A Child's Heart (Trent & Cassie's Story) A River City Novel (8 page)

“Then why rent the place?”

“It was a good deal, and these upper floors are
quiet.”

Trent shook his head and stepped back inside. “Come
on, Shawn. We’re going fishing.”

“I put my items in the brown paper bag.”

Trent lifted the bag from the small table by the
door. “Where are we going?”

“Daddy, you said we were going fishing.”

Before Trent had a chance to answer, Cassie said,
“The Outdoorsman in Riverton. We have to get bait and our fishing
licenses.”

“Oh, another stop?” Shawn made a very sad face.

“We have plenty of time, son.”

Cassie grabbed her purse and a sweatshirt. “I’m
ready. Does anyone need to use the bathroom before we leave?”

Shawn looked at his dad.

“Right through there.” Cassie pointed to the powder
room.

A minute later, Shawn returned. “Your bathroom sure
smells good.”

“Thank you. It’s from the potpourri I keep in
there.”

“What’s po-po-pa--”

“Potpourri. That stuff I had in the bowl next to the
sink. It’s mostly chips of wood and dried herbs that have special
scenting oils on them. Years ago, people put garden herbs and
flowers on the floors, so when you walked on them, it made the room
smell good.”

Shawn looked at her as if she were telling him the
biggest lie.

“Really. And it was a very long time ago. They called
it strewing.”

“Uck! Grandmom gets upset if we track in leaves or
dirt. People really put those things on the floors?”

She nodded. “Today we copy those scents by using
potpourri. It smells good, but it’s not scattered on the
floor.”

“Daddy, can we get some of that for our
bathroom?”

Trent glared at her, and she laughed.

***

Trent drove across the downtown bridge to the area of
River City known as Riverton. It took a little longer than expected
to obtain the licenses. A single day’s license was cheap, but if
Cassie and he got the one for the year, they could go fishing more
often. Trent conceded and then chose the bait. He was about to pull
out his credit card, when Cassie reminded him that she was buying
the licenses and the bait, because he brought the sandwiches. She
handed the cashier the money, and when she got her change, she
handed a quarter to Shawn. “It’s for the machines on the way out.
Just one quarter, but you may use it however you want.”

“Really? Wow!” Then he looked at his father. “May
I?”

“Just don’t expect that you’ll always get a
quarter.”

“What your dad said is true. But sometimes it’s fun
to just be able to spend money like that.”

Shawn gazed at the bank of dispensers and finally
settled on the plastic balls that contained temporary tattoos.
Cassie could see the look of displeasure on Trent’s face.

Opening her change purse, she found another quarter.
“I think I need one of those, too. Does spoilsport want to give it
a try?”

“No thanks,” Trent replied.

She laughed as she handed the quarter to Shawn.

“Do you want one of these or the girl kind?”

“Whatever you think I should have.”

“You need a pretty one.”

She fingered the edge of her neckline and smiled at
Trent. “Maybe I should consider getting a real one.”

Trent’s eyes narrowed.

***

Twenty minutes later, Trent pulled into the parking
space at the park and unloaded the things from his car. A long pier
extended over the lake and it took two trips to get everything out
there.

Cassie and Trent were busy baiting the poles when a
park ranger walked up to them and asked to see their fishing
licenses. He looked at their permits and then at Cassie. “You’re
Dr. Jones from the University.”

“Yes.”

“I took one of your classes because I needed it for
my degree. I figured it would be boring, but you made it
interesting.”

She looked closely at his face,
but she didn’t recognize him. “Thanks. I’ve always enjoyed
teaching. History
is
exciting. I'm glad you enjoyed it.”

The young ranger took another moment to explain what
they could expect to catch with worms and the size.

Trent thanked the man and then went back to baiting
rods. He cast the line and then handed it to Shawn. “Slowly reel
the line back in. You need to pay attention to any tugging that you
might feel. Hang onto the rod and let me know.”

She chomped on her lower lip for a second. “I haven’t
done this since I was a little girl fishing with my
grandfather.”

***

Trent knelt down behind Cassie and took her hand in
his as he helped her cast the line. If Shawn hadn’t been there, he
would have kissed her neck, instead he breathed in her wonderful
scent before returning his concentration to fishing.

Cassie had the first hit, but then the line went
dead. When she reeled it back in, it was missing its hook.

“That most likely was a turtle,” Trent said.

She raised her eyebrows. “And now it has a hook in
its tummy?”

“Guess so.”

“Oh, no. Will it kill it?” she asked in a
whisper.

Trent shrugged.

It was obvious that the joy of fishing suddenly left
her, but the excitement of Shawn’s bobber being pulled under water
instilled enthusiasm in all of them. Cassie reached in her purse
and pulled out a small digital camera to capture the moment.

Trent grabbed his son’s rod and helped him reel it
in. “Cas, grab the net and be ready.” A few seconds later, Trent
was barking orders. Cassie grabbed the pole while Trent swooped the
large fish into the net. “Nice! You did a great job, Shawn. I think
we’ll have him for dinner tomorrow night.”

“I caught a fish! I caught a fish! I did it!”

“What is it? Ohmigod, there goes your line, Trent!”
Cassie shouted and grabbed his pole.”

“Easy, do it the same way as Shawn.”

Trent dropped the fish into an old, ice-filled
cooler, then took his line from Cassie. Shawn was so excited that
she put her arm around his waist and pulled him into her lap.

“Hold my line while I put another worm on your
hook.”

Trent pulled in another trout and deposited it into
the cooler. Someone else on the pier also caught one and Trent
helped the legless man in the wheelchair with a Vietnam Veteran cap
by scooping the large fish into his long handled net. Then things
calmed down for a little while, until Cassie accidentally cast her
line over Shawn’s, tangling both lines. Cassie caught a little
sunny and carefully removed the hook and set the small fish
free.

They caught several more fish, and Shawn was thrilled
with each one. It didn’t take him long to learn what to do.

Trent looked at the overhead sun and then at his
watch. He decided it was time to pull in their lines and have
sandwiches, so they retreated to the picnic tables on the shore.
Trent handed his son a small, unmarked pill bottle along with
Shawn’s sandwich. The boy took a bite of his bologna sandwich,
emptied the contents of the bottle into his hand, popped the pills
into his mouth, and swallowed.

“I do hope you are planning to have dinner at my
house tomorrow. Looks as though we have at least four nice fillets
of trout.”

“I’d love to have dinner at your house. This has been
so much fun.”

“Good, it’s a date. And what exactly is that
pendent?”

“Don’t ask.”

“What do you mean?”

Her eyes narrowed and she looked at Shawn engrossed
in his salad.

“What?”

“Have you ever heard of The Mano Fico?”

Trent shook his head.

“It’s an ancient Roman symbol with a fig flower and a
hand.” She held her hand up and tucked her thumb between her index
and middle finger. “The fig flower is supposed to represent the
female…” She held her hand palm up. “Because it looks like a
female’s…”

Trent shrugged.

She eyed Shawn and then pointed to her lap.

“Oh!” Heat warmed his cheeks.

“The hand represents today’s single finger
salute.”

He nodded.

“Fico is where we get today’s F word.”

Trent held up his hand to signal her to stop. She
raised her eyebrows at him and continued. “The amber is exactly
what you probably think it is except the whole thing has been
modernized. This is the fig flower, and instead of the hand, this
is the phallus--”

Shawn’s head shot up and he looked at Cassie.

Her fingers covered her mouth. “Please tell me that’s
not part of his vocabulary.”

“What?” Shawn asked.

Trent watched the flush rise up her neck and over her
cheeks. “I don’t think so,” he answered. “Not a word I use on a
regular basis. I doubt that I’ve ever used it in conversation.”

“What?” Shawn asked again.

This time it was Cassie who answered, “Phallus, it’s
the symbol of a man’s penis.”

“What’s that got to do with your necklace?”

Trent realized his son was listening to the adult
conversation, and Cassie’s giggle wasn’t helping matters. “Cas has
an interesting symbolic necklace.”

Shawn gazed at the pendant, then squinted his eyes,
and wrinkled his nose. He put his fork down and in a flash was at
Cassie’s side, staring intently at her necklace. Then he picked it
up and studied it. “Looks like a fancy bell with a clacker that’s
too big.”

“Clapper, not clacker,” she corrected.

“What’s the yellow stone?”

“It’s not exactly a stone. It’s the fossilized
remains of tree sap. Do you know what a fossil is?”

Shawn nodded, dropped the pendant back onto her
chest, and then fingered an earring. “They match. So where’s the
penis?”

“It’s not really a penis. It’s an abstract, an
artistic interpretation. The amber would be considered the
penis.”

“So why would you wear such a thing?” Shawn
asked.

“For good luck. It represents being fruitful and
since we wanted to catch lots of fish - which would be fruitful, I
figured today would be a good day to wear it.”

Shawn scooted away from Cassie, then cupped his hands
around his father’s ear and whispered, “I need to tinkle.”

“Over there. I’ll watch you.” He pointed to a bank of
portable potties.

As soon as Shawn was out of earshot, Trent whispered,
“You handled that well.”

“Thanks, and you haven’t stopped staring at my
necklace.”

Now it was Trent’s turn to blush, as an impish smile
crossed his face. “It was a remarkable night.”

“So put Shawn to bed and come to my place. I’d love
to do it again.”

“That’s an offer that I won’t refuse.” An
uncomfortable bulge had formed in his pants. “I’m glued to this
seat until I can take my mind off of you.”

“Guess that means I clean up. Is Shawn done
eating?”

“Yes. If he wants more, I have fruit.”

“I’ve got cookies.”

She cleared the trash and put the other things away.
She was slender and sinewy. Her white-blonde ponytail swished over
her shoulder and across her back several times. But when she leaned
across the table to grab the bag of chips, he thought he’d lose all
control, as he was staring down her shirt.

“Do you realize you’re flashing me?”

She looked down at her shirt and then at him, as she
stood upright. “It wasn’t intentional. I just hope you appreciated
what little I have.”

“Definitely. I think they are perfect on you." He
watched her blush, then asked. "How many more pieces of erotic
jewelry do you own?”

“Two. A male figure copied from a cave drawing, and
crystal that floats through a ring. The male figure I've never
worn, and probably never will. I love wearing the crystal. The only
thing people see is the crystal, not the interpretation.”

“You are a vamp.”

“Not really. This one is fun to wear, because most
people don’t catch the meaning. It’s funny to watch someone’s face
when they do catch it. Mostly it’s the folks educated in ancient
history or art.”

Shawn had wandered down to the edge of the lake and
played along its pebbled shore. Cassie sat next to Trent and
watched Shawn exploring. She reached into her purse, pulled out her
camera, and snapped several pictures. She leaned her head against
Trent's arm and showed him all the pictures she had taken that day.
A serene peace filled him as he inhaled her scent.

“There is something very different about you. I’ve
been around plenty of men and none have evoked such a passion in
me, yet sitting here with you feels so comfortable.”

“I know.” He dropped a quick clandestine kiss on her
lips. “I’m also not ready to tell Shawn.”

“He’ll realize it eventually.” She smiled at Trent
and then called Shawn.

~~9~~

“Shawn, where’s our tattoos?” Cassie asked.

Shawn scurried to his dad’s car, found the two clear
plastic containers, and brought them to the picnic table. “I can’t
get it open.”

She watched as he attempted to twist the clear
plastic halves apart. “They don’t unscrew. You need to stomp on it,
but not too hard. You don’t want it to go into a million pieces. Or
give it to your dad, and let him break it with his fist”

“Let him stomp on it. Isn’t that half the fun?”

Shawn’s first try sent it rolling across the ground
for several feet. The second time it broke into quite a few pieces.
Cassie helped him pick up all the little plastic shards and place
them in the trashcan. Then she handed him hers and this time he
popped it into only a few pieces that were easily retrieved.

Using a napkin and a fresh bottle of water, she wet
the tattoo and put it to one side. “Arr, Captain, where do you want
it? Shall we put it on your bicep so you can show the world what a
tough man you are? Or do we put it on your forearm as a warning to
other pirates that dead men don’t talk?”

“Right here.” He clasped his bicep.