more sleep last night knowing I was coming to get you early this morning. Come close.” She walked up to him and glared down at his handiwork. “Have a seat.”
“The bank is soft. It rained last night.”
“I put a blanket down.” He motioned to the spread-out quilt. “Come on now, park it. This ain’t the Ritz Carlton, Ms. Fancy Pants.” She gritted her teeth, huffed, and plopped down on the black and white checkered blanket. She could feel the coolness of the earth beneath her butt. Ugh. Disgusting. He placed one of the fishing rods in her hands, curling her fingers around it. “These are simple fiberglass poles. I brought the easy ones for you.”
“Thank you. Perhaps afterwards, you can teach me the alphabet and how to chew with my mouth closed.”
“I’ve already got the fishing line on here for you, too,” he stated, ignoring her well-timed jab, if she said so herself. “These are nightcrawlers.” He pointed to the worm, which still squirmed about, but much less now that it must have accepted its fate. “Let’s put this bobber on here.” She waited while he did all the work, explaining step by step what to do, but she was only half listening. “All right, now that’s settled, keep the pole steady, understood? Don’t go wavin’ it around like some flag for surrender.”
“I said I hadn’t fished in a while. I didn’t say I was brain dead.” The man got to his feet, dusted off his knees, and made his way back to the truck about a hundred feet away. He returned with a cooler. Inside were a few soft drinks, juice, and water, the bottles sticking out of the ice.
“There’s trout, bass, and blue gills to catch out here.” He pulled out a bottle of apple juice and drank.
“Are we catching and releasing or keeping?”
“Depends on what we get. If it’s small, we’ll put it back. If it’s a big one, I’m taking it home, skinning it, and cooking it.”
“I’ll make you deal. If you catch something big, I will cook it.”
“What about the skinning it?” She pursed his lips. He rolled his eyes and chuckled. “Another city girl. I’d sworn off you women. Y’all are pretty to look at, got the Atlanta skyline in your eyes, fancy clothes and all that jazz, but you’re far too squeamish for my blood.”
“I’m not squeamish, just lazy sometimes.”
He burst out laughing, and she followed suit. Sitting beside her, he took another swig of his juice then set it aside. There they sat, each holding a pole. As time passed, a feeling of peace spread through her, just like it had the previous day in Druid Hills. Memories of the ice cream truck crept back in her mind. The kind old man…
“Oh. Did you remember to bring that piece of paper with the keys and such you were talking about yesterday?”
“Oh, yeah, hold tight.” He propped his fishing pole up and went back to the truck. As she sat there, nature grabbing her softly and petting her head with invisible, nurturing hands, she fell into a daydream filled with faded, soft shapes… no rhyme or reason to it. She startled when he returned, his big shoulder brushing against her. Even with her eyes closed, she felt his presence before he’d touched her. His scent blended with the air –so perfect, as if meant to be there.
“Here it is.” She placed the pole in the holder and took the tri-folded piece of paper from his hand. At the top was a little design of a house, and then a list of seven properties Benjamin currently owned, her shop included. At the bottom of the page was the Japanese writing he’d mentioned: 縁の下の力持ち
“Can we get a signal out here, you think?” She rifled through her jacket pocket for her phone.
“Probably.”
She scanned the Japanese words in the translator app that she rarely used, and waited.
“Oh, here we are. I’ve got something.” He leaned over to look at the screen. “It says, ‘Unsung Hero.’ Then down here, ‘The powerful person that holds up the house.’”
“And what the hell is that supposed to mean?”
She searched Google, then swallowed.
“It’s a Japanese saying, Aries. See this house?” She pointed to her phone, showing a common Japanese style house from years past. “It means, the en (縁), which is the wooden porch on such houses, like this one right here. See how these beams are long and thin? The en isn’t the emphasis of the house, yet it’s crucial for