Just want everyone to know that, though I am starting a new story that has
the potential to be a long one, sorry, that I will probably not be posting every day... just so you know!
The water lapping gently against the sides of the of the wooden rowboat was as mesmerizing as it was soothing, and it had become a calming balm to the man sitting so still in the stern, the fishing rod held loosely in his left hand, his focus faraway.
The slight young woman in the bow, bundled up in a thick brown cardigan against the late January morning chill, her mittened hands around the handle of her own short rod, looked up from the red-and-white bobber dancing on the surface of the water to surreptitiously study her silent companion. Her worried eyes, as startlingly blue as her father's, softened with overwhelming affection as she studied the familiar profile. And, not for the first time in the past few days, her eyes filled with tears.
She saw Mike's eyes flick in her direction and, without moving, he growled softly, "You better keep an eye on that line; I think you just got a bite."
Startled, Jeannie straightened abruptly, her gaze returning to the bobber as it was jerked under the water then bounced back into sight. She lifted the top end of the rod, tightening the line, staring at the bobber as it floated peacefully on the water for a few seconds before disappearing again.
"I'll get the net," she heard her father whisper as he slowly put the handle of his rod on the floor of the boat and reached for the small green net on the floor of the boat between them. She already had her right hand on the reel handle, getting ready, waiting for another bite, knowing she would feel it through her fingers before she would see the bobber disappear once again.
Every sense on full alert, she could feel her father slowly moving closer to her, his eyes on the float, leaning slightly over the side of the boat with the net at the ready. Neither of them moved; the concentration was so intense Jeannie thought she could hear both their hearts beating, but she knew it was her own blood pounding in her ears.
Suddenly she felt it, the strong tug; her reaction, borne of the many hours spent sharing the companionable solitude of a rowboat in the middle of a lake with her father when she was growing up, was sure and swift. She jerked the top of the line up and away from the tug, in this instance to the left and away from her father, and knew without a doubt there was a fish on her hook.
She started to reel it in quickly; whatever it was on the end of the line putting up a fight. The rod bent and she leaned back in the boat, bracing both feet against the side wall, pulling with all her might, dropping the line and reeling the slack in quickly, then pulling it up again. It was a deep lake, and her hook with its still wiggling worm had sunk deep into the cold water. It was a battle to bring whatever was putting up such a fight close enough to the surface for Mike to snag it with the net, and hopefully before it could rip itself free of the hook, becoming the proverbial 'one that got away'.
Two pairs of blue eyes were glued to the spot where the thin black fishing line was cutting back and forth across the surface of the water as Jeannie struggled to bring her prize into view. Suddenly there was the flash of silver and red just below the top of the water.
"Trout," Mike almost shouted, "and a big one." He leaned forward a little more, the net in his right hand, his left gripping the edge of the boat so he wouldn't fall in.
Her teeth gritted, holding her breath, Jeannie stopped reeling and lifted the top of the rod into the air again, turning it in her father's direction. The wriggling fish, somehow knowing it was fighting for its life, broke the surface, spraying water in all directions. Mike threw himself forward as much as he dared, anticipating the trout's next flail, and deftly slipped the net under the frantic fish. With a whoop of victory, he straightened up, raising the net and its protesting captive into the air, turning wide eyes and a broad grin on his relieved and beaming daughter, who was trying to catch her breath as she stared at the large fish still squirming frantically in the net as Mike lowered it to the floor of the boat.
"That's a big one," he chuckled admiringly as he held the fish down with one hand and slipped it carefully out of the net. Gripping it firmly in both hands, he held it out towards his daughter. "Do you want to do the honors?"
Her eyes wide, still not believing their luck that morning, she nodded and reached out to take it carefully but firmly, turning it so she could slip the hook out of the side of its mouth. Mike leaned to his right and reached for the thin chain that was looped around the seat and disappeared over the side of the boat. With both hands he pulled its heavy load out of the water and held it up; there were two large Kokanee salmon already on the chain.
"So I guess we're really gonna be able to give Steve that fresh fish dinner we promised him, hunh?" Jeannie laughed as her father opened one of the clips on the chain and she slipped it through the trout's mouth and gill then closed it. Grunting with the effort, Mike held up the chain with now three large freshwater fish hanging from it. "How big to you think it is?" she asked.
Her father stared at the trout then shrugged slightly. "I don't now… fifteen? It's definitely legal, that's for sure." He leaned over the side of the boat and let the chain slip slowly through his hands as he lowered their catch back into the water.
"You know what this means, right?" she asked as she picked up her rod from the floor of the boat then looked around for the small cardboard box with the worms, finding it under her father's seat.
"No, what does it mean?" Mike asked with a chuckle as he picked up his own rod, the line still in the water. He began to reel it in to make sure the worm on his hook hadn't been stolen while he was otherwise engaged.
"It means we're gonna have to get some ice today," Jeannie said as she rooted around in the box of worms, looking for a fat, appealing one, "if we're gonna bring those fish home tomorrow."
"Yeah, you're right." He pulled his left sleeve up slightly and looked at his watch, frowning. "It's only just after 11. Do you want to stop already?"
Jeannie shook her head. "Look, it's our last day, right? Why don't we just keep at it till we finish up with all the worms?"
Mike pursed his lips. He nodded at the box still in his daughter's hands. "How many have we got?"
She stared into the box, pushing the loose dirt around. "If we cut 'em in half, enough for another couple of hours I think." She looked up at him, her eyebrows raised expectantly. "I'm game…"
He grinned. "So am I. Pass me a worm," he laughed, holding out his hand.
Giggling, she reached into the box and pulled out a long, fat pink worm. She kept stealing glances at him as he tore the worm in two and gave half back to her then started to slip it onto his hook. She sighed softly, contentedly; the week was ending so much better than it had begun.
The idea for this father-daughter adventure had begun over a month ago when she had received a unexpected call from Steve one mid-week evening. After quickly assuring her that her father was okay, he broke the news about Barney Lujack and the tragic culmination of Mike's former partner's obsession with evening the score for his son's murder.
Jeannie, to whom Barney Lujack had been like a beloved uncle, was devastated, but even moreso for her father. She had assured Steve that she wouldn't call her father, that she would wait until he made the first move; the young cop was worried that in calling Jeannie he had overstepped his bounds with his partner and best friend. It had taken her father more than a week to tell his daughter what had happened, and she still wasn't aware of all the details.
Christmas had been slightly strained this year; though Mike had done his best to be his normal self, a melancholy had crept into his soul and there was a heartbreaking sadness in even his most jovial smile. Both Jeannie and Steve were worried about him, and both tried their hardest not to let him know.
A couple of days after the new year, Jeannie returned to Arizona but she couldn't shake the feeling that she needed to do something for her dad, something that she knew Steve, for all his good intentions and the bond he undeniably shared with the older man, couldn't do. And then it came to her, something that they had shared many times when she was much younger, something they hadn't done together in a long, long time. Something she knew would help to heal her father's broken soul.
So she had gotten in touch with an old family friend, someone she knew still enjoyed the outdoor life, and picked his brain. Because it was January, heading up into northern California or southern Oregon, like they usually did, was out of the question. He had suggested an inland lake down near the Los Angeles area, a lake that wouldn't be busy at this time of the year, if they were prepared for cold nights and crisp days.
Mike had balked at the idea at first, ferociously denying that he 'needed to get away'. He knew what that meant. But she worked on him, in the way only a daughter knows how to reach a father, and he finally came around.
So, armed with a winterized tent and camping equipment, and a car full of warm clothes and a couple of coolers full of food in case their luck with a rod and reel didn't pan out, they headed southeast.
It had turned out to be a wonderful week. They caught nothing the first couple of days, thankful they had brought hotdogs and cans of baked beans with them, and had begun to get discouraged. But then their luck changed; Mike caught the first keeper, a 14-inch Kokanee salmon that they enjoyed that night, cooking it over an open fire in a pan of butter and fresh garlic.
Mike, whose melancholia hung across his shoulders like a shroud the first few days, began to come out of his shell as the week progressed, and Jeannie started to relax. And though he hadn't said a word about Barney Lujack and what he was still dealing with, it was obvious he was starting to reconcile with it in a way that would, she hoped, bring him back around to the Mike Stone they all knew and loved. And now, having pulled the gorgeous rainbow trout out of the cold lake, she knew this week had done more to restore her father to his former self than anything else she could have done.
She heard Mike chuckle and she looked at him with a quizzical smile. He glanced over at her and grinned. "It's a good thing we had to eat all that food in the cooler to make room for all these fish, don't you think?"
She laughed. "I'm just glad we're actually going to be bringing fresh fish back for Steve, although I have a feeling he's going to accuse us of stopping at a fish store on the way home."
"Then we're just going to have to take a picture when we get back on land. You did bring the camera, right?"
Jeannie eyebrows shot towards her bangs. "You're right, I forgot about that." She grinned. "Hah, see him try to deny our fishing prowess when we bring him the undeniable proof!"
Mike stared at her with a stunned grin that radiated fatherly pride. "Spoken like a true detective's daughter."
Their warm laughter floated over the lake.