The Ambassadors by Drew & Kit Coons

Author:Drew & Kit Coons
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2018-07-28T04:20:02+00:00

Chapter 20

• • •

“Eeeeee...” Isabella shrieked. The fishing line cut diagonally through the water.

Fitzgerald stood beside her staring at the point where the line entered the water. “Keep the line tight,” he coached. “Remember, pull the rod tip up and then reel in line as you lower it. Tire the fish out.”

Isabella grimaced with effort. “The fish is so strong.”

“You’ve nearly got him.” In a minute, Fitzgerald splashed knee deep into the water, heedless of getting shoes and pant legs wet. That hardly mattered. His feet and legs had been wet since morning. This time, though, he also got his shirtsleeves wet grappling with the exhausted fish until he straightened up, holding a beautiful salmon. Keeping a careful hold on the fish, he waded to the shore to carry Isabella her catch. After admiring the last fish of the day, they put it back in the water and watched it slowly swim away to spawn.

Molly stood on the gravel bank of a milky-blue river just above the tidal zone of an estuary. Dark green Douglas firs lined the river’s banks. The water splashed over rocks forming deep pools where salmon waited before moving further upstream. She took a deep breath of alpine-scented air and remarked, “I could do this all day.”

Paul answered, “You mean fish?”

“No, I mean watch them fish.”

“Actually, you have been watching them fish all day. And you’ve caught a few too.”

Molly smiled. “I caught the biggest one.”

“Yes, you did. And you’ll get the privilege of cleaning it for supper.”

“My mother and I moved around a lot and mostly lived in the city. I don’t know how to clean fish. Would you do mine for me, please?”

Paul looked at Molly. She had never used the helpless female gimmick before. He had to admit, she managed it effectively, though. “Okay, I’ll clean your fish. And I’ll show Fitzgerald how to clean Isabella’s.”

“Then I’ll head back to the campsite with Isabella. I can build up the campfire and make fried potatoes to go with the fish.”

But Isabella preferred to observe the fish cleaning. So Molly started walking back to a state campground, which had been sited to the proximity of productive fishing. At a cleaning station by the river provided by the campground, Paul demonstrated on Molly’s salmon. Seagulls swooped down to grab up scraps. Then he watched as Fitzgerald and Isabella each cleaned the fish they had caught. Those three fish had been kept from more than a dozen caught that day. Each of them carried a fish to their campsite.

“You should take a hot shower, or you’ll catch a cold,” Molly told Fitzgerald on their return.

Fitzgerald returned a blank look. “We don’t catch colds,” Isabella explained. She then pushed her mate toward the campground’s community shower. “Take a shower and put on clean clothes anyway. You smell of fish.”

Inside the RV, Molly fried potatoes. Paul wrapped each fish in heavy aluminum foil and punched in a couple of holes for steam to escape. Always the inquisitive one, Isabella wanted to know, “Why do you wrap the fish in metal?”

“You will see.

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