She temporarily relaxed. It was Saturday. The time didn’t matter. The Royal was closed until the matinee at 2:00.
Her contentment with these ideas long with the knowledge that a perfect day spent on Lion Lake lazily passing the time was quickly replaced with the vision and memory of inviting Mikhail to join her. She had single-handedly compromised an often repeated, routine, and most enjoyable outing. It was now a planned, anxiety-ridden excursion with decisions to be made. For some strange reason she wanted to get to know this man from Butte.
How would she explain her tackle box? The idea of trying to look more feminine was ridiculous. Comfortably filling hours with this man seemed insurmountable. Her standard of fare would have to be adjusted other than Maggie’s homemade brew. Hannah knew enough about the world and Butte. Any man from those parts certainly had downed a few beers in his lifetime. She knew Mikhail was worth getting to know and her own reactions to him were intriguing even if she couldn’t explain it.
She gulped her morning coffee and looked across the back alley for Maggie’s signal that all was well. Maggie aged well, but Hannah continued to have concerns for her well-being. Neither of the women had room for two in their cabins. Neither could have survived the loss of privacy either. Seeing the metal blind one-quarter raised set Hannah’s mind back to the matter at hand. Changing her mind wasn’t a trait she had developed. Moving forward was.
Mikhail arrived right on time. It was still morning and quite cool. He was puzzled by Hannah’s invitation to go fishing with her. What did it mean to accompany her to Lion Lake? Was it to be a hike, a picnic, a car ride, fishing, or just floating around in her boat? He silently chastised himself for his inability to feel comfortable enough to even ask. He had only shrugged and agreed to come along. His experiences were few, not very successful, and altogether rather disastrous. He didn’t think this would turn out much better.
When Hannah came out of the Royal Theater, Mikhail immediately knew the outing was to be one involving fishing. She struggled with a bulky, cumbersome tackle box, a vintage looking rod, and an oval, cane woven picnic basket. Mikhail wished he had his own fishing equipment.
Instead of following her in his car, Mikhail accepted Hannah’s invitation to ride with her. The ride to Lion Lake was not exactly filled with conversation. They measured each other up and tried to get a sense of how this day was going to turn out. “You don’t talk much, Mikhail.”
“I spend a lot of time thinkin’ about talkin’. Then just decide not to say anything.”
“I could probably take a lesson there,” she answered. “I never mull over what’s on my mind. Weighing my words seems like such a waste of time.”
They arrived on the north shore of Lion Lake, away from the traffic and construction of the dam. It delighted Mikhail to see a stout rowboat tied off to a log on the shore. Somehow he felt the playing field would be leveled if he were on the water. Fishing was a skill he had acquired and felt a sense of relief that he could do something with his hands and show off a skill.
Hannah tugged the picnic basket, tackle box, and rod that had seen better days down to the boat. She reached under the bench of the boat seat and removed an old mesh bag. Her hand slid into the picnic basket, grabbed some brown bottles and stacked them into the opening of the mesh bag. “These are my good friend Maggie’s homemade brew,” she stated while securing them to the side of the boat. “We’ll be needin’ these soldiers to be cool when we want them. Sippin’ on Maggie’s milk is just the ticket when the sun crests those hills.”
Mikhail pondered. He took time to physically notice his partner for the day. Most items were freshly laundered denim that had turned a softened pale blue from repeated washings. The denim jacket was cut short with sleeves
Her contentment with these ideas long with the knowledge that a perfect day spent on Lion Lake lazily passing the time was quickly replaced with the vision and memory of inviting Mikhail to join her. She had single-handedly compromised an often repeated, routine, and most enjoyable outing. It was now a planned, anxiety-ridden excursion with decisions to be made. For some strange reason she wanted to get to know this man from Butte.
How would she explain her tackle box? The idea of trying to look more feminine was ridiculous. Comfortably filling hours with this man seemed insurmountable. Her standard of fare would have to be adjusted other than Maggie’s homemade brew. Hannah knew enough about the world and Butte. Any man from those parts certainly had downed a few beers in his lifetime. She knew Mikhail was worth getting to know and her own reactions to him were intriguing even if she couldn’t explain it.
She gulped her morning coffee and looked across the back alley for Maggie’s signal that all was well. Maggie aged well, but Hannah continued to have concerns for her well-being. Neither of the women had room for two in their cabins. Neither could have survived the loss of privacy either. Seeing the metal blind one-quarter raised set Hannah’s mind back to the matter at hand. Changing her mind wasn’t a trait she had developed. Moving forward was.
Mikhail arrived right on time. It was still morning and quite cool. He was puzzled by Hannah’s invitation to go fishing with her. What did it mean to accompany her to Lion Lake? Was it to be a hike, a picnic, a car ride, fishing, or just floating around in her boat? He silently chastised himself for his inability to feel comfortable enough to even ask. He had only shrugged and agreed to come along. His experiences were few, not very successful, and altogether rather disastrous. He didn’t think this would turn out much better.
When Hannah came out of the Royal Theater, Mikhail immediately knew the outing was to be one involving fishing. She struggled with a bulky, cumbersome tackle box, a vintage looking rod, and an oval, cane woven picnic basket. Mikhail wished he had his own fishing equipment.
Instead of following her in his car, Mikhail accepted Hannah’s invitation to ride with her. The ride to Lion Lake was not exactly filled with conversation. They measured each other up and tried to get a sense of how this day was going to turn out. “You don’t talk much, Mikhail.”
“I spend a lot of time thinkin’ about talkin’. Then just decide not to say anything.”
“I could probably take a lesson there,” she answered. “I never mull over what’s on my mind. Weighing my words seems like such a waste of time.”
They arrived on the north shore of Lion Lake, away from the traffic and construction of the dam. It delighted Mikhail to see a stout rowboat tied off to a log on the shore. Somehow he felt the playing field would be leveled if he were on the water. Fishing was a skill he had acquired and felt a sense of relief that he could do something with his hands and show off a skill.
Hannah tugged the picnic basket, tackle box, and rod that had seen better days down to the boat. She reached under the bench of the boat seat and removed an old mesh bag. Her hand slid into the picnic basket, grabbed some brown bottles and stacked them into the opening of the mesh bag. “These are my good friend Maggie’s homemade brew,” she stated while securing them to the side of the boat. “We’ll be needin’ these soldiers to be cool when we want them. Sippin’ on Maggie’s milk is just the ticket when the sun crests those hills.”
Mikhail pondered. He took time to physically notice his partner for the day. Most items were freshly laundered denim that had turned a softened pale blue from repeated washings. The denim jacket was cut short with sleeves
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