The Naked Fisherman by Jewel E. Ann
Chapter Two
I would have been lying hadI said I wasn’t scared to death. My hands and my voice shook, fumbling my bags and ID while going through airport security. Everything freaked me out. Strange men looking at me. Women corralling their young kids while eyeing me like they wondered if they should report me to airport security—a young woman possibly being smuggled to some faraway place (like Colorado) to be sold as a sex slave. For five hours, I feigned confidence. When I exited the secured area of the Denver airport, it took me only a few seconds to spot my mom: brown almost black short hair, not quite touching her chin with bangs cut a little too short (just my opinion), and skinny as a rail. She sent me pictures after we made contact shortly after my eighteenth birthday, but she looked even thinner in person.
The mom I remembered from the courtroom had curves. She wasn’t overweight, but she looked healthy and well nourished. Post-prison Mom looked like she ate to live and not one bite more. Her bones protruded from her cheeks, shoulders, and hips. Sunken blue eyes the color of a stormy sky at sunset eyed me with anticipation. And not as much as a single speck of makeup could be found on her face. The owner of a salon, she used to have long hair, nearly to her butt, always curled in princess-like ringlets.
Where did the hairdresser go? Makeup? Nail polish? Perfectly styled hair? I wondered if she remembered that person or if that person died over the five years I hadn’t seen her. Over the five years she didn’t get to see me.
“Reese!” She hooked her crossbody handbag over her shoulder and ran toward me.
Reese … I hadn’t been called that in years. I was Therese to my dad and my grandparents. I was Therese at the Christian academy and to my new Christian friends.
My body stiffened, panicked by the stranger ready to get up close and personal with me. Would she smell the same? Would her embrace feel the same?
“Hi,” I croaked as she knocked the wind out of me and nearly tackled me to the ground.
“Oh my baby …” She cried. Literally cried.
I had thought I would cry too, but there were no tears in sight. Nerves and sheer awkwardness gobbled them up before my eyes had a prayer of shedding even a single one.
Everything felt different.
Her embrace was not as comforting, probably too many bones and not enough fat.
She smelled woodsy, not the floral scent of her perfume I remembered.
I thanked God for reuniting us. My mind should have stopped there. That was all that mattered, but I couldn’t stop thinking about all the ways she was a little less than I remembered. Did my thirteen-year-old self have her on a pedestal? Or was the eighteen-year-old version of me being unfairly judgmental?
Thou shalt not judge …
That was always a hard one to obey.
“You’ve grown into the most beautiful young lady.” She grabbed my shoulders and held me at arm’s length, getting a good look at me.
“Thanks.” I smiled.
“Well, let’s get your luggage and head home. We have so much catching up to do before I leave town.” She looped her arm around mine and led me toward the baggage claim.
“What? You’re leaving?”
“It’s just for a month. Six weeks tops. My new employer is sending me to L.A. to work at his salon there and get refreshed on my skills. I’ll be working with people who do hair and makeup for celebrities. How awesome is that?”
“Um … really awesome, I guess. So, I’ll be living alone, in your house?”
“Yes and no.” We stopped and waited for my luggage at the carousel. “And it’s my landlord’s house. Not mine. I just rent the basement. It has its own entrance at the back. He’s the nicest guy. And adorable. We’ve become good friends. I’ve told him all about you. And he’s also willing to give you a temporary job this summer while you figure out what you want to do.”
“What kind of job?” I watched for my suitcase, sparing a quick side-glance for my mom.
“He owns a construction company. I’m not sure what you’d be doing, but I’m sure you couldn’t ask for a better boss.”
“Construction? Building houses? I’m not that great with a hammer.” With a nervous laugh, I considered the bigger picture. My hammer abilities were the least of my concerns. My mom was leaving me with an adorable man. Adorable as in old and quirky?
She laughed. “I’m sure there’s office stuff you can do.”
I nodded several times, trying hard to formulate an image of adorable in my head. Kittens were adorable. “Okay. Yes, I can do office work. Thanks for asking him.” Mr. Adorable.
She glanced over at me and smiled. “Of course. I want to do everything I can for you. Lots of lost time to make up for.”
