14
M onday morning, Eleanor stood on the edge of a frozen lake, her breath forming misty clouds. The winter landscape stretched before her, a pristine blanket of white broken only by the dark silhouettes of pine trees. She tugged her scarf tighter, eyeing the expanse of ice with trepidation.
“Beautiful, isn't it?” Christopher’s voice broke through her thoughts. He trudged up beside her, pulling a wagon full of fishing gear.
“If you enjoy being surrounded by nothing but cold and quiet.”
Christopher chuckled. “Oh, you'll see. There's more to it than that. At least, I hope there is.”
Eleanor laughed, slapping him playfully on the arm.
As they ventured onto the ice, Eleanor's steps were hesitant. “Are you certain this is safe?”
“Absolutely. I had Jack check it for me and he’s kind of an ice expert.” Christopher set down his equipment and began to unpack. “Here, why don't you help me set up the auger?”
Eleanor eyed the device skeptically. “And what, pray tell, is an auger?”
“It's for drilling holes in the ice,” Christopher demonstrated. His strong hands guided the tool. “Want to give it a try?”
Reluctantly, she took hold of the auger. Eleanor's gloved hands gripped the handle. The metal blades of the auger bit into the frozen surface with a satisfying crunch. To her surprise, she found a spark of satisfaction in the task. “I suppose it's not entirely unpleasant.”
“Such enthusiasm,” Christopher teased. With the hole drilled, Christopher set up the pop-up shelter and placed two folding chairs inside it. Also in the wagon were blankets, warmer clothes, and a cooler of snacks.
A smile tugged at Eleanor’s lips. “A cooler? Don't you think it's cold enough already?”
“Ah, yes, well. Consider it a warmer. This way, the food won’t completely freeze.”
Eleanor settled into a folding chair. The inside of the shelter was surprisingly cozy. “You know,” she conceded, “this isn't quite as dreadful as I imagined.”
“I'm beginning to learn that is high praise coming from you, Eleanor Frost.” Christopher gave her a playful wink. “Just wait until we catch something.” He baited her hook. “Ready to drop your line?”
Eleanor hesitated, then nodded. An incredible calmness washed over her as the line sank into the icy depths. The shelter was cozy and intimate. Protected from the wind, she was quite comfortable. And Christopher had thought of everything. Thermoses of hot chocolate and soup. Decadent brownies for dessert. Blankets for their laps.
She and Christopher fell into an easy conversation punctuated by comfortable silences. It was as if they were off in their own little world.
“I must say, Christopher,” Eleanor mused, “this has been a pleasant surprise. I didn't think—”
Suddenly, her fishing rod jerked. Eleanor's eyes widened. “Oh! Oh my, I think I've got something.”
Christopher moved closer. “That's it, Eleanor. Now, start reeling it in, nice and steady.”
Eleanor gripped the rod tightly, her knuckles turning white as she struggled against the unseen force beneath the ice. “It's quite strong,” she exclaimed, a mixture of exhilaration and frustration coloring her voice.
Christopher moved closer, his face creased with concentration. “You're doing great. Let me help you.”
His large hands enveloped hers on the rod, and Eleanor felt a jolt that had nothing to do with the fish. Together, they reeled the fish in, their movements synchronizing as if they'd done this a hundred times before.
“That's it,” Christopher encouraged. “We're wearing it down. Just a little more.”
Her arms ached, but Eleanor found herself oddly unwilling to give up. “I never thought I'd say this about fishing, but it is rather exhilarating.”
Christopher chuckled. “Wait till you see what we've caught. It feels like a big one.”
With a final, mighty pull, their prize broke the surface. Water splashed, momentarily obscuring their view. As it cleared, Eleanor gasped. “Good heavens. It's enormous.”
A silver-scaled fish thrashed at the end of the line, easily the size of Eleanor's arm. Christopher quickly moved to unhook it, his hands gentle but firm.
“It's a beautiful Arctic Char,” he explained, holding it up for her to see. “What do you think? Should we keep it or let it go?”
Eleanor hesitated, torn between pride in their catch and empathy for the creature. “I think we should release it. Let it live to fight another day, as they say.”
“I couldn't agree more, but first, let me take your picture with it.”
After posing with the fish, she released it back into the water. As they watched the fish disappear back into the icy depths, she turned to Christopher and said, “Perhaps there's more to this ice fishing business than I initially thought.”
“That's because you're the one who caught a fish,” Christopher laughed.
“That’s zero for you, and one Arctic Char for me.” Eleanor raised an eyebrow. “Wait a minute. Was that really an Arctic Char? I didn’t think you fished. How would you know?”
“I have no idea,” Christopher confessed, laughing harder. “That’s the first name that came to mind. Sounded correct though, didn’t it.”
Eleanor’s laughter joined his, and soon they were caught in a fit of giggles like two little kids.
As their laughter wound down, Eleanor leaned into Christopher and kissed him on the cheek, hoping it would convey more than her words ever could. “Thank you for convincing me to try something new.”
Christopher's smile widened. “Anytime, Eleanor. Anytime.”
As they trudged back across the ice, Eleanor couldn’t help but wonder what adventure with Christopher might come next.