“That’s operator error where that expensive, state-of-the-art reel is concerned and you know it.”
Caleb snorted.
Doc executed a perfect cast. “You’re positive? Nothing is bothering you?”
“That’s what I said.”
“That’s your official statement? You’re ready to sign it?”
Caleb moved to face him. “Doc, you been nipping at the schnapps already this morning? It’s not even close to noon yet, and that would be early even for you. If you’ve got something on your mind I wish you would spit it out. I feel like I’m sparring with a cagey client here—and I’m not working today, remember?”
“That reminds me—how did you get out of the house? Where did you tell Jonah you were going?”
“I told him I needed a nap, asked him to turn off the phone and not bother me before noon. Then I climbed out the window.”
Doc belted out a laugh as he slowly worked the lure toward the boat. “You climbed out the window?”
“Yep.” Caleb’s lips curled up with the threat of a smile.
“Till noon, huh? That’s not a nap, that’s a whole night’s sleep.”
“You know I’m not a napper, Doc. Why don’t you tell me how long they usually last?” Caleb bit his line in two and stowed the flasher along with the lure he’d been using in the tackle box.
Doc shrugged. “Mine are usually an hour or two at the most. But let’s get back on track here.”
“I didn’t know we were off of it.”
“So, you’re not feeling the slightest bit guilty?”
Caleb didn’t answer and Doc finally, blessedly, remained silent as he shifted things around in his tackle box.
All that could be heard was the soft lapping of the water against the side of the boat. An eagle sailed overhead and they both looked skyward to watch it. Caleb didn’t know a soul who could stop themselves from pausing to watch a bald eagle fly by. Then he tied a favorite lure to the end of his line.
Eventually he answered, his tone taking a serious turn. “It doesn’t matter. I’m committed. There’s no turning back now.”
“Well, I don’t like it, Caleb. I’m feeling guilty. It’s dishonest, and I’m not a dishonest person.”
“What have you done to feel guilty about?”
“Besides lying to Jonah about what we’re up to today?” Doc fiddled with his own reel for a few seconds and then, instead of casting again, he laid the pole across his thighs. He leaned his head back and stared up at the clouds.
Caleb followed his gaze and marveled at the luscious blue of the sky. Alaska in the summertime, he thought, as he let the sheer beauty of it soak into him—there was nothing like it in the entire world. He used to take weeks off every summer so he and Jonah could enjoy as much of it as possible.
Jonah used to love summers here—fishing, hiking, biking, exploring...surely, being in Rankins now would make him realize how much. And hopefully before this thing was through his grandson would realize some other things, as well.
“Shay,” Doc muttered. “That’s the thing. That’s what I feel bad about. I understand what you’re trying to accomplish as far as Jonah is concerned, but I feel guilty about deceiving Shay. I didn’t think that through when I agreed to this. At the risk of waxing poetic—that woman is a shining example of all that is right with this town. She doesn’t deserve to be dragged into this. And I don’t like being a part of causing her any more pain.”
“Yep, she is a shining example. And, yes,” Caleb confessed, “I’ll admit that has been poking at me a bit, too. But I’m not doing it on purpose, Doc. That girl is like my own granddaughter. I promised Gus if anything ever happened to him that I would watch out for her.” Emotion clogged Caleb’s chest.
It took a minute before he could speak, and when he did he let pride fill his voice. “Gus would be so proud of her, Doc. With what she’s done with the inn—it looks like something from a darn magazine now.”
Gus had loved all of his grandchildren, but Shay had been a little extra special to him. Her love for the inn was one reason certainly, but Caleb always thought it was her personality that so closely mimicked Gus’s that had truly stolen his heart—kind, thoughtful, generous to a fault, but feisty, stubborn and strong-willed at the same time. It had stolen Caleb’s heart—and Jonah’s, too, once upon a time.
Doc smiled wholeheartedly. “Every time I go there I think that same thing. I imagine that ole Gus is smiling down on her every single day. But that’s what I’m saying, Caleb. The devotion Shay has for her family...well, she showers it on you, too. And you’re sure lucky to have it. But now, well you know she’s got to be worried plum out of her mind.”
“Come on, Doc, you think you can make me feel any worse than I already do? I know all of that—everything that you said. I do. But I can’t very well admit all the facts to Jonah, can I? He would never forgive me. He would hightail it back to Chicago faster than this lure can spin.” Caleb held his fishing pole aloft and gestured at the shimmering metal on the end of his line. “And then where would I be?”
Doc nodded his head, puzzling over the situation. “I guess that’s true enough. I only wish there was some way you could do all this and let Shay know.”
Caleb let out a sigh. “Yeah, I wish that, too. But I just have to believe—I do believe, Doc, that what I’m doing is for her. In fact, if I’m being perfectly honest, it’s almost as much for Shay as it is for Jonah. And the truth is I’m not going to live forever. That is a fact, and even as painful as it may be, it’s one my grandson needs to accept—and I’d prefer it to happen sooner rather than later. You know what I mean?”
He cast again and this time his aim was spot on.
“B-2,” SHAY CALLED OUT.
“Bwahh-eeek,” the ancient microphone squealed back at her. Probably still upset, Jonah surmised, after being left behind by Elvis on his last tour.
Jonah caught Shay’s gaze and winced with exaggeration. She narrowed her eyes at him and then shouted the sequence again sans microphone.
He chuckled and stamped the appropriate space on his card.
You have got to be kidding me, he thought. No one back in Chicago could conceive of this if they saw him now. His firm billed seven-hundred dollars an hour for his time, and here he was sipping blue-raspberry punch and playing blue-light bingo at the VFW Hall, which also housed other activities for the Rankins Seniors’ Circle. According to Shay, people did this so they could “have fun” and “spend time together.”
He’d promised himself, and Shay, that he would be on his best behavior, but she couldn’t stop him from thinking about his life in Chicago. Couldn’t stop him from thinking about his car—his beloved ’69 Boss 429—garaged and waiting for him... In spite of wishing otherwise, it was going to be a while before he was driving his favorite car again. He stamped another place on his card and continued his cynical meandering—why on earth would he want to solve complicated legal cases and, stamp, drive a near-perfect car when he could play bingo?
“I-20,” Shay called out. Stamp...stamp. He reached across the table with his dauber and marked Gramps’s card. Shay had informed him earlier when she was helping him get set up that his ink-stamper-thing was called a dauber. He’d opened his mouth to make a sarcastic retort and then shut it firmly when he’d caught her warning look.
Although—he glanced up toward the front of the room again—watching Shay do her