Sunset dreams

After her father’s passing, Hillary Dunn heads down to the water to clear her mind and her heart. But as she sits watching the tranquil scene, local fisherman Brad Jenkins floats into view, bringing with him the promise of new love and hope for the future that paints Hillary’s world in a new hue

Slipping into my favorite sneakers, I headed outside where a light breeze brushed my face. At least the day was finally cooling off a bit as the shadows lengthened. A brisk walk around the neighborhood lake was just what I needed to take a break from going through Dad’s things. As I crossed Clearview levee, my steps slowed. A brilliant sunset burned the sky with fiery reds, pinks and purples.

“Don’t just stop and smell the roses, Hillary,” I could almost hear Dad say. “Enjoy the sunsets along the way too.” Making my way down the levee’s slope, I settled near the water’s edge where the grass prickled my bare calves. The sky’s beauty held me entranced until movement caught my attention. A fisherman sidled along the levee, working the brushy spots just as Dad always had. He cast his hook into the lake in graceful arcs and then wound the line back, skimming the lure across the water.

Tufts of dark, curly hair peeking out from beneath a baseball cap made me catch my breath: I’d seen him before. A prickling sensation—that had nothing to do with the grass— coursed up my spine. “Oh, come on!” Was he talking to me? No: His hook had snagged on a partially submerged log. He jerked the rod back, trying to free it.

“Doesn’t look like that particular catch would be very tasty,” I said, lightly.

“What?” He turned, seeming to notice me for the first time, and stumbled backward, his left foot landing in the water as his line suddenly whipped free.

I gasped and covered my mouth, stifling my laughter. “I’m so sorry!” I giggled. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” “No problem.” He smiled, deep dimples creasing his tanned cheeks as he lifted his wader from the muck of the bank. “And you’re right. That log would have been a bit tough.” “You just have to know how to cook them.” We both laughed this time. As he steadied himself, he stared as if trying to place me. His intense gaze set goose bumps dancing up my arms. Then he snapped his fingers and smiled. “The Independence Day picnic a couple of months ago! I knew I’d seen you before.”

“His intense gaze set goose bumps dancing up my arms”

He remembered me? We hadn’t even exchanged names! I’d planned to take Dad to the community center for the annual event, but at the last minute, he begged off, insisting I go alone instead. “You never know who you’ll meet,” he’d said with a conspiratorial wink. “Lots of nice young men here…single too.” I didn’t want to think about “nice single young men” when my incomparable father was sick, but I’d agreed to go anyway.

“I’m Brad Jenkins.” He laid down his pole and extended his hand.

“Hillary Dunn. We didn’t really get to talk at the picnic.”

“No, you rushed off right after supper, so I didn’t get a chance to ask you to be my partner in the egg toss, like I’d hoped.”

“Egg toss?” I smiled. “Isn’t that where you throw a raw egg? Sounds dangerous.”

“It is, but I live for danger.” Brad grinned and plopped onto the ground beside me. “No one seemed to know who you were or how to find you.”

He’d asked around about me? My goose bumps started doing the mambo. “I’d only been here three months. I moved to take care of my dad when he started cancer treatment. I’m a nurse—his private nurse, he’d say every time someone asked.”

“Got it,” he smiled softly, his eyes filled with kindness. “How is he doing?”

I stared out over the water, tears filling my own. “He passed away two weeks ago. I’m still clearing out his house.”

“I’m so sorry.” Brad briefly touched my arm, sending shivers through me. “So you’ll be moving back home once you finish?” His voice held a note of regret.

“I had to give up my job and apartment in Atlanta.” I turned to look into goldflecked brown eyes. “So right now, I’m not sure where home is.”

“Well, Clearview is great,” Brad smiled. “Lots of friendly people. Great fishing. And,” he patted his chest, “you already know the director of county public works.”

Hope overwhelmed me for a moment. Why not? Dad had left me the house.

“Well, from the looks of things, you do need someone to teach you the technique for cooking those logs you’re so fond of.”

“A nurse and a cook?” he teased, as hope flooded his gaze. “What more could a man ask for?” Brad rested his hand on mine, and we turned toward the lake.

The sun had sunk behind the horizon, but its rays continued to paint the sky radiant colors…the color of new dreams.