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“Mom! Wake up!”
“Why?” Bridget murmured dreamily.
“Because there are fish!”
She yawned hugely. “Let me know if you catch one.”
“You’re no fun.”
Jonas wagged a finger at Molly. “Let your mother catch a few z’s. She works hard.”
The little girl scowled at him, then thought better of it. Jonas could see Bridget’s quirked-up smile.
“Thanks, Jonas,” she said, her eyes still closed.
Score one for him. Jonas and Molly continued to paddle and soon they were at the bank where they’d parked the car. They scrambled out of the tubes in the shallow water, dragging them up onto the bank. Butts dripping water, they got the fishing gear ready and Jonas tied flies on two rods.
“Ever been fly-fishing?” he asked Molly.
“Yup. With my grandpa. He said I was pretty good. We were in a boat, though, on Lake Memphremagog.”
“That’s way up north.”
“Grandpa says you can catch three-foot-long trout up there.”
Jonas laughed. “I think he’s pulling your leg. Now how are we going to get these rods back to where we were?”
Molly reached and flipped open the lid of a cooler to look inside. “This one’s empty. Let’s float everything in it. The rods are light. It won’t sink.”
He ruffled her hair. “Smart kid.”
She found a bungee cord and hooked it around one handle of the cooler so they could hang on to it. Molly carried it to the water while Jonas set the tubes back in, and they were off.
Bridget was still floating in blissful circles as they went by.
“Toot-toot!” Molly said, gently bumping her mother’s tube with her own.
Bridget opened her eyes to watch the flotilla go by, smiling at Jonas and her daughter. Then she settled back, content to daydream.
An hour or so of casting from the rocks got a few rises from the lurking trout but no hits. Molly really did know how to cast, Jonas was pleased to see. Her feathery fly landed lightly on the water each time, and she never snagged one of the overhanging branches.
He did. Twice.
With small, nimble fingers, Molly helped him untangle his line when he pulled the branch down in a graceful arc the first time, but she was having trouble with it now. Her earnest expression and determined air made him want to smile—her grandpa had taught her well. She was going to keep at it until they caught something. Quite a kid. He wouldn’t mind being her dad, not at all. In fact, it would be an honor.
Jonas remembered what Bunny had told him about being patient. He was going to take this one step at a time.
Molly glanced down into the water. “There’s one,” she whispered.
He actually didn’t want to catch it. He wanted her to catch it. Jonas left his snagged line where it was and reached out for her rod and reel. “Go get him.”
Walking carefully and noiselessly over the rocks, Molly found a spot where her shadow wouldn’t fall on the water and made a perfect cast, sending line and fly sailing over the water. Just as the fly touched the calm surface, the trout rose—and swallowed it whole. Molly lifted her catch with a shout, calling to Jonas to come help her. It was a good-size fish but the hook held.
“Mom, look!”
Bridget rotated and opened her eyes. “Wow! Honey, that’s great!”
Jonas got close enough to reach for it, but the wildly flopping fish was too slippery to hang on to. He whipped off his T-shirt and used it to get a grip on it, bringing the catch to Molly, who looked at her gasping catch with pride. “That was fun. Okay, let it go,” she said.
