1
Torn pieces of sunlight whispered through the pines, landing on the shattered log where Capri Jacobs sat gazing over Jenny Lake. Each lap of the water hitting the shoreline matched Capri’s heartbeat—a beat she once believed sure and steady.
Capri sat on the fallen log, rested her head atop her knees, and savored the memories. How many times had they sat here together, fishing poles in hand, as the sun rose over the cragged mountaintops in the distance?
The period just after sunrise and the couple of hours before sunset were considered prime times for fishing. But it wasn’t about how many trout they landed. “A day spent fishing isn’t about the catch but about the peace found in the waiting,” Dick often repeated.
Tears sprouted.
Capri angrily wiped them away as her phone buzzed on the log beside her. It was her mom.
“Where are you?” the text read.
Capri sighed and picked up the phone.
Crap! She was late.
She quickly tapped out a reply. “On my way.”
She stood, her black high-heeled shoes wobbling slightly in the pine needles, and stuffed the phone in the pocket of her black dress before pecking her way down the winding dirt trail. Halfway to the car, her hair caught on a low limb, pulling a strand of blonde hair from her updo.
Without bothering to fix the stray piece, she made her way to her prized pickup, a bright red Dodge D150 Adventurer Lil’ Red Express truck she’d brought home from an auction in Denver, all tricked out with oak wood panels, gold pin-striping over the wheel wells, and dual-chrome exhaust stacks.
In 1978, the Dodge Lil' Red Express was the fastest American-made vehicle from 0 to 100 MPH as tested by Car and Driver magazine—an extravagant purchase, but you only go around once on this earth.
The sentiment caught in her throat. Tears threatened yet again. Capri set her jaw determined to hold them back.
She opened the unlocked door, slipped onto the red vinyl bench seat, and jammed the key into the slot. She turned the key and started the engine sending a roar into the silence as she threw the gearshift into reverse.
Her foot jammed the gas pedal, sending the truck lurching back with enough force to pin her against the seat. Undeterred, she slammed the gearshift into the drive position and gunned the engine, sending dirt flying.
Ten minutes later, she was speeding down the highway when a flash in the rearview mirror caught her attention.
“Dammit!”
She cursed a second time as she pulled the truck to the side of the road before returning her gaze to the flashing blue lights.
Capri fumbled for her wallet and retrieved her driver’s license as she watched the uniformed officer step from the police car and saunter toward her.
She unrolled the passenger window.
“Capri, you were speeding. Again.”
“Sorry, Fleet. I?—”
Their town deputy’s brows drew together. “Why aren’t you at the church?”
“I’m heading that way now.”
Fleet Southcott nodded. “Okay, look—just follow me.”
As he headed back to his patrol car, Capri let out a sigh of relief. She wasn’t normally so lucky.
Fleet pulled out and motioned for her to follow as he turned on his lights, adding the siren for good measure. Not that there were many cars on the road at this time of the morning.
She nodded and complied, easing her truck back onto the highway behind him.
It was Dick’s idea to have his memorial service in the quiet solitude of morning, believing that those who gathered to remember him at such an hour would experience the same tranquility and clarity that he found in the mornings first light, a fitting tribute to the man who found comfort in the stillness before the world awoke—especially since his grim diagnosis.
