Chapter 31
Wiggly, slick things.
Jocelyn wasn’t squeamish.
She was a Plain woman, after all.
She’d taken care of a baby sick with diarrhea and vomiting.
She’d cleaned chicken coops and slaughtered chickens. Helped with butchering pigs, cattle, and deer. What was it about fish bait that bothered her? Smothering a shudder, she selected a minnow and attempted to attach it to her hook.
“That would probably go better if you opened your eyes.”
Chuckling, Theo took the minnow from Jocelyn.
He held up the slender, flopping fish in one hand, the fish hook in the other.
“One-two-three. Done.”
He let the fishing line drop.
It swung gently.
“I take it you haven’t done much fishing.”
“I’ve done plenty of fishing.”
Determined to ignore the closeness of her companion, Jocelyn sidestepped him.
She traipsed to the gently rising bluff’s edge that overlooked Cumberland State Forest’s Winston Lake.
Inhaling the scent of decaying leaves, wet earth, and fish, she cast her line into crystalline water only just now touched by tendrils of the dawning sun.
“Okay, maybe not me personally, but I’ve grilled plenty of fresh fish over a Coleman stove at a campsite.”
“Then by all means, let’s catch some fish.”
Theo stepped within arm’s reach.
He cast his line, the zinging sound of it unwinding from the reel so forgotten yet so familiar.
“I’m a big fan of catfish.
Whoever catches the first fish has to clean it.”
“Nee.
Number one, it should be the other way around.”
Jocelyn slapped away the flies that had taken a decided interest in her hands since she forced herself to select a minnow from the bucket.
“Number two, I don’t clean fish.
I cook them.
That’s the rule.”
“Got it.”
To her question of why he hadn’t hired a van for the trip that took almost ninety minutes by buggy, he said part of the joy of fishing was enjoying the leisurely ride in the semi-cool of morning before the late June sun heated everything in its path.
He was right.
It had been quiet but not awkward.
The creak of the buggy wheels, the clip-clop of the horse’s hooves, the gradual lifting of darkness.
If it hadn’t been for Theo’s closeness—which prompted butterflies to dance in her stomach—Jocelyn might have been tempted to take a nap.
Theo seemed to be enjoying the lake too.
Did fishing not remind him of his wife? Had he gone fishing with his son? Everything about the thick, untamed stands of loblolly pines, oaks, and hickory trees stretching to the skies behind Jocelyn, the quacking of a group of ducks leisurely paddling across the water as an angular blue heron watched from the shallows, and the hint of sun on her face sent Jocelyn hurtling back to days gone by.
How could this be a new beginning if everything reminded her of her past?
“It’s all right.”
“What’s all right?”
Theo plopped onto one of the canvas chairs he’d lugged from the buggy.
“Making new memories is hard when the old ones won’t shut up.”
“Do you have memories of fishing with your fraa?”
“I do.
She was an avid fisherwoman and surprisingly competitive.”
Theo chuckled.
“She was also a gut hunter.
But on the flip side, she wasn’t much of a cook.
How’s that for a switcheroo?”
“Did you tell her you didn’t like her cooking?”
“I didn’t have to.
She was the first to admit she lacked attention to detail.
Two teaspoons of baking soda became three of baking powder.
A cup of milk became two cups.
A teaspoon of cinnamon became a tablespoon.”
“Maybe she needed glasses.”
“Her eyesight was fine.
She just didn’t like cooking that much, so she was in a hurry to get it over with.”
He smacked a mosquito, leaving a splatter of blood on his arm near his rolled-up sleeve.
“I was a little late on the draw for that one.”
“You’ll itch tonight.”
“I’m willing to pay the price if it means some gut eating.”
A smile played across his craggy, tanned face.
“And spending time with gut company.”
He thought she was good company.
The butterflies dancing in Jocelyn’s stomach turned into the frantic flapping of a hundred sets of wings.
“It doesn’t bother you that she loved to fish and here you are fishing with someone else ... another woman?”
The words hung in the air.
They would’ve been better left unsaid.
Mostly because fishing wasn’t so bad.
Not with Theo as company.
Jocelyn had been so alone for so long. She had friends, cousins, aunts, sisters-in-law. She had no need for more of that kind of company.
She had Bonnie.
Again, not that kind of company.
To feel like a woman.
Fifty wasn’t too old for that, no matter what her change-of-life body said.
But not with just any man.
With this man.
Why, she couldn’t say.
Nor would she admit it.
“Do you think your mann would object?”
“Nee, he’d be glad.”
“Same with my fraa.
She told me as much not long before she passed.”
Theo shifted in his chair.
His gaze turned pensive, sought the lake and beyond.
“I denied I would ever need or want another woman, but she knew.
She was smart like that.”
“Do you think it was better to have that chance to talk to her about what was coming?”
Jocelyn settled into the other chair.
It brought her closer to Theo than she would’ve dared in other circumstances.
Lean a little to the left and she could touch him.
“Or be like me, who woke up to find Marlin gone? He didn’t suffer, but I did, much as I tried to be stoic and a stout believer.”
“Neither is a cake walk, to be sure.
Knowing she was leaving broke something in me.”
He cleared his throat.
“But I’ve worked my way out of that darkness because Gott doesn’t really give us a choice.
He’s probably wondering what has taken me so long.”
“Nee, He knows how weak we are but also how fervently we love.
He gave us that capacity.
We grieve so hard because we love so much.”
Theo smiled.
He was the one who touched Jocelyn’s arm.
That first intentional touch.
Over bait that had a fishy stink.
Jocelyn smiled back.
At that moment, her rod arched, the reel spun.
The line raced out.
“Whoa.”
She shrieked and leapt to her feet.
“I’ve got one.”
“You sure have.”
Theo sprang up.
He reached for her rod, then backed up.
“You’ve got it.
Hang on to the rod.
Don’t let go. Reel it in.”
He thought she could do it on her own.
Good man.
Still, it was easier said than done.
The fish fought a valiant battle.
Jocelyn reeled in her line. The fish spun it back out. Back and forth.
Until the fish tired.
Jocelyn turned the lever until finally the mammoth catfish swung with only an occasional flop in the air.
“He’s a monster!”
Theo doffed his hat.
“Gut job.”
He grabbed the line and swung the fish in so he could get him off the hook.
It flipped and flopped.
“He’s a fighter, this one.
I reckon he weighs at least fifteen pounds.”
“I can’t believe it.
I did it.
I caught a fish.”
Jocelyn dropped the rod.
She clapped and danced a little jig.
So dignified for an old widow woman.
At least Bonnie hadn’t been nearby to hear her mother’s shriek.
“I caught the first fish.”
“Indeed you did.”
Grinning, Theo stuck the fish on a line he’d brought for that purpose with quick, efficient movements.
It went back into the water for safekeeping.
“You fibbed.
You’re a pro.”
“Am not.”
Theo grabbed her hands and pulled her closer.
What little breath Jocelyn had left disappeared from her lungs in a whoosh.
Her heart strayed from its normal rhythm, lost in the moment.
Theo’s teak eyes were alight with amusement and something else.
Something Jocelyn recognized because she felt it too.
An ache for closeness.
A need to draw near.
To explore something new and sweet and special.
Jocelyn stood on her tiptoes.
She leaned her head back.
Theo came the rest of the way.
His full lips were warm and soft.
He framed her face with his hands. The kiss deepened.
Finally, he raised his head.
His hands slid the length of her arms and clasped her hands.
The lopsided grin reappeared.
“I’ve been wanting to do that since that first day when you opened the kitchen door and looked at me like you’d found a rat snake in your chicken coop.”
It took a minute for Jocelyn to respond.
Breathe, breathe.
She bit her lip to keep from crying.
She heaved a long breath.
“What’s the matter? Are you crying?”
His smile disappeared.
He let her hands drop.
“Did I read you wrong? I thought—”
“Nee, you didn’t read anything wrong.”
Jocelyn swallowed back tears.
“I’ve just been so lonely.
That sounds ridiculous, I know, with all the family I have and taking care of Bonnie, but I missed having someone this close.
Mind you, not just anyone, but someone like you.
Nee, you. There’s something about you. I can’t stop thinking about you.”
Head down, she put her hand on his chest.
Theo’s heart pumped as hard as her own.
His fingers touched her chin, gently forcing her to look up.
“It’s not ridiculous.
Like you said, Gott made us this way, after all. Adam and Eve, man and woman. After Ellie died, I swore I’d never go through that again. Why would anyone want to take the chance of having his heart ripped out of his chest like that? This here, this right now, this is why.”
He kissed her again, quicker, more gently this time, but a kiss full of promise.
“Because there’s a spark that explodes when we breathe the same air.
Because we like to talk to hear each other’s voices.
Because I feel whole again when I hold your hand.”
A man with words.
Theo was a rare find.
He could put a name on what he was feeling.
And on what Jocelyn felt.
She loved him for that.
Loved.
No, no, it was far too early for such a pronouncement.
They hardly knew each other.
One fifteen-pound catfish did not love make.
Theo traced her cheek with his finger.
“Say something.”
“I think you’d better catch another fish because I’m planning to eat mine.”
He laughed.
“All fifteen pounds.
Either you really like fish or you have a powerful hunger.
A conversation for later, then.
As long as you don’t regret this.”
He touched her lips with his, then withdrew.
“I sure don’t.”
“Nee, no regrets.”
“Gut.”
He picked up her rod and handed it to her.
“The two whoopie pies you packed for lunch say I catch the next fish.”
“Plain folks don’t wager.”
Now that the adrenaline of the fish catch had faded, Jocelyn’s shoulders ached.
She might have a pulled bicep.
Even so, she tossed her line out over the water with a jaunty flick of her wrist.
“However, we do win prizes.
The prize for catching the next fish will be my pumpkin spice whoopie pies filled with cream cheese frosting.”
“Fair enough.
Of course, there’s a chance you’ve scared the fish off with all your caterwauling over catching one measly catfish.”
“Me? Caterwauling? Ha.
You clapped.”
The banter continued for a few minutes.
Eventually quiet reigned.
One thing was for sure.
If Jocelyn caught the next fish, she would award the whoopie pies to Theo as a prize for best first kiss.
Kisses. Her cheeks flamed at the thought.
No disrespect to Marlin.
They’d been sixteen-year-old teenagers when he first asked her to take a buggy ride after a raucous singing one warm May evening.
She’d made him wait almost three months for that first kiss.
Sweet, fumbling, learning their way.
Neither of them had a clue.
So sweet.
Oh, Marlin.
What would he say now? How much would she tell him at the next picnic lunch? All of it, of course.
“You got quiet all of a sudden.”
Theo’s sideways glance held trepidation.
“Second thoughts?”
So he wasn’t as confident as he liked to act.
“Nee, no second thoughts.
Just a dusting of bittersweetness.”
“Same here.”
He pulled in his line.
The minnow was gone.
“Some fish got lucky.”
“At this rate, you’ll never catch anything.”
“Fishing is a lesson in patience, my friend.”
So it was.
Another half hour passed.
No bites.
Jocelyn’s peanut butter toast at four in the morning failed her.
Her stomach growled. Face warm, she ignored it.
“Maybe we should have an early lunch.”
Theo reeled in his line.
“I could go for a sandwich about now.
And another kiss.
Or two, or three.”
“Easy, there.”
The flaming heat that inundated her had nothing to do with a blazing sun now well into the sky.
“It’s not even eleven o’clock.”
“So?”
Theo guzzled half a bottle of water, then poured the rest over his face and neck.
His faded cotton shirt turned a deeper shade of blue.
“The meal rules don’t apply when you’re lakeside.”
“Well, then.”
Jocelyn reeled in her own line, set aside her rod, and went to work laying out lunch on an old quilt perfectly suited for a bed of crunchy leaves.
“I hope you like ham and cheddar cheese on sourdough.”
“I do.”
He liked ham-and-cheese sandwiches and kisses.
So did she.
What else might they have in common? Suddenly Jocelyn couldn’t wait to find out.