Authors: Ruth Logan Herne
Karla waited a long time before she asked, “What happened?”
Dylan picked up a fishing lure and began twirling it between two fingers. “The plans were fabulous at first. I felt like the world was my oyster. Then the decisions got harder. The price got higher. Things started to sit wrong on me. I'd start to talk about a doubt, or a worry, and Yvonne would always talk me out of it, write it off as the price of a dynamite career or whatever.” He exhaled roughly. “After a while the price began including stepping on other people, grabbing credit or connections or hobnobbing with people I didn't even like. The whole thing just sort of lost its shine.”
He tossed the lure back in the tackle box. “One day I looked at my closetful of nice suits and realized I didn't want to put any of them on. They felt like lead on my shoulders.”
“So you left?”
“No, not right away. But my boss would tell you I lost âthe fire in my belly.' One of his favorite sayings, which I never liked much anyway. And then, just when I was thinking about proposingâI suppose I thought I needed something drastic to shake me out of my funkâYvonne informed me she'd taken up with my boss and that she hoped that wouldn't be too awkward at the office.”
He whacked the tackle box shut and flipped the latch with a sharp snap. “Evidently the office party where I had the flu opened up a whole new opportunity for Yvonne. And to think I told her to stay and have a good time while I got a cab home.”
What was there to say to a story like that? “Wow. I'm sorry.”
Dylan hadn't moved his eyes up from the tackle box. “Yeah, well, better to find out before things got any more serious. I suppose someday I'll thank her for that.”
Karla felt the sharp edges of his bitter words. No wonder Dylan struck her as immensely loyalâhe'd been betrayed in the worst possible way by a woman who had clearly meant the world to him. Her love lifeâif one could call the string of lukewarm relationships she'd had a “love life”âdidn't carry anything close to that kind of pain. “How did you manage to get through something like that?”
That question brought his eyes up to her. “Not well, if you're looking for advice. I just sort of stopped. I mean, I was a walking, breathing person, but not much more. I went through the motions of work, I ate food, I sat in a church pew on Sundaysâwhich is a different thing than going to church, by the way. It was summer so I spent a lot of time just sitting on the lakefront looking at the water, wishing I was somewhere else.”
Funny, she'd spent the first few mornings of her stay in Gordon Falls looking at the river wishing
she
was somewhere else. “How did you end up here?”
“George Bradens is a friend of my father's. I'd been here once or twice on a weekend vacation, that sort of thingânothing like the time you'd spent here, but I'd always liked it.” He hesitated for a moment. “My dad is big into fishing, but I'd never had time once I got out of school, you know? Always too busy climbing the next rung of the ladder. Well, one day I walked by a news store and for some reason picked up a boating magazine.” Dylan ran his hand along the railing of the boat. “And a little puff of something blew back into me. As if the whole dark wall of ânot here' finally had broken open into âsomewhere else,' if that makes any sense.”
Karla brought her knees up to her chin and hugged them. “It makes a lot of sense. Knowing where you need to go is half the battle, sometimes.” She thought about the zing of energy that had hit her when she'd replied to Chef Daniel, a zing that hadn't left her yet, tired as she was.
He leaned back, soaking in the now-full morning sunshine. “Says the woman with a clear plan in her head. You know exactly where you want to go, don't you?”
She considered telling him about the Clifton internshipâshe certainly was dying to celebrate it with somebodyâbut it seemed unfair, given the story he was telling. “I have lots of plans, yes.”
“Don't let my sour state kill any of that for you. Jim Shoe is rightâyou're going places.”
He held her eyes for just a moment, something sad and slightly angry casting a shadow over his gaze. As if he decided “going places” was a country he could no longer go nor cared to visit. Karla's heart pinched in an unsettling urge to see a man like Dylan treated in the way he deserved rather than the way Yvonne had discarded him. Just for a second, something hummed in the air between them.
And then it was gone. Dylan stood up, effectively changing the subject. “So, are you going to mount your amazing fish, or eat it?” He turned from her to step onto the bow to pull up anchor.
Karla entertained a comical vision of the huge fish mounted gaping-mouthed on the wall behind the cash register in her future coffee shop. Or funnier still, gracing the elegant walls of Perk. What on earth would she ever do with a trophy fish? “Oh, eat it, definitely.”
“Good call. I'd say let me know if you need a recipe, but you probably have four.”
She didn't have a single one. Grandpa, however, probably had twelve.
Chapter Seven
“T
hree mocha lattes, two cinnamon cappuccinos, and one chai tea.” Karla walked around the six middle-aged women on Tuesday morning, enjoying the smiles of gratitude as she set down the appropriate coffees in front of each one. If the earlier group of businessmen had been satisfied, this group of nuns from Iowa were in absolute bliss. Dylan had obviously given them a fabulous trip this morning, the way they gushed and boasted over their fine catches. “Oh, and the dozen cranberry-orange scones you ordered are coming right up.”
More glee. Karla would have thought she was handing out chocolate to children for all the delightful anticipation she saw around the table. Funny how a simple idea like the Coffee Catch had such a positive effect on Dylan's customers. It made her feel good about her own future prospects when she started at Perk, and when she opened a place of her own.
“You know,” said a round-faced nun with cheery eyes, “I've been to Gordon Falls dozens of times and never stopped in here. Look what I was missing!”
“We heard your grandfather was laid up with a hip operation,” said another of the sisters. “I told Captain McDonald we'd pray for his speedy recovery, but it looks like you've got things well in hand, young lady.” Her eye took on an extra sparkle. “And we heard about your fish!”
Karla looked up to catch Dylan's eye as he walked in the door. She made a point of specially greeting the Catch customers as he was always about ten minutes behind them settling things on the dock.
“Captain McDonald is a great guide, and I ate the fillets to prove it. So he helped you find all the best fish this morning?” Karla emphasized the
Captain
loud enough for Dylan to hear, raising a teasing eyebrow as she headed back to the counter for the plate of scones.
A chorus of approval from the table turned Dylan's cheeks red and made Karla laugh. “Seems this morning was a big hit.”
“Honestly, it's been like taking my grandmother fishing. Times six,” Dylan whispered, veering to intercept Karla in her path to the counter. “One of them actually pinched my cheek.”
“Sounds like they've had a wonderful morning,” she replied, finding his befuddlement more than a bit amusing. Then, because she couldn't help herself, she managed a small salute and a “Sir.”
“Look!” Emily's excited cry pulled Karla away from any further ribbing. The waitress held up a cup and saucer overflowing down one side with creamy milk froth. “I did it!”
“You sure did.” Karla had to admire Emily's persistence in learning to work the espresso machine. She didn't have the heart to tell the waitress that the machine would be returning to Chicago with her when she left in a month. Then again, maybe not. The success of the Coffee Catch might convince Grandpa to invest in one anyway. She'd told her parents about the wonderful apprenticeship at the Clifton, but hadn't been able to tell her grandfather. No matter how many times she reminded him she was just here to help out, he seemed all too ready to install her behind the counter permanently.
“I'm not sure how it will taste,” Emily said, “but at least this one looks right and stayed in the cup. Mostly.” She handed Karla the cup and saucer with eager eyes. “You be the judge.”
The brew could have tasted ten times worse than it did and Karla would still have pasted an appreciative look on her face. “It's pretty close,” she exaggerated, ignoring the sharp taste and too-cool temperature of the drink. Emily was trying so hard, and the machine had seemed so foreign to the sturdy old waitress. “You'll be putting me out of a job in no time.”
“Oh, I'd never want that. Karl's thrilled to pieces you're behind the counter. Told me so himself the other day when I visited him before my shift.” Her eyes took on a beam to match the sisters' glowing expressions. “He's so proud of you. And now with the big event you've taken on...well, I thought he'd just about bust his buttons over you. And The Fish!”
“That was pretty amazing.” Everyone had simply started calling it “The Fish.” The thing was edging toward legend. It made her almost regret eating it rather than mounting it, but what would she do with a trophy like that?
Fast as the news of her big catch had spread, Karla wasn't at all surprised that word had also swept through town over the weekend about the anniversary committee chairmanship. She sighed as she arranged scones on a little footed cake stand. Karl's Koffee was the epicenter of Gordon Falls gossip because Karl Kennedy knew everybody's business. When someone was sick or hurt or grieving, that skill often made sure help was on the way. On the other hand, nothing ever said within earshot of Karl's Koffee stayed private for very long.
“I think you and Dylan will do a bang-up job on the party,” Emily went on. “I've already talked the gals down at the library into doing a boat...er, float, or whatever you'll call it.”
Karla put the last of the scones in its place and picked up a stack of small plates. “That's great, Emily. I'll make sure you know when the sign-up sheet is ready.”
“Silliest thing I ever heard of,” grumbled Oscar Halverson, owner of the local grocery store. The old man could always be counted on to find the dark cloud in any situation. Grandpa called him Oscar the Grouch after the Sesame Street characterâsometimes even to his face.
“Careful, Oscar,” Dylan chided. “Keep up that kind of endorsement and you'll end up in charge of decorations. By the way,” he went on, parking himself on the counter seat next to Halverson and leaning in, “you might want to stock up on those tiny strings of Christmas lights. Folks will be wanting them and if you're the only place carrying a good selection in the middle of July, you could clean up.”
That cleared most of the scowl off Oscar's face. “You're probably telling that to half a dozen businesses in town.”
“Just you so far.” Dylan pointed at him. “You remember that when it comes time to buy advertising in the banquet program.”
Oscar grumbled into his coffee mug and slid his two quarters onto the counter. Grandpa had been charging Oscar fifty cents for a single cup of coffee since Karla was in the first grade. The old man would probably stop coming if Karl ever raised it to the dollar he charged everyone else. How Grandpa managed to keep track of the special attention and various considerations he'd extended to hundreds of customers over the years, Karla could never fathom. His hip may have failed, but his mind was as sharp as ever.
“Oh, Captain McDonald, we've had such fun this morning. I love our yearly retreats but already this one has been the best by far.” One of the sisters, whom Karla had heard boasting of the day's largest catch, beamed at Dylan.
“And we've only just started,” added another. “Our Lord and his disciples were fishermen, too. It's a perfect matchâI don't know why we hadn't thought of it before.”
“What's the rest of your retreat look like?” Dylan pulled a chair up beside the sisters' table and sat on it backward. The posture gave him a rakish, playful quality, and the women ate it up faster than the scones.
“Three days of peace, rest, prayer and fellowship in a set of cabins overlooking the river out by the state park. The coffee won't be as fine, but the view takes your breath away.”
Dylan smiled. “I know that place. Beautiful.”
The sister nearest Dylan put a hand on his broad shoulder. “We do lots of our best praying at our retreats. What can we pray for you, Captain? You've given us such a fine timeâwe'd like to repay the favor.”
Karla stilled. She'd seen him Sundays at church, knew him to be a man of faith, but wanted to see how Dylan would respond to such a request.
His smile was warm and genuine. “As if I didn't find you all sweet enough already.” He gave the sister's question a moment's consideration. “Well, I'll tell you. Karla here and I have been roped into a pretty big job over the next few weeks.” He lifted his gaze to Karla and she felt her throat tighten. “We're going to need a lot of wisdom on how to pull it off the right way. And it's going to take lots of folks coming on board and being nice to each other. That's not always the easiest thing to manage in a small town, you know. So, I guess I'd appreciate prayers for the firehouse's 150th anniversary celebration, and for Karla and I while we pull it together.”
The smiles and “aww”s from around the table were endearing. These fishing nuns were just about the kindest women Karla had ever met. It struck her that she'd probably never see an exchange like that at Perk. And that was okayâChicago was Chicago, and a small town had a totally different atmosphere.
“We'd be honored to pray for both of you and the firehouse, as well. It's a fine thing you volunteer firemen do. Ohâfire
fighters
,” the sister corrected herself, “you told me you have a lady fireman in your department, don't you?”
Karla had met JJ Cushman, the department's first female volunteer firefighter. She was a pretty impressive woman. Her husband, Alex, was a smart businessman, too, and she'd planned to make sure she sat down and got Alex's business advice before leaving Gordon Falls. Maybe she and Dylan could make sure Alex had a role on the anniversary committee.
She and Dylan. Karla still wasn't quite sure how that pairing sat with her. He was a truly amazing guy, but Gordon Falls had always been just a layover on her career flight path. She wasn't blind, however, to how quickly and enthusiastically the town seemed to be nudging them together.
“Thank you very much for your prayers, sisters.” Dylan smiled at each of the six women. “I'm sure we're going to need them.”
“Yes,” Karla added, feeling a bit odd but also incredibly thankful. “It's appreciated.”
“Oh! We're running behind.” The youngest of the sisters checked her watch. “Finish up your coffees, gals. We're due at the cabins in twenty minutes.”
“Thank goodness for Eliza,” another sister said. “She keeps us on schedule.”
Within minutes, Karla had the remaining scones packed upâwith a few extras on the houseâand even got a hug from one or two of the nuns as they piled out of the coffee shop and into their minivan.
“Coffee Catch Number Two,” Dylan sighed as he waved from the shop's large front windows. “Even more successful than the first. Karla, I think we're absolutely onto something.”
* * *
Dylan sat at the small table belowdecks in the
High Tide
that afternoon and punched the calculator numbers again. He preferred to do paperwork in the tiny cabin of the boat than on the large desk at his apartment. The surroundings of the
High Tide
made it easy to remember why all this struggle was worth it.
It was working, if only barely.
Thank You, Lord, that things are picking up.
Thing were going okay before, but just enough to cover the loan payments. His stockpile of savings was nearing its end, and Dylan wanted Gordon River Fishing Charters to start pulling ahead of expenses by the end of the summer. This was a seasonal business, after all, so he needed strong tourist seasons to carry him through when summer was over.
The end of summerâthe end of Karla's stay in Gordon Falls. Part of Dylan didn't want to see her go. That was dumb, because she was always planning on going back to Chicago; nothing had changed.
He tapped his cell phone on and pulled up the photo of Karla holding the enormous fish. When he'd shown it to his sister, she'd suggested it become the cover of his business brochure. It wasn't a bad idea; every fisherman dreamed of landing such a prize. Dylan just wasn't sure he was ready to stare at Karla's beaming face on a daily basis. He was doing that now, and it was unraveling things in his chest he'd preferred to stay tightly knotted.
I'm grateful for her help, Lord,
he shared with God as he fingered the image.
You know I am. But what's going on here? Why do I feel this connection when You know nothing can come of it?
He'd written women off entirely after Yvonne. A drastic attitudeâhe knew thatâbut it was self-preservation. Even now, just the memory of the dismissal in her eyes when she told him she'd taken up with his boss could blow a dark hole in his stomach. He'd been
so wrong
about her.
I don't ever want to feel that way again. I'd rather be alone.
But was the choice really that severe? God's plan for him had to be larger than the two options of hurt or alone. Karla was helpful and friendly. Maybe a helpful friend was the best way to restore his faith in the female gender. One look around town gave him hard evidence that not all women were predatoryâthere had been a wave of happy marriages in the fire department lately, right in front of his nose. He wasn't ready for a relationship. But striking up a friendship with someone who was leaving in a month? Well, that seemed as good a way as any to stick his toe back in the water.
After all, they'd be spending enough time together pulling off the Fire Department Anniversary Boat Parade. Might as well enjoy it.