Hook, Line & Sinker

by Ev Bishop

  She must’ve felt his eyes because she turned suddenly. “Oh!” Her hand flew up, but she was already smiling. “You startled me.”

  On the heels of her words, visions of the wildflower property and its patiently waiting house popped into his head. He knew it was time—past time. He’d go crazy if he didn’t muster some emotional courage for once in his damn life. Katelyn very well might turn him down again, for real and in a final way, but at least he’d know once and for all. And at least he’d stop bailing on her, wanting to commit, wanting to try—then chickening out, using Steve as his excuse.

  He had to know if they were moving forward as a unit, or if he somehow needed to get his act together without her and the kids in his life. His guts hurt at the thought and he wondered if loving her was giving him an ulcer.

  The words stopped him in his tracks. Loving her. He couldn’t tell if it was exhilaration or terror that amped up his heartbeat.

  “We need to talk.”

  She smiled and nodded—but they didn’t get their chance. Jo and Aisha piled out of the cabin, followed by Lacey, Sawyer, and a toddling Mo. Jo gathered up rod cases from the porch, handed one to Brian and one to Katelyn, then hefted a large tackle box.

  “Okay guys, pick ’em up, put ’em down and follow me.”

  This was obviously a command they’d received from Jo before because both Sawyer and Lacey giggled and said, “Yes, ma’am!” then proceeded to march after her.

  Katelyn looked at Brian. He looked at her. They both shrugged and fell into line too.

  Jo took them down a short trail Brian never bothered with, thinking correctly that it led directly to the creek, which was a dead end for running, though, of course, perfect for fishing.

  For once Brian was the low energy guy. The kids chattered a mile a minute, Jo flitted back and forth explaining lures and baiting hooks, and he considered his options. He was resolute that he needed to tell Katelyn how he honestly felt. Where he wavered was in his previous notion that he should tell her as soon as possible, regardless of whether Steve was still on the loose or not. He wanted to be special to Katelyn, not another burden. But was his growing desire to stall once again really altruistic, or was it just same old same old—him being an emotional coward?

  Katelyn was quiet too, but he suspected her thoughts ran parallel to his because whenever he glanced at her, she just happened to glance back. But maybe that was wishful thinking, maybe she was preoccupied with thoughts of Steve, and really, if she was, who could blame her?

  He was yanked from his musings when Jo handed him a small neon blue fishing rod and asked if he’d help Sawyer.

  “Absolutely. Come on, big guy. Let’s bring home some dinner.”

  “You really know how?” Sawyer asked suspiciously.

  “Yes, I really do,” Brian said. “Scout’s honor.”

  Sawyer looked at him blankly.

  “I used to fish when I was a teenager, plus Jo has taught me a thing or two.”

  That apparently held some sway, and Sawyer walked with him to the water’s edge. As Brian showed him how to cast his line into a shady green pool formed by a huge fallen tree, peace fell over him. He didn’t have to rush anything. The right time to talk to Katelyn would come—and he would recognize it when it did.

  The afternoon passed quickly, with enough nibbles to keep the kids interested, but no real bites until Jo called, “Fifteen minutes and we’re going to call it a day, guys.”

  The words were barely out of her mouth when Lacey yelled, “I’ve got something. I’ve got something. I think it’s a big one!” Her rod dipped and bounced like crazy as if to prove her claim.

  Jo asked everyone else to reel in and rushed to Lacey’s side, coaching her all the way. In no time at all a fat little Rainbow trout was in Jo’s fish basket.

  “Well,” Jo said, her eyes twinkling, “should we go home now as planned, or should we keep fishing?”

  “Keep fishing, keep fishing,” Sawyer begged.

  Jo nodded. “Oh, okay. Since you insist.”

  By the time another hour had passed, Lacey had two trout, Mo and Aisha had landed one, and Sawyer was heartbroken. “I knew I’d never catch one,” he said softly. “I knew it.”

  “I’m sorry, buddy,” Brian said, dropping to one knee. “There’s always next time. Don’t be too disappointed.”

  “Okay,” said Sawyer glumly. “I’ll try not to be.”

  The kid’s constant willingness to try to do right was beyond his years and somehow poignant to Brian.

  “It’s going to get dark soon,” Jo said. “We should probably wrap things up.”

  “Do you mind if we try for just a few more minutes?” Brian asked.

  “Go for it,” Jo said.

  “Nah, there’s no point,” Sawyer said in as close to a pout as Brian had ever seen him.

  “There’s always a point, even if it’s just for the fun of it,” Brian said. “And have you been having fun?”

  Sawyer brightened like it had just occurred to him. “Yeah.”

  “So there you go. Success. And if you want to, you can try casting by yourself this time.”

  Sawyer gamely did as he was told, and though the sparkling wedding band landed too close to shore for Brian’s liking, he didn’t bother to correct it.

  He felt the gentle pressure of a hand on his back and turned slightly. Katelyn. “You’re so good with them,” she said wistfully. Before he could reply, Sawyer squeaked, “Oh. Oh! I got something. I think. I think. Maybe.”

  Brian turned back just in time to see Sawyer’s rod jerk hard. He grabbed it, supporting it before it was pulled out of the little boy’s hands.

  Jo was beside them right away. “I’d say you do. A big something.”

  She coached Sawyer the same way she had Lacey. Within minutes, the largest catch of the day was flipping and flapping on the rocky beach.

  “Good job, Sawyer—and Brian—good job!”

  “I couldn’t hold on if Brian didn’t help me,” Sawyer confessed.

  “Yeah, but I wouldn’t have even known we had a fish on except for you,” Brian said.

  Sawyer’s jaw dropped and he beamed. “That’s . . . true.”

  “You did awesome,” Jo agreed, hunkering down in front of Sawyer. “You were patient, the time was right, and you got her hook, line and sinker. It was meant to be.”

  “Yeah, meant to be,” Sawyer echoed sagely.

  Brian glanced at Katelyn and she looked over at him, the exact same instant—but Jo wrecked the moment by rounding them all up and getting them to help clean fish.

  Back on the trail toward River’s Sigh again, a rod case secured over his shoulder, Brian jostled for position in the line until he was hip to hip with Katelyn. He reached down and took her free hand. She gazed at their laced fingers, then up into his face.

  “Hook, line and sinker,” he said softly. “That’s how you have me.”

  Katelyn shook her head, but she was smiling.

  “Absolutely it is,” Brian insisted, still whispering. “And it’s like Jo said. Some things are meant to be.”

  “I think she was talking about fishing.”

  “I think you know it applies to us.”

  “But what about Steve and how and where—”

  “We’ll figure it out,” Brian said. “Everything else is just details. This, us—you, me, the kids . . . It’s right, Katelyn. We’re right.”

  She opened her mouth as if to argue—but didn’t. Instead she squeezed his hand and grinned. “You make it awfully hard for a girl to not just jump up and kiss you,” she said.

  “Well, lord, woman, don’t let me stop you.”

  And on the trail, with everybody else walking only slightly ahead, Katelyn did just that, lifting up on tippy toes and giving him a quick, gentle peck on the lips.

  “See, that’s almost what I’m talking about,” he purred. He dropped her hand and eased the rod case to the ground. She did the same. Then he gripped her slim waist and lowered his mouth
to hers forcefully. She sagged against him and Brian felt her tremble, stirring something both protective and hungry within him.

  When she broke away, they were each breathing hard. Brian lowered his hands to her hips and tugged her close, but not close enough. Never close enough. “Don’t say we have to stop,” he said. “Not now. Not again. Please.”

  Katelyn laughed, then joked with a prim accent, “It’s not the time or place for more, sir. I’m sorry.”

  “But—” he started, then stopped. Her smile, soft and full of hope and something he realized he hadn’t truly seen on her face until now—pure, radiant happiness—struck him mute with echoing emotions.

  “Like you said,” she whispered, “it’s meant to be. We’ve been patient. Too patient. We’ll have our chance. When all the mess is . . . not so messy.”

  He couldn’t stop grinning. They retrieved the rod cases and straightened up just as Lacey, twenty paces ahead of them, pivoted on her heel, spotted them and yelled, “What’s taking you guys so long?” It made him laugh out loud. Katelyn really did have a sixth sense when it came to knowing if her kids were going to chime in or need her for something.

  A fat raindrop splatted on his face. Then another. And another.

  “Hurry,” Jo urged from ahead. “I think we’re in for another downpour. Run!”

  They all took her advice and ran, clumsy and awkward with the things they were carrying, but laughing too and hopeful—like there was actually a chance they might avoid the coming storm.

  Chapter 33

  The kids were in bed, Monster was fed and crashed out under the couch, and Katelyn felt boneless with pleasure. It was like she had been chained, almost crushed, by worry and concerns that were somehow miraculously disintegrating. Some far off part of her brain knew it was only a temporary break, but she’d take it. She’d take it! Right now, it was just her and Brian and—

  “Are you sure?” Brian’s voice was as soft as crushed velvet, and the throaty joy in his whisper, despite all the awfulness of the past few days, raised gooseflesh along her skin.

  “Yes,” she said. “More sure than I’ve ever been.” She pressed her lips against his neck, his jaw, his mouth. . . . Her insides quaked when he kissed her back. His fingers laced through hers and he ran his thumb back and forth across her knuckles in an unconscious, constant loop. It was infinitely comforting, this soft, repeating reminder that he was with her. She marveled at it—and was completely conscious of the irony. If Steve hadn’t flipped out and attacked Jayda, she might never have grabbed the courage to let herself completely go for Brian, heart, body and soul.

  Brian had just reached beneath her shirt and ran his hands up and over her ribcage when the phone rang.

  Katelyn closed her eyes and shuddered beneath the weight of Brian’s still fully clothed body suspended over hers, but this tremor was not from desire. She knew deep in her blood, the same way you see lightning before you hear it strike, that the call would be anything but good.

  *

  “This is a terrible idea,” Brian said, his normally cheerful face one big scowl.

  “It is,” Katelyn agreed, already off the couch and at the door, shoving her feet into rubber boots. The night storm had intensified. A howling wind rattled the window panes and shrieked through the trees. Rain pounded the roof and ground in punishing sheets. “But I can’t not try to help.”

  He frowned and didn’t say anything.

  She shoved her arms into the sleeves of her windbreaker. “Will you stay here and watch the kids for me?”

  He still didn’t say anything.

  “I can call Aisha. It’s all right.”

  “You don’t want me to come with you?”

  Katelyn reached up and stroked his cheek. “More than anything,” she admitted. “I’m terrified—but I think it will only make things worse.”

  “I just . . . I mean, maybe it would be better if he did . . . ” He trailed off miserably.

  She shook her head, knowing exactly what he was thinking. “It might seem like that now,” her voice broke with guilt, knowing she’d sometimes hoped for the same thing, “but it wouldn’t be . . . not in the long run.”

  He nodded. “I’ll stay with Lacey and Sawyer. Go—but come back safe, please.”

  Katelyn stepped out onto the porch. The wind kicked hard, slamming the door and separating her from Brian with a loud, final sounding bang.

  Chapter 34

  The wind tore at Katelyn’s jacket, wet worms of escaped hair plastered to her forehead, and water snaked in the side of her hood and slithered down her neck. And instead of just letting her do what she’d come to do, the officer standing by the yellow and black tape barricading the bridge wanted to argue.

  “Yes, I’m his ex-wife, but I think I can help. Please let me try.”

  “How did you even know he was here? Did he notify you this evening? Did he tell you he was going to self-harm?”

  Katelyn shook her head. A battery of voices surrounded her. Static crackled from radios on the hips and in the hands of a variety of uniforms. The darkness was cut by flashing red, white and blue lights. One wide, piercing beam sliced a straight line to a slump-shouldered man sitting on the railing of the bridge.

  “I told you. A friend called me.”

  “And this friend, she told you your husband was—”

  “She’s not really my friend. She’s my ex-boss. And she wasn’t sure it was Steve. She just thought it might be—”

  A heavy-set man strode toward them and stepped over the barricade. “Katelyn Kellerman?”

  Katelyn nodded.

  He introduced himself by name, reeled off something Katelyn didn’t catch, and finished with, “You came to talk to your ex-husband?”

  Katelyn nodded again, noting with dull interest that the officer had referred to Steve as her ex. Had Steve called himself that, or did the information come from somewhere else? She didn’t have time to ponder it for long.

  “He’s been asking for you. Says he won’t jump if he can talk to you—but I have to warn you, getting you out there to watch might be his whole plan. He might have it in his head that he can punish you, by—”

  “By jumping to his death in front of me?” Katelyn whispered.

  The officer nodded.

  She stepped forward. “But . . . am I allowed to talk with him?”

  The officer scrubbed his jaw with his fist, sighed, and gave a terse nod. “But you can’t go within reach of him, okay? No closer than ten feet—and if I say move, you move—back here, fast as you can, got it?”

  Katelyn nodded.

  The middle of the bridge, despite the storm, seemed strangely quiet. The absence of cars, maybe—or . . . Katelyn was aware that her brain was trying to take her anyplace but here, trying to have her think about anything but . . . this.

  The streetlights were yellow and dim, unable to do much to alleviate the smothering darkness, enhanced as it was by the driving rain and thick fog. Beneath them, Steve wasn’t so much illuminated as he was blurred.

  He turned when she was about fifteen feet away, though neither she nor the officer had said a word yet. It was as if he sensed her.

  “Katelyn,” he breathed. “Katelyn.”

  She hated the relief in his voice with every fiber of her being. What did he expect of her? What could she possibly have left to give him?

  “Steve,” she replied softly, then walked a cautious step or two closer, carefully maintaining the distance the officer accompanying her had insisted on. “What are you doing? Are you okay?”

  Steve shook his head, then moved stiffly, swinging a leg over the rail so that he sat straddling it, able to look at her more directly. “I . . . almost hurt that woman. Jayda.”

  And that was what was horrifying to him? That he’d almost hurt a stranger, not her for all those years?

  “I know.”

  He shook his head again. “I didn’t mean to. I didn’t. The knife . . . I only had it on me because I’d been cleaning out our
camping trailer. It was my camping knife. For camping.”

  “She’s all right, Steve. She’s okay.”

  He nodded and gulped air like a drowning man, and Katelyn realized he’d been sobbing. She felt something leave her body like a physical presence—terror. He wasn’t a threat to her right now. Not like this. Something had changed. In him? In her? She guessed it didn’t really matter who—just that it had.

  “I can tell you feel sorry,” she said, “but you’re sitting in a dangerous spot. Will you come down from there and we can talk some more?”

  Steve continued, like he hadn’t heard her. “And you won’t come back to me because I scared you, right?”

  She darted a look at the officer. He held her gaze, but shook his head once, like he didn’t know what she should say either—but Steve didn’t appear to need her words.

  “I am not a bad man,” he said vehemently. “I’m not.”

  “But you’re sorry for any bad things you may have done, right? For any misunderstandings?” she said softly, falling into their old pattern and for once in her life, being grateful for it, grateful she knew the lines to say, the role to play.

  “See? You know. You know me. I am sorry. So sorry. I know I lose it sometimes, but it’s just because I love you. I love you so much.”

  Katelyn couldn’t smell alcohol on his breath because he was too far away, but she recognized the bottle talking.

  “I do know that, Steve. I do.” She was hit by what might’ve been the saddest thing she’d ever thought: that in his own damaged beyond repair, delusional, no idea what real love was way, he did love her.

  He rubbed his eyes and suddenly shifted his weight. It looked like he might swing his leg back and return to a ready to jump position again.