The Fish Within

Nine

She wasn't sure which sense to trust first, after closing her eyes, opening them, closing them again and listening, reaching our her hands to touch the ground, and then giving up and relinquishing to the sweet succulent smell of frying fish.  Kevin was roasting their catch only as she could've imagined it in a movie, but this was real.  Very real, she told herself.

"Getting hungry?"  He handed her a plastic plate and a camping spork, combo spoon and fork.  "I know this is nothing fancy, probably not what you're used to, but what we carry in, we carry out."

She swallowed, her tummy growling.  "No, that's fine."  She leaned back on her hands.  She sat comfortably on the wool blanket throw he used for ground covering, sitting, warmth, whatever he had told her.  She let the sun's warmth bathe over her.  "It's easy to lose all track of time out here, isn't it?"

"What kind of guide would I be if I didn't keep up with the time?"  He held out a shiny compass. 

"You use that to tell time?"  She giggled. 

He quickly shoved the worn mechanism back into his khaki shorts.  "Yeah, I don't have to worry about batteries with it."  He turned his back to her returning to the fire.  Added a kettle on the rocks near it, and a tin pot full of veggies.  He squatted and stirred a stick around to move the flames. 

She watched him work with the fire.  She watched the flames dance around his hands as if they were purposely staying away from him. 

The air was still a crisp cool blue.  Tall green pines surrounded them.  A deer to two would scurry by once in awhile. 

"Did you grow up in West Virginia?"

He looked over his shoulder and sighed.  "Yeah.  I always thought about leaving it, but even after my parents passed, I stayed."  He held his hands up to the sky.  "This is home to me.  Always will be."

Rachel stood.  She walked to him and pressed a hand on his shoulder.  "I'm sorry about the compass, I mean if it's special to you...." 

He stirred the veggies, the fish, and shook the kettle.  He pulled out a packet, tore it open and poured it inside the kettle.

"Was it from your parents?"

He shook his head.  "No.  And really it's fine."  He jerked his shoulder away lifted the cookware away from the fire.   "Now, go get your fine dining plate and bring it over here so I can fill it up."

She did as she was told.  Soon they were both quiet, enjoying a campfire lunch of veggies, coffee and roasted fish.