Bright morning sunlight danced on the surface of Lake Oconee. Brad scrubbed at the stubble on his chin and leaned back in his chair. He shifted the bill of his cap, bringing it lower to help shield more of the glare, and glanced at the tip of his fishing pole.

“You’re being awfully quiet,” Ken remarked, threading fishing line through his pole. “Big date Thursday night. How’d it go?”

“It went.” As the pole dipped down, he snatched it up and tightened the line. Nothing resisted. He slipped it back into the PVC pipe he’d attached to the side of the dock to use as a stand for his pole.

Ken picked a weight out of his tackle box. “That all you got to say? You’ve been looking for that second date since prom.”

He’d thought fishing would help relax him and quiet his mind. He’d barely slept last night and his eyes burned. “Second Corinthians six.”

With the weight tied onto the line, Ken picked an orange spinnerbait for the lure. Brad watched him go through the complex knots to make sure he tied it securely to the end of his line. Once he cast it and it plopped into the water, he looked at Brad. “Afraid I don’t have the entire Bible memorized like some people.”

Brad sighed and pulled his pole out of the pipe again. “Do not be unequally yoked with non-believers.” He reeled in his line and saw one empty hook instead of a baited hook. Maybe he needed to use a shiny lure instead of crawdads. He’d try one more time. Dipping his hand into the bait bucket, he pulled out the small crustacean and rigged the hook through the back of the tail, then stood to cast it into the water.

“Val isn’t a non-believer. Or do you know something I don’t?”

Before Brad could sit back down, he felt the telltale tug on his line. It vibrated through the pole to his hand as he set the hook and slowly reeled in the line, letting the fish on the end of it try to fight itself off the hook.

Once he had the fish out of the water, he used pliers to get the hook out of its mouth and put it into the cooler with the other two they’d caught that morning. Taking a break, he laid the pole down on the dock next to him and leaned against the dock rail, crossing his arms in front of him. “Valerie is apparently now an unbeliever. Despite our childhood and adolescence, she explained to me Thursday night that she no longer believes in Jehovah God.”

“Hmm.” Ken settled his pole into a PVC pipe and sat in his chair. “Well, I find that hard to believe.”

“If only your difficulty believing me could in any way change the facts.” With a heavy sigh, Brad looked at the wooded area around them. Ken had bought this property years ago, but never developed it beyond a boathouse with an indoor restroom and a small kitchenette. Every time Brad spent the day out here fishing, he offered to buy the lot from Ken, imagining how amazing it would feel to come home to this location every night. Of course, then he’d battle the traffic for the hour-long drive back into the city, and the trip nearly always changed his mind.

“Maybe you…” Ken started, but Brad interrupted him.

“Maybe I’m just going to do nothing right now.” He pulled his hat over his eyes. “Maybe I’m just going to start figuring out how to finally let her go.”

He heard Ken make an unintelligible noise, then heard the nearly silent clicking of the spindle of Ken’s fishing pole. He let the warm sun and the gentle breeze on his skin relax him the way nothing else in the world ever had or ever could.

After about twenty minutes of silence, Ken said, “Y’all looked good dancing. Well, she looked good. You looked like day-old chewed gum.” When Brad lifted the brim of his cap to glare at his brother, Ken just shrugged and said, “Just sayin’.”

If he had any energy at all, he’d kick Ken into the water. Instead, he just pulled the brim of his hat back down and closed his eyes, trying to forget how he had felt while dancing with Valerie Thursday night. How she had felt moving along with him.

When she turned the corner, Valerie saw Calla and Sami sitting in the shade of the outdoor patio of the restaurant. She waved and went into the restaurant, then followed the directions to get to the patio. Finally, she slid into the metal-framed chair and laughed. “I had a terrible time finding parking.”

“So did we. There’s a music festival going on downtown today,” Calla said, taking a sip of her foam-topped coffee. “If I’d remembered it, I would have suggested somewhere else.”

Valerie ordered a coffee and a croissant from the waitress then looked at her friend. “I’ve learned that wherever you recommend, I will eat. Seriously, girl. How do you find these spots?”

“Food is what I do. It’s really just that simple.”

“How did you like the opening on Thursday?” Sami asked. “I mean, we had fun, but how did it go for you?” True to her word, she’d shown up for work yesterday morning with jet black hair instead of purple. Valerie understood why she’d changed the color for the workplace, but really enjoyed her friend’s sense of fashion.

“We’ve been fully booked from four until the last reservation, which is at nine-thirty every night. I’m really praying a food critic was there, because we were totally on our game. No hitches anyone could see.” She crossed her arms on the tabletop and leaned forward, “But we’ve been talking about my restaurant for weeks. Let’s hear about something really important.”

Sami chimed in, “Oh, yes. Let’s!”

Calla chimed in again, “So, spill. Let’s hear all about Valerie’s date with Mr. Dixon.”

Valerie gasped and covered her mouth with her hand while Sami laughed. “Y’all, it’s not that big of a deal. I’ve been friends with the Dixon brothers all my life.”

“Valerie,” Sami said, leaning forward, “I hate to break it to you. But that man did not look at you like he looks at a friend. There’s more there than you’re saying, or more there than you realize.”

Heat flooded her cheeks. “Well, he asked me out and his words were ‘he wanted to go on a romantic date.’ He did tell me that. But I don’t think—”

Calla gasped and grabbed her wrist. “He’s not one to just talk, Val. If he said romantic date, he meant romance.”

Sami chuckled. “Did he bring you flowers?”

“No. Of course not.” She narrowed her eyes. “Do guys even still do that?”

Sami pointed at Calla. “Don’t ask her. She’s the one who sent a giant bouquet to Ian.”

Calla laughed. “Inside joke. I’ll tell you the story one day.”

Valerie put both hands on the table. “Listen, friends, I appreciate the interest. Especially you, Sami, because you’re so close to him. If things ever go forward with Brad and me, I will tell you. But for now, I just consider him my longtime friend.” Her coffee and croissant arrived. Strawberries and kiwi fruit formed a decorative flower on the edge of the plate. Picking up her cup, she took a delicate sip before adding, “Even though he once asked me to marry him.”

Laughter erupted around the table and Valerie grinned and took a bite of her pastry, remembering her childhood, feeling a giddy excitement at the thought of Brad admitting he’d always wanted to date her!

Brad carried the cooler of fish into the kitchen, setting it next to the sink. His mom stood at the counter, stirring milk into a bowl of cornmeal. “All cleaned,” he announced. She grabbed a handful of chopped green onions and tossed them into the batter before she reached over and paused the audiobook playing on her tablet.

“I have hush puppies here. How many fish?”

“Three. Kind of smallish to medium. Want me to freeze any?”

“No. Jon’s here. With you three boys and your father, I’ll be lucky to sneak a bite in.”

“Buddy pulled in right behind us, too.”

“Three is perfect then.”

He walked over to her and kissed her cheek from behind. “Want me to help?”

She looked over her shoulder and smiled at him. “That would be lovely.” The batter mixed, she set it aside and wiped her hands on her apron. “I’ll get you some potatoes to peel.”

She restarted her book and they listened to it together. Several minutes later, it came to an end. Brad chatted with her about it because he’d already read it. They dissected the crime uncovered in the book.

“It’s hard to think of such evil in the world when I’m standing in a sunny kitchen with my son.” She grabbed a cutting board out from under the cupboard and selected a knife. “It’s never made sense to me.”

Brad knew his mother had not had an easy adolescence, and that she did not speak from ignorance. “We both know how evil permeates society. Look at what happened to someone in our own sphere. Look at Valerie.”

Rosaline stopped working and turned to fully face Brad. “Why don’t you unpack that a little bit more for me, son.”

He tossed the last potato into the bowl and set the knife in the sink. “I’ve always….” He didn’t know what to say. This was his mom. How could he verbalize this?

“You’ve always had feelings for Valerie. Yes, Brad, I know.” Brad must have looked astonished. “Bradford. I’m your mother. A mom knows.”

Brad closed his eyes and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, he said, “When she left, I kind of held onto this childish hope that one day she’d come back. Then she and Tyrone moved in together, and I didn’t know how to process that because it didn’t make sense. It made no sense based on everything I knew should be.” He leaned his hip against the counter and crossed his arms. “Then she came back and I thought, ‘Okay. Everything’s right again.’” Taking a deep breath, he rubbed the back of his neck.

“But it’s not all right again, is it?” His mom reached out and put a hand on his arm, gently squeezing. “She’s not the same person.”

“Neither am I.”

“No. But, you didn’t suffer violent tragedy. You just grew up, matured, took on a multi-million-dollar company and pined for the girl you lost.” When he opened his mouth to protest, she laughed and held up a hand. “I’m not going to argue about whether you pined. You pined. I saw it.”

A sheepish smile covered his face. “Okay. Yes. But surely not this whole time.”

“Only when you thought about her.” She reached into the sink and grabbed his bowl of peeled potatoes. “What happened that has you pining again? Your dad told me you two were together Thursday night.”

He took a deep breath through his nose and let it out of his mouth. “Well, apparently, Valerie Flynn has decided that she no longer believes in our God.”

Rosaline stopped dicing potatoes and set her knife down. “Oh, Brad.”

He shrugged. “I can’t.” He cleared his throat. “I just have to let it go. Maybe it was never meant to be.”

Rosaline stared into his eyes. He could see her understanding and her hurt. “I don’t know what to say to you to make you feel better.”

“Well, just don’t start with, ‘You’ve wasted twenty years waiting for the wrong girl,’ because I don’t need the affirmation.”

“You’ve wasted nothing.” She patted his cheek and turned back to her potatoes. “Of course, I completely expected to be a grandmother by now, so you’d best be getting your head into that game.”

Knowing she teased, he laughed and walked over to the refrigerator, pulling out some eggs to boil for the potato salad. “Yeah, okay. I’ll get on it.”

She paused and turned to him again. “You understand that even with the pining and the waiting, if the woman God had designed for you had come into your life, you’d have known it, right? Don’t suddenly get all remorseful about wasted time and opportunity. When she’s right, you’ll not doubt.”

Jon’s voice startled Brad. “Says the mother of three terminally single almost thirty-year-old men.” He laughed and opened the fridge to pull out a bottle of water. “You’d think one of us would have accidentally gotten married by now. Wild night in Vegas or something.”

“Jon,” Rosaline scolded, “leave it to you.” She took the pan of eggs from Brad. “Go shower, son. You smell like your fish. And on your way upstairs, let your daddy know that dinner is in forty-five minutes. He and Buddy can set the table for me.”

“Waste of time. He’ll just tell me and Ken to do it,” Jon said after draining the water. “Might as well just go ahead and save him the effort.” He opened the cupboard and grabbed a stack of plates.

Brad chuckled as he left the kitchen. He could sense something going on with Jon, but he didn’t know how to fix it. He thought maybe just their family, together like always, would go a long way. At least, that’s what he prayed.

Valerie set out six freezer containers on the kitchen counter and ladled leftover chili into each one. The smell made her think of Uncle Buddy, and she felt a tug of regret for the way their conversation had gone the other night. She should just go to the dedication. He had asked her to, and she knew the level of importance it held for him in his heart. She loved him. It should be that simple.

Once she had the containers sealed, she used a label maker and printed the date, then stuck the label onto the lid of each container. After she stacked them neatly in her freezer, she worked out the available space and pulled the family-sized package of chicken breasts out of the fridge. After putting some olive oil in a large skillet, she added the chicken and salted and peppered the meat.

She had a bad habit of eating out. Early morning yoga followed by full days of work made the concept of cooking so unappealing. However, she had no desire to continue giving in to laziness and grab a hamburger or bag of tacos on her way home.

Spending a Sunday cooking would stock her freezer full of a variety of meals. She could just grab a container out of the freezer and reheat it. She had chili, vegetable soup, and now she’d freeze chicken and rice together. She’d already prepped a salad that she’d eat from for the week.

It felt good to work and prepare and know she spent her time wisely. When she caught herself humming, she smiled. So many things in her life right now affirmed her decision to move back to Atlanta. Especially after Thursday night.

Did Brad mean what he said? Would he really wait for her to heal?

The damage Tyrone had done to her mind might take a long time to overcome. Even after five years they overwhelmed her thoughts and actions. She didn’t even know how she could see healing in her future.

What did that mean to her? What did it mean for her?

Apparently, he’d carried a flame for her for a long time. He’d waited this long. Would he wait longer? What if she couldn’t ever get past what happened to her? What if she stayed truly broken always and forever?

She checked the chicken and put the lid on the boiling rice, turning down the heat. She would find a way to heal. How had she not known he felt the same way for her that she felt for him? All these years and she’d never known.

She wanted to believe that she had it inside her to love someone else again.

She’d spent hours and hours in therapy in Savannah. At first, she went a couple times a week. By the time she moved, she had graduated to just once a week. Since coming here, though, she hadn’t sought out a counselor.

Maybe she still needed one, so she’d have someone to talk to, someone she could trust who would let her talk without judgment, who could guide her in healing exercises and teach her better coping skills. She made a mental note to contact her therapist in Savannah and see if she had any recommendations for someone to call here in Atlanta. It felt good to think about the future instead of just surviving the day-by-day.

After seasoning the chicken, she went to her pantry to see if she had enough canned tomato products to make a big pot of marinara sauce. She pulled out cans of crushed tomatoes but checked the freezer again. If she put the chicken in bags instead of bowls, she’d have room to add the marinara.

With her mind wandering through checklists of menus before bounding to therapists and back to Brad and over to Buddy, she stirred the rice and kept working on her upcoming meals.