Page 65 of Player
Hell, yeah.I shake me head no. Praying for rain. Wishing a snapping turtle or some other vicious creature would grab hold of me and drag me under.
Guilt. That’s what this is. Bloody Irish guilt.
The fishing pole jerks within me grasp. A wee nibble. Some interest. Though I feel like laughing, I do nothing but keep still and will the little bugger onward.
She gasps seconds later, and relief washes over me. “Oh. My. Word.” She comes to her feet. “I caught one.”
Thank you, Jaysus. I’ll be lighting a candle in your honor on me next visit inside a church. “Seems like you have a wee warrior on yer hands.”
I feel a vicious tug on me pole. He’s got to be a big fella, judging by the pull.
Clarissa reels in her catch. He’s a decent size. Big enough.
“You win.” I toss my pole on the ground. “How about I help you unhook him, we throw him back, then go have ourselves a picnic?”
Her gaze swings from my pole to my face.
I shrug, struggling with the small movement because my shoulders are weighed down from guilt.
Guilt from the lies I’ve told.
Guilt from the lies I’ll continue to tell.
