5. Sam
CHAPTER 5
SAM
H averford smelled good. Better than Boston. I’d been noticing that since I set foot on the island, the aroma of fried food at the bazaar. The tang of fresh herbs outside Soup and a Bread Bowl. The flowers everywhere, the breeze off the ocean. Everything smelled good — good, clean, and wholesome. Every breath made me want to get up and move. To go exploring. I got to my feet.
I’d been sitting around my B&B maybe twenty minutes, checking my phone for updates from Lana. Of course, she wouldn’t have decided already. I hoped she would soon. This place was expensive.
I headed outside and picked a random direction, no destination, no mission, just seeing the sights. Normally, when I traveled, I’d go where the action was, the nightclubs, the parties, places to eat. But I was on a budget now, and far from the hustle. I wasn’t sure Haverford even had any nightclubs. Beach clubs, maybe, but the kind that took membership. And I wouldn’t be offered that, showing up as Brad.
No, this was a quiet place. Pleasant and simple. Which left me with the question, what did people do here? Obviously they worked, and they had families, but what about after work? Where did they go? I’d seen a small golf course, but that, too, looked private. What did the locals do? The regular townsfolk?
I came to the beach and wandered along it, pausing to strip off my shoes and socks. Sand kept getting into them, itching my toes. It was better barefoot on the warm sand, and even better wading in the surf. The water was icy, but I found it bracing. I breathed in the salt spray, the rich scent of kelp. Soon, I spotted a pier jutting into the ocean, two tiny figures poised halfway down. Fishermen, maybe, or fellow tourists. One of them waved at me, and I waved back. My phone buzzed in my pocket, and I grabbed for it. Lana?
Enjoying your vacation?
Not Lana. Dad.
Not to question your choices, but Haverford? Really?
I pressed my lips together. Of course he’d kept tabs on me. And of course he had to get in his two cents.
It’s gorgeous, I texted, just to annoy him. Joined the beach club already. Going for a swim!
Ha. Very funny.
I muted his text alerts and dropped my phone in my pocket. The last thing I needed was Dad in my ear. What I needed was… to walk out to the end of that pier. Stand at land’s end with the wind in my face.
I made it as far as the two men I’d spotted, not tourists but fishermen. Definitely locals. I could tell by how they greeted me when I drew near, one calling out to me, the other one waving.
“Nice day for it,” I said, nodding at their cooler.
“We’ve caught a few. You here for the fishing?” The one who’d called out reeled in his line. He adjusted his tackle and cast it back out.
“Been a while since I’ve fished,” I said. “Since I was a kid.”
The two men exchanged glances, deep consternation. I put them in their sixties, young retirees.
“I’m Rex,” said the first one. “And this here’s Chester.”
“Brad.” I stuck out my hand, but Rex shook his head.
“I better not shake with you. My hands are all fishy.”
“He must be that carpenter,” said Chester. “From the bazaar. Did you see Margie’s table yet?”
Rex laughed. “Not yet. But I’ll see it Sunday. We’re all headed over there, bringing the grandkids.”
“Want to try your hand at it?” Chester held up his pole. It took me a moment to realize he was talking to me.
“What, try fishing?”
“You scared of fish?”
I laughed. “No, but I wouldn’t want to impose.”
“No imposition.” Chester reeled in his line. “We’ve caught plenty already. We’re just out here, uh…”
“Chewing the fat,” said Rex. “Sunning our bald spots.”
“Well, if you don’t mind…” I took the pole from Chester. It was lighter than the one I’d had as a kid, kind of hi-tech looking. “How do I cast this thing without snagging my butt?”
“Like this,” said Rex, and showed me with his rod. “Flip the reel open, then one fluid motion. Step back and—” He sent the line flying. It plopped into the water and he smiled, satisfied.
“Okay. Here goes nothing.” I pulled out my line like I’d seen Rex do, then took a step back and cast. And stood blinking stupidly. “Where, uh, where’s?—”
Chester held up his arm. I glanced at my sleeve. I’d hooked it nicely, right through the cuff. The fishermen chuckled as I worked the hook free.
Chester winked at me. “Happens to the best of us.”
Rex rolled his eyes at him. “Speak for yourself.”
I got my hook free and stepped back again, and this time when I cast my line, it sailed straight and true. “So now I just stand here and wait for a fish?”
“You can jiggle your lure some, but not too much. You want to make it jerky. Don’t stick to one rhythm. Fish look for that, that sort of?—”
“Prey dance,” Rex cut in. “Like a small fish in distress. Tiny jerks and tremors to make your lure dance.” He worked his reel to show what he meant. I tried the same thing, not expecting much luck. But a couple of jiggles and something tugged back. I almost dropped my rod.
“Oh! Something’s biting! I got a bite.”
“Is it just nibbling, or is it hooked?”
That subtle tug came again. “How would I know?”
“You’ll know,” said Chester. “Trust me. You’ll know.”
“It goes from little wiggles to?—”
My rod jerked. “Whoa!”
“Oh, yeah, he’s got one.” Chester shaded his eyes. “Let it play out some, wear itself out.”
“Yeah, you work with the fish, or you’ll snap your line.”
I let their advice wash over me, their eager coaching. But no way could I try all their tips at once. Instead, I relaxed and went by feel. The rod was responsive. It trembled and shook. I could feel the fish flailing, the tension in the line. Then it stopped, rested, and I worked the reel. That scared the fish again and it went streaking, dragging my bobber way out to sea.
“Not too far,” said Chester. “Tease it, tease it.”
I had no idea what he meant by that, but I jigged the reel gently. Eased the fish closer by slow degrees. It felt like a big one, healthy and strong. I wondered what Dad would think if he could see this, then pushed the thought away. Enough of Dad. This was my fish, my big adventure. I reeled it in some more, paused, let it struggle. I could practically see it there, caught but defiant, fighting the hook every inch of the way.
“Yeah, yeah, you got him. Look at him go.”
The fish was thrashing now, churning up water. Flashes of silver just under the waves. I tried to make out the shape of him through the sun on the water.
“This is the tricky part, when you think you’ve got him. Don’t get too cocky. Don’t?—”
My phone went again, not a chirp but a ring. Somebody calling. I forgot the fish. Lana.
Rex leaned over the water. “He’s getting away!”
I held the reel steady and tucked the rod under my arm, trying to hold it there while I groped for my phone. Chester made a squawking sound.
“You’re not going to get that?”
“I have to. I’m renting— I’m getting a room.”
“Let me,” said Rex, and dug into my pocket. I yelped, surprised, and dropped Chester’s rod. Chester yelled out and I barely caught it, and spun the reel. The fish beat the water. Rex was answering the phone, holding it up to my face.
“Hello?”
“Yeah, is that Brad?”
The fish did a little ocean fandango. The rod pitched and waggled. Chester yelled not to break it.
“Yeah, it’s me. Sorry.”
“What are you doing?”
My line went slack, the fish finally resting. I reeled it in cautiously. “Fishing,” I said. “I met these two guys?—”
“Hi, Lana,” called Rex.
“Is that Rex?”
“And Chester.” He waved at the phone, though it wasn’t a video call.
“Hey, guys,” said Lana. “How’s today’s catch?”
“Not bad,” said Rex. “Your friend’s got one hooked, and, hoo! He’s a big boy.”
The fish had breached the water, and Rex was right. He was huge, fat, and shiny, and all out of fight. I reeled him in quickly and fumbled with the hook.
“No, hold him,” said Chester, and took out his own phone. “You need your ‘he was this big’ shot.”
I held the fish up and Chester snapped my picture.
“There, got it. Perfect. Lana, he’s— Hey! Wait, hold on. What are you doing?”
I’d unhooked the fish and tossed him back in the ocean. “I don’t have much freezer space. Sorry, did you want him?”
“No, that’s okay,” said Rex. “Probably for the best. You don’t have your license yet, so this way you’re legal.”
“No, he’s not,” grumbled Chester. “He might as well eat him.”
I handed Chester his rod back. “Sorry. Next time.” Rex passed me my phone, and I turned to Lana. “Lana, you still there? You caught me mid-reel.”
“Congrats,” she said. “Sounded like a big one.”
“Yeah, big and feisty. Hey, how was, uh— You ran off pretty fast back there, after our walkthrough. Was everything okay down in the shop?”
Lana let out a soft, breathy sigh, but when she spoke, she kept her tone light. “The neighbor’s dog,” she said. “He sneaks in sometimes. But I’m calling to tell you, your references checked out. That is to say, you got rave reviews. So whenever you’re ready, you’re free to move in?” She pitched it like a question, like I might’ve changed my mind. But this was a coup for me, a deal on a room.
“Is tomorrow okay for you?”
“Yeah, tomorrow works great. If I’m not home when you get there, just check downstairs.”
I hung up elated, on top of the world. Dad talked about real life like it was hard, but maybe he’d made it hard with his attitude. He saw people like chess pieces he could move around. No wonder nobody’d been on his side. But everyone liked me here, Lana, these guys. All I had to do was keep that going.
“Good news,” said Chester.
“Especially for Lana.” Rex gave me a nudge. “This guy being handy, he can fix her front step.”
“And that sign out front too. Every day, it’s more crooked.”
That night, I lay sleepless at my B&B. Coming down from my day, I had to wonder, was life in the real world really this easy? I’d been lucky so far, with Haverford, with Lana. But maybe that had been beginner’s luck? I’d read somewhere once, most people lived three bad months from losing their homes. Technically, I could lose mine in only two. If I somehow went two months and didn’t make money, or if I lost money — if I broke a bone. Would Dad call it cheating if I used my insurance? Or would I, as Brad, have to pay out of pocket?
I grabbed my phone off the nightstand and checked it once more, expecting some fresh snarky missive from Dad. But just one text popped up, two words and a picture: NICE CATCH , and then me holding my fish. I was grinning ear to ear, red-faced from the sun, happier than I’d seen myself since… I couldn’t remember. And tomorrow, first thing, I’d move into Lana’s. I smiled at the thought of her, her sweet voice, her laugh. The way she ran on when she got nervous. Maybe tomorrow, I’d take her to lunch, not as a date, but to celebrate being roommates. And to get to know her better. That would be fun.
I set my phone down again and closed my eyes, feeling better. I was off to a good start. Now, to keep it going.