There was definitely something missing in Threads….
This was the life. The sun was shining, birds were singing. The most important people in his life were gathered at his cabin. He took a firmer grip on his fishing pole, slid his hat down over his eyes, and prepared to drift off.
Suddenly he became aware of a strange pressure on his hand. He hadn't felt that in years, not since he used to fishing with his father…
He opened his yes, and saw to his utter astonishment, that his lure had abandoned its meandering driftings, and was firmly fastened at one point in the water.
He sat up, and tugged cautiously on his line. It twanged defiantly and didn't move.
"Hey." He tried it again. "Hey! I got something!"
He expected to hear running footsteps, but instead it was a long few minutes before one of his former teammates ambled over.
"What took you so long? I've got something on my line!"
Sam looked at him in polite disbelief.
"Get that look off your face! It's possible!"
"I'm sure it is." Her tone said otherwise.
"Danny said he heard frogs last night! And where there are frogs there are fish."
"Alien frogs. He said the alien frogs were singing to him, and that was only because you kept him up past his bedtime, and forbid him to have any coffee."
He glared at her. "How do you know the president didn't ask me to relocate some of our friends temporarily? Huh? We met frog people. P19-2OC. I remember the requisition order for scuba gear."
"I know," she said, resting her arms on the back of his chair, "Because it's no state secret that this pond is utterly devoid of all life, alien, amphibian or otherwise."
"Aha!" he said holding up a finger, "There are mosquitoes. And who eats mosquitoes? Fish."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Fine," he snapped, "But prepare yourself, because I am about to prove you, and all the other doubters, wrong." He slowly spun the reel, and felt whatever it was on his hook relinquish its hold in the mud.
She looked on skeptically, and he with great anticipation as he gave one final heave. His line coiled in on itself and deposited its prize neatly in his lap.
Her laughter died as he held it up. It was a ring, still trailing a few strands of duckweed, and sporting a diamond of modest carat.
Jack looked at her inquiringly. She took it from him, and busied herself with cleaning it off, so as to avoid his gaze.
"Well?" he asked.
She winced. "You remember the first time you brought me here? We were celebrating Daniel not dying again?"
He nodded. That was a weekend he wasn't likely to forget.
"Well, I'd just broken it off with Pete, and he hadn't wanted his ring back, so…"
"So you thought you'd throw it in my pond?" He looked more amused than angry, and she relaxed slightly.
"It's not like anything's going to choke on it," she said, unable to resist another jab.
He scowled. "You still chucked it in my pond."
"At the time it seemed appropriate."
"And now?"
She opened her mouth to answer, but was interrupted by Danny.
"Mom?"
"Out here," she called. He stumbled out from the back porch, rubbing his eyes. "Look's like someone's finally awake. You ready for lunch?"
He brightened. "Is it fish?"
Sam shook her head in mock disappointment. "I'm afraid Daddy hasn't caught anything yet. How about peanut butter and jelly?"
"Ok."
Jack scowled again, while his wife and child laughed at his expense. Why they thought it necessary to repeat this routine at every mealtime was completely beyond him.
Danny trudged back to the cabin to wash up, and Jack nodded at the engagement ring Sam still held gingerly between her fingers.
"So what do we do with it now?"
She straightened, examining the ring in the palm of her hand, a pensive look on her face. Then she flipped it with a practiced flick of the thumb, so it arced away, glittering in the afternoon air like a round gold coin, before disappearing with a tiny plop into the still green waters of a pond undisturbed by pesky fish.
She gave him a wicked grin.
"See if you can catch it again."
