Page 48 of The Hang Up
Spotting his uncle, Henry scurried back over, his hands still streaked with mud. “Uncle Jason! I made sure she didn’t drown, just like you said.”
Henry held out his little mud-covered palm, and Jason high-fived him without hesitation. The boy turned to Miriam, hand still outstretched, and she paused only an instant before giving it a little smack.
“Good job,” she said. “I feel much safer with you here.”
Oddly enough, it was true. What was it about the easy, fun-loving dynamic of these two that left her feeling like she was part of a family again? It was something she hadn’t realized she was missing.
“Okay, then.” Jason set down the picnic basket and dug out a wet wipe. He handed that to Henry without comment, then turned to Miriam and thrust a long wooden object into her hand. “Shall we get started?”
“Oh,” Miriam said, frowning down at it. “I didn’t realize I’d have my own rower.”
“Roar?”
“Rower. The thing to row the boat?”
Jason laughed and picked up a roar of his own. “It’s called a paddle.”
“Not an oar?”
“No. An oar has a flat blade and is usually fastened to a ship with oarlocks.” He held up his paddle in illustration. “Henry, can you remember the parts of the paddle?”
Henry frowned in concentration, then pointed to the spot where Jason’s hand wrapped around. “That’s the drip?”
“Close,” Jason told him. “It’s the grip.”
“I like his version better,” Miriam said as she did her best to mimic Jason’s hold on the paddle. “How about this part?” she asked, stroking the long middle part of the paddle.
“That’s the shaft.” Jason gave her a heated smile. Miriam stopped stroking it as heat crept into her cheeks.
“Right.”
“And if you slide your hand down the shaft, you’ll get to the throat.”
“Seriously?”
“Yep.” Jason grinned wider as Henry looked on, luckily oblivious to the adults’ salacious thoughts. “The throat is what connects the shaft to the blade.”
“This is the blade,” Henry said, whacking Miriam’s paddle with the back of his hand. “But not a blade like for cutting people. Like a ninja has. I’m gonna be a ninja when I grow up. Or a brontosaurus.” He fished a plastic dinosaur from his pocket and held it up.
“I’m positive you’ll make a very good ninja or brontosaurus,” Miriam assured him as she adjusted her grip on the paddle, mimicking Jason’s hold on his own.
“Very nice,” he said. “Good grip. You’re a natural.”
She couldn’t tell if he was being dirty or not, so she settled for a simple “thank you.”
“So how does this work?” She glanced at the boat they’d hauled down from the car’s roof rack earlier. “Where do I sit?
“I’m going to have you in the bow,” he said. “I’ll be in the stern, and Henry can hang out right there in the middle where he’ll be nice and safe.”
“Yes!” The little boy did a fist pump of excitement and clambered into the boat, his little red life jacket almost as rosy as his cheeks.
Miriam looked back at Jason. “I assume you’re going to tell me which one’s the bow and which one’s the stern?”
“You’ll be in front facing forward,” he said. “I’ll be behind you.”
“Got it.”
The thought of Jason behind her sent a shiver up her spine. Was it her imagination, or did he give her a knowing look?
