken expression when she looked his way.
“I’m so sorry,” she mouthed.
That strange feeling rustled through him again. He couldn’t help smiling and giving her a nod. In return, Jess waved him over. “Class is about to start. Grab a rod and join us.”
He’d taken a step or two before he realized that his departure would leave Adam all alone. “I’d be the only one out there without someone,” he said to the boy. “Do you think…” He hesitated. “I mean, I know you’re already good at this, but it would make me feel a lot better if you’d be my partner. If it’s okay with your mom, that is.”
The speed at which Adam scrambled down off the fence told Dan he’d been right to ask. And even though she tugged the ubiquitous floppy hat so low it kept her face in shadow, he sensed he’d pleased Jess, as well. Adam grabbed one of the kiddie rods from the table and they took their place on the field with everyone else.
“Welcome to On The Fly’s orientation class,” Jess began at once, “where you’ll learn all about strange words like wooly bugger and caddis fly.” Tipping her hat back, she scrunched her face and held her nose until every kid laughed.
“Fly fishing is a lot of fun,” she continued. “You might have to practice a little to get it right, but today, we’re going to start by making a cast into a hula hoop.” She aimed her own much longer rod toward the plastic circles. “When we’re done, we’ll have hot dogs and ice cream. How does that sound?”
Though he didn’t need the promised treats, Dan added his own cheers to those of the rest of the class.
While they waited for Sam, he held the skinny child’s rod the way Adam showed him. His fingers practically dwarfed it as he pulled line from the reel and let it puddle at his feet. His long arms made handling the short pole so easy that, when Jess walked them through the motions of their first cast, his little blob of yarn was the only one that landed inside the hula hoop. Under Adam’s careful direction, he repeated the process until, on his fourth or fifth try, he glanced over one shoulder to see his young partner sitting cross-legged on the ground, pulling at a clump of grass.
“What’s up, Adam?” he asked.
The boy’s thin shoulders rose and fell in a way that made Dan search for a reason. It didn’t take long to find one. Up and down the line of parents and children, his was the only recalcitrant aide. Then again, he was the only “student” who didn’t really need the help. He scuffed a foot through the grass and deliberately tangled his line on the next cast.
“Would ya look at that,” he exclaimed. “What do I do now?”
He turned a helpless look on the boy who was already scrambling to his feet. Adam no sooner sorted out the knotted line than Dan tangled it again, a move that elicited laughter, and a fair amount of teasing, from the child. He continued his antics until Sam reappeared.
“There you go, Doc,” said the slightly out of breath manager. “This one’s rigged and ready.”
The seven-foot rod Sam placed in his hands was considerably less wieldy than the three-footer Dan’d been using. When a gust of air blew his fly off course, he learned that his new equipment, unlike the kiddie poles with their blobs of yarn, came armed with a real hook. A hook that apparently had a mind of its own and absolutely did not want to land inside the hula hoop. Smart enough to stay out of range, Adam coached from the sidelines.
Heat rose above Dan’s shirt collar when every one of a dozen attempts sailed beyond the circle.
“Ready to give up?” Jess asked. “Let everybody have their hot dogs and ice cream?”
Though a quick glance told him all the kids had hit their targets and now lined the fence, Jess’s teasing smile spurred him to take another try or two. He stopped to remove the hook from his brand new Polo shirt.
“You guys go ahead,” he answered. “I’ll keep at it.”
“No one eats till everyone eats,” Jess quipped loud enough for all to hear.
With her standing there, one hand propped on a cocked hip, he fumbled another cast.
“You’re doing everything right,” she coached. “Just get the slack out of the line and you’ll do great.”
When she put it that way, it sounded simple enough. It took another two tries before he found the rhythm, but once he did, Jess’s wide grin made the extra effort worthwhile. The accomplishment made him feel prouder than it should have, and he gave a bow. A cheer soon rose from the fence.
“Let’s eat,” Dan suggested.
No one needed a second invitation. As he cut across the field with the rest of the group, Jess fell in beside him.
“That was a nice thing you did for Adam,” she said.
“We had fun together.” Dan watched the boy run to catch up with some others his own age. Though there were more differences than similarities between his past and Adam’s present, he’d been the kid with no dad, and could relate. Maybe he could talk to Jess about it more over lunch. “I think I’ve worked up an appetite. How ’bout you?”
“Sorry, but I’m working.” Jess fanned a handful of business cards and moved off, stalling his attempt to get to know her better.
Adam and a couple of other boys were talking at a corner table so he grabbed a dog and a place in the shade while Jess made the rounds handing out flyers to promote her guide service. Casting had proven more of a challenge than he’d anticipated. If he was going to master it—and everything else he needed to learn before the trip to Belize—he’d need more than a lesson or two. He glanced at Jess at the opposite end of the tent. She was a challenge, too. At least, she’d apologized, something he hadn’t been certain she was capable of doing.
“I’m free on Wednesday afternoons,” he said when she worked her way close enough. “Put me down for ten half days.”
“Yeah?” Jess raised an eyebrow. She shook her head. “No.”
DAN HAMILTON CONTINUED TO SURPRISE her. He expected to hire her as a private tutor? The idea was ludicrous…and too scary to contemplate. Even if she had the inclination, she didn’t have time for killer smiles and boy-next-door looks. Not with On The Fly to run. Not with Adam to love and raise in her single-parent household. Not with Dan threatening to clear-cut Phelps Cove and turn it into…what? They never had gotten around to discussing his plans.
Confidence showed in his dark eyes. She wondered how far she’d have to push before he gave up and looked for another instructor.
“No,” she repeated. Fighting to steady herself, she added, “I’m not available on Wednesdays.”
His smile faltered. “That’s the only day I have free.”
“Guess you’ll have to find another guide then.”
A throat-clearing growl stopped her from saying more. Her frown deepened when Sam edged past a crowded picnic table wearing a look that was downright thunderous. Before she could manage more than a quick, “Excuse me a minute,” the man steered her away from prying ears.
“What are you doing?” he hissed. “I thought you wanted to build clientele for your guide service. How is turning down the doc gonna do that?”
She shrugged and tried for wide-eyed innocence. “He’s a novice. Doesn’t know one end of a fly rod from the other. There’d be a lot more teaching than guiding involved. Besides, I work the sales floor on Wednesdays. It’s your day off.”
“I’ll switch then. We need the income. You and I both know the shop’s been losing ground.”
“Don’t remind me,” she groaned as the weight of the world settled on her shoulders. On The Fly was as much Adam’s future as it had been Tom’s dream. Not only that, but people she cared for, people like Sam and her other employees, depended on the shop for their livelihoods. She couldn’t afford to turn away new customers, even if they did pose a threat to something she’d spent years working for.
She beckoned Dan over and summoned her patience when the man took a slug of soda before joining them. “So, what’s the verdict?” he asked.
She loved the way his weight shifted as if he were antsy about the answer. As if there weren’t fifty other fishing guides within a twenty-mile radius. Any of whom would be glad to take his money and spend whatever day of the week he wanted on the water. If he threw his weight around and went all prima donna on her, she’d even refer him to one or two of them. No matter what it cost her.
“As inconvenient as it is for him, Sam has agreed to switch his days off.”
A wide grin broke across Dan’s face.
“But…” She paused.
Tension etched his smile lines a little deeper. “But?”
“It has to be mornings, not afternoons.”
“Now, wait a minute Jess,” Sam interrupted. “What’s it matter what time you take the doc fishing?”
Jess silenced him with a smug look. “Thunderstorms. You know we get them late in the day.” Satisfied, she swung to challenge her potential client. “Does that interfere with your schedule, too?”
Dan’s brown eyes bore into hers until she read the truth in them. He was on to her ploy. Afternoon storms weren’t routine until the summer heat and humidity rolled in.
“Mornings are actually reserved for patient records and updates,” he said.
“That settles it, then.” Jess’s breath seeped across her lips, leaving her more deflated than the victor in a battle should feel.
Dan juggled the soda bottle in his hands and leaned back. “But I suppose I could change things around. Unless you have another excuse for why that won’t work for you?”
She’d have bet her favorite fly rod that he didn’t have a compromising bone in his sturdy frame. And she’d have been wrong.
She hated to be wrong. But in this case, she thought it might work to her advantage. If Dan was willing to compromise on some of the little things, she’d use their lessons to change his mind about the big things, too.
Things like Phelps Cove.
DAN TIPPED HIS CHAIR BACK and surveyed the littered remains of Sunday dinner. The enormous bowl of mashed potatoes had been scraped clean. Someone had taken the last of the gravy. A few gummy slices of okra were all that was left of the vegetables. Barbecue sauce still scented the air, but the only sign of a mountain of grilled chicken were the tiny pools of grease that dotted a platter. If he looked closely, he could see a chip in a bowl here, a crack in a plate there. Not that any of the young men crowded around the table would notice. Ask any one of them, and they’d say full bellies, their own room, safety—those were the things that mattered.
He grinned at Maddy as, one by one, those who had eaten their fill darted quick glances at a cuckoo clock so time-worn the bird had disappeared long before Dan had downed his first mouthful at this trestle table. In all that time, the house rules hadn’t changed. At least ten minutes of conversation followed every meal, and his foster mom had been known to tack on an extra half hour if she decided people were in too big a hurry to leave.
“I’m right. You’ll see.” Chris, the latest addition to the household and a scrappy character, tossed an uneaten dinner roll at Sean. “It’s gonna be Orlando and L.A. in the play-offs for sure.”
Sean backhanded the food missile. “The Celtics and the Lakers, man. The Magic’ll go down in flames.”
As conversation veered toward the basketball game on TV that afternoon, Dan leaned in to speak with Glen. “Have you had a chance to think about the kinds of services we need to provide? I mean, beside the clinic we already talked about.”
Glen’s brow furrowed. “What’s the rush? Connections House is, what, five years down the road?”
