“Fourth a July,” he responded almost wistfully. “year you turned fifteen. And I didn’t give you that cola; you stole it while I was talking to Dolly Biggs.”
He grinned down at her and then at Harm. “Scrawniest little kid you ever saw. Tomboy. All bony elbows and skinned knees.”
The rugged face softened and he ran a finger lightly down her cheek. “Summer you were twelve, you were a barefoot kid in raggedy cutoff jeans, swingin’ from the trees and shaggin’ flies in the outfield. Next summer, you were sportin’ boobs and sandals and worryin’ about the freckles on your nose. Seems like yesterday.”
“I don’t even want to think about that long ago,” she laughed. “But I still do freckle.”
“And they’re still cute as the Dickens,” Jim told her, planting a quick peck on her nose. “But you didn’t come all the way up here to hang around reminiscing with this old fart. Boat should be ready by now.”
Turning back toward the end of the dock, Fisher shaded his eyes and squinted.
“Yo,” he called.
About a hundred feet away, a figure shuffled toward them, waving his hands and seeming to be engaged in an animated conversation with the air. At the sound, he paused, looking quizzically to each side and behind him. Fisher raised a giant hand and motioned him forward.
“That’s Tom,” he explained. “Don’t know his last name. Showed up about three weeks ago askin’ could he work for some food. Looked like a skinny stray dog so I told him to go on up to the snack bar and get a burger and fries and coke but he told me he wouldn’t take nothin’ less he worked for it. Well, I know what it’s like to have nothin’ but your pride so I told him to get a broom and kinda sweep up. Few minutes later he comes back and tells me he saw a outboard engine and if he fixed it, could he get somethin’ to eat and stay the night.
“I knew that engine couldn’t be fixed. Gonna strip it down for parts. But I figured it’d give the old guy somethin’ to do for a couple hours and then he could eat without feelin’ guilty so I said, ‘sure.’ Well, in about three hours he had that thing purrin’ like a contented kitten at its mother’s tit.
“Told him if he wanted to stay on for the summer, he could use the spare room out back a the boathouse and I’d feed him and give him walkin’ around money ‘til Labor Day. Only rules are no booze, no drugs, no women, and be polite to the customers. Talks to himself and I got a feelin’ he’s about two deuces shy of a full deck but he keeps to himself pretty much, nobody’s complained and he knows more about engines than anybody I ever saw, includin’ me.”
“Yes sir, Mr. F?” the old man croaked as he sidled up to his boss.
“Number eight ready?”
“Sure is. Just put the poles an’ bait in myself. Tank’s full an’ she’s rarin’ to go.”
Fisher gave Elgin a last squeeze. “Bring in whatever you catch. I’ll build a camp fire out back and roll ‘em in corn meal and pan fry ‘em in butter.”
“With greasy homemade French fries, and corn on the cob baked in aluminum foil in the fire, and pork and beans?” Harm thought she sounded like a delighted child.
“And fresh strawberry shortcake with extra whipped cream if you eat all your dinner.”
“Oh,” she squealed, “an old fashioned fish fry. Just like old times.”
“Just like old times,” he agreed softly. “But right now, you and your friend better git or those lake trout’ll all be home for their afternoon nap.”
He held out his hand again. “Nice to meet you, Camp. You take good care of my Ellie.”
“I’ll do that, Jim.”
They followed Tom down the wooden dock, listening as he continued muttering and mumbling to himself.
“Well, here she is,” he announced gesturing to a sleek white and blue runabout, perhaps fifteen feet long with a deep “V” nose, open with cushioned seating.
“Doesn’t look much like a fishing boat,” Harm commented as he surveyed her.
“Ain’t,” the old man replied. “Just about the fastest little critter we got. Most folks rent it ta ski er ta go ta that gamblin’ den ‘cross the lake. Little outboards is fer fishin’.”
“Well, eight has always been my lucky number,” Elgin laughed. “And it’s nice to have if we decide we don’t want to fish anymore.”
His thin shoulders went up and down once. “Suit yerselves.”
Harm stepped into the boat, helping Elgin aboard and then sliding automatically into the driver’s chair, putting both hands on the wheel and turning it a couple of times.
“So, where to?”
“If you’ll get out of my seat,” she told him coolly, “I’ll show you.”
He stared at her, blinking, mouth open. Elgin thought he looked like a surprised guppy. It took a couple of seconds for her meaning to sink in.
“Your seat?”
“Of course. I know this lake like the back of my hand.”
His fingers tightened on the wheel.
“You can tell me where to go.”
“I intend to,” she shot back, “but after you move so I can take us to the fishing spot.”
“I got us up here following your directions. I think I can navigate this lake.”
“Look, I’m not attacking your manhood, just your lack of experience with this lake. I’ve been boating up here since I was ten. It makes sense that I should drive the boat.”
A loud guffaw made them turn back to the dock. Tom stood, mooring line in his bony hand, laughing heartily.
“You two sound just like old married people,” he said between chuckles. “Squabblin’ an’ bickerin’ and carryin’ on. You best put yer jacket on an’ move young fella. You ain’t gonna be in this boat ferever an’ when it gets cold tonight, you might want her ta do you a favor.” He dissolved into more laughter as the rope landed in the open bow and he moved away.
Without another word, Harm cranked up the engine and edged slowly away from the dock. At the entrance to the little marina, he turned a questioning face to Elgin.
Frowning, she pointed to their left. As soon as he cleared the marina, Harm opened the boat up, feeling the cool spray and the slight bounce of the hull under them.
“Where are we going?” he shouted over the engine.
“To the lee of that little island out there.” He followed her outstretched arm to a barren piece of rock sticking out of the sapphire water a few miles away.
In a few more minutes they’d anchored a few yards from the island.
“Welcome to Captain Jack’s,” she told as she pulled off her skimpy tank top and shorts. “Best fishing on the lake. But first things first.”
Harm felt his lungs intake and his heart speed up at the sight of her. Creamy white skin and a small but thoroughly respectable fire engine red two-piece swimsuit that covered her only enough to show her body to its best advantage.
His cock stirred, demanding he slip out of his jeans and T-shirt to the freedom of his own swim trunks. They too were respectable but would probably not cover his growing…interest in her.
“Could you reach into the cooler for me, please? There should be a pint bottle of whiskey in there.”
Dutifully, Harm opened the cooler and sure enough, tucked in the corner sat a small whiskey bottle. He reached in and handed it to her.
“Is this thing waterproof?” she asked, holding the pendant away from her skin.
“To about a hundred feet deep,” he answered, handing her the bottle, his curiosity getting the better of him. “Why?”
“Don’t want your high tech dog collar electrocuting me.”
She moved to the side of the boat, the bottle clutched in her fist.
“Hey,” he yelped, “what the hell do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going up to the top of the island to pay my respects to Captain Jack.” Nodding to the island, she continued. “There used to be a little wooden dock but now…well, it’s the old fashioned paddle method.”