Not this. Not playing barista with her lovely mother and then getting into a screaming match in the parking lot as we got doused in snow before she kissed me.
The look in her eyes, the way she begged me not to leave like that, when she told me she saw all of me and still wanted me—it killed me. It made me feel like a bigger piece of crap than I already was.
I pulled my rented SUV out of the inn and drove down Willow Lake Road, headed for the water. I remembered the first time I’d gone to this lake. It was on our first trip to Willow Harbor. My mother and I were amazed that such a small, quaint town was nestled on one of the biggest lakes in Idaho. They had a huge harbor with docks full of boats and a cute little strip of shops that served anything from ice cream to bait and fishing gear.
I loved this town.
I often dreamed of moving here. Buying a huge place right on the water with my own private dock and swimming and fishing all summer.
But I knew I never would. Especially not now. I’d avoid this town like the plague after seeing Hannah recoil when I toldher that I’d killed my mother. Sure, I could have worded it differently, but it was the truth. And I’d gone to prison for it, so any lies she tried to tell me to make me feel better were just that. Lies.
I was a murderer. I had taken a life. The most precious life I’d ever known. That of my own mother.
I pulled up to the large dock and parked my car in an empty space off to the side. There were two dozen sailing vessels and small fishing boats moored at the harbor. The small Shake Shack store that normally sold shakes and fries in the summer months was closed up for the winter.
I headed for the water without a thought of what I was doing, pulling my gloves on and tightening my coat. I just needed to keep moving until my jet got here. The entire lake was frozen. I could see ice skating marks on the top, which reminded me of the times my mother and I had skated out here together.
I walked out onto the dock, my gaze firmly on the horizon and all the little lakeside houses that were lit up. Probably filled with happy families having happy lives.
“I’ve got an extra pole,” a male voice said, and I leaped about three feet into the air.
I turned to the source of the noise and saw an old man in his seventies, sitting behind a huge pillar that had camouflaged him. He was…fishing? He held a fishing pole in one hand, and there was a bucket and net beside him.
“Are you fishing?” I asked is disbelief. “It’s winter.” Maybe he had dementia or something and I should find out where his family lived and return him home.
The old man laughed, and it was a bright and happy sound.
“Son, I’m ice fishing. You get the big ones at night and they come easy. Ice fishing is common around here. You must be a tourist.”
Ouch.
He patted the spot on the dock next to him and I shrugged. Why not? I had at least an hour to kill before heading to the small airport.
I sat next to him and let my legs dangle over the edge. Peering down, I saw that he had cut a perfect circle-shaped hole into the ice where the dark waters were below. He handed me a pole with bait already attached, as if he had been expecting a second person.
“You know how to fish?” he asked me.
“Yes, sir.” I dropped the fishing line into into the water, directly in the center of the hole and I peered over at the man.
“Are you in town for Christmas?” he asked.
I shrugged. “I went to a concert.” I tried to keep it vague.
“Ahh. That Jules and Hannah have the voices of angels.”
I sighed, angry I couldn’t avoid Hannah even on this random dock. Small-town problems.
“They sure do. It was a nice concert.”
“How long you been Christian?” he asked me.
If I had known he was so chatty, I never would have sat down. “Won’t we scare the fish off with all the talking?” I asked him, trying to drop a hint, but he was undeterred.
“That’s an old wives’ tale. The fish are used to noises.”
Great.
I was hoping he’d forget the question he’d asked, but he persisted.
