Page 7 of The True-Blue Romance

Lee grunts as he steers the boat into the river. “Nah, they’re missing something. Probably love.”

I poke Lee hard in the back and he squirms away with a hearty chuckle. We all stand for a bit, sipping our coffee, watching the early light of sunrise start to break over the trees. The wind whips through my hair and I smile despite the past few moments of unease. Birds sing in the trees, and the sound of the river comforts me like it always has. This New Jersey boy finding himself at home in the Florida rivers, springs, and back roads has always been so funny to me. I think I was made to be here.

Lee navigates the boat to a slower place in the river so that we can drift slowly. We’re quiet as we grab our rods and prepare them. We make our first throws, then get ready to settle in. Beau takes the seat up front like usual, and Lee and I settle into the side-by-side seats at the back of the boat. The sun slips above the trees, the birds rejoicing at the sight after a long night of darkness.

I sip my coffee that’s now the perfect temperature. Lee knows just how I like it after all these years. A nice dark roast with a pinch of sugar, that’s it. Creamer ruins coffee in my opinion. I want to taste the beans, which is why Lee has always invested in a nicer roast when he’s making coffee for me.

I watch the back of Beau’s head for a bit as he sits patiently and waits for a fish to bite. He’s got some gray hairs at the back of his neck that I’ll have to find the perfect time to give him some shit for. That’s real friendship.

We’ve been on the boat before and never uttered a single word, but I’m not feeling that today. Not after noticing Lee’s nose. Not after being alone all weekend and not getting Savannah back until after school this evening.

“I’m bored,” I say loudly.

“You’re gonna scare the fish away,” Beau whispers, but I can hear the smile in his voice.

“That’s a myth,” Lee points out.

I grin over at Lee in thanks, but his head is still tilted away, as if he’s looking at the river, but I know he’s not. He’s probably squinting and looking at the trees, trying to see if he can spot any new birds. My little bird-watcher. I’m not sure he even likes fishing after all these years.

“Did y’all hear about the drama at the church?” I ask with a little lilt to my voice that I know will capture their attention.

As if on cue, both men turn toward me. Beau’s hat obscures his face a little, but I can see the interest from a mile away, and despite Lee’s obviously broken nose, he wants the drop on the drama too.

“Do tell,” Lee all but begs.

“Okay, well, someone’s been stealing from the tithe plate again.”

“Oh, here we go,” Beau says with far too much interest.

Lee snorts in clear derision. “How would anyone know? We have been down this road so many times.”

“Well.” I lean forward, resting my elbows on my knees and making my eyes big and dramatic, which in turn makes them lean a little closer. “All the parishioners are filling out those little tithe sheets now, putting the cash in the envelopes. They document it and check their tithe sheet at the end of the month that they get from Mrs. Gordon in the front office, right? Well, some of them are missing funds. So they don’t know if it’s someone stealing from the plate in the service or someone in the office stealing funds. It’s a whole big thing.”

“Well, maybe if they were actually good people…” Lee grumbles.

“Let it go,” Beau says with a wave of his hand. “Well, it’s probably one of the kids. We know how that goes.”

“I hope they never find out. Run free, little thief, run free.”

I snort and send Lee a look. “You are such a hater.”

“They deserve it with the shit they preach.”

We all quiet; it’s still a sore spot after all these years. It’s funny to me that Beau was the one who got kicked out of the church, but he’s over it, and Lee keeps holding a grudge so tightly that he hopes that someone at the church is committing a crime without getting caught. I’d wanted to burn the place down when the church gave an entire sermon about Beau going to hell after he came out in high school, but noooooo, neither of them would let me.

The fish aren’t biting much today. I only catch two blue catfish; Lee and Beau catch trout. The catfish will get fried tonight, while the trout will get baked with a nice crunchy parmesan crust. We put them in the container on the boat and make the slow ride back to the dock. The day has warmed, and the wind is light, blowing through the trees softly and catching sunrays on the water. I can see the tension return to Lee’s shoulders as he steers the boat. I’ll have him over for dinner tonight, try to get him to talk to me about what happened. Savannah can loosen him up in a way no one else can; she can get that man on the floor playing werewolves and howling at the moon.

Beau pulls up in front of my rented bungalow, and I open Lee’s door without question. Lee only sighs loudly and follows after me. I look behind him toward Beau, who just has one eyebrow lifted in question, but he tips his hat when I tug Lee to help me get our rods and the cooler out of the bed of the truck.

“Stop by later if you want some hush puppies,” I tell Beau, and he just nods before raising his window back up and backing out of the drive. I turn to Lee, who is standing quiet and tired behind me. “You’ll stay for dinner and bedtime. Savi has been begging for some Uncle Lee time. Wanna sleep over?”

Lee gets shifty again but sighs, which is his form of not arguing. Lee is pretty easy to convince these days, although sometimes he gets his back up and wants to no longer have sleepovers, like my house isn’t half his anyway. We head inside in wordless agreement. Lee tugs off his hat when the crisp air-conditioning washes over us, and his wayward light brown wavy hair is even messier than normal from sweating on the boat. In tandem, we slip off our shoes and head toward the kitchen. We work together to clean the fish, a system we’ve had down for almost twenty years now. I put the fish in the fridge to hold them for frying later in the evening, then shove Lee toward the guest room.

“You smell so bad,” I tell him while continuing to lightly shove him. It’s not true; Lee never really smells bad. I like the smell of him after a long day outside because he smells the most like himself then. Like hard work and determination, softness and shy smiles. “Take a shower and put on some of your clothes that always ends up back at my house anyway.”

“Rude,” Lee says with very little bite.

“We can go pick up Savi from school together. She’ll love that.”