Page 64 of Grown-Up Second Chance

Chapter Nineteen

The day Joe and I picked to spend time in Yellowstone was one of those rare July days where the heat promised to stay reasonable, and a slight breeze kept bugs to a minimum. I didn’t even have the excuse of rain to avoid the trip.

In my heart of hearts I didn’t think there was a point to discussing anything. It was nice to know someone still liked me enough to kiss me. Larry hadn’t done more than an obligatory peck for a very long time. Few people know what it does to the soul of a woman when the man she loves turns his back to her in bed. We have enough trouble trying to emerge from the invisible status society creates for us after our childbearing years are done.

Any ability I’d had to care for another human being, especially a man, had been starved of oxygen until it died. There was no resuscitating the victim.

But I waited patiently for Joe that morning, a tote bag filled with water shoes, a towel, sunscreen, insect spray, a book—okay, two books since I was almost finished with one—packages of snacks, extra water, a sun hat, a change of clothes in case I fell into the water, and a first aid kit.

Kathleen had helped me pack it.

She was always getting badges in Girl Scouts.

Sipping my coffee, I watched Joe put fishing gear in the back of his pickup, load up two coolers, and add a tote bag of his own. At one point he waved at me, his grin already wide in spite of the early hour.

I clutched my morning grumpiness as tightly as I did my coffee, needing one to dissipate the other.

Too soon, he pulled up to the RV and hopped out.

“Beautiful day!” he said.

“If you say so.”

“I do.” He took my tote. “You never did do well in the morning. I remember that. I’ll try to be gentle with you. But isn’t it a great morning to be alive?”

I glared at him.

We got into the truck, and he drove south to the entrance to the park. Soft, new age music played through the speakers, the sort that was soothing to me for a while before it started to jangle my nerves with its repetitive calmness.

For now, it was doing its job.

About halfway to the first spot Joe had chosen, a place near where the Nez Pierce and Firehole Rivers met, he said, “Time’s up. Grumps should be done.”

I’d already been relaxed for several minutes. The beauty of the park sped up the process.

“Got me,” I said. “Hard to be miserable with all this beauty.”

“True. One of the reasons I’m moving to Ennis is to be closer to the park. I want to be able to make day trips when it’s not peak tourist season. Or take the RV and stay a few days. Sometimes when I’m writing it’s good to change the location.”

“I don’t know how you do it, put all those words on a blank page.”

“Sometimes I’m not sure how the magic happens either,” he said.

It was early enough that we were able to get a parking place not too far from the water. As we pulled the gear from the truck bed, anxiety began to tense my muscles. Although I’d been fishing with Joe in the river near the park, I’d never actually caught one. What if I did now? What if I made a fool of myself?

Joe chose spots for us. Mine was near a shaded pool where the water settled for a few moments before easing over some rocks to continue to cascade toward the Madison. A long time and ways from here, it might eventually exit the mouth of the Mississippi to end up in the Gulf of Mexico.

Or it might be gobbled up by thirsty cattle or corn on its way.

I got myself set up and cast the line, happy to see it float and settle like an elegant butterfly. My skills had definitely improved. Like the fly on the water currents, I let my mind drift, not really thinking. Images flowed in and out like an old photo album run through a projector: Liz artfully sneaking a fingerful of frosting off her birthday cake, Mom on her favorite horse, Dad’s beaming smile at our father-daughter dance. The soundtrack was provided by the present: the gurgle of the stream, the rustle of leaves overhead, the chirps and caws of unseen birds.

Time passed in suspension.

I occasionally watched Joe, emotions I didn’t want to identify coursing through my heart and mind. It was good to have him nearby, a solid anchor to make sure I didn’t drift away with the current.

The sun was becoming hot on my back when something splashed into the water.

I turned quickly.

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