Page 2 of Holding Ground

Her entire body loses all muscle control. “You said we could go after the life jackets.”

I ruffle the top of her hair. “It’ll only take me a few minutes. Want to race me?”

The words are barely out of my mouth before she’s sprinting for the cabin path. Within fifteen minutes, we’re headed back. The second Baylor spots the dock, she breaks into a run.

Her feet slap on the wooden boards, and I holler, “No running on the dock, Baylor. You know the rules.”

For once, she listens and slows to a fast walk. She must really want that drink.

I help her into the boat and hold out her life jacket. She hates wearing it, but probably not more than I do. The truth is, if I were on the boat alone, I wouldn’t be wearing one, but I can’t very well preach water safety and not model it.

After I untie the rope and pull in the bumpers, I ease the boat away from the dock.

Baylor sits in the seat beside me. “Can we go fast, Daddy?”

My little speed demon.

Without responding, I push up the throttle. The bow rises as we accelerate, then levels off.

Baylor laughs and throws both hands in the water-sprayed air. I steal a glance, committing this moment to memory—her brown hair whipping out behind her, mouth open in delight, blue eyes wide.

Not so long ago, she was a toddler, still learning her first words. Before I know it, I’ll be sitting beside a sullen teenager I’m desperately trying to coax a smile from.

I slow the boat once we approach town.

Echo Lake’s Main Street dead-ends at the lake, so I can park my boat at the marina there, and we can walk through town, a convenience that only lasts through the warmer months. Come winter, we’ll have to drive all the way around the lake unless the water is frozen enough to snowmobile over.

Baylor is out of her seat, practically jumping up and down as I ease the boat into an open slip. Once I’ve secured the boat and reset the bumpers, I help Baylor out of her life jacket, strip off my own, and lift her onto the dock.

“No running on the dock.”

Growing up on the water, Baylor knows her water safety. It’s something I’ve drilled into her head since she started speaking. She knows not to ever go near the water without an adult, and that if she’s in a boat or out on the water, she has to have her life jacket on.

But still, she’s only five years old, and when she’s excited and impatient like she is now, she needs the reminder.

She waits for me at the end of the dock and takes my hand as we head up Main Street.

“Are you gonna get something, Daddy?”

“I don’t think so, kiddo. I’ll probably grab something at home.”

Her sweet face tilts up at me. “Like one of your beers?”

I chuckle as we approach the Hollow Pine Café. “Probably.”

“Miss Dottie.” Baylor rushes over to the counter, climbing up on the black vinyl stool, leaning across as if Dottie can’t see her.

“If it isn’t my favorite little girl.”

I grip the back of my neck and give her a reserved smile. “Hey, Dottie.”

She gives me the once-over and leans over the counter toward me, careful to position herself so I get a clear view down the V-neck of her logo tee. “How are you doing, Elliott? Camp closed today?”

“Sure did.” I push my hands into the back pockets of my cargo shorts.

“Guess that means you have extra time on your hands?” She runs her index finger down the center of her neck straight to her cleavage.

It’s taken years of practice not to follow the movement. I learned quickly that even the slightest provocation gives Dottie the green light to press further.