Page 3 of The River in Spring
I stop trying to get up on my own and make the case for forgiveness.
“Wait. Let’s not go there. I know you have every right, but if you’d just bring me that chair over there, I’ll get up and leave you to your fishing. Please. I’m really sorry. It was stupid of me.”
I sit up straight and run a hand through my hair. A twig with one leaf falls to my shoulder. She’s watching and deciding the next move.
“What’s your name?” She says it with a frown.
“It doesn’t matter.”
“Yes it does.”
Now what?
“You put me in a vulnerable situation. Now I’m going to do it to you. Tell me your real name. I have all the time in the world and the ability to follow you wherever you hobble off to.”
The choices flip through my brain. There is only one.
“Nobel. My name is Nobel.”
“You’re far from noble.”
She’s got me there.
“It is. But spelled differently. What’s yours?”
“Dove.”
“Dove? Like the lovebirds? Very nice.”
I get a side-eye for my transparent effort to sooth the beast who has me in her trap.
“I stand by my opinion. It’s a good name,” I say.
“What’s your last name, Nobel? And if I were you, I’d be very careful with my answer.”
“Are you threatening me, Dove?” I half-smile begging for mercy.
“Yes. I believe I am. And no court in the land would fault me for doing it. Remember who here is the man hiding in the tree and who is the vulnerable woman legally fishing.”
Unfortunately for me, she’s right. I know it as an attorney and as a logical human. So I decide to do as asked. Lay it all out and beg for mercy.
“I’m Nobel Lyon, and that’s the truth.”
Her eyes scan my face and if I’m not mistaken they take in the rest of me too. Dirty and disheveled as it is. It’s surprising my statement is accepted without pushback. She even brings the folded chair to my side and steadies it with her hands and feet.
“Try to get up.”
With a tilt of my head and an eye to eye connection, I question her satisfaction with my answer. She understands the meaning.
“I did my due diligence when I decided to fish here. I looked up whose property I was going to access.”
“Impressive.”
I’m not just impressed with her digging, but with the use of due diligence. It’s unusual.
As I attempt to stand, my next question rises without thinking it out.
“May I ask how old you are, Dove?”
