Feels Like Summertime(33)

I nodded. “Absolutely.”

“My parents used to cuddle like that,” Jake said sheepishly. He stopped paddling the canoe and dropped an anchor.

I snorted. “I can’t imagine Mr. Jacobson snuggling.”

“They did it all the time. We watched movies at night, and Pop would put his head in my mom’s lap, and she’d rub her fingers through his hair. Or she would just fall asleep on his chest. He’d hold her close, and he looked like he was so peaceful. They fell asleep like that all the time. I’d cover them with a blanket and leave them there.”

“Your parents were really happy, weren’t they?”

“My dad was devastated when she died.” He picked up a fishing pole and held it out to me. “You might want to practice casting a few times with no bait.”

I didn’t take his advice, and I ended up flinging my bait into the trees a few times. Jake laughed and shook his head. Then his bobber suddenly went under and he started to reel furiously.

“You got one?” I asked.

“Maybe,” he grunted and kept reeling. Then he pulled a fish out of the lake. “One to nothing,” he gloated, keeping score. He took a stringer out of his tackle box and ran it through the fish’s gills, then he dropped it gently into the lake, one end tied to a cleat on the boat.

He put a fresh worm on his hook and tossed it out.

We sat in silence. Then his bobber dipped again, while mine was doing nothing. “Why are you catching all the fish?” I complained.

“Because I’m not afraid to touch a worm.”

He collected his fish, baited his hook again, and tossed his line back in the water.

I reeled my hook in. “Fine,” I said. “Give me a worm.”

He held the little bucket out to me and I winced as I gripped one of the slimy little suckers. Black dirt fell from my fingertips as I stuck the hook through the worm the way I’d watch him do it. Then I tossed it out and waited.

Jake’s bobber went crazy again, and he pulled another fish in. “Three to zero,” he said smugly as he strung this one up too.

Finally, my bobber started to dance. “Look, Jake!” I yelled. I jerked hard on the pole.

“You don’t have to jerk its lips off,” Jake warned. “Just reel it in nice and slow.”

I slowed down, reveling in the weight and activity I could feel from the hook still under the water, and a minute or two later I landed my first fish. “That’s the biggest one yet,” I gloated.

“Good job,” he said and smiled. He took my fish off the hook and strung it up.

Fourteen fish later, Jake looked toward the horizon. “We had better get back. Your parents are going to kill me if I keep you out after dark again.”

I reeled my line in and set my pole in the bottom of the boat. Then I gingerly got up and moved to the middle seat in the canoe, close to Jake. “Do you think we have time to cuddle before we go back?”

He closed one eye and stared at the sun. “Maybe a few minutes.” Then he scooted closer to me and he kissed me. And I swear, kissing Jake as the sun set was the sweetest thing I’d ever experienced in all my sixteen years.

When we got back to the dock, Jake took the string of fish and lifted them from the water. “These will be great for supper.”

What? “Wait!” I cried.

“What is it?” He looked from my frantic face to the fish and back again. “What’s wrong?”

“Can we put them back?” I winced and waited for him to yell at me.

“Why would we do that?” He was thoroughly confused.

“I don’t want to kill them,” I said quietly.

“Then why did we just spend two hours fishing for them?”

“Well, you didn’t tell me you were going to kill them.” I kicked at a shell with the toe of my sandal.

“You’re serious, right?” He lowered the fish back to the water, still holding the string.

I nodded my head furiously. “Totally.”

Jake unstrung them and set them all free. “We just wasted hours.” He ran a frustrated hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry.”

He grinned at me and shrugged. “It was worth it.” He leaned over and kissed me on the cheek, right there in view of everyone else who was on the beach.

And that was the day I knew I was head over heels for Jake.





29





Katie





“We’re not taking the canoe?” I ask Jake as we walk to the end of the dock.

He sits down and pulls his shoes off. Then he leans over and pulls my sandals off too. He pats the dock beside him. “Sit,” he says.

“Why aren’t we taking the canoe?” I have to admit it: I kind of wanted to go out in the canoe for old times’ sake.

He points at my belly. “I’m not doing anything that would put you or that in danger. What if we tipped the canoe over and you fell in the cold water? What if you went into labor?” He shakes his head. “We can fish just fine from right here.”

“You’re such a coward,” I taunt. He takes my hand and guides me as I sit down next to him. “I might need a forklift to get me back up.”

“I’ll help you.” He leans over and kisses me on the forehead. Then he cringes. “I’m so sorry. I keep forgetting you’re not mine.” He shakes his head and looks at my belly. “It should be so obvious. I mean, seriously, you have that.” He motions toward my big stomach. “It’s right in front of you, like a basketball. But bigger.” He stares at it.