After she cast the bait, she tightened the reel and sat back down. “I already know all those facts,” Brad said, “but I asked if you were happy you came home.”
She lifted the chair by the handles and turned so she could face him instead of the water. “I have learned so many things about myself, about my parents, about you. None of that would have happened if I hadn’t come home. I’m glad I came. But, frankly Brad, I haven’t been happy in years. I don’t know if I know how to be anymore.”
He sat forward and took her hands in his. “You don’t have happy moments?”
Contemplating what he said, she pursed her lips and tried to form her answer correctly. His hands were warm, strong. She loved the feel of his skin against hers. “I have moments where I feel happiness. But reality always pushes in, physical pain, regrets, all of it comes back. I don’t know what that means about me or my psyche. I’m not saying I dwell in misery, but I am definitely not existing in a state of happiness.”
“What would make you happy?” She could tell by the fierce look in his eyes that he was not teasing her, that the question was serious. She had a feeling that if she had an answer, he’d move heaven and earth to make it so.
“I think,” she said, breathing out, “that I have to find a way to come to terms with decisions I made in my past, to forgive the younger me. I think I live in a constant state of regret and when I can let that go, then I’ll find happiness.” She smiled. “I was happy when you said you’d take me fishing this week. I was happy to look forward to this evening all day. I know I’ll be happy as I cook up that fish you caught. I’m able to experience moments of happiness.”
“Valerie, if you need anything, or if there is ever anything at all I can do to make you happy, let me know. Whatever it is. I promise I’ll make it happen.”
“I believe that,” she said in almost a whisper. “Thank you.”
Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the fishing pole bend in half and the seriousness of the moment disappeared as she jumped up and caught it. Laughing, she set the hook and slowly reeled in her fish. It fought, she fought, Brad gave advice, and she worked it until she got it all the way onto shore.
Brad reached down and picked it up and used a pair of pliers to pull the hook out of its mouth. It landed in the bucket with a splash and both fish started swimming in circles.
“I think it’s as big as yours,” Valerie said, admiring her catch.
“At least.” He rubbed her shoulders. “Good catch. Do you want to keep them both?”
She pursed her lips and contemplated the question. “It’s a lot of fish for the two of us, isn’t it?”
“I think one is plenty.”
“Okay. Toss yours back.”
“Well, of course,” he said, reaching into the bucket with both hands to scoop out the fish that had spent a good part of the afternoon contained. “I wouldn’t think of tossing yours back.”
After he slipped his fish back into the water, he talked her through killing and cleaning her catch. “It’s way easier to do it out here,” he explained, “than in your kitchen sink. Just toss the waste back into the river. Circle of life.”
Valerie used his fillet knife to clean and gut her fish, then rinsed it out in the water in the bucket. She knew she’d rinse it again at her house. Brad had brought a plastic bag to transport any catch in and after putting her fillets of fish in it, she sealed it and put it in the cooler with the leftover snack she’d packed.
“Now to dinner!” she exclaimed as they packed up the fishing poles and tackle.
Brad tossed everything into the back of his truck and held the door open for her. She felt ridiculously proud of her catch and couldn’t wait to cook it. As he drove to her house, she turned slightly in the seat and faced him. “Thanks for taking me fishing.”
“Best romantic date ever,” he said, looking over at her and winking. “Seriously. It’s a mixture of two of my favorite things; you and fishing.”
Her breath caught at his words but she kept her comeback light. “Right up there with fishing, huh? That’s a lot of pressure.”
“You don’t even have to try.” In no time, he had pulled into her driveway. He carried the cooler in and she went straight to the kitchen. “I already have coleslaw. Your mom sent it home with me on Monday. And I made a hush puppy batter this morning. All we have to do is cook some potatoes and these fillets.”
After setting the cooler on the ground, Brad walked to the sink and washed his hands. “Just tell me what to do.”
While she seasoned the fish and put the fillets under the flame of the broiler, Brad sliced potatoes and added them to the oil she’d heated up in a frying pan. In another pan of oil, she added scoops of the cornmeal and green onion hush puppy mixture. When the little balls of bread rose to the surface and turned brown on the bottom, she turned them over and let them cook another two minutes, then pulled them out of the oil and let them drain on a paper towel covered plate.
With the first batch of hush puppies draining, she opened the broiler drawer and checked the fish. Using a spatula, she turned them and closed the drawer.
Thirty minutes after getting home, the two of them sat at her table. Brad held out his hand and she placed hers in it and bowed her head while he prayed.
“God, you are a God of wonders, a God of healing, and a God of love. We thank You for everything that You are and everything that You will be. Please bless this food to the nourishment of our bodies and our bodies to Your service.”
His prayer resonated with her heart. God was a God of healing. Not just of bodies, but of minds and spirits. Seeking healing through Him, forgiveness for herself and her mistakes, might break through this fog of merely surviving and help her find a way to bring joy and happiness back into her life.
She liked the feel of her hand in his and hesitated a second longer than necessary before letting go. Nervous, she put her napkin in her lap and picked up her fork. “You fry a mean potato, Mr. Dixon,” she said around a mouth full of food.
