Cal rowed himself and Lisa out to the reef and taught her how to put her pole over the side. “I can’t believe you’ve lived here your whole life and have never been fishing,” he said, smiling at her.
“Oh, well, I mean, I’ve been.”
“You said you hadn’t.” He looked at her as he baited his hook.
“I meant in many years. Or as an adult. My dad took us when we were little.” She held her pole like she expected it to grow wings and fly away. “And I liked catching the fish, but I didn’t want to clean them. Dad said once that the next fish we caught, we’d have to gut it. I stopped going after that.” She shrugged one shoulder and smiled. “Not one for guts, I guess.”
“I guess not,” Cal said. “Cleaning the fish isn’t my favorite thing either. I don’t normally catch a whole lot anyway.” He set his po
