Page 15 of Beauty and the Beard

“What was his name?”

Flicking my eyes to Sasha, I notice he’s taken his camera out and points it at the shoreline.

“Connor. He was a nature nut. Then I came along and bought the sugar bush up the road. A city guy looking for an escape. He teased me relentlessly while I got started.”

Connor definitely beat his way past my walls to capture my heart. I never intended to move here permanently and run a lodge with him. Never mind marry him. But I did, and they were some of the best years of my life.

“Did he tease you about being a citified lumberjack?”

Sasha laughs and points his camera at me.

“Well, I’ve always had a love of plaid and yes, he did. Because the first time we met, he saw me chopping wood with an axe and he made a remark about how the log drivers would have loved me in the bunkhouse.” I smile with a small shake of my head. “Connor wasverystraightforward when he wanted something.”

The sheltered cove I want to anchor at is up ahead and I motion for Sasha to look forward.

“We’re going to anchor just off that rock face for the afternoon. You might get some great photos as the sun changes position.”

Sasha shifts his focus and so do I. But not where it immediately should be. Since I’ve slowed the boat to a crawl as we enter the bay, he’s walked to the front of the boat and knelt down. His sweatpants stretch over his hips and he’s lost in taking photos. I don’t want to disturb him from his zone, but I’m also caught up in it.

Because I was the same way when Connor introduced me to this life. I was so addicted to fishing after the first few times, I wondered if someone had drugged me.

A laugh sneaks out and Sasha peers over his shoulder at me.

“What’s so funny?”

“I was just remembering the first time I came fishing here and how quickly I was addicted. I’m wondering if the same will happen to you.”

“There’s only one way to find out!”

Christ. The smile and the laughing. The ease of speaking to him about Connor. The natural beauty of Sasha. It’s been years since I’ve felt so comfortable and light.

And maybe I’ve missed moments like this more than I thought.

Killing the engine, I direct Sasha to sit while I anchor us. He snaps photos of everything the entire time.

I take out two fishing rods and show him how to use them. He casts and tries it out, all the while a giant smile on his face, like a five-year-old who got a second dessert after supper.

“Now comes the part most people hate. Bass love worms. You can put the worm on yourself or I can.”

“So, it’s alive and you just thread it on?”

He wrinkles his nose, and I take a worm from the container to show him. He watches, but he’s not thrilled.

“You don’t have to. I can do it for you.”

“Would you? I think I need to work up to that part. Maybe the next time we come out, I can try.”

Thenext timepart isn’t lost on me. His gaze meets mine and I know it was hard for him to ask me to bait his hook. Someone has hurt him. I know because it’s the same tone my voice would carry when I finally asked for help myself. It never makes sense, but I worried if I asked for help with anything I’d be less. Less strong, less of a man, less than Connor deserved. Of course I know better now, but I’ll never forget that feeling.

“That’s absolutely fine with me.” I put the worm on his hook and wipe my hands on a towel. “Now, how do I work this camera? You should have a picture of this.”

“Oh god,” he laughs but shows me how to point and shoot. “Roman will want to see this.”

Effortlessly, he smiles and I point the camera at him. His pose isn’t staged, and he’s laughing. I press the button multiple times to capture the memory. In a moment of spontaneity, I hold up a finger. “Wait!”

Rummaging in the front pocket of my coat, I pull out my pack of colt cigars.

“Let this dangle from your lips. We’ll get that full fisherman feel for Roman.”

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