I catch sight of vibrant red and orange paint. "Nothing."
I raise my eyebrows, but say nothing. He's already shared so much with me tonight. I don't need to push for more.
"Hey," he says then, glancing over at our fishing poles. The line attached to mine is tight and wiggling around.
"Did I --"
"I think you caught a fish!" he exclaims happily, and we both hurry over to the rods.
"What do I do?" I ask, surprised at how excited I am about catching a fish.
"Here, grab on," he says, lifting the rod out of its holder and passing it to me. "Now slowly, slowly , start reeling it in. Careful, you don't want to snap the line."
"As long as I don't hook you again."
"A lot harder to do that now."
"What do you think I caught?"
"Could be anything."
"A shark?"
He laughs. "You ready to remake Jaws ?"
"Maybe tomorrow."
The line starts to tug back a little, and I suddenly feel like I'm about to lose the pole overboard again, but this time with a cute little fish (I'm totally picturing Flounder from The Little Mermaid ) swimming around forever with that disgusting hook stuck in its mouth.
"Walker, I'm gonna -- "
"I see it," he says, and he's suddenly behind me, arms wrapped around me, hands over mine, helping me reel the fish in faster. "Okay, slide out of the way," he tells me, and I do, and by the time I look over at him again, my very first fish is dangling from the line in his hands.
"Ew," I say.
It's a small, reddish white fish flopping around in the air.
Walker laughs. "Not impressed?"
"What is it?"
"Looks like a Pacific ocean perch."
"How do you know?"
"My papa taught me about identifying fish when he taught me how to do all this," he says, then launches into an explanation of what makes a Pacific ocean perch unique, and about halfway through, I realize I'm not listening anymore, but instead just watching him and how excited he is to talk about this.
"Can we throw him back?" I finally ask when he's done.
Walker raises his eyebrows. "You don't want to keep him?"
"And do what with it?" I wrinkle my nose.
"Cook it up for dinner?"
I stare at the fish, who's pretty much not moving at all anymore, and I'm starting to get a little concerned. "Yeah, I don't think I could eat him after watching him die right in front of me."
Walker grins and tosses the fish into the bucket he filled with saltwater. "I thought you might say that. But hang on, we need a picture of you with your first catch."
He rummages through his bag and pulls out his cell phone, then directs me to go over and pick it up. I grab the line and hold it up while he snaps a picture, then quickly return the little guy to his bucket before I accidentally hurt him worse.
Walker stashes his phone, frees the fish and tosses him back overboard so he can enjoy the rest of his life at sea.
"Not bad," he says to me, reeling in his own line.
"You get something?"
He shakes his head. "Nah, I thought we might head back now."
I glance down at my watch; it feels like we've only been out here on the water for maybe thirty minutes or so, but it's actually been closer to three hours.
"Probably a good idea," I say reluctantly.
Walker runs around the small boat, making sure everything is in order before he begins piloting us back to the harbor at Western where he docks.
We travel back in silence, which is fine by me because it's an easy quiet, and the roar of the engine slicing through the waves makes it impossible to hear anyway.
Walker maneuvers the boat alongside the pier we left from.
"Don't you have to bring it into the harbor?" I ask.
He nods. "Yeah, but that takes a lot of work. Figured I'd let you out first."
"You don't have to."
"It's easier this way," he says, and I try to keep the disappointment I'm feeling from showing up on my face. I'm not so sure I'm ready to leave him yet today.
But Walker's adamant about being a gentleman and not making me do any extra boating chores, so I thank him for the day and
I raise my eyebrows, but say nothing. He's already shared so much with me tonight. I don't need to push for more.
"Hey," he says then, glancing over at our fishing poles. The line attached to mine is tight and wiggling around.
"Did I --"
"I think you caught a fish!" he exclaims happily, and we both hurry over to the rods.
"What do I do?" I ask, surprised at how excited I am about catching a fish.
"Here, grab on," he says, lifting the rod out of its holder and passing it to me. "Now slowly, slowly , start reeling it in. Careful, you don't want to snap the line."
"As long as I don't hook you again."
"A lot harder to do that now."
"What do you think I caught?"
"Could be anything."
"A shark?"
He laughs. "You ready to remake Jaws ?"
"Maybe tomorrow."
The line starts to tug back a little, and I suddenly feel like I'm about to lose the pole overboard again, but this time with a cute little fish (I'm totally picturing Flounder from The Little Mermaid ) swimming around forever with that disgusting hook stuck in its mouth.
"Walker, I'm gonna -- "
"I see it," he says, and he's suddenly behind me, arms wrapped around me, hands over mine, helping me reel the fish in faster. "Okay, slide out of the way," he tells me, and I do, and by the time I look over at him again, my very first fish is dangling from the line in his hands.
"Ew," I say.
It's a small, reddish white fish flopping around in the air.
Walker laughs. "Not impressed?"
"What is it?"
"Looks like a Pacific ocean perch."
"How do you know?"
"My papa taught me about identifying fish when he taught me how to do all this," he says, then launches into an explanation of what makes a Pacific ocean perch unique, and about halfway through, I realize I'm not listening anymore, but instead just watching him and how excited he is to talk about this.
"Can we throw him back?" I finally ask when he's done.
Walker raises his eyebrows. "You don't want to keep him?"
"And do what with it?" I wrinkle my nose.
"Cook it up for dinner?"
I stare at the fish, who's pretty much not moving at all anymore, and I'm starting to get a little concerned. "Yeah, I don't think I could eat him after watching him die right in front of me."
Walker grins and tosses the fish into the bucket he filled with saltwater. "I thought you might say that. But hang on, we need a picture of you with your first catch."
He rummages through his bag and pulls out his cell phone, then directs me to go over and pick it up. I grab the line and hold it up while he snaps a picture, then quickly return the little guy to his bucket before I accidentally hurt him worse.
Walker stashes his phone, frees the fish and tosses him back overboard so he can enjoy the rest of his life at sea.
"Not bad," he says to me, reeling in his own line.
"You get something?"
He shakes his head. "Nah, I thought we might head back now."
I glance down at my watch; it feels like we've only been out here on the water for maybe thirty minutes or so, but it's actually been closer to three hours.
"Probably a good idea," I say reluctantly.
Walker runs around the small boat, making sure everything is in order before he begins piloting us back to the harbor at Western where he docks.
We travel back in silence, which is fine by me because it's an easy quiet, and the roar of the engine slicing through the waves makes it impossible to hear anyway.
Walker maneuvers the boat alongside the pier we left from.
"Don't you have to bring it into the harbor?" I ask.
He nods. "Yeah, but that takes a lot of work. Figured I'd let you out first."
"You don't have to."
"It's easier this way," he says, and I try to keep the disappointment I'm feeling from showing up on my face. I'm not so sure I'm ready to leave him yet today.
But Walker's adamant about being a gentleman and not making me do any extra boating chores, so I thank him for the day and
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