After exchanging grins, Gwendolyn nodded to Priscilla andSamuel, who both had faces smeared with chocolate. “Would the two of you like to fish with us?”
Priscilla shook her head. “Girls don’t fish.”
“Where did you hear that?”
“One of my old governesses. She told me girls shouldn’t like worms.”
Gwendolyn pulled out a handkerchief and began wiping icing from Priscilla’s face. “Even though there’s an excellent chance that particular governess was merely trying to avoid taking you fishing, what you need to understand is this: You’re going to be told throughout your life that girls shouldn’t do many things. It’ll be up to you to decide whether that’s true or not. I’ve been fishing since I was a child. I bait my own hook, and while worms can be slimy, simply being a girl does not mean you’re predisposed to squeamishness where worms are concerned.
“With that said, I’m going to encourage you to explore activities throughout your life in whatever way you see fit. If something interests you, give it a try. You may decide you don’t care for fishing after experiencing it, but don’t neglect to try it simply because you’ve been told you can’t because you’re a girl.”
She straightened and found that while she’d been cleaning off Priscilla’s face, Samuel had stolen up beside her, worry flickering through his eyes.
He dropped his gaze and began tracing a toe through the sand. “I don’t like to fish. I think it’s mean because the hooks hurt the fish.”
Her heart gave another lurch, something it had been doing often during the time she’d spent with the children. She took hold of Samuel’s hand. “There’s nothing wrong with not liking to fish.”
“Boys are supposed to like fishing.”
“My brother Duncan doesn’t care to fish for exactly the same reason you don’t.”
“Does he get teased for not liking to fish?”
“Not at all. In fact, he loves animals so much he’s currently pursuing what’s known as a veterinary degree from Iowa State University.”
“What’s a veter ... nary degree?”
“It’s a degree a person gets from a university that will allow them to become a doctor to animals, something I imagine you may want to consider when you’re older.”
“Sam would make a good animal doctor,” Oscar said, lugging a pail filled with dirt and worms from the pony cart and sidestepping Bert, who was stretched out in the sand, taking a snooze. “And you only need to tell me, Sam, if anyone teases you. I’ll put an end to that.”
He nodded to Gwendolyn. “Ready?”
She rolled up her sleeves. “Let the fishing challenge begin.”
With Priscilla and Samuel looking on, although Samuel turned his head while Gwendolyn and Oscar baited their hooks, Gwendolyn walked to where the surf was lapping the shore, casting her line into the ocean as Oscar did the same.
Five minutes was all it took for her to feel a tug on her pole, but as she began reeling in her line, her fish made a great escape, leaving her with nothing but an empty hook to show for her efforts.
Oscar sent her a grin, one that held not a shred of sympathy in it, right before his pole began to bow and he was pulled a few feet into the surf.
“I caught a big one,” he yelled, struggling to keep a grip on the rod as he worked to reel in whatever he’d caught.
Abandoning her pole as Priscilla and Sam came scampering to join them, Gwendolyn grabbed the back of Oscar’s shirt when he was pulled another foot into the ocean, knowing better than to offer to help him reel because, if she’d learned anything about Oscar thus far, it was that he was a capable boy and certainly wouldn’t appreciate assistance, not when they were engaged in a friendly fishing competition.
“It’s got to be at least thirty pounds,” Oscar yelled, as he struggled to pull what did seem to be a massive fish to shore.
A second later, the fish flipped out of the water, but it disappeared beneath the surface before Gwendolyn could ascertain what type of fish it was. Tightening her grip on the back of Oscar’s shirt when he was pulled forward another foot, which left them knee-deep in water, Gwendolyn suddenly caught sight of a large shadow from the corner of her eye. Squinting, her heart skipped a beat when she realized what was lurking beneath the surface—and lurking far too close for comfort.
“Children, get back,” she called to Priscilla and Samuel, before she snatched the knife she’d tucked into her pocket to use if the fishing lines got tangled and pulled Oscar beside her, brandishing the knife toward Oscar’s taut fishing line as the fish broke the water’s surface again.
“What are you doing?” Oscar demanded.
“Shark” was all she said, stepping in front of him. Before she could cut the line though, the shark surged out of the water, opening its mouth and showing sharp teeth right before it snapped up the fish flailing about on the end of Oscar’s line.
“Let go of the pole, Oscar!” Gwendolyn yelled.
Before Oscar could do that, he stumbled backward, taking his pole with him, which then caused what was left of the fish to go whizzing its way out of the water.
