Chapter 18

The prairie grassland spread for miles on both sides. People often joked that you could see your dog run away for three days. Jess knew the road by memory, the hills and dips, curves and farms. A stand of trees up ahead guarded the riverbank, and he could see the one-lane bridge that crossed the river. Somewhere along the road, his fingers had stopped itching for the first time all day. Tom’s visit had shaken him. How would he ever be able to leave with guys like Tom hanging around, making stupid decisions?

Sara Jean pulled the car off the road and parked in the shade of the trees. They grabbed the rods and bait from the trunk and slammed it shut. A few birds, startled by the noise, burst from the trees.

The slope to the river was steep and slippery with loose pebbles. Jess worried Sara Jean would fall in her flip-flops. He held out his hand to her. She hesitated and then took it.

The river had carved out the bank beneath, so the land hung, unbalanced, over the water, a veil of exposed roots reaching for the river. Jess jumped down to the pebbled shore. He watched as Sara Jean estimated the length of the drop and waved away his hand. She walked to the edge, sat down and slid off, landing beside him. The sun filtered through the rippling water, the colour of the river stones shifting like a kaleidoscope.

“It’s pretty here,” Sara Jean sighed, gazing across the river where a thicker forest stood. “Peaceful.”

He’d started to knot a lure on her line. A sinker was asking for trouble; here, the river was too shallow. He’d be tugging gooey seaweed off her line all day.

“Can I ask you a question?”

Jess looked up.

“Was this the first time you got caught?” she asked quietly.

At first he didn’t know what she was talking about. But as she stared awkwardly at her feet and bit her lip as if she regretted the question, he figured it out.

He’d never told anyone about the fires. He thought of them like his garden; each fire was like a plant that came to life and bloomed in front of him. His shoulders tensed and he was about to bite back, make a nasty comment that would stop her from asking questions.

She looked up, and her blue eyes, innocent and curious, met his. He shook his head slowly and went back to tying on her hook.

Sara Jean took a deep breath and sighed. “Why do you do it?”

Jess shrugged, wondering how it would feel to say it out loud. “I don’t want to set them. But it’s like if I don’t do it, something worse will happen. Watching something burn means I’ve saved a different bad thing from happening.” He knew it sounded crazy, but maybe she’d understand because there was hurt inside of her too.

“Do you feel better? After you set them?”

A breeze blew tendrils of hair from her ponytail. The heat wasn’t as oppressive now that they were by the water.

“For a while. I feel calmer. But it doesn’t last.”

She slid her shoes off and stretched out her legs. He laid her rod down and picked up his, searching in his tackle box for a jig and a lure.

“You come out here a lot?” Sara Jean leaned back and closed her eyes against the heat of the sun. Jess’s eyes lingered over the curves of her body.

He held the line in his teeth as he tied a knot and mumbled, “As much as I can.” He gave a wry laugh, “It’s the only good thing about living here.” He looked out over the river, with its sunlit ripples and gentle current. “For now, at least. If they build a dam, this’ll be a dead lake.”

The serene look on Sara Jean’s face disappeared. “What do you mean?”

“No current. The fish die. All this” – he gestured to the land around them – “will be flooded.”

She stared down the choppy, flowing river. Birds chirped and the water slapped the rocks.

“No more fishing,” he said.

“So much for the one good thing,” Sara Jean muttered.

“If the dam goes through, it’ll be a good time to leave.” He shrugged. “See what else is out there, you know?”

“Yeah.” Sara Jean bit her lip and pulled her knees up under her chin. “I got accepted to U of M. I could start in September,” she said.

Jess made a noise in his throat, a soft murmur of approval. “You gonna go?”

“I don’t know. I’m worried about leaving Gam. And telling Rich,” she admitted. “And I’m scared.” Her mouth was set in a thin line, as if she was disappointed in herself.

“There’s always a reason to stay. I guess there has to be better reasons to go.”

She considered this. “Staying means giving in. I’ll end up with Rich and looking after Gam forever.” Her eyebrows wrinkled together. “Maybe that’s why my mom left. She knew if she didn’t, she’d be stuck here forever with me.”

“You think she was right to leave?”

“No.” Sara Jean bit her lip.

Jess could see the pulse in her neck throbbing.

“I think she should have been stronger and stayed. I wouldn’t ditch out on someone who needed me.”

Jess snorted. “Guess that’s why you’re having trouble figuring out if you should go to school, eh?”

“Hmmm.” She gave a wry smile. “Guess so.”

“I think my dad left because he thought it would be better. Didn’t want me to see him as a drunk, y’know? Better to ditch out than be a shitty father.” Jess cast his line in one fluid motion, the hook kissing the water and sinking underneath. He turned to Sara Jean. “Guess I better show you what to do. Not much of a teacher.”

She gave him a half-smile as he reeled in his line and laid the rod down between them. “Put your hands here,” he instructed, “and then pull the rod back and flick and release when you want to cast the line.”

She pressed her lips together, concentrating on getting it right. Her first casts ended with the hook swinging off the end, like a tetherball, when she forgot to take her finger off the release.

Sara Jean squealed on her third try when the hook landed in the water several metres away. “Now what?”

Jess grinned at her. “Now we wait. If you feel a tug on the line, start reeling it in.”

Reeds on the other side rustled when a muskrat slithered into the water and dove under. The muskrat reappeared, his brown head slick and shiny, a silvery fish clutched in his mouth. Show off, Jess thought.

“Jess!” Sara Jean gasped as her line went taut. He put down his rod and moved closer.

“Reel it in slowly, that’s right.” Her line was probably stuck on the bottom, nothing was fighting on the end of it, but Jess liked watching as her cheeks flushed with excitement. “Keep going.” Sara Jean’s rod curved down the water as she kept turning the reel, her face intense. When the line loosened, she fell back, her hook bouncing out of the water. A silvery fish arced out of the river, chasing the lure. Its tail whipped past them as it caught hold and pulled the line back down with it.

“Keep reeling!” Jess shouted.

Sara Jean grabbed the rod but forgot to turn the reel as more line went out. “What do I do?” she screamed.

“Keep reeling!” Jess said again and moved behind her, putting her hands on the spinner. “There you go,” he said. The weight on the end of the line pulled her toward the water. “Stand up. Don’t let it win, you have to tease it up to the surface,” Jess coached her. The tendons in her arms strained as she used all her strength to hold the rod.

“There it is!” Jess could see the silvery scales flashing under the surface. “I’ll grab your line as soon as you reel it out of the water, okay?”

Sara Jean nodded, too focused to speak. Suddenly, the fish burst from the surface, fighting and thrashing to get back in. Jess waded into the river, the cool water swirling around his ankles. He grabbed for the line and held it still for Sara Jean, who had rivulets of sweat running down her face. Carrying it to the shore, he put the fish down on the rocks. The gills flapped as if water still ran through them, and tiny teeth were visible through its mouth.

Sara Jean stared at it, her eyes shining and her cheeks glowing. “What do we do with it?” She laughed.

“Throw it back.” Jess took out the hook and held it up by its gills, careful not to let the teeth bite him. “It’s a pike, no good for eating.”

“Really?”

“But look at it. This fish is a fighter. Big too.”

Her face lit up at his compliment. “I’m shaking! I thought it was going to yank my arm off.”

“Here.” Jess handed the fish off to her. Sara Jean recoiled, but he insisted. “Throw it back in.” She tried to grab it around its middle, but Jess laughed. “You have to hook your finger through the gills, like this.”

Tentatively, she reached out a finger and slid it between the gills as Jess took his finger away. She carried it at arm’s length and walked to the river. There was no pungent, fishy smell; it wasn’t dead yet. This fish smelled like the river, the plants and the stones. Each metallic scale shimmered like an oil slick. “Now what?” she asked.

“Let it go.”

Taking a deep breath, Sara Jean bent down. As soon as the fish’s tail touched the water, it squirmed, flapping back to life. Sliding her finger out, she let it drop to the water. It didn’t move at first, but as the water coursed over its gills, it sprang to life and swam away, reborn.