didn't belong on a sixteen-year-old girl. A wood nymph, perhaps. Or a Lorelei.
He shook his head to dispel his fanciful thoughts and studied the girl again. Her hair was parted in the middle and loosely tied with pieces of yarn on either side of her head above her ears. It was a style reminiscent of pigtails but without the confinement of braids. The way she held her shoulders and her finely formed head said she was young and shy.
Yes, Cissie was exactly what she seemed at first glance, he assured himself—a somewhat shy teenager, nervous around strangers and completely chagrined at being caught in her berry-picking clothes. But God help the male sex when she was a little older. Those eyes would have to be classified as lethal weapons.
"I got 'em, Cissie," Jimmy Joe yelled, running back along the shoreline toward them. "I got three good worms. Think they'll be enough?"
"Yep," Sarah drawled, reaching out with one hand and accepting the squirming creatures from the boy.
"So, what's next?" Jordan asked.
This time, Sarah didn't look up. "Now I feed Scarface," she answered matter-of-factly. Still holding the worms in one hand, she waded from the shoreline into the lake, heading toward deeper water. Jordan followed, stepping more carefully as the water depth increased. Jimmy Joe was right behind him.
"If you want to see him, you'll have to come closer," she called over her shoulder, "but you've got to stay behind me so he doesn't see your shadow." Somehow she still managed not to look him in the face.
Jordan continued to follow carefully, Jimmy Joe behind him, as Cissie moved farther into the lake. She didn't stop until the water was swirling just above her knees. "It ought to be deep enough about here." She hunkered down in the cold water, ignoring the wet backside of her jeans and the flapping shirttail.
"Be quiet now," she cautioned him as she picked up a rock with her free hand and tapped it against a small underwater boulder. She sat still for a moment, then tapped the rocks together again.
Jordan held his breath as he stared down into the lake. The water was so clear, he could distinguish the individual pebbles on the lake bottom. He found himself anticipating, but still not ready to believe his eyes when a shadow, then the graceful swimming form of an eighteen-inch largemouth bass, brushed by the girl's leg.
Sarah stretched out her hand, dangling one of the worms just below the surface of the water. In the sunlight, Jordan could see the distinctive black stripe on the side of the old bass. His flexible body bore the marks and scars of many years. Most pronounced was a misshapen dorsal fin and a large scar across the snout, as if the bass has rammed his head into a jar, neatly removing skin and scales in a perfect arc.
The fish nudged the girl's leg again, then moved back toward her hand and took a dainty nibble of the worm dangling in the water. He nibbled again before pulling the rest of the worm from her hand.
As the bass repeated the sequence, the girl calmly fed it the other two earthworms. The fish nudged her empty hand once more before flipping his tail and gliding silently out of sight.
Still keeping her back to Jordan, Sarah stood and wiped her hands on her shirttail. The she turned to the boy. "Okay, Jimmy Joe?"
Even Jimmy Joe's eyes seemed to grin as he nodded.
"Grandmother's waiting on the berries," she reminded the boy. "We gotta go home now." Without even looking back at Jordan, she waded toward the shore, ignoring the water streaming off her wet jeans and down her legs.
Jordan watched her she climb the clay bank, still not quite able to accept the evidence of his own eyes.
"Come along now, Jimmy Joe. You hear?" she called from the top of the bank.
"Just a minute, Cissie. Please?"
"All right," she told him. "But hurry up. Grandmother's waiting."
"You gonna be fishing here anymore, mister?"
Jimmy Joe's question jerked Jordan's attention back to the boy. "I planned to spend another couple of
He shook his head to dispel his fanciful thoughts and studied the girl again. Her hair was parted in the middle and loosely tied with pieces of yarn on either side of her head above her ears. It was a style reminiscent of pigtails but without the confinement of braids. The way she held her shoulders and her finely formed head said she was young and shy.
Yes, Cissie was exactly what she seemed at first glance, he assured himself—a somewhat shy teenager, nervous around strangers and completely chagrined at being caught in her berry-picking clothes. But God help the male sex when she was a little older. Those eyes would have to be classified as lethal weapons.
"I got 'em, Cissie," Jimmy Joe yelled, running back along the shoreline toward them. "I got three good worms. Think they'll be enough?"
"Yep," Sarah drawled, reaching out with one hand and accepting the squirming creatures from the boy.
"So, what's next?" Jordan asked.
This time, Sarah didn't look up. "Now I feed Scarface," she answered matter-of-factly. Still holding the worms in one hand, she waded from the shoreline into the lake, heading toward deeper water. Jordan followed, stepping more carefully as the water depth increased. Jimmy Joe was right behind him.
"If you want to see him, you'll have to come closer," she called over her shoulder, "but you've got to stay behind me so he doesn't see your shadow." Somehow she still managed not to look him in the face.
Jordan continued to follow carefully, Jimmy Joe behind him, as Cissie moved farther into the lake. She didn't stop until the water was swirling just above her knees. "It ought to be deep enough about here." She hunkered down in the cold water, ignoring the wet backside of her jeans and the flapping shirttail.
"Be quiet now," she cautioned him as she picked up a rock with her free hand and tapped it against a small underwater boulder. She sat still for a moment, then tapped the rocks together again.
Jordan held his breath as he stared down into the lake. The water was so clear, he could distinguish the individual pebbles on the lake bottom. He found himself anticipating, but still not ready to believe his eyes when a shadow, then the graceful swimming form of an eighteen-inch largemouth bass, brushed by the girl's leg.
Sarah stretched out her hand, dangling one of the worms just below the surface of the water. In the sunlight, Jordan could see the distinctive black stripe on the side of the old bass. His flexible body bore the marks and scars of many years. Most pronounced was a misshapen dorsal fin and a large scar across the snout, as if the bass has rammed his head into a jar, neatly removing skin and scales in a perfect arc.
The fish nudged the girl's leg again, then moved back toward her hand and took a dainty nibble of the worm dangling in the water. He nibbled again before pulling the rest of the worm from her hand.
As the bass repeated the sequence, the girl calmly fed it the other two earthworms. The fish nudged her empty hand once more before flipping his tail and gliding silently out of sight.
Still keeping her back to Jordan, Sarah stood and wiped her hands on her shirttail. The she turned to the boy. "Okay, Jimmy Joe?"
Even Jimmy Joe's eyes seemed to grin as he nodded.
"Grandmother's waiting on the berries," she reminded the boy. "We gotta go home now." Without even looking back at Jordan, she waded toward the shore, ignoring the water streaming off her wet jeans and down her legs.
Jordan watched her she climb the clay bank, still not quite able to accept the evidence of his own eyes.
"Come along now, Jimmy Joe. You hear?" she called from the top of the bank.
"Just a minute, Cissie. Please?"
"All right," she told him. "But hurry up. Grandmother's waiting."
"You gonna be fishing here anymore, mister?"
Jimmy Joe's question jerked Jordan's attention back to the boy. "I planned to spend another couple of
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