The
last ripples from the disturbance lapped at the shore. A chickadee
chirped gaily as is flitted from limb to limb on a pine sapling.
It bounced up and down on a pinecone, pecking at an orange stink
bug that had wedged itself between the woody pinecone petals.
It was almost as if Lindy Beth had never been with him at all,
almost as if Gator had spent the entire day alone on the bayou.
He looked down at his swollen palm. Damned sow! Jerking the anchor
rope had aggravated the wound. It would take a long time for an
injury like that to heal. He would need pain killer, double-dose.
He dug the whiskey bottle from his back pocket and pulled the
cork out with his teeth. After rinsing his mouth with alcohol,
he puckered his lips and squirted some whiskey into the river.
Can’t be stingy. Always good to share with the fish.
He turned away from the bayou. Only one thing left to do. He had
to erase all evidence of their breakup. Then, and only then, would
destiny arrive in all her splendor.
Lindy Beth’s romance book sat atop the ice chest. He picked
it up and flung it into the bayou. The pages soaked up the muddy
water, plunging the book to the bottom. He found her white umbrella
in the grass and launched it into the bayou as well. The stubborn
thing didn’t sink right away. Instead, the current bore
it gently toward the center of the cove. Gator threw fist-sized
rocks at it until it went down. Lindy Beth probably wouldn’t
need a parasol in hell, but he would send it with her anyway.
Cracking open another beer, he sat on the army blanket and faced
the blackened remains of the old house. He struck a match. The
flame danced in the breeze, and he cupped it with his hand. He
lit a cigarette, letting the match burn down to his fingertips.
When he felt the burn, he didn’t flinch. He winked at the
house and smiled.
Lindy Beth’s fishing pole rattled.
Gator spun around. “Well I’ll be damned,” he
said. Cigarette clenched between his teeth, he pulled the rod
handle from the mud hole. The rod tip twitched. One bump...two
bumps...three...then a lightning run!
He jerked back on the rod and set the hook.
The buckbrush behind him shook, and leaves crunched on the trail.
A cute blonde in cutoff jeans bounced down the riverbank. Her
hair was in pigtails, and her white blouse was tied in a knot
at the waist. She waved to Gator with one hand, held up a picnic
basket with the other.
Gator grinned and looked at his watch. Yep, he and this fish had
a date with Destiny all right. And she was right on time.
Destiny Rose pranced up to him, all tan legs, long lashes, and
lip-glossed mouth.
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed his ear. “I
love you, Gator baby!”
Gator puffed hard on the cigarette. His face burned hot with whiskey,
and he gently shrugged the young woman off. “Hang on a sec,
puddin’. I got one on the line.”
*******
THE END *******
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