Page 33 of Loving Carter

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Page 33 of Loving Carter

“I don’t want to fish with worms,” one of the boys says. “It’s mean to the worm.”

These two comments cause a mini riot. Suddenly, the group starts arguing about the rights of worms and fish. I rub my right temple. Normally, when I bring kids fishing, they are a ruthless gaggle anxious to snag as many fish as they can. Today’s group is as far from that as possible.

The world must be spinning backward. That’s all I can figure. First, I start lusting after Skylar. Now, kids are worried about being mean to worms and fish.

I bite back a sigh and hold up one hand. “Stop. Are you telling me that after signing up for fishing, none of you want to fish?”

This causes more conversation. The tweens gather in a huddle like a football team and have a spirited discussion. Much is made of the fact that one of the boys has an older brother who is a lawyer. Said brother maintains that everyone has rights that must be protected. I consider stepping forward and pointing out that this philosophy doesn’t pertain to worms or fish, but then I realize I don’t really care. It’s their afternoon. If they don’t want to fish, that works for me.

So, I stand and wait. Although some of these kids are siblings, they aren’t all related, and they remind me of the group of friends I hung out with most of my childhood. Skylar was part of that group. We did everything together, including coming to this pond and fishing. We never considered the rights of the worms or the fish. We just dropped a line and waited patiently.

I’m rarely sentimental, but this thought makes me both happy and sad. I’m happy that I remember the fun days spent here and the great times I had with friends. I’m sad that these days, I’m mucking things up with my best friend from the group.

I think Skylar’s plan is best. I need to start dating other people so that I go back to seeing her as just a friend. I’ve seen what happens when friends become romantically involved. The whole relationship changes, and usually not for the better. They end up not being lovers, but also not being friends.

I’d hate it if Skylar was no longer my friend.

“Excuse me,” one of the girls says to me. “Back at the ranch, do you have a net? If you do, we can just catch the fish, look at them, and then let them go.”

I’m trying to keep from laughing. “You want to look at them and let them go?”

The entire group nods.

“The fish don’t live at the surface,” I explain. “I doubt if we’ll be able to catch them.”

The group huddles once again, and I’m really struggling to contain my laughter. Finally, they turn to look at me once more. This time, the spokesperson is one of the boys.

“Can we swim with them instead?”

I’m confused. “Why do you want to swim with the fish?”

“Then we’ll be doing what the bad guys on TV say, swimming with the fish.”

The kids laugh. I start to correct him and explain that the saying is actuallysleeping with the fish, but I decide to let it go.

“If you want to go swimming, let’s head back to camp, and you can swim in the pool,” I say.

“Why not in the pond with the fish?” This question comes from a different boy.

“Because ponds aren’t as clean as swimming pools. It’s safer to swim in a pool.” When the group gets upset, I decide to expand on my reason. “Plus, if you swim with the fish, you disturb their home. They can become stressed and that’s mean.”

This explanation has the effect I want. The kids agree to let the fish be, so we head back to the camp.

Today is turning out as weird as most of my days recently. I might as well accept it.

***

Skylar

I’VE NEVER BEEN A WINGMAN, make that wing person, before, so I’m not sure quite how to go about this. I know Carter said he could find his own dates, but I still feel like I should help. This whole idea of him being attracted to me still feels strange, and I think the only way to make things go back to the way they were is by helping Carter along with the dating idea. I’m not sure he’ll thank me for it, but I’ll definitely thank myself.

I’ve decided to start with Rachel Nash. She opened her own accounting firm a couple of months ago, and I’ve talked to her a few times when she’s come into the bakery for coffee. She’s definitely Carter’s type; in fact, I’m not sure why he hasn’t asked her out yet.

There’s no time like the present to deal with the situation, so once Janie is settled in working the register, I head to Rachel’s office. She moved into an old house at the end of Main Street and has converted the front part of the house into her office. It’s a one-story place painted white with black shutters. It’s really cute and looks like it should have a white picket fence out front.

After ringing the doorbell, I wait patiently until Rachel opens the door. If she’s surprised to see me, she doesn’t show it. She’s wearing a cute summery dress, her brown hair pulled back in a ponytail.

“Hi, Skylar, come on in,” she says.


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