Ken picked a weight out of his tackle box. “That all you got to say? You’ve been looking for that second date since prom.”
He’d thought fishing would help relax him and quiet his mind. He’d barely slept last night and his eyes burned. “Second Corinthians six.”
With the weight tied onto the line, Ken picked an orange spinnerbait for the lure. Brad watched him go through the complex knots to make sure he tied it securely to the end of his line. Once he cast it and it plopped into the water, he looked at Brad. “Afraid I don’t have the entire Bible memorized like some people.”
Brad sighed and pulled his pole out of the pipe again. “Do not be unequally yoked with non-believers.” He reeled in his line and saw one empty hook instead of a baited hook. Maybe he needed to use a shiny lure instead of crawdads. He’d try one more time. Dipping his hand into the bait bucket, he pulled out the small crustacean and rigged the hook through the back of the tail, then stood to cast it into the water.
“Val isn’t a non-believer. Or do you know something I don’t?”
Before Brad could sit back down, he felt the telltale tug on his line. It vibrated through the pole to his hand as he set the hook and slowly reeled in the line, letting the fish on the end of it try to fight itself off the hook.
Once he had the fish out of the water, he used pliers to get the hook out of its mouth and put it into the cooler with the other two they’d caught that morning. Taking a break, he laid the pole down on the dock next to him and leaned against the dock rail, crossing his arms in front of him. “Valerie is apparently now an unbeliever. Despite our childhood and adolescence, she explained to me Thursday night that she no longer believes in Jehovah God.”
“Hmm.” Ken settled his pole into a PVC pipe and sat in his chair. “Well, I find that hard to believe.”
“If only your difficulty believing me could in any way change the facts.” With a heavy sigh, Brad looked at the wooded area around them. Ken had bought this property years ago, but never developed it beyond a boathouse with an indoor restroom and a small kitchenette. Every time Brad spent the day out here fishing, he offered to buy the lot from Ken, imagining how amazing it would feel to come home to this location every night. Of course, then he’d battle the traffic for the hour-long drive back into the city, and the trip nearly always changed his mind.
“Maybe you…” Ken started, but Brad interrupted him.
“Maybe I’m just going to do nothing right now.” He pulled his hat over his eyes. “Maybe I’m just going to start figuring out how to finally let her go.”
He heard Ken make an unintelligible noise, then heard the nearly silent clicking of the spindle of Ken’s fishing pole. He let the warm sun and the gentle breeze on his skin relax him the way nothing else in the world ever had or ever could.
After about twenty minutes of silence, Ken said, “Y’all looked good dancing. Well, she looked good. You looked like day-old chewed gum.” When Brad lifted the brim of his cap to glare at his brother, Ken just shrugged and said, “Just sayin’.”
If he had any energy at all, he’d kick Ken into the water. Instead, he just pulled the brim of his hat back down and closed his eyes, trying to forget how he had felt while dancing with Valerie Thursday night. How she had felt moving along with him.
Valerie turned the corner andsaw Calla and Sami sitting in the shade of the outdoor patio of the restaurant. She waved and went into the restaurant, then followed the directions to get to the patio. Finally, she slid into the metal-framed chair and laughed. “I had a terrible time finding parking.”
“So did we. There’s a music festival going on downtown today,” Calla said, taking a sip of her foam-topped coffee. “If I’d remembered it, I would have suggested somewhere else.”
Valerie ordered a coffee and a croissant from the waitress then looked at her friend. “I’ve learned that wherever you recommend, I will eat. Seriously, girl. How do you find these spots?”
“Food is what I do. It’s really just that simple.”
“How did you like the opening on Thursday?” Sami asked. “I mean, we had fun, but how did it go for you?” True to her word, she’d shown up for work yesterday morning with jet black hair instead of purple. Valerie understood why she’d changed the color for the workplace, but really enjoyed her friend’s sense of fashion.
“We’ve been fully booked from four until the last reservation, which is at nine-thirty every night. I’m really praying a food critic was there, because we were totally on our game. No hitches anyone could see.” She crossed her arms on the tabletop and leaned forward, “But we’ve been talking about my restaurant for weeks. Let’s hear about something really important.”
Sami chimed in, “Oh, yes. Let’s!”
Calla chimed in again, “So, spill. Let’s hear all about Valerie’s date with Mr. Dixon.”
Valerie gasped and covered her mouth with her hand while Sami laughed. “Y’all, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve been friends with the Dixon brothers all my life.”
“Valerie,” Sami said, leaning forward, “I hate to break it to you. But that man did not look at you like he looks at a friend. There’s more there than you’re saying, or more there than you realize.”
Heat flooded her cheeks. “Well, he asked me out and his words were ‘he wanted to go on a romantic date.’ He did tell me that. But I don’t think—”
Calla gasped and grabbed her wrist. “He’s not one to just talk, Val. If he said romantic date, he meant romance.”
Sami chuckled. “Did he bring you flowers?”
“No. Of course not.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do guys even still do that?”
Sami pointed at Calla. “Don’t ask her. She’s the one who sent a giant bouquet to Ian.”
Calla laughed. “Inside joke. I’ll tell you the story one day.”
