Vineyard Blues Read Free Page A

got the rods off the roof rack. There were already a half-dozen trucks ahead of us, and there were fish lying under them. Paul Schultz, who roamed the beaches for the Trustees of Reservations and always knew where the fish were but didn’t always have time to stop and catch them, was driving out as we drove in. He waved and we waved back.
    â€œYou guys stay up here,” I said to Joshua and Diana. “Watch out for cars, and don’t get behind anybody who’s making a cast. You don’t want to catch a hook on somebody’s backswing. Josh, you keep an eye on your little sister. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.” I walked down to the surf, where Zee and Corrie were already fishing, and made my cast. The redheaded Roberts arced long and high and hit the roiling water with a satisfying splash. I took a couple of turns on the reel, glanced back to make sure that my offspring were doing what I’d told them to do, at least for the moment, and turned back to the sea.
    The Roberts bounced and wobbled toward shore, offering an apparently attractive sight to any bluefish that might be around. I have caught more blues with it than with any other lure. However, there were apparently no fish close by at the moment, so my first cast was to no avail.
    Down the beach there were a couple of bent rods, proving that there was life in the sea in spite of my failure to catch any of it. I hauled in and made another cast, and as I did Zee’s rod bent and she set her hook. She looked at me and grinned.
    â€œLand him,” I said, feeling happy.
    â€œI will,” she replied and did. By then the fish had moved a bit closer to us, and both Corrie and I were on and working our fish toward shore. We got back to the truck at about the same time with our fish—nice seven- and eight-pounders.
    â€œLike old times,” grinned Corrie, “but I must be getting old. This guy almost wore me out!”
    â€œYour fishing muscles are out of shape,” I said. “You spend all your time with your guitar and none with a rod.”
    â€œPa,” said Josh, touching my arm, “I want to fish.”
    â€œLike father, like son,” said Corrie approvingly.
    I got Josh’s little rod off the roof rack. He wasn’t able to cast far enough to catch anything today, but you’re never too young to try.
    â€œDon’t forget to throw the bail,” I said. “You don’t want to snap your lure off.”
    â€œI remember,” said Josh in his solemn little voice. He took the rod and went down to the surf near his mother. She gave him a smile. If he ever learned to fish as well as she could, he’d be able to hold his own in any company.
    Diana, alone now, grabbed one of my fingers. “Play with me.”
    â€œIf you’ll excuse me,” said Corrie, “I’ll get back to fishing. Maybe I can get a couple more of these fellows and take them back to the boys and girls in the house. I don’t think they’re much in the way of cooks, but they got an oven and I can show them how to bake a fish.”
    So then there were three of us fishing and two of us up on the beach playing a game I didn’t quite understand, and it was a fine day.
    When we headed back for home along East Beach, we had as many fish as we needed and a few more. I planned to smoke some of mine and sell the extras at the market to help pay for gas. Who knows, we might even make expenses for the trip.
    â€œYou have to come for supper tonight, Corrie,” said Zee. “The boys at the house can do their own cooking.”
    â€œMore likely they’ll get some of the girls to do it for them,” said Corrie with a laugh.
    â€œNo doubt,” said Zee with a sigh.
    â€œWell, if we can eat early, I’ll be glad to come,” said Corrie, “but I got to be at the coffeehouse by nine, and if I come to your place, you got to come to the show afterward.”
    â€œThat’s