Page 57 of Darling Wildfire
As we clung to each other, I wondered how in the world a man like me could ever be blessed with a life like this.
27
THERON
The next morning I went out on a little rowboat.
Emy sat across from me, determined to catch a fish of her own. I’d allowed the boat to drift around a little curve of the bank and sat and readied her line for her.
“Alright, let’s see if you can catch one bigger than Cole’s,” I said and winked at her.
She smirked at me, an almost comical expression on her young face. It made her eyes scrunch up, and I bit back a laugh.
“I can do that—I always beat him.”
“You two are competitive for sure,” I said dryly, handing her the fishing pole.
“Well, Iamolder,” she said, lifting her nose in the air as she cast the line out.
“You’re twins,” I said flatly. “You’re the same age.”
“Yeah, but mom said I came out first!” She said proudly.
I chuckled, letting her have it. I watched her as she settled back to wait for her fish to bite. I had no idea where she got her bright blond hair from. Whit showed me pictures of when she was younger and her hair had been a dark blond so she said Emersyn’s hair would probably darken with age like hers had, but right now it was as bright as a wheat field at sunset.
She might have Whit’s hair, but she had my eyes. Blue eyes, nearly gray, stared out over the world with the wonder and curiosity of a child. I sighed, thinking about all the men I’d have to beat off of her when she was older. She was going to be a beautiful handful.
Emy’s line bobbed and her eyes lit up excitedly.
“I got one!”
“Bring it in easy,” I said, leaning forward with the net ready.
She bit her lip in concentration, brow furrowed as she brought the line in, the thrashing fish sending up splashes the closer it got. By the time it was flopping on the bottom of the boat, Emy’s face was flushed with victory, already gloating.
“It’s so much bigger,” she said smugly as she watched me pull out the hook.
“Well, pick it up, let’s document it.”
I showed her where to pick it up, and she lifted it as I pulled out my phone. She smirked for the camera and I took the picture, smiling down at it afterwards. As much as she tried to be smug, the look on her face in the picture was one of pure childish joy for beating her brother.
“I want to bring it home,” she said.
“Okay, if we do that, you have to kill it and we’ll have it for dinner.”
She looked at me then back down at the fish for a long moment, watching it gasp for air as its struggles diminished the longer it was out of the water.
“How do I kill it?” She asked.
I pulled my knife from my belt and laid it against the fish.
“Cut here.”
I flipped the knife and handed it to her by the hilt.
“Careful, it's sharp.”
“Iknow, dad,” she whined.
