Lake’s innocent brown orbs widened when her prize was right in front of her, and in the next second, salty tears began to stream down her face.
I knew she shouldn’t have come. I’d pleaded with my father. Lake was only five and a girl. She couldn’t handle it the way I could at eight. And fishing was for boys. I shook my head at her cry-baby antics. But then…
She looked at my father before turning her attention to me.
“B-Bronson you h-have to h-help me save h-him, p-please.”
Something shifted inside me. I felt panic, along with something else that stirred in the pit of my stomach that I couldn’t identify. I’d never had this feeling before.
“P-please, you’re my b-best friend,” she wailed.
And that’s when it hit me like a ton of bricks. That feeling that was rumbling inside me was protectiveness. At that moment all I wanted to do was protect Lake from feeling so sad.
I walked to her side and took the pole from my father. “We can let it go together,” I told her. I unhooked the withering fish and coaxed Lake to the edge of the dock. “Lay on your belly and then put your hand on mine.”
Lowering to my stomach, she followed suit. When she placed her palm on top of my hand, I lowered the exhausted fish into the water, cradling it in a swimming position, and began to move it back and forth to force fresh water through its gills.
The fish didn’t move and I wondered if it would be okay. I felt Lake’s gaze turn to mine and I willed the trout to get a move on. It wasn’t ideal to catch and release, they didn’t always survive. My dad had told me that years before. But for Lake I had to try.
I heard a few sniffles and knew Lake was crying still. Her tears had abated some when I’d jumped in to help her, but I could feel her worry for the small creature radiating off her. Then, all of a sudden movement slithered under my hand.
Relaxing my fingers, I opened my hand and the fish took off through the water.
Lake gasped and her happy laughter echoed around us.
When we got to our feet, she wrapped her small arms around me. “Thank you.”
I looked at my father who was smiling like a loon and gave an exaggerated eye-roll. But secretly I was pleased that I was able to help the girl with her arms wrapped around me.
From that day on things had been different. I tried sometimes to act put out when she was with my friends and I because they always acted exasperated about her being around. But I began to enjoy her presence.
It wasn’t long before I had begun to like her presence over any of the boys. She eventually became my best friend, as I was hers. Then the kiss—
“Hi, Uncle Bronson.”
Startled from the memory of Lake’s lips on mine for the first—theonlytime—that I was about to have, I snapped my head to the side and looked at Stormi who was bouncing on the balls of her feet with excitement.
The ‘Uncle Bronson’ was cute, but my heart picked up speed when a picture flashed in my head at her calling me something else. What would it be like for someone to call me Dad? For Stormi to call me Dad? Being around Lake again with Stormi in tow had all sorts of crazy thoughts running through my mind.
“You came!” she squealed, just like her mother used to when she was her age and filled with elation.
Her enthusiasm had me moving. Slowly opening my door, Stormi moved back and I got out. “Of course I came, silly goose. I said I would, didn’t I?”
The adorable girl tilted her head and studied me. “You did and I’m so glad you’re here!” She jumped and on pure instinct I caught her, swinging her up into my arms.
“Should we go find your mom so I can get her to work?”
Stormi bit the inside of her cheek and I melted. God, she was so much like her mother. Lake used to do the same thing when she was pondering something or unsure.
“We can, but…”
“Stormi, where are you?” Lake yelled as she pulled open the front door.
“Oops,” the little one in my arms whispered. “She is already in a mood and now I’ve really done it.”
I couldn’t help but chuckle at the way she huffed exaggeratedly.
“Let’s go see what’s got abee in her bonnet.”
