Storybook Dad

She studied him for a moment, guessing him to be about four. Maybe just turned five. Either way, he was too young to be alone on the beach….

“What do you dream about in your tree house?” she asked, before squinting down the shoreline.

“Smiles. Lots and lots of smiles.”

Startled, she brought her full attention back to the little boy. “Smiles?”

He nodded. “Happy ones. Like the ones me and Daddy used to smile before my mom got sick and went up to heaven.”

Emily cast about for something to say, but he didn’t give her much of a chance.

“I want us to make great big smiles like that again one day.”

“That sounds like a special thing to dream about,” she whispered.

“It is.” Jumping to his feet, the child surveyed his castle, deeming it a success with a clap of his small hands. “Wow! This is my very bestest castle ever!”

She swung her focus out toward the water and noted the absence of any swimmers or fellow boaters in their immediate vicinity. “You seem awfully little to be out here by yourself.”

“I’m not by myself. I’m with my dad.” Shooting a pudgy index finger over Emily’s shoulder, he pointed toward a man fishing from a line of rocks that led into the lake some twenty or so yards away. “See? He’s right there. Fishing.”

Shielding the last of the sun’s rays from her eyes, she strained to make out the outline standing on the rocks—the tall stature, the broad shoulders, the gray T-shirt and black shorts, the brown hair …

No. It couldn’t be.

She looked back at the boy. “That man over there is your dad?”

“Yupper doodle.” He dropped to a squat and stuck his finger in the sand. Then, slowly but surely, he drew a snake that nearly reached her toes. “My daddy is so smart he taught me how to make my name. See?”

Stepping back, she looked again at the wiggly line and recognized it as an S. Three additional letters later, he was done. “Your name is Seth?”

“Yupper doodle.” His broad smile reached his bright blue eyes.

His Ocean Wave Blue eyes …

She glanced from Seth to the man and back again, the confirmation she sought virtually certain. But still, she asked, “Do you know your last name, Seth?”

“Of course I do, silly. But I can’t write that name yet. It’s too big and kinda tricky. Especially the first letter.” Seth cupped his left hand to the side of his mouth and tipped his head upward. “Gam says I just need to pretend the circle at the top changed its mind and is runnin’ away from the line.”

Squatting down beside the boy, she left a space between Seth’s efforts and her own, talking him through the letter he’d just described. When she was done, she nudged her chin in its direction. “Is this the letter?”

“Yupper doodle.” He leaped to his feet and came to stand on the opposite side of Emily. “R for R-R-R-Reynolds!”

MARK CRANKED THE REEL slowly, hoping the slight movement would be enough to capture the attention of even one member of the fish population that inhabited Lake Winoka. If it did, at least he’d have something else to think about besides Emily Todd.

From the moment he’d left Bucket List 101, his thoughts had continuously returned to the attractive woman, earning him more than a few curious looks from Seth throughout the afternoon. Mark understood the fear she felt, sympathized with her need to pretend her loved one wasn’t ill. He’d been there and done that throughout the entire year leading up to Sally’s death.

It had been a mistake. A mistake he’d undo in a heartbeat if given the chance.

But there would be no more chances. He couldn’t rewind time no matter how much he wished he could. Instead, he had to find a way to live with the guilt of choosing his job over his dying wife over and over again. At the time it had made such sense. Work was how he coped. The more he worked, the less time he had to think, and to feel.

But it had been wrong. For Sally. For Seth. And for him.

No. Mark wasn’t going to let Emily make the same mistakes. Somehow, some way, he was going to help her realize that by facing her loved one’s illness head-on, she’d be saving herself the added torture of guilt at the end.

Determined to help, he reeled in the rest of his line and made his way across the rocks. Once he had Seth settled in bed for the night, he could go about putting together a packet of information for Emily. Maybe with more information, she wouldn’t feel the need for denial.

And maybe, just maybe, helping Emily would enable him to shed some of his own insomnia-inducing guilt.

He stepped off the last rock and onto the sand and looked toward the castle he’d left Seth to finish while he fished. But instead of finding his son elbow-deep in sand, he spotted him standing beside a kayak and a petite blonde woman.

Mark quickened his pace, only to slow it again as the identity of the women became clear.

“Emily? Is that you?”

“Hi, Mark,” she answered.

Eagerly, he jogged forward, fishing pole in hand. “Can I help you get in your kayak?”

A look of something resembling irritation flashed across her face. “If I can lift a kayak on and off my car, and carry it from the parking lot to the lake all by myself, I’m quite certain I can get into the water, too.”

He drew back at the animosity in her voice. “Oh, okay. No sweat. We’ll leave you to it, then.” Cupping his son’s shoulder, he tried to steer him in the direction of the parking lot, but Seth wiggled free and ran back toward Emily.

“Take me with you. Pretty, pretty please? I’ve never, ever, ever been in a boat like that before.”

“Seth!” Mark stepped forward, waving his fishing pole. “You can’t just invite yourself in someone’s boat like that, little man. It’s rude.”

The boy’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” he murmured. “I didn’t mean to be rude, Daddy. I really didn’t.”

Emily dropped to her knees in front of Seth, her black-and-gold bikini top and black spandex shorts evoking a rapid swallow or two on Mark’s part. “Maybe your dad can take you out for a few minutes and let you see what a kayak is all about.” Peeling her attention from his son long enough to make eye contact with Mark, Emily gestured toward the kayak with her chin. “I’ve already been out once this evening. Why don’t you take him out for a little while?”

“I can’t take your boat,” Mark protested.

“Sure you can. Have you ever been in a kayak before?” she asked.

He willed himself to focus on her face, to refrain from looking back at her sweet curves, but it was hard. “Kayaks, no. Canoes, yes.”

“Then a crash course is in order. Though, since I wasn’t expecting this, I don’t have a life jacket that’ll fit Seth.”

“That’s okay.” Seth raced toward a bag several feet from his castle and tore through its contents, returning with a pair of inflatable armbands. “See? I’ve got my Floaties!”

Emily made a face. “Not exactly the same thing, I’m afraid. But if you don’t go out too far, they’ll be okay this one time.” Turning to Mark, she said, “And you? What kind of a swimmer are you?”

“Solid.”

She considered his response, then gestured toward the boat. “When you sit in a kayak, you need to keep your legs together and your knees slightly bent. Keep your weight over the center line. Remember that and you won’t flip.”

She retrieved the paddle from the sand. “Now, for locomotion, you grip this with both hands, see?” Placing her hands slightly wider than shoulder width apart, she demonstrated the correct way to hold it and move it. “The blade of the paddle can also be used as a rudder, for steering, if there’s somewhere in particular you’re trying to go or trying to avoid.”