hadn’t come
across in a long time. She started the motor and pulled out slowly.
She pushed
the throttle forward just as the morning mist burned off, revealing mirror-calm
water.
“It’s almost
a shame to disturb it,” she said reverently. “But I love being out here like
this. It’s like a do-over, with everything fresh and clean.”
He’d been thinking
the same thing. He sat beside her under the small canopy and watched her
movements. His earlier assessment of her had been correct; she did everything
confidently.
Craig had
been shooting documentary films for over twelve years and had travelled the
world. But he’d never become romantically involved with any of his subjects.
Was Jamie Nicholson going to be one of his subjects? If so, he had a difficult
decision to make. He would either break a long-standing rule and act on his
growing attraction for her, or he could forget about doing a documentary on the
area. It wasn’t a decision he was comfortable with. Not yet, anyway. He turned
and looked at Goldie sitting in the back of the boat. If she had an opinion,
she was keeping it to herself.
“Not everyone
is a fly fisherman, you know.” Jamie’s voice sliced into his thoughts. She’d
cut the motor and pulled into a circular bay that was hidden from the main body
of the lake. “Dad used to bring me fishing here when I was a kid.” She smiled
and pointed to the far side of the bay. “See those lily pads over there?” Shiny
leaves floated on the surface, dotted with cup-shaped yellow flowers. “He’d say
‘I think there’s a big one right over there, under that lily pad.’ And he’d
cast out.” She made a casting motion. “The lure always landed right where he aimed
and it seemed like he got a fish every time.” Her eyes were soft with
remembrance as she thought back. “Of course he didn’t catch one every time, it
just seemed like that. I thought he was magic.”
Her eyes were
unusually bright, and he realized that she was holding back tears. He wanted to
comfort her but was afraid where that might lead. She solved his dilemma when
she started up the motor and guided the boat out of the bay. “I’m going to take
you to my favourite spot on the lake.” She managed a smile. “And it has nothing
to do with fishing.”
Once out of
the bay she accelerated. Within minutes she slowed again and approached an
island he hadn’t noticed before. He shot her a questioning look and she understood
his unasked question. “No, it’s not occupied.” She cruised around to the far
side and nosed the boat up onto a small, sandy beach.
She scrambled
out and tied the boat to some tree roots that had been exposed by the constant
lapping of the water. She climbed the low bank and sat on a broad flat rock.
Surrounded by trees on three sides, it reminded him of a stage, looking out
over the water. She sat down and patted the spot beside her. Goldie sprawled
out on her other side, head on her paws.
“I started
coming out here to this island after my parents were killed. Dad loved this
lake and everything that it represents. That’s why I’ve fought against allowing
my property to be developed.” She stared into the distance for a moment then
turned back to him dry-eyed. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m having
trouble keeping the Lodge afloat.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “Business looks
great right now with all the units full, but these few weeks in the summer
aren’t enough. I need to generate interest during the off-months as well.
That’s actually when the fishing is best. In the heat of summer, the fish go
down to the cooler waters at the bottom of the lake, but the average tourist
doesn’t seem to mind. They’re just here for a break from their normal lives and
they catch enough to keep them happy.”
She hesitated
for a moment, then went on. “When I heard you were coming I thought I’d play it
cool and pretend that it didn’t matter if you filmed in our area or
across in a long time. She started the motor and pulled out slowly.
She pushed
the throttle forward just as the morning mist burned off, revealing mirror-calm
water.
“It’s almost
a shame to disturb it,” she said reverently. “But I love being out here like
this. It’s like a do-over, with everything fresh and clean.”
He’d been thinking
the same thing. He sat beside her under the small canopy and watched her
movements. His earlier assessment of her had been correct; she did everything
confidently.
Craig had
been shooting documentary films for over twelve years and had travelled the
world. But he’d never become romantically involved with any of his subjects.
Was Jamie Nicholson going to be one of his subjects? If so, he had a difficult
decision to make. He would either break a long-standing rule and act on his
growing attraction for her, or he could forget about doing a documentary on the
area. It wasn’t a decision he was comfortable with. Not yet, anyway. He turned
and looked at Goldie sitting in the back of the boat. If she had an opinion,
she was keeping it to herself.
“Not everyone
is a fly fisherman, you know.” Jamie’s voice sliced into his thoughts. She’d
cut the motor and pulled into a circular bay that was hidden from the main body
of the lake. “Dad used to bring me fishing here when I was a kid.” She smiled
and pointed to the far side of the bay. “See those lily pads over there?” Shiny
leaves floated on the surface, dotted with cup-shaped yellow flowers. “He’d say
‘I think there’s a big one right over there, under that lily pad.’ And he’d
cast out.” She made a casting motion. “The lure always landed right where he aimed
and it seemed like he got a fish every time.” Her eyes were soft with
remembrance as she thought back. “Of course he didn’t catch one every time, it
just seemed like that. I thought he was magic.”
Her eyes were
unusually bright, and he realized that she was holding back tears. He wanted to
comfort her but was afraid where that might lead. She solved his dilemma when
she started up the motor and guided the boat out of the bay. “I’m going to take
you to my favourite spot on the lake.” She managed a smile. “And it has nothing
to do with fishing.”
Once out of
the bay she accelerated. Within minutes she slowed again and approached an
island he hadn’t noticed before. He shot her a questioning look and she understood
his unasked question. “No, it’s not occupied.” She cruised around to the far
side and nosed the boat up onto a small, sandy beach.
She scrambled
out and tied the boat to some tree roots that had been exposed by the constant
lapping of the water. She climbed the low bank and sat on a broad flat rock.
Surrounded by trees on three sides, it reminded him of a stage, looking out
over the water. She sat down and patted the spot beside her. Goldie sprawled
out on her other side, head on her paws.
“I started
coming out here to this island after my parents were killed. Dad loved this
lake and everything that it represents. That’s why I’ve fought against allowing
my property to be developed.” She stared into the distance for a moment then
turned back to him dry-eyed. “I don’t know if you’re aware, but I’m having
trouble keeping the Lodge afloat.” She gnawed at her lower lip. “Business looks
great right now with all the units full, but these few weeks in the summer
aren’t enough. I need to generate interest during the off-months as well.
That’s actually when the fishing is best. In the heat of summer, the fish go
down to the cooler waters at the bottom of the lake, but the average tourist
doesn’t seem to mind. They’re just here for a break from their normal lives and
they catch enough to keep them happy.”
She hesitated
for a moment, then went on. “When I heard you were coming I thought I’d play it
cool and pretend that it didn’t matter if you filmed in our area or
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