“Thanks for the suggestion. I’m Vaughn Renfro. I’ll be taking over for Dr. Carver at the end of the year. I just bought a house in town.”
“Yeah, I figured that’s who you were. You stick out about like a turd in a punchbowl. My name’s Donnie. So ya fish, huh?”
His expression wasn’t hiding that he was trying not to laugh about something.
“I guess. I haven’t been since I was a kid.”
“Oh, I’m sure you’ll catch on fast. Everyone around here fishes. Hell, my dog fishes.”
I chuckled and his big belly bobbed as he rang me up. Then I thought it might be a good time to find out how the hell to get to Johnston’s Chute.
“So, I’m a little turned around here. Which way should I go to get out to Johnston’s Chute?”
A knowing smile spread across his face and I began to think he was on to me. Did he know she was out there? She might have stopped here first.
“Yeah, just take the highway north out of here and you’ll see a sign,” he answered. “But, you know, some people don’t fish right there at the Chute, some go just south of it.”
He winked.
He knew exactly what I was doing.
“Just south, huh?” I lifted my chin, feeling a little foolish, but also like he was trying to help.
“Yup, when you see the lot for the Chute, pull in, then take the little side road on the left and just keep following that.” He coughed and grinned. “Needin’ anything else?”
I took my card out of my wallet and ran it through the machine on the counter. “No, thanks. I think you’ve got me all set.”
He ripped the receipt off the machine after it printed and handed it to me.
“You have a good night then.”
“You too, Donnie. Thanks.”
I put the beer in the back of the Astro and headed out of town, following his directions.
He was right, there was a sign on the highway. I took the road for a few miles, it turned into gravel, and sure enough, there was the lot he was talking about and I saw the road off to the left.
The lane was rough and I wondered if the old van would make it. I took it slow, but it seemed to go on and on. Soon I was driving past little cabins that were up on stilts, but I still hadn’t seen her truck. The road led into the woods, but I just kept going on blind faith that he had told me where she’d be. Donnie never came out and said it, but it was too coincidental not to hear what he wasn’t saying.
The van drove along the terribly battered road, parallel to the river, and I hoped I was close. Sure enough, about a mile past the other cabins there was one more, right where the road ended.
Her truck was there.
Thank you, Donnie, my new best friend.
I saw the headlights on the van pulling down the lane and wondered how in the hell he knew how to find me. I was expecting him to call back so that I’d know when he was close … and so I could run in and check my hair.
That’s right. Check my hair.
I’d never in my life been a girl who wanted to check her hair. I’d never bothered with trying to impress anyone. It just wasn’t in my character. I knew he’d seen me looking less than my best on many occasions. Okay, on every occasion, but this time I—at very least—wanted to make sure I looked halfway feminine.
I’d spent most of the past two days out there, at my cabin, thinking about things. What I came up with was, I really, really wanted him to like me.
Good thing it was dark. I could find some excuse to go inside the cabin and freshen up.
“I can’t believe you found me all the way out here.”
He smiled as he stepped out of the Astro. It still made me laugh seeing him drive that thing. And when he didn’t laugh and turn down the offer for the rental, it did something else to me. He was genuinely relieved to have a ride while Dean and Dad fixed his SUV, even if it was taking longer than they’d originally thought.
He was still wearing nice clothes. Dress pants and a white button up shirt. Had he even been home after work? The thought of him looking for me first caused a buzz inside me, like there was a spinner in my body zipping around, bumping into the walls of my chest.
“I didn’t see your truck in the Johnston’s Chute lot, so I took a chance.” He reached into the back and pulled out a twelve pack of Newcastle.
My favorite.
“You drink Newcastle?”
“Yeah, it’s good,” he said, walking my way.
I was sitting in a fold out chair next to the bank of the river, and I began reeling in my line so I could give him my attention.
The sun wasn’t gone, but it was fading fast. I’d already had four beers and certainly feeling the effects of them—not drunk, but on my way. In the summertime, that was what I usually did on Tuesdays. So, what you see is what you get rang very true for me at that moment.
“You can put those in my cooler. There should be plenty of room.”
He came to my side and knelt to open it. Then, one by one, restocked me. What a sight.
“I must confess I thought you’d bring cheerleader beer,” I teased. Not that I didn’t drink Bud Light or Coors or whatever was handy, but if given a choice, I always went for something a little darker.