Catch of the Year (4 page)

Soon the hours had whisked by. She and Paul stood at the end of the wharf against the fence and watched the tall, white, ferry forge its way toward them across the deep cobalt waters of Lake Huron. It grew closer.

An announcement came over the public address system. “Ferry passengers are asked to return to their vehicles immediately.”

Paul turned away. “Guess that means us.”

Jade nodded.

“See you on board,” he added.

She didn't reply but walked at his side until she reached the Harley. He climbed into the convertible.

A smile played around her lips as she donned her leathers, but by the time the ferry-loading process began, and she mounted the bike, the elated feeling that had her blood fizzing through her veins began to fade. In its place came a shiver of panic. She'd been enjoying herself way too much. If she and Paul spent another hour together, sooner or later she'd be bound to slip up, say something that would clue him in. And then the game would be over. With consequences too horrific to contemplate.

With a sigh of regret, she made a decision. She knew every inch of this boat, which meant she could probably dodge him during the crossing. Even if she was forced to spend all the time in the toilet, she was going to avoid the all-too-exciting company of Paul Ringo George Johnson.

• • •

Forty minutes later, safely docked, the ferry opened its shark-like jaws. Paul waited in his car, a mix of emotions rumbling inside him, foremost of which were disappointment and confusion. Why had Serendipity done a duck? He'd enjoyed their time together in Tobermory and had been anticipating more of the same. Then she'd disappeared.

He couldn't understand it.

Ahead of him he could see the motorcycles lined up, ready to disembark first. And there among them was Ms. Elusive. He hit the horn twice.
Beep beep.
Serendipity looked over her shoulder and waved at him. Then with an answering
beep beep
, she lifted her feet up onto the footrests, revved the engine, and took off.

Once again, she'd left him in the dust.

• • •

That night, Jade dreamed of princesses and knights, specifically one Paul R.G. Johnson, dragon-slayer. Gurgling sounds called her from a faraway, sleepy place. No, that wasn't the hiss of a dragon, but the coffee machine on the boil.

She rolled out of bed, pulled on her swimsuit, and made her way along the passage of her parents' converted mobile home. Her mother stood in the narrow kitchen, pouring ginger tea into a glass mug. After many summers of tanning, Marigold's skin was just about the same color and texture as Weetabix.

“Morning, Marigold,” Jade began. Her mother had never wanted to be called Mom.

Marigold took one look at Jade's frown and reached into the cupboard for another mug. The front of the shelf was empty, as most of the mugs were in the dishwasher waiting to be washed. From the far reaches she pulled out an old one — her commemorative souvenir of the Beatles' visit to Toronto.

She poured coffee into the mug while Jade considered the Fab Four. As if she needed reminding.

“Down by the lake?” her mother asked.

Jade knew she didn't expect an answer. That was where they breakfasted whenever the weather was fine, taking the time to ease gently into the day with a swim and some casual chat.

Marigold placed both beverages on a tray with the sugar bowl and added a plate containing two whole wheat, cranberry muffins. These were her specialty. Every week she baked dozens to sell.

On the way out Jade snagged a towel from the bathroom, then followed her mother down the steep concrete steps to the small paved area at the edge of the water. Birch and pine trees glistened in the morning sunlight, forming a leafy canopy over the picnic table. The lake itself lay quiet and still, the surface mirror-like. There was just the slightest swampy smell in the air.

The women settled into waiting lawn chairs. For a while they kept silent, sipping their hot drinks and watching a cormorant fly low over the lake.

Jade swallowed a mouthful of coffee and read the message on her mug with a baleful eye. Not true. Love was not enough. A person also needed a means of livelihood and shelter in order to survive. Pity her mother hadn't given her a glass cup like the one she was drinking from. Except, looking at the color of Marigold's ginger tea reminded Jade of Paul's bedroom eyes. She bit her lip. This morning she didn't need or want reminding of him.

Marigold set down her empty mug and reached into the pocket of her loose, crinkly cotton dress.

“So tell me, what's troubling you, Dipity? Didn't you sleep well last night? Was it too hot? Were you worrying about work? Or was it the full moon?”

Jade gave a small shake of her head. That was modern life for you, overburdened with choices.

“Could have been the moon. I don't know. It was more … I had this vivid dream and can't shake it off.”

“Really?” Her mom took a paper, sprinkled on tobacco and rolled herself a cigarette. She moistened the edge as if licking a stamp and pressed it down to form a wobbly, uneven cylinder.

Jade explained about meeting Paul.

“I recognized him as soon as I slowed. There's no mistaking him. He's about six feet tall, with dark hair, a longish face, strong chin and a dimple.”

“Sounds to me like you've got an eye for the guy.”

Jade ignored the remark. “I felt bad about leaving him stranded, but what could I do? I never imagined we'd both be stuck in Tobermory, waiting for the ferry, and meet up there. Then, in my dreams, I was all involved with him.”

Marigold turned her head, regarding Jade through locks of her brown hair. She wore it long, with bright ribbons braided into random strands. Jade sometimes thought, with a kind of amused affection, that if it weren't for the fact that all things Boho were in style again, she'd look like a throwback to the era of her youth.

“So he's very significant to you?”

She widened her eyes at her mom. “He works with me. Of course he is.”

“Tell me, have you ever thought perhaps you've known him before?”

Jade pretended to misunderstand. “No. We met when he joined the agency almost a year ago.”

She'd never thought of Paul as being at all spooky, but he'd sure haunted her dreams last night. This morning she was really very disgruntled and annoyed with the man.

“You know what this means, don't you?” Marigold could be tenacious.

“Doesn't mean a thing. Or if it does, it's telling me I made a poor choice of pizza toppings last night.”

Her mother brushed that off. “Trust me, it does. You and this Paul must have a strong karmic connection.”

Jade drank her last mouthful of coffee and tucked the empty mug under her chair, where she wouldn't have to look at it. “You know I don't believe in reincarnation.”

Marigold lifted her chin. She said, “So working with him, passing him on the road, bumping into him because he's catching the same ferry as you — this is just random, totally arbitrary?” She turned her head away and spat out a loose bit of tobacco. “No. You have to be connected to him on a deeper, unconscious level. Perhaps you lived, loved, and fought in a previous life, and now you've got something more to achieve or work through together.” She struck a match and held it to the end of the cigarette. After taking a draw, she blew a long stream of smoke skywards. “To me this is the only explanation that makes sense.”

Jade didn't want to hear it. “Marigold, it was a chance meeting.”

“Okay. But if there
is
something significant about your relationship, you can expect to meet up with him again soon.”

“I'm telling you, Paul and I, we
have
no relationship.” Jade jumped to her feet, ready to go for a swim. Cool water would wash away the residue of her dreams. “And it had better stay that way.”

In the distance, carried over and magnified by the water, came the rippling laugh of a loon.

Her mom gave a small smile. “We'll see, Dipity. We'll see.”

The small, square clapboard building didn't look any too prepossessing to Paul. However, Steve had assured him Hunter's Fishing and Bait was the best place to get whatever he might need in that line.

Steve had said he could borrow a rod or two. But he'd emphasized fresh bait was essential. If he was really going to try this fishing thing, Paul needed worms to lure the fish, a license to haul 'em out, plus a boat to waft him over the water.

The bell dinged as he walked into the cool gloom. The rough, white-painted interior was sparse. Taking a quick scan, he decided the store could benefit from a more modern display design. An oblong ice cream freezer took up one corner, and next to it stood a small wicker table and two chairs. A couple of standing wire carousels, plenty of rough, wooden, open shelving, and that was it.

Behind the counter sat a man, bearded, balding, and with graying, wispy hair hanging low on his neck. He was reading a fishing magazine, which he put aside. Unfolding himself from the chair, he stood up and greeted Paul.

“Sorry. Coffee shop's closed. Muffins all sold out.”

Obviously the guy didn't think he looked like a fisherman any more than Serendipity had. Then and there, he decided to change that. Get some fisherman gear. Pity she'd disappeared, though. For some reason her erratic behavior intrigued him. Not to mention her looks. He would have liked to find out exactly where she was going, maybe get her phone number.

“Are you the owner? Hunter?” he asked.

“No. I'd say, more like the gatherer these days.”

Okay. Paul got it. Hunters and gatherers like in the old, old days.

“I'm Frank,” the guy continued.

What would he be frank about? Paul wondered idly, going with the riff.

“Let me know if you need any help,” Frank added.

Paul liked to browse, but it was a long time since he'd indulged the inclination. Soon he was examining small cardboard boxes, open to display their contents, and systematically perusing every inch of shelving.

Almost imperceptibly, he slid into the spirit of things, began to slow down. Who'd have thought fishing would offer such great retail therapy possibilities — books, waders, trout rods, colorful, delicate flies, sinkers, lures, floats, hooks, reels? This was almost as much fun as shopping the Lee Valley catalogue. He couldn't say why the stuff appealed to him so, he just knew it did. And hadn't he promised to indulge himself this weekend? He wouldn't go so far as to buy a boat, though. Maybe he could hire one from Frank. He went across to ask.

The store assistant bent over, leaning his skinny forearms on the counter.

“Sorry, we don't rent out boats.”

This was a blow. Paul had imagined himself out on the lake, cap tilted low over his eyes, drifting around islands, stopping in this little cove or that sheltered bay.

“Is there no way I can get out on the water today? Even two or three hours would be better than none.”

“Hmm. Tell you what.” Frank raised up on one arm, tapping his fingers on the wooden counter. “How about hiring my son? For fifty dollars, Adrian would take you out in our boat for a couple of hours. Show you a few good fishing spots.”

Paul brightened. “Great.”

“It would have to be here on Lake Lauzon.”

“That's fine. No problem. It's a deal … . Can I talk to him and make the arrangements?”

“He's not around just now. Doesn't have a cell phone. Why not simply meet up at the public slipway, over near the resort, say at six-thirty this evening?”

That sounded perfect. “Will do.”

• • •

Down at the lake, the midday sun poured out summer heat like melted gold from a crucible. Jade prepared pita breads and various spreads and fillings for the family lunch, carried it all down on a large tray, and set the food on the wooden picnic table. Earlier, she'd brought down plastic glasses, a pitcher of cold cranberry juice, and a couple of beers for her father.

Adrian stormed down the steps and flopped his gangly body into a canvas chair. He vented his exasperation in a manner that always reminded Jade of a horse. He harrumphed.

“Dad's just come in and you know what he's done? Like, he's completely messed up my plans for tonight.”

“He has?” She looked her young brother over affectionately.

“He told this dorky city guy I'll take him out fishing and I'm already going to babysit Pam's grandsons. Does he think I can split myself in half?”

“Don't fret.” Marigold sounded unperturbed. “We'll work something out. Pam's the kind of neighbor who's open to suggestions.”

“Like what for instance?” Adrian got up and slouched over to the food.

Marigold narrowed her eyes, looking at the lake as if its waters contained the secrets of the universe. At last she spoke.

“Like maybe Dipity can do it instead.”

“Babysit those terrors?” Jade didn't need any help reverting to her natural squeak. “No chance. Remember last time?” She plucked at her head. “Thanks to those boys I got my first three gray hairs.”

“Well then, what about
you
going on the lake instead of Adrian?” Mother turned her gaze on daughter. “You told me you'd like to throw a line in the water.”

“With some stupid guy who doesn't even know how to cast? No way.”

Adrian settled himself at the picnic table and poured himself a drink. “I'm not going to let Pam down. She promised to rent new games.”

“And I'm not going to be coerced into taking some stranger fishing.”

To show she really meant it, Jade stood up, walked onto the dock and did a neat, shallow dive into the lake. She swam back and forth, enjoying the silky feel of the water sliding along her skin, the sensation of separation from the land. Once she'd cooled off, she got out, wrapped a towel around her, and took her place at the lunch table. Her father had arrived in the meantime and was doing justice to the food. Sometimes Jade wondered how he kept so skinny when he ate so much.