The Lost Fisherman Page 6

  “So your vagina is eco-conscious.” He grinned. “Noted.”

  Oh my gosh … what exactly is he “noting” and why?

  We grabbed my deodorant and his mouthwash, making our final stop in the condom aisle.

  “I’m a little surprised Angie isn’t on the pill.” I fidgeted with the hem of my T-shirt. Old habits never died.

  “Apparently, she went off the pill in preparation for getting pregnant.”

  I nodded. “So you’re going to have kids right away. That’s exciting.”

  He tossed a box of condoms in the cart. “I’m not sure if it’s exciting, hence the condoms. I’m a little hesitant to make a child with someone if I’m not sold on the idea of marrying them yet.”

  I followed a few steps behind him.

  “So you’re just going to hump her and dump her.”

  He stopped so quickly I ran into his back.

  “Oof … why’d you stop?”

  Facing me, he squinted and twisted his lips. “You don’t think I should have sex with her if I’m not certain I want to marry her?”

  With a tight smile, I lifted a shoulder. “I don’t have a strong opinion on it. But I imagine she does. Maybe you should make sure you’re on the same page. The intimacy might lead her to believe all is good between the two of you. That’s all. It’s the male brain versus the female brain.”

  Fisher waited until I felt a little squirmy before he responded with a sharp nod. “Good tip.” Turning, he headed toward the checkout lane.

  Chapter Nine

  “It’s like getting to wear pajamas to work,” Fisher said, checking out the racks of scrubs.

  “It sure is. And I can wear comfy shoes instead of work boots.”

  He glanced up at me, his hand resting on a pile of scrub tops. “Are you making a jab at me? Did I tell you to wear work boots? I should have. It’s a safety issue.”

  “Yes.” I picked out a top. “You took me to buy boots and a hard hat, but I wasn’t wearing socks and that chapped you.”

  “Well, who doesn’t wear socks to work?”

  “Lifeguards,” I said casually, moving a few steps to a different round rack. “I bet strippers don’t wear socks either.”

  He tipped his head, pretending to be really interested in a pair of smiley faced scrubs. Then he chuckled. “They might wear fishnet stockings.”

  “Do you think you would have been okay with me wearing fishnet stockings with my work boots?”

  Clearing his throat, he glanced around the store. “I’m dealing with some memory loss, so I can’t say for sure where my head might have been in that moment.” His lips twisted as his gaze landed on me. A tiny grin teased his lips. “I might have been okay with it.”

  “Well, that’s shocking.” I took my scrubs to the checkout counter and paid for them while Fisher waited by the door.

  “Time to return you before your curfew.”

  “Curfew. Pfft.” He rolled his eyes. “I was thinking lunch.”

  “You’re milking this outing.”

  “I’m in a cast. Going crazy. Help a guy out.”

  “Help a guy out …” I mumbled as we headed to the car.

  I helped the guy out, as if my eternally foolish heart had a choice. We found a soup and sandwich cafe with whimsical decor and a quaint little booth in the back surrounded by snake ferns and hanging Pothos.

  “Tell me all about Thailand,” Fisher said after we ordered our food and drinks.

  “How much time do you have?” I chuckled.

  Leaning back, he stretched his good arm along the back of the booth. “I’m yours for the rest of the day.”

  Oh, Fisher … you’re no longer mine.

  We spent the next hour and a half eating and talking all things Thailand. While it was my story to tell, Fisher asked lots of questions and seemed genuinely engaged and curious.

  We laughed.

  I got a little teary eyed telling him about a still birth that tore out my heart.

  But for the most part, I shared my stories with enthusiasm, using my hands and making crazy expressions. He seemed to eat it up. Every word.

  We ordered a slice of chocolate pie to share. Sharing our germs. Saliva swapping.

  I didn’t go into much detail about Brendon. Not our romance. Not our engagement. I never even said his name. Fisher was none the wiser. And not once did I think about the eighteen-year-old girl he didn’t remember. I was too busy enjoying the moment—the moment he got to know the woman I’d become.

  “Thanks for letting me tag along,” Fisher said when I dropped him off at his house a little before three in the afternoon.

  “Thanks for lunch. You didn’t have to pay.”

  He ducked his head back into my car and grinned. “I invited myself. It was the least I could do.” He winked.

  THAT. That was almost too much. Tears came out of nowhere, sending me fumbling for my sunglasses.

  “Well …” I fumbled my words like my fingers fumbled my glasses. “Have a good rest of your day.”

  “I’ll have a good enough day.” He shut the door.

  I made it out of his driveway and about ten feet down the street before my tears escaped on a heavy blink. Why did he have to wink at me?

  Why did he have to be so fun and goofy in Target?

  Why did he have to be so interested in my trip to Thailand, so interested in me?

  Chapter Ten

  Sunday morning brought an unexpected guest to our house. I had just returned from my morning jog. Three long faces at the kitchen table greeted me.

  Rory. Rose. And Angie.

  “Hey,” I said with caution.

  “How was your run?” Rory asked.

  “Fine,” I replied slowly, filling a glass with water. “Is … everything okay?”

  “Fisher suggested Angie move out and they date again.” Just Rose giving me the quick explanation made Angie cry. Again, I assumed.

  “Oh.” That was the best I had, but I dug deeper for more. “Well, I’m sure that’s hard to hear. But he’s not saying he doesn’t want you. And it’s impossible for any of us to put ourselves in Fisher’s shoes. But I’d imagine he’s feeling overwhelmed.”

  “And how do you think I’m feeling?” Angie cried.

  Rory frowned at me like it was my fault.

  “I imagine you’re feeling scared. Grateful that you didn’t lose him in that accident, yet you did lose him in many ways. It’s like the family of someone with Alzheimer’s. You realize that all the pictures and souvenirs from life mean nothing without the actual memories. You’re a stranger to the person you love most in the world. And falling in love with someone is like offering a part of yourself to them. If Fisher doesn’t recognize you, it’s like you’re missing a part of yourself. And you’re questioning who you are or who you will be if you never get that piece back. But honestly, I’d imagine your biggest fear right now is that Fisher won’t fall in love with you again.” I pressed my lips together for a few seconds. I might have gone too far. “At least, that’s how I would feel if I were in your shoes.”

  Angie blinked a new round of tears as her face wrinkled. “Y-yes … that’s exactly h-how I f-feel.”

  Rose hugged her. “He’ll come around. You’re a beautiful, kind, talented woman. He’d be a fool to not fall in love with you again.”

  “W-what am I supposed to do…” she sniffled and wiped her face “…about the wedding? Do we cancel? We’ve put money down on a venue. A florist. I’ve bought a d-dress.”

  Rory looked to me, her silent plea for help. Just because I read her mind regarding her emotions didn’t mean I had great advice for her wedding plans.

  With wide eyes, I shrugged and turned my attention to the rest of the water in my glass, gulping it down. “I’m going to grab a shower. I hope it all works out how it should.”

  Sadly, I thought it should work out differently than she did.

  My first day with Holly could not have been better. She was the midwife I wanted to be. Patient.
Calm. Caring. Encouraging. The clinic was an old house with the rooms converted into ‘exam’ rooms, if you could call them that. They were decorated with a Zen theme. Nothing cold and sterile about them.

  The midwives scheduled two hours with every person to give them the chance to ask questions and express concerns or fears about … anything. One of Holly’s clients was three months pregnant and stressed over what car to get for their growing family. Holly grabbed her computer and helped search for good options for safety, gas milage, best value, etc.

  Who did that at a routine prenatal visit?

  That was what I loved about Holly and the other midwives at the clinic. Nothing they did felt routine at all. Every client had their own birth plan, no two exactly alike.

  Different needs.

  Different inherent risks.

  Different concerns.

  She respected their decisions without judgment.

  “How was your day?” Rory asked when I arrived home a little after six in the evening.

  As if she couldn’t tell from the grin on my face and the exaggerated bounce in my step. We spent the next hour eating dinner and discussing my first day.

  “Enough about me, how was your day?”

  “Interesting,” Rory said.

  “Understatement.” Rose rolled her eyes as I grabbed her empty plate from the table.

  “Do tell.” I carried our dishes to the sink.

  “Hailey called me on my way to work. Apparently, Angie unloaded on her too. Hailey asked me to talk to Fisher. Then Fisher’s sister called me. Again, asking me to talk to Fisher. Then it hit me … I must be his only friend. Why does everyone think that I can fix this? That he will listen to me? And I don’t even know what I’m supposed to tell him because I know what it’s like to not be in love with the person everyone thinks you should love.”

  My dad.

  “Sorry, Reese,” she whispered as Rose kissed the top of her head.

  I leaned against the counter and crossed my arms over my chest. “Dad died ten years ago. I think you can officially retire from feeling guilty for not loving him the way you love Rose. Okay?”

  She nodded slowly. “Thank you.”

  “As for Fisher, I think you can talk with him, but I’d listen more than preach to him. Think of what you wanted from people around you when you knew you were going to disappoint everyone for having feelings that only you could understand.”

  Rory gave me a look for a few seconds. I couldn’t quite decode it.

  “You sure have grown up. I’m so proud of you.”

  I wasn’t sure how grown-up I felt. Experienced in love and heartbreak? Yes. So much more than Rory realized.

  “Thank you.” I couldn’t help my grin or the warmth in my heart. Nothing compared to feeling a mother’s love. That year in Thailand with the midwife made me appreciate Rory so much more. “I’m going to read for a while and then try to get to bed early. Holly has two clients due in the next two weeks, so I’m on call. It’s usually a rotating call, but two of the other midwives are out. One is on vacation. The other one has a child going in for heart surgery. So this could be a crazy and exhausting two weeks, but I’m so excited!”

  “We’re excited for you. Goodnight,” Rose and Mom said to me.

  The next morning, I headed out for my run. Waiting at the stoplight stood a familiar figure with a casted arm.

  “You’re up early.” I slowed to a stop at the crosswalk.

  Fisher grinned so big. “Good morning.” And just like the Fisher I remembered, he took a few extra seconds to slide his gaze along the full length of my body.

  My long-sleeved running shirt.

  My jogging shorts.

  Pink running shoes.

  Shoulder-length hair pulled into a short ponytail.

  I was so close to calling him out on it, the way I might have done five years earlier, but I didn’t want to make him uncomfortable, given his present relationship status. Also, I feared he might stop looking at me that way if I said something.

  “How was your first day?” he asked as we got the light to cross the street.

  “Amazing, even though no babies were born. I’m on call. Should be two babies coming into the world in the next two weeks.”

  He chuckled, giving me a quick side-glance when we made it across the street. “Too bad you’re not excited about it.”

  I laughed. Yeah, I felt completely lit up when talking about it. I could only imagine what he saw when he looked at me and my impossibly huge grin.

  I nodded to the right, knowing he needed to go left.

  Fisher looked down at our feet for a few seconds with his own grin solidly affixed to his face. He nudged the toe of my shoe with the toe of his shoe. “Well …” His gaze slowly lifted to mine. Fisher wasn’t ten years older than me. He was a twelve-year-old boy with his first crush on a girl. And I … was that girl. And that was a side to Fisher Mann I didn’t get to see five years earlier.

  I never got to see anything but his confident side.

  “I’ve solved all your puzzles, despite the difficultly of filling in the boxes with my left hand.”

  My nose wrinkled. I never thought about that.

  “So I might need a few more to get me by until next week.”

  “What’s next week?”

  “I’m going back to work, whether anyone thinks I’m ready or not.”

  “I’ve seen you shop at Target. You’re ready.”

  Fisher nodded while laughing a little. “Exactly.”

  “I’ll drop off some puzzles after I get home from work later today.”

  “Perfect.”

  “Okay.”

  We clogged up the sidewalk, people passing us on both sides, as we stood in the middle of it facing each other in our little bubble.

  My smile faded. “Rory is going to talk to you about Angie. I don’t know what she’s going to say, but everyone has been asking her to talk to you, to convince you to rethink things with Angie.” My words flew out a mile a minute. In some ways, it didn’t feel like my place to say anything to anyone, yet I couldn’t not say something. “But I think you need to do what’s right for you. It’s not Rory or your family marrying her. It’s you. And…” a pang of guilt tightened my stomach “…Angie is a good person. That doesn’t mean we fall in love with someone just because they’re a good person. I’m just saying, even if she’s scared of it, she deserves honesty. And…” I shrugged “…my opinion should mean nothing to you, so take this with a grain of salt, less than a grain of salt. I think taking a step back and seeing if you can fall in love with her again is a good idea.”

  Fisher’s brow wrinkled as he nodded slowly. “Thanks,” he murmured.

  I found my tiny grin again and gave it to him. “Bye, Fisher.” I took a step backward, shaking my head as his gaze made a second trip up and down my body.

  Oh, Fisher …

  We were in trouble, and I think he knew it as well. “Have a good day,” I said.

  “I’ll have a good enough day.”

  Wink.

  Gah! That wink.

  Chapter Eleven

  Dear Lost Fisherman,

  I’m falling in love with you, again. But this time, you’re earning it, even if it’s not your intention. It’s not that I ever fell completely out of love with you. Timing … it really is everything in life. And I still struggle with all the things I was taught to believe. Are our lives predestined? Where does free will play a part? Are destiny and fate real? Or is it merely what we call events in life after we’re willing to acknowledge them, even if we refuse to accept them? I just … don’t know.

  In the meantime, keep the smiles and winks coming my way.

  Ten across: Seven letters. Clue: Awakening.

  Rebirth.

  “Hey, Rose. Where’s Rory?” I asked as I set my bag by the entry and slipped off my shoes after work.

  Rose glanced back at me from the stove. “She’s having dinner with Fisher. The talk.”

  I raised my
brows. “Sounds intense.”

  “She’s in an awkward position.”

  I nodded. Seeing her stirring pasta, I grabbed a jar of sauce and emptied it into a pot. “She should have told his family and even Angie that it’s not her place to tell Fisher what to think or do.”

  “Is that your unbiased opinion?” Rose shot me a look.

  I smirked. “It’s been five years. I’ve had other boyfriends. Angie asked Fisher to marry her. Why would you think my opinion by this point would be biased?”

  “Maybe because you were so easily able to articulate everything that Angie’s feeling. Like you have or are in her shoes. Like you’re in love with a man who doesn’t remember you.”

  Keeping my chin down, gaze on the sauce as I stirred it, I shrugged. “Want to know what I think would be incredibly romantic?”

  “I don’t know, do I?”

  I released a quick laugh. “Probably not, but I’m going to tell you anyway since you’ve managed to keep my and Fisher’s secret all these years.”

  “Lucky me. Then do tell. What would be incredibly romantic?”

  “A true second-chance romance. Falling in love with the same person twice. Each time, feeling brand new. No memories of the first time. Just … something about that person that makes you fall in love with them. Every. Single. Time.

  “That chilling kind of love that maybe does last more than one lifetime. The truest definition of soul mates. If I were Angie, I wouldn’t want to marry Fisher unless he did, in fact, truly fall in love with me again.

  “Nothing forced. No timeline. No expectations. Just the butterflies in the stomach and insane giddiness of new love. If Angie loved him the way she claims to love him, she’d see that he’s not the same Fisher. She’d see the subtle changes in his personality. And she’d feel this indescribable excitement at the chance to get to know the new Fisher and fall in love with him all over again.”

  Rose turned off the burner and rested her hand on my wrist to stop me from stirring the pasta sauce.

  I looked over at her, the lines of concern along her face and the intensity—the concern—in her eyes. “Oh, Reese, you’re going to get hurt.”