***
I started walking home.
But ended up catching a ride with Mr. Adams, of all people.
Why he was out so early/late in the day I didn’t know, but I was grateful.
“You shouldn’t be walking home in the dark, girl,” Mr. Adams said reproachfully.
I shrugged.
“Forgot my car today,” I said.
“How do you ‘forget your car?’” His old, grizzled voice asked with amusement.
I shrugged. “I don’t want to talk about it, how about that?”
He nodded. “Fair enough, but next time, just say that instead of lying. Because it sounds like you’re a shit liar, and there’s no point in even trying to lie if you suck that bad.”
“Yes, sir,” I said. “Why are you out so late?”
“It’s early, not late. And I’m going to my fishing hole,” he answered.
I looked at the clock that now read three oh three A.M.
“This early?” I asked incredulously.
He nodded. “Gotta go sane for some bait fish, then I’m heading out on my boat to catch Big Blue.”
“Who’s Big Blue?” I asked. “And what’s a ‘sane?’”
He smiled at me.
“You ‘sane’ for bait fish by using a huge throw net. As for ‘blue’s, they’re catfish, darlin.’ Ain’t you ever heard of ‘em called ‘Blue’s’?” He asked.
I shook my head. “I’ve never been fishing before. In fact, I’ve never even had the desire to fish.”
He gave me a raised brow.
“Oh, really? Well it’s said that you should give everything a try once. You never know if you’ll like it,” he said.
I shrugged. “I don’t have anyone to go fishing with. I’ve spent my entire life inside. I wouldn’t know the first thing about fishing.”
“Ask that man of yours, I’m sure he knows how,” Mr. Adams said.
Pain shot through my chest as I thought about ‘that man’ of mine.
“I’m mad at him. Let’s not talk about him right now,” I said, hoping to change the subject.
Mr. Adams laughed. “What’d he do?”
“Ignored me all night and kept letting a blonde bimbo touch him constantly,” I muttered darkly.
Mr. Adams laughed. “You just said this morning that he was in the military. And it looked like he recently got home, too.”
“How do you know he recently got home?” I asked suspiciously.
He looked at me with his old, knowing eyes.
“Clocked him the minute he got out of that storage room. His eyes were on everything all at once, and he held himself differently. Not to mention he categorized every single sound in the place,” he answered. “When the ice machine kicked on in the back of the store, his eyes flashed there. Then you made a loud screeching sound as you drug the box of straws over the counter, causing him to flinch and look at you. His eyes kept bobbing back and forth to the door, to you, to me. Those actions only speak of a man that had to have those reactions to stay alive.”
I shrugged. “And what’s that got to do with anything I said?”
He gave me a droll look. “It may or may not have anything to do with ‘it.’ Whatever his problem may be. But you need to realize that things are going to be intensified. Reactions stronger, anger swifter, sorrow greater. Until he gets acclimated to being on US soil again, he’s going to act a lot differently than he did before.”
I thought about that for a long moment, and then decided that maybe he was right.
Whatever was said in the room beyond the bar tonight had affected him.
He’d been in a great mood earlier in the day.
Then all of a sudden he’d turned a one eighty, and hadn’t even looked at me all night except for covert glances when he thought I wasn’t looking.
But not once had he said a word to me after he stepped foot out of that room.
“Whatever,” I finally said.
I didn’t really want to talk about this.
Being rational about it wasn’t helping.
I wasn’t a ‘rational’ thinking kind of person.
I’d always thought with my heart.
Which equaled more ‘seat of my pants’ kind of reactions.
“Come with me tonight. I’ll take you to my pond,” he said suddenly.
I blinked, turning to him to study his face.
The green light from his dash lit up his paper-thin skin, and outlined the wrinkles, causing dark shadows to appear.
“I can’t,” I said reluctantly. “Can I come sometime soon, though? I think I’d like to learn how.”
He nodded. “You know where I live.”
I nodded again, and turned as the truck came to a bouncing stop in front of my house.
I didn’t bother to ask him how he knew where I lived.
Everyone knew where I lived.
It was the talk of the town about the convict living in the nice ‘burb of Benton.
“Okay, Mr. Adams. Thank you for the ride,” I said, opening my door.
However, when my feet both met the pavement outside my home, Mr. Adams stopped me.
“You know,” he said. “There was this one time with my Annie that I was really upset. I’d had a really bad day at work, and I wanted to talk to her. However, she was too busy doing something else, and a neighbor woman came over to offer my Annie a pie. Well, the neighbor lady and I got to talking, and my Annie came out spitting mad because I was talking to another woman that wasn’t her. You wanna know why I did it?”
I shook my head.
But my answer was the opposite of what I was feeling.
“Why did you do it?” I asked softly.
He smiled, looking far away into a memory that I couldn’t see.
“Because I knew she’d fight for me. She may have been busy, but I knew all I had to do was talk to that woman, and she’d get un-busy. Because that’s my Annie. She was possessive and I liked her that way. Which begs to question…why didn’t you do something?”
I looked at him for a long time, wondering the same thing.
Why hadn’t I done something?
Why hadn’t I forced the issue?
And as I fell asleep that night, upset now at myself and not him, I realized two things.
One, I was in love with Sterling.
And two, I needed to fight for him if he was what I wanted.
Because he deserved to be fought for.