Eternal (Eternal series)

by Chantelle Nay

  “Now this hook that we have on the end of the leader line is a worm hook,” he said, holding the J-shaped hook in the palm of his hand. “This one here is a hook for power bait and cheese,” the hook he was pointing to had three mini hooks sticking out of it like a tiny chandelier. Emma nodded again, and Destry seemed pleased at being able to teach her something he apparently knew a lot about.

  “Okay, now we are ready for the bait,” he grinned, “so reach in there and pick out a worm.” Emma didn’t want Destry to think she was a girly girl, so she reached deftly into the container and pulled out the first slimy thing that her fingers encountered and held it out to him.

  “You’ve got to put it on the hook,” he chuckled, and Emma gulped. Handing him a worm was one thing, but stabbing a hook through the poor defenseless thing was another, even if it was just a disgusting worm. Emma shook her head back and forth with her eyebrows furrowed deeply together.

  “Come on,” he prodded, “it’s not that bad, it’s just a worm.”

  “I can’t just stab it!” she demanded, “won't that hurt it?”

  “Worms don’t have feelings, silly,” Destry chuckled, “just take it and stick the hook through the middle of it.”

  Emma shook her head back and forth more vigorously this time. She couldn’t even imagine herself doing that. “Why don’t you just do it, and I’ll watch,” she squeaked.

  “You need to learn how, otherwise you won’t be able to do it when I’m not around,” he pressed.

  “I won’t have any reason to do it when you’re not around,” Emma argued.

  “Come on Emma,” he said, frustrated by her unwillingness to comply with this final part of his lesson, “don’t be such a pansy.”

  That did it. Emma didn’t handle insults well, especially one’s that compared her to any kind of flower. She could dish them out, but she couldn’t take them.

  She reached over and yanked the hook out of his hand and held her breath as she shoved it through the poor little worm. It wriggled violently, trying to escape the object that had just impaled it. She dropped the line, watching it swing as she gave Destry a “humph.”

  His face was more than amused as he took in her defiant glare. “You have to stick it through more than once, or it will fall off on the first cast,” he said, arms folded, holding back a laugh.

  “No way, I am not doing that again. You said worms didn’t have any feelings, but that one is obviously in pain,” Emma said, pointing to the dangling worm as it struggled to get free of the hook.

  “It’s not in pain,” Destry smirked, “it’s just trying to get away. You just need to stick it through a couple more times, work it up onto the line, and tie it in a knot.”

  “You can finish it off, I already did my part,” Emma stated firmly, no humor in her voice.

  Destry stared at her for a while, then must have decided she wasn’t going to change her mind, so he grabbed the dangling worm and finished the deed. Emma tried to look away, the carnage was too great.

  Fishing with live bait was a tragedy that should be avoided, especially when you could use unfeeling, brainless cheese instead.

  “Are you okay,” Destry asked meekly, “or are you mad at me for killing a worm?”

  “I’m madder that you called me a pansy,” Emma retorted.

  “I’m sorry, you are definitely not a pansy,” he conceded, “you really stabbed that worm good. I’m amazed actually; I didn’t think you would do it.”

  “Well that will teach you to underestimate me,” she said stiffly. He smiled and reached over and squoze her knee gently between his fingers, and then stood up to continue with the lesson.

  “So, now all we have to do is attach this little weight above the worm so we can get some distance on it," he pinched a tiny weight that looked like a BB sliced halfway through onto the line, "then cast it out and wait for a fish to bite.”

  He swung the pole back deftly behind his shoulder and then waved it forward, releasing the line as it reached the halfway point, and the bait and bubble twirled out in front of them, gracefully plopping into the water below.

  “That looks hard,” Emma said after Destry sat down beside her and turned the handle on the reel one rotation, locking the line into place.

  “It’s not hard, it just takes a little practice,” he confessed easily. “I’ll let you cast the next one.”

  Chapter 22: CAUGHT

  “So how did you learn all of this?” Emma was curious. Fishing seemed complicated, almost an art.

  “My grandpa used to take me fishing a lot when I was little. He loved to fish the Platte River over in Dawson County.”

  “Is that in Nebraska?”

  “Yeah, we didn’t live too far from there, and my grandpa loved to get up early in the summer, before the sun came up. We’d stop at the gas station on our way out of town, he’d get a coffee, and he’d buy me an old fashioned root beer.

  He usually packed us a lunch so we could stay all afternoon. It’s one of my favorite memories,” his voice sounded far away as he remembered, then he peered at Emma sideways, and gave her a wink.

  Emma could picture Destry doing the things he was telling her about. She could tell that simple things like that had etched noble and strong values into his soul. He had been molded from the time he was very young to become the person who stood before her so confidently now. Generations before him, defined him today, and he obviously had a deep and reverent appreciation for them all.

  Noble was a good word for Destry. Emma knew that’s what he was as she stared admiringly at his strong, muscular back, as he leaned forward toward the pond in a powerful crouch.

  Emma felt her heart twist and jump inside her chest as it fought against her mind telling her she needed to push Destry out of her life if she was going to keep Micah. She had assumed before that the tug-of-war going on inside her was between Micah and Destry. It was actually between her heart and her mind.

  Which one would win out in the end? Which one was supposed to win? Which one did she want to win? So many questions Emma couldn’t answer.

  When she finally broke out of her daze, she saw Destry staring at her intently. A warm glow from the sunlight surrounded him. He was something special, Emma couldn’t deny that anymore.

  “What are you staring at?” she murmured, embarrassed by the intensity of his gaze.

  “Just you,” he smiled. “Sometimes you look a million miles away.”

  “You must need glasses,” Emma smirked, hoping to take his focus off of her.

  Just then the end of the pole bent over with so much force, that Emma was sure it would break in two.

  Destry spun around quickly and grabbed it from behind the rock where he'd wedged it, reeling furiously, and pulling back on the pole which seemed determined to escape his grip. He moved the pole up and down, reeling, and then not reeling, as the line pulled in and then stretched back out again. He turned to Emma with a huge grin on his face.

  “Come here Emma, reel it in!”

  The excitement in his voice was hard to argue with. Emma stood up quickly, stepping to his side. He shoved the pole into her hands, forcing her fingers around it with his own. He placed her right hand on the handle of the reel and began turning with their fingers interlocked on it.

  Emma had to admit it was exhilarating. The movement of the pole, the strong pull of something powerful fighting against them on the other end, and Destry's smooth, warm chest pressed firmly into her back, his hot breath on her neck.

  Emma could see the bubble getting closer to shore. This perfect moment was almost over. She turned to take in Destry's face. He was so close, their cheeks almost touching. She could smell his warm musky skin, and see his eyes dancing with excitement. She had to turn away quickly to escape the forbidden feelings rising up in her.

  With one final jerk backward, the silvery fish bounced up and out of the water, and twisted back and forth in the air. It was amazing. Emma had never seen one up close before. It had every color of the r
ainbow shimmering from its wet body.

  It continued to writhe as Destry stepped forward from behind Emma, and grabbed it in one hand. He held it tightly, reaching down inside its mouth to pull out the hook. A small amount of blood escaped the hole where the hook had been, and Emma's heart sank.

  “What are you going to do with it?” Emma asked quietly, trying to keep her emotions in check. Destry looked at her face and paused for a moment, thinking.

  “What do you want to do with it?” He finally asked, with a smile at the corner of his lips, his eyes squinted against the sun. “It’s your fish, you reeled it in.”

  “Can we let it go?” Emma wondered meekly.

  “Yeah, sure,” he said willingly, “I catch ‘em and let ‘em go all the time, if they’re not hooked too bad.”

  “Is that one hooked too bad?” she asked, motioning toward the fish with her chin.

  “Nope. He looks good,” Destry promised.

  “Then let’s let him go,” Emma finally said.

  “Okay,” Destry agreed, “but come over here and have a good look at him first. I’ll bet you’ve never seen one up close before. Right?”

  Emma nodded and laid the pole down on the ground, timidly stepping toward the pond‘s edge.

  She crouched down next to Destry where he was working the fish back and forth in the sparkling water.

  “We’ve got to keep him wet if we want him to live,” he said warmly. Then he pulled Emma's fingers down to stroke the smooth, slippery, glimmering scales of the fish. “This is a pretty nice Rainbow you caught,” there was a sense of pride in his voice.

  Emma turned her head towards him and smiled in wonderment.

  “He’s awesome,” she finally agreed.

  Destry stared at Emma's face, his eyes piercing right through her. She could see a look of longing there. She quickly looked away—she knew what he was considering. She was considering the same thing. Emma stood up to distance herself from him and shoved her hands into her back pockets out of nervousness.

  “So how do we let him go?” She asked innocently.

  After a brief pause, the longing finally left his face, and he smiled at her again. “Well, we have to move him back and forth in the water like this, to make sure his gills are working,” he swiveled the fish along in the water in front of him, mimicking the natural movements a fish would make while swimming. “Then when he feels strong, we just let go.”

  As he said it, he released his fingers from around the fish. It wriggled its body in a quick motion, turned on its side, slapping its tale on the water and then disappeared into the murky pond.

  “That's officially the first fish I ever caught,” Emma announced happily.

  “Congratulations,” Destry said honestly as he stood and faced her. She could see that strange longing beginning to creep back into his features and she knew she had to stop it before it could take hold of him again.

  “Can you teach me how to cast now?” Emma asked, as she turned away from him and picked up the pole from the ground.

  “Sure,” Destry said, composing his face into a luminous grin.

  He stepped to Emma's side, and reached out, catching the end of the swaying line between his fingers. “Let’s get rid of this hook first,” he said as he unclipped the line with the worm hook from the swivel, and rummaged through his tackle box, grabbing a dark gray bell shaped weight.

  “If we attach the sinker it'll go further, and be easier to cast. We don’t need the hook, if we aren’t planning on actually catching anything else,” he winked at Emma again; it was becoming habit with him. “I’ve actually been hooked through the ear more than once by a wayward cast,” he mused as he worked quickly to attach the sinker to the end of the line.

  “Ouch,” Emma grimaced, trying to imagine it, “I bet that hurt.”

  “It didn’t tickle,” he replied, still smiling. That made her laugh, and he laughed with her.

  Destry was finished with the line and stepped behind Emma, pressing his chest firmly against her again. She could feel his heartbeat on her back. Chills ran up and down her spine. She stiffened slightly at the contact, but relaxed as he placed his warm fingers over hers; they were just fishing she told herself, nothing more.

  “First we need to click this part of the reel over to this side to release the line,” he moved a silver bar on the top of the reel over to the side. “Then we pull a bit of line out,” he pulled a piece about the length of his arm off the reel. “Now place your finger right here over the line, and on top of the pole, and angle it back behind your shoulder, and then smoothly swing it forward and out, releasing your finger when it’s directly above you.” In one smooth motion, he demonstrated, his hand over hers, his other hand resting gently on Emma's waist.

  The sinker flew gracefully through the air, and came down with a tiny plop into the water about 25 feet in front of them. “That was a good cast,” his voice was like thick velvet, wrapping around the words.

  Emma side-stepped quickly, escaping his hand that now had a firm grasp on her left hip. His face fell slightly and Emma felt bad that she had to make this so difficult for him. It should have been natural for them to spend time together, and fall in love, like most teenagers do, but it wasn’t. It couldn’t be.

  “Can I try it?” Emma hoped Destry would think it was shyness rather than evasiveness that had made her pull away. He handed her the pole and stood back. Emma reeled the line back in and then tried her best to follow his example, but her cast wasn't even close to what it should have been.

  The line flew up in the air and then down, with the sinker plopping down and plunking Emma directly on top of the head. "Oops," she said as she grimaced and rubbed her head, while Destry laughed so hard he had to hold his gut.

  “I guess I wasn’t ready to go out on my own yet,” Emma stammered, trying to recover gracefully.

  “I guess not,” Destry blurted through his laughter. “Maybe you should give it another try.”

  “Do you have a helmet in your truck?” Emma asked, starting to laugh herself. “I think I might need one, those little stinkers are hard.”

  Destry laughed harder, his eyes were starting to water. “They are called sinkers, not stinkers,” he was gripping his stomach with both hands now.

  “I know,” Emma said, still rubbing her head.

  He took three steps toward her and wrapped his arms around her waist, picking her up off the ground and hugging her. He was still laughing, but Emma had stopped. She had to resist the urge to hug him back. She wanted to badly, and that confused her even more.

  Emma couldn’t bring herself to push him away again, so she waited for him to set her down. He finally did, and he looked her straight in the face, only inches away. He wasn’t laughing anymore, but he was still smiling hugely.

  “Are you mad at me for laughing?” Destry questioned her as he took in her face.

  “No,” Emma murmured, looking down.

  “Then what’s wrong? You’re not embarrassed are you?”

  “A little,” she spoke quietly, peering up at him from under her lashes. It was the best excuse for her behavior she could come up with for the moment.

  Emma couldn’t hurt him, couldn’t tell him the truth. Letting him believe that her immediate problem was mere embarrassment seemed like the best solution for now. She justified it by telling herself that she was sparing his feelings.

  How much longer could she put it off though? The heartbreak was inevitable. Emma knew that dragging it out was just making it worse, but she couldn’t stop.

  She was a horrible person for not being able to leave this poor boy alone. She needed to let him move on and find someone else to woo with his warm touch, dazzling smile and beautiful eyes.

  That was part of the problem actually, Emma couldn’t stand the thought of him moving on, or finding someone else, even though she knew that's what had to happen.

  Destry placed his hands on Emma's shoulders, pulling her back to the here and now. “Don’t be embarrass
ed,” he whispered. “I think you’re adorable, and that really was a good first try, no joke.”

  “I’m fine,” she assured him. “It’s getting late though, and I need to make dinner.”

  “I need to get back too,” he grinned slyly, “I have a date tonight.”

  Emma had forgotten all about that. She couldn’t believe he still wanted to go out. They'd already spent the whole afternoon together.

  “Oh really,” she finally said. “Who’s it with?”

  “Just the most beautiful girl in school,” Destry said confidently.

  “Yeah, whatever,” Emma mumbled, looking down and kicking the dirt with her toe.

  Destry reached over and took her chin in his hand, tilting her face up towards his so he could look into her eyes. “It’s the truth,” he said softly. “That’s how I see you.”

  “I really don't get it,” Emma admitted. “You could have any girl in the school.”

  “When I moved here I wasn't looking for a girlfriend Emma,” Destry said, sounding exasperated, “I thought I was already complete and I was happy with who I was. But I ended up finding something I didn't know I was even missing. You're exactly what I needed, you make me feel whole.”

  Emma could feel her face turning red. She wasn’t any better at taking a compliment than she was at being insulted.

  Emma finally snorted, “It’s a free country I guess. You're free to believe whatever you want, whether it’s true or not.”

  “You are so strange Emma,” Destry smiled at her, releasing her chin.

  “I know, I’ve heard that before,” she said.

  “Come on, let’s go.” He grabbed the pole and tackle box and they headed back in the direction of his truck.

  Destry took Emma's hand again and led her up the hill. He didn’t release it this time when they reached the top.

  It felt awkward having his fingers intertwined with hers, but strangely comforting at the same time. Emma didn’t want him to hold her hand, but she didn’t want him to let go either.

  She was a walking contradiction. I really am strange, she thought.