She watched the fishing line stretch to the halfway mark of the pond. Nice cast.
The reel clicked, as the line grew shorter. He peeped her way before zeroing in on his immediate task. Minnesota’s a long way from Virginia...just to enjoy the atmosphere. Recollecting his journey from New Orleans to Minnesota, he chuckled to himself. Then again...
After a quick look at the man who had helped her escape from another country, Devlin peeked at the red cooler next to his chair before facing the water.
Out of the corner of his eye, Randall had caught her line of sight. He lifted the cooler’s top and slid the storage container a few inches closer to her. “There’s water and soft drinks in there...maybe a beer if you look hard enough.”
She rolled onto her right hip and reached for the beer nestled deep into the ice. Wiggling her fingers for a half second, I’m driving. Better stick to... she grabbed a bottle of water, unscrewed the cap, and downed a portion of the contents. “Thank you.”
He made two more casts, bringing in the line each time.
Watching him prepare for a third toss, she cleared her throat. “Look, I’m sorry for what I said to you.” Movement caught her eye, and she turned to see a squirrel scamper into the woods. “I was out of line, and I’ve regretted it for the last three days.” Facing him, she sat upright and shifted more weight to the chair via her right elbow. “I’m truly sorry, Randall. I don’t know what it was that...that made me lash out at you like that.”
“I do.” He made his next cast. “You were amped up on emotion, excitement, the thrill of the hunt. It happens to everyone. No harm done.”
After blinking a few times in rapid succession, “Wait a minute,” she swung her feet toward him and sat sideways on the lounger. “No harm done? So all this time,” she swung a finger between the two of them, “all this,” she paused, “dead air...and the time I spent stewing over what I said to you...and you were never pissed at me?”
“Nope. Well,” he cocked his head, “at first I was, but like I said...heat of the moment. I knew you didn’t mean it.”
“So why didn’t you say something...three days ago?”
From a bucket to the right of his chair, he plucked a second Zebco and handed the fishing rod to her. “You fish?”
She frowned at the contraption. “What? No. I don’t fish. Well, yes, I’ve fished before, but—”
“Take it. Give it a toss. It’s relaxing.”
Devlin turned toward the water, went through the motions, and sent her line over the water. “So tell me. Why did you make me—”
“I thought,” Randall scowled at her, “you said you had done this before.”
“I have. Why?”
“You just cast your line across mine.”
With the sun shining through the trees and lighting up her face, she noticed the ‘X’ their strings had made. “Oops.”
“Give me that.” He listed her way and swapped fishing poles before putting his back against the chair and rotating his sunglasses onto his nose.
“Hey, I only said I had fished. I never said I was good at it.” She twirled the reel. “So answer me. Why did you make me sweat it out? Why make me feel so crappy?”
He mimicked her circular hand motions, as the two of them retrieved their lures. “That wasn’t me.”
She puckered her brow. “How do you figure that?”
“Over the years, I’ve discovered that our actions—our words—have a direct effect on how we feel. And, if I had to guess...I’d say you’ve been feeling your penance.”
Devlin gave him a sharp look.
“And, if Pops told me once, he told me a thousand times...‘penance is good for the soul.’” His mind taking him back to Mexico, back to the ambush on the road, Randall saw Devlin’s partner being gunned down. God knows, the knot in his chest tightened, I’ve been feeling mine. He let out a short breath. “Anyway,” Randall’s voice was subdued, “after everything that’s happened, at the very least, I owe you a free pass.”
She grasped the nuance.
“So, like I said, Devlin...no harm done. We’re good.”
Secretly revisiting recent events, the two fished in silence for half a minute.
“Someday, you’ll have to introduce me to this Pops of yours. You’ve told me so many stories about him that I feel as if he were my Pops as well.”
“No can do, Devlin. He passed a few years ago.” When his lure was back again, Randall sent his line out into the water. “He taught me a lot while I was growing up. There are times, right now, when I wish I had his ear...and his wisdom.”
“He sounds like he was a great man. And, although it may be a few years late, I’m truly sorry for your loss.”
Randall gave her a quick smile and a short nod. “Thank you.”
She let a long moment go by before trying to change the tone of the conversation. “Are there even any fish in this water?”
“Why are you here, Devlin? And, to answer your question, I believe there’s exactly,” he wagged his index finger at the pond, “one fish in there. Either that or I just keep catching the same guy all the time.”
Sniggering to herself, she looked over the chair while bringing back the sporting apparatus. Bending a knee and hooking her heel onto a board for more stability, “I’m here to,” Devlin pivoted her head forward and flung the pole at the water, careful to stay clear of his line, “offer you a job, Mr. Randall.”
*******
5:26 p.m.
In the last five minutes, Devlin had laid out the specifics of the job description while she and Randall had made several unsuccessful attempts to catch a ‘trophy’ fish.
“So,” after surrendering her pole to him, “I’ve been given carte blanche from the President to,” she stood and wandered to the end of the dock, “hire whoever I wish.”
“Even though I,” he placed their rods in the five-gallon bucket at his feet, “work for
