Thanksgiving Groom

“Good job.” He chuckled a little. “You know what you’re doing, right?”

“No, not at all.”

“Then hang in there. You’re doing great.” He stood back a short distance, arms crossed, and watched her. She glanced back, making quick eye contact before settling her attention on the fishing line.

“Don’t stand there like that.” She didn’t look at him again.

“Why?”

“You look stern and disapproving. Build a fire. Do something.”

He laughed, but she caught movement from the corner of her eye and knew that he was doing what she’d asked. And she relaxed, taking in a deep breath. Another glance over her shoulder and she saw that he was gathering wood. Penelope turned back to the water and to fishing. And she smiled, because it was easy to smile out here. Even lost, it was easy to smile.

And then the sudden jerk on the rod. She pulled up on the pole. She could see the gray of the fish. She could feel it tugging, trying to get away. She cranked on the handle of the reel, trying to draw in the fishing line and thus, the fish.

“Tucker!” She glanced over her shoulder. He wasn’t there.

She cranked the reel again. The fish pulled, trying to swim away from the hook that had caught it. She took a step backward.

“Tucker. I can’t do this.”

She glanced over her other shoulder and didn’t see him in that direction. She couldn’t reel in the fish. She couldn’t find Tucker. She yelled his name again and heard crashing in the woods behind her. When she turned, he was there. He took the fishing pole from her hands and pulled it back and then reeled in, pulled it back again and reeled.

“Where were you?” She watched as the fish she had caught came closer to the bank. Fear was replaced by awe. “I caught a fish.”

He shook his head. “Yeah, you caught a fish.”

“What?”

“I think I helped.”

She could give him that. “Okay, you helped. We caught a fish.”

She was responsible for providing food for them to eat. She wanted to dwell on that, but then she remembered that he’d disappeared.

“Where did you go?”

“To look for wood for the fire, remember?”

But there was something in his eyes, something in the way he said it that made her doubt. Firewood didn’t crease a man’s brow in worry.

And firewood shouldn’t cause her own stomach to curl just a little, wondering what he was keeping from her.

But she had caught a fish. She had provided for herself.

Now what?

She shivered a little, not certain if she wanted the answer to that question. What caused the shimmer of fear or danger to crawl up her spine? Tucker? Or whatever it was he wasn’t telling her?

Chapter Four

Tucker had never seen anything like it. Standing there in her fuzzy boots and a Shearling coat, Penelope caught three fish. As she pulled in the last one she turned and smiled at him. There was more than a little pride in that smile. And he wasn’t about to deflate her.

“That should be enough for tonight, right?” She turned the pole over to him to remove the fish. That, she said, was something she just couldn’t do. She had shuddered with her announcement.

“It’ll be plenty.” He unhooked the fish and attached it to the stringer with the others, then gave her back the pole. “Are you done, then?”

“I’m done. It’s getting cold.” She looked up at the sky and he did the same.

“Looks like it might snow.”

She bit down on her bottom lip and nodded a little. She was a sight, with the pole in one hand and a crutch under her other arm. The wind had turned her cheeks a rosy pink and her nose was red.

“How will we get back to Treasure Creek?” She flicked her gaze away, as if she was looking for a trail out. “I mean, as fun as this is, I really hadn’t planned on staying until next spring.”

“You maybe should have thought about that before you set out on your own.” They headed up the trail, in the direction of the cabin. “Honestly, what were you doing out here, roaming the country by yourself?”

“Are we sharing our secrets?”

“No, I just asked you a question.” No wonder her father wanted to marry her off.

She shrugged. “I wanted to find the treasure for Amy, and for Treasure Creek.”

He didn’t want to laugh at her, but he did. He avoided looking at her, because he knew she’d look hurt by his laughter. He kept the stringer of fish held up and trudged forward.

“You were going to find the treasure? You mean a treasure that has been hidden for generations? A treasure they’re not even sure exists? That treasure?”

“Stop laughing at me.” She stomped ahead of him with one crutch under her arm, a ridiculous figure in clothes that were suited for the city, not the wilderness. He let her get a little ahead of him because he knew that it would make her feel good, to think she was stomping off, leaving him behind.

And then he took a few steps and caught up with her.

“I’m not laughing at you. But honestly, how did you think you could find it? Do you have the map?”

She pointed to her head. “Up here.”

“Oh, of course.”

She glared and kept going. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Okay, tell me how you were going to do it.”

She slowed and then stopped, but she didn’t turn to look at him. Snow was falling, light flakes floating to the ground on a gray and chilly afternoon. It landed on the crocheted stocking cap that was pulled snug down over her head, and frosted her shoulders.

“I’m so sick of people believing they know me.” She turned and a tear streaked its way down her pink cheeks. “You have an image of who you think I am. But do you know that I have photographic memory? If you’d like, I’ll recite the articles I’ve read about you, and about your disappearance.”

“No, thank you.” That was a little uncomfortable.

She looked a little smug and he gave her props for not backing down. “I peeked at the map the other day when Amy was showing it to someone. I thought that if I could find the treasure and give it to her, the town would survive. The people of Treasure Creek need that treasure, and I wanted to do that for them.”