Sadie wanted to come with him on this one. He was OK with that. She was a good sport, even if she had no clue how to 'smell out' a fish. She was content to hang around in his battered Boston Whaler full of tangled lines and busted five gallon paint buckets recycled as creels and chum pails. She liked to lay back in the bottom of the boat on a pile of old life jackets, her feet up on the rail, loose shorts sliding down her strong legs, pole over the side, some kind of bait-chunk on a big hook with a bobber, cold brew in one hand, half asleep, sometimes half-dreaming. Her hand wandering.
One reason she agreed to rough it at the fishing camp was because her daughter was willing to come along on to keep her company. Some mothers and daughters do nothing but bitch. Not these two. They just went right into rhythm, whether they were cooking, or knitting, or yes, fishing. Sadie's daughter Penny was a chip off the old block; pretty much the same height, same thick chestnut hair that bounced out in all directions, though Sadie's was shot with grey; sturdy legs with strong thighs, though Penny's ankles were a bit more tapered; asses with big round cakes, natural tits that both women liked to hang loose inside flannel shirts.
Both of them loved to cook, and that was a good thing, because the Old Fisherman usually didn't eat too well if he came alone, just digging dinner out of a can of pork and beans. Now there was Sadie's mulligan stew with tender chunks of chuck and lumps of carrot and potatoes. Penny made an apple pie with a crust that dissolved in your mouth. They collaborated on trout filets, fresh from the lake, crisp batter on the outside, tender within. Home fries. Beer.
It was mellow. And the days before Brian arrived were like a dream. The three of them headed out in the boat pretty damn early most mornings, a lunch of cold cuts on French bread in the cooler next to the bait. Who cared if the sandwiches picked up a bit of a fishy smell? Sadie and Penny each took a side of the bow, tilted back, tan legs up, shirts unbuttoned, beer. Usually he took the stern and piloted the boat, first fast, kicking up spray that wet the women, sticking a shirt to a nipple, soaking a lock of hair. They didn't care. The day was hot, a storm at the edge of it.
Once he found his spot he kicked the Evinrude almost down to nothing, just riding the against the wind to stay even. Not much casting. They dropped lines and let them drift. Before long, without a lot of effort, they pulled in a couple of big steelheads. Then nothing.
He could tell that Penny was restless and horny. She tossed her thick hair, jiggled her knees, swung them from side to side as she lay back in the boat; took a long, long time spreading sunblock onto the insides of her thighs below her ragged Daisy Mae cutoffs.
Of course, one reason Penny agreed to come out to the camp was that his nephew Brian was joining them. The Old Fisherman liked Brian. Of all his nephews Brian was the most simpatico. They thought alike. They enjoyed the same beer. Brian loved to fish. Time was they did long summer afternoons the two of them drifting most of the day and chucking beer cans into the bottom of the boat.
Different from the days he took Sadie out. They drifted around the lake too. But sooner come later he would eat her out in the hot sun, in the swill, banging his ass on the thwart as he dug his chin into that steamed clam.
But he had never had Sadie and Brian up here together, much less Penny. Penny was something new. The energy level was a little higher. Oh, she liked to drink her beer and didn't fuss too much about smelly bait. But it was pretty clear she liked to keep active.
"Any place to hang out and dance around here?"
He told her about the Stone Church in Newcastle and The Green Room over on 109.
"Maybe Brian and me can go there."
"I don't know. I don't see him being much of a dancer."
"Don't care. I can dance and he can just stand there and watch and wobble. I just want to get out and move tonight."
"Ask him. I'm sure he'll be game."
"That's settled then."
Penny leaned back against the thwart and chewed on her sandwich. But her knees kept waggling. She didn't stay there long. The next thing he knew she was stripping off her top and shorts. In a heartbeat she was over the side. The boat skewed something fierce and Sadie dropped her beer can with a curse.
"Mama, I'll race you back to the dock."
Penny sliced at the water with her cupped hand, sending a small wave into Sadie's lap.
"Damn, girl, I'm gonna drown you!"
Sadie was out of her clothes in a moment and the Whaler teetered fiercely again as she leaped over side. The two women had a fierce water slapping fight. Some loose flesh and tight nipples got pinched under the surface. Penny took off with Sadie close behind.
Both of them were strong swimmers, and despite the drag of serious chest pontoons, they moved through the water pretty quick, tight buns breaching from time to time. The Old Fisherman felt blessed. He had a woman who was strong and beautiful and she had a daughter that matched her feature for feature, sass for sass. And they all got along.
He hoped that Brian wouldn't mess it up. Brian was the quiet type. But then, he was the quiet type, too. So, really, that shouldn't be a problem. Funny that Brian and Penny had never really met up. No, there was that one time right after he first met Sadie. The kids were pre-teens. He remembered a day when he was mostly drail fishing off Nauset Beach. Sadie was up in town bossing over the quilting bee she did and the kids were wandering the beach. They didn't talk to each other much. Brian chased gulls. Penny sketched the shore birds on a little pad. After a while they ended up making a sand castle together, hardly talking, building something pretty wonderful. Sadie took a lot of pictures of it when she came down.
Now was a sea change. Brian had been in Kandahar. Penny had had 'almost a marriage' with that musician. Different times.
The Old Fisherman didn't pull in the lines. He just kept the motor at trolling speed and headed toward the cabin. The gals were far off now, splashing toward shore. Then he noticed someone on the dock. Brian must have made good time. Quite a greeting party. If the Old Fisherman wanted to do the decent thing he would zip in and give them their shirts as they left the water. But he didn't feel that decent. He took his time. Pretended to be catching a fish.
Two heads bobbing in the water and Brian hunkered on the dock talking to them. After a while the two women waded to waist-deep water. Stood there talking pretty relaxed and bare breasted. Brian turned and walked toward the cabin. Sadie and daughter followed. Before she left the dock Sadie turned, cupped her mouth and shouted, "You can come in now, idiot, you've had your fun. Don't forget to bring our gear to the cabin. Gave him the finger over her shoulder. Penny did the same.
Then she and Penny followed Brian, lovely butts swaying, perhaps a bit more than they had to.
Dinner that night was good. The Old Fisherman grilled the steelheads and some zucchini. Sadie roasted some potatoes in the old wood stove. They sat around killing a few bottles of the local red lager. It was a little raw, but after a couple that didn't matter. Penny was curious about Brian's time in the service, but he wouldn't say anything, just that he served two tours and "survived a near miss but my buddy didn't."
They didn't pry.
Sadie and the Old Fisherman got to telling tales about the people around the lake. The lesbian couple who liked to go down on the dock and play mad electric guitar duets. The good old boy who could go on and on about looking for beavers without ever cracking a smile. The quiet school teacher who invited local women to sex toy parties.
Penny punched her mother on the arm. "How often did you go?"
Sadie saluted her daughter with her glass, sloshing a bit.
"None of your damn business. And I won't ask you to return my blue rabbit either."
You'd figure this kind of talk would have Penny and Brian getting friendly with each other, but they stayed kind of aloof, just kind of scoping the other one out a bit out of the corner of an eye. But the Old Fisherman could tell that Penny hadn't chilled off much since the fishing. She was wearing a loose jersey top without a bra and it was fascinating to see how her nips danced against the fabric. She kept rubbing her elbows against them. And she couldn't sit still. He caught her crotch-watching Brian from time to time. But Brian wasn't taking the bait. He sat way back in the tattered big chair, sipping his brew, and gazing at the scene through half-lidded eyes.
Sadie, on the other hand, sat close to the Old Fisherman and rubbed his back. Her knee rubbed a little semaphore against his. She was pretty drunk when she asked him to dance. She pulled him to his feet, but he was too wobbly. She got pissed off, realized she was shit-faced herself and headed for bed.
"You come tuck me in, you old fart. Don't be long."
The Old Fisherman indicated that he had a bit of beer to finish and then he would be up. He took out one of his back twisted cheroots.
"Anybody want a smoke?"
Penny made a face but shook her head.
"Not unless you got a smoke."
"You don't mind if I light up?"
Brian shrugged. But after a bit he got up and headed for the door.
"Get some fresh air."
The Old Fisherman could tell that Penny wanted to scoot right after him. But he hadn't given her a wink or a nod or even a glance. He could tell she was frustrated, gazing at the window, hands clamped between her knees. Finally she shook her head as though to clear it.
"I don't get it. I figured he'd want to ... catch up, maybe talk about what he's been doing, what I've been doing, have some ... fun. You don't figure he thinks I'm ... gross or something?"
The Old Fisherman took a serious drag on his cheroot.
"Maybe he's got something on his mind. Maybe he's ... shy. You are sending out a lot of ... energy. And he might have somebody he's thinking about, though I've never heard tell of someone, at least not lately."
