Gone Fishing

After 15 years of active duty, Ben struggles to adjust to civilian life but finds new hope in nature...

Cold beer in hand, Benjamin Danforth slipped out of the house onto the patio. With such a large family, Sunday suppers had always been a boisterous affair. Now that his siblings all had partners and families of their own, it was downright chaotic. But then, Ben hadn’t been home for a Sunday supper in nearly fifteen years….

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This is a type of romance novel which I call “farm-smut” and features sex and love on the homestead, farm, or off-grid Maine location. Paid subscribers can access the entire archive of this series from the beginning, along with everything I’ve ever written. If you are not a paid member, you can read everything with a 7-day free trial, or a one-time tip.

Previously on Blackstone Mountain…

Having spent the winter in isolation, Josie Greene is still trying to come to terms with the conditions of her inheritance. Univited, her Uncle Gregor visits with an offer to buy the farm…

Read to catch you up!

Easing himself down onto a chair and setting the cane aside, Ben stretched his sore leg out before him. He took a long haul off the bottle, and sat there surveying the rolling pastures. Acres of pastures criss-crossed by fences, stretching out to meet the surrounding forests.

Mountains loomed on all sides of the ranch and Ben drank in the sight of them. He’d forgotten how beautiful Western Maine was. Forgotten what it felt like to have his mother doting over him, his brothers poking fun at each other, and his father’s perverse sense of humor riling everyone up.

They’d always been a close-knit group—his family—and he loved them for it. It hadn’t been until Rachel soured him on home-town living that Ben had up and left. Enlisting in the military had taken him worlds away from Maine, home and family.

He’d done well as a Marine, too. Channeling all of the pain and anger surrounding his divorce, Ben had excelled in basic training. Upon graduating, he’d been invited to join the Marine’s special forces and went on to receive further training. He’d become a specialized operative, joining a team of highly trained soldiers.

He was good at what he did and didn’t really think much about life beyond the military, certain that he still had many more years of service to give. But that all changed in the fallout from his last mission.

“Is this a party for one, or can anybody join?” Pap drawled as he came around the table.

“By all means,” Ben said heartily, beckoning to a chair.

Even at 83 years of age, the senior Jebediah Danforth was an imposing man. Ben supposed his grandfather had shrunk just a little in stature. He’d lost muscle-mass and his hair was thinner now—whiter. In his eyes, though, Ben saw that same shrewd, all-knowing intelligence which still had the ability to make his insides squirm.

“How is it?” Pap asked soberly, taking a swig off his own beer. “Being back among the civilians? How you holding up, son?”

Coming from his gruff-mannered grandfather, the question surprised him. It was rare that he would ask such a personal question. Ben could remember the last time very clearly. It had been shortly after his divorce had been finalized. Ben had been a wreck, just trying to pick up the pieces of his life. But he was so devastated and humiliated—so angry with the world—that he couldn’t seem to get it together. It had been that eye-opening conversation which had spurred Ben into joining the military the very next day.

“I—um—” he hesitated, not sure how much he should reveal to his elderly grandfather, but he could not deny the truth, either. “I’m a little overwhelmed, I think.”

Glancing toward the noisy household, his grandfather laughed ruefully, “I’d be surprised if you weren’t.”

At that Ben expelled a breath he hadn’t known he’d been holding, almost laughing, but overcome with an inexplicable wave of sadness and regret at the same time, “I just don’t know what to do with myself now.”

Pap nodded, “I felt the same way when I came back from Vietnam. Didn’t even know if I wanted to come home, to tell you the truth.”

Both men took another long haul off their beer, then, Pap said, “Take some time, son. Catch your breath. There’s no rush to move onto the next big thing.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not getting any younger, yknow, Pap.” Ben muttered.

The old man chuckled, “You’re tellin’ me!”

Ben chuckled ruefully, “Exactly—you of all people should know how fast the years go by.” He hesitated a moment and then added, “I may not know what I want to do with the rest of my life, but I do know that I’m ready to settle down—to start a family of my own. I’m ready to bring my own chaos to these crazy Sunday suppers.”

There was a note of yearning in the younger man’s words that he was unaware of, but which the wizened senior Danforth picked up on. The men each fell to their own thoughts then, occasionally sipping of their respective beers.

Jebediah surveyed his grandson covertly. He’d come back a changed man. This was not the boy he had once known. This man had lived a nomad’s life—the life of a soldier. It was a harsh existence and Jebediah knew first-hand the kinds of horrors a man would see in war-times. Yet, there was a striking humility and sincerity about him.

“Do you remember all those times we would go up to Trout Pond?” Pap said at length.

Surprised by the sudden change of topic, Ben roused himself from his spiraling thoughts. “Yeah, I sure do, Pap. We used to take those fishing and hunting trips up there with Grampa Joe.”

“Lotta good times up there,” confirmed Pap, his voice suddenly gravely, thick with emotion. He cleared his throat, taking a sip of beer before continuing, “Pretty hard to get to now, the dirt road has grown in pretty thick. No one has used the place in years, but it’s still the best fishing hole around. You should take a kayak and a pole, and head on up there tomorrow. Would do you good to spend some time in nature, reconnect with your roots.”

“Yeah?” asked Ben, his interest peaked. He hadn’t been fishing since before he’d started dating Rachel, back in high school. “That actually sounds really great, Pap, I think I’ll do that. If I get up early enough, I could be there by the time the fish are biting.”

“Good.” Pap nodded, casting a sly glance at his grandson, “I think it’ll do you good, kid.”

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Next morning, the mist rising off the water created such a dense, low-lying fog that Ben couldn’t see more than a few feet in front of the kayak. He could not have cared less, though, as he sat there floating on the still waters of Trout Pond, listening with elation as the forest came awake around him.

Birds called to one another from the tree-tops, their choruses sweet and varied, occasionally interupted by the haunting call of a loon coming through the mists. Ben’s fishing line was in the water, yet he paid it no mind, so entranced by the sounds of the Maine woods was he.

It was as though he was hearing it for the first time and he was sure it had to be one of the most beautiful sounds in the world. Had it always been so lovely, Ben wondered? The sounds of the wilderness waking up in the morning? And, having spent plenty of time outdoors as a boy, in the woods with his father, grandfather and brothers—why had he never noticed it before?

He couldn’t say how long he sat there drifting on the pond, lost in the song of the wilderness. The mists began to dissipate as the sun climbed higher and Ben became aware of another fisherman on the water. Standing in a canoe about a hundred yards away, skillfully flicking a fly rod back and forth as they worked the line out.

Correction, Ben thought to himself as he noted the shapely figure. Fisher-woman.

He watched as the woman lay down the thread-like line. There was a slight ripple on the water and the fight was on. She played the fish masterfully, with the kind of skill derived from years of practice.

Watching her graceful form standing balanced in the canoe, her fishing technique wasn’t all Ben admired. Lean and lithe with curved hips and full breasts, all clad in denim and flannel, long hair braided to hang down her back, though several tendrils had escaped to curl about her ears and face.

At length the woman had the fish alongside the canoe—a rainbow trout as long as her forearm. The woman moved to draw the fish into the boat, looking up to lock eyes with Ben, realizing then that she had an audience.

The water’s current had carried him close enough that he was scarcely a stone’s throw away and she looked for all the world like a deer caught in the headlights of an on-coming car.

“Good morning!” Ben greeted her across the water, hoping to put her at ease, “Nice catch!”

Scrutinizing him with an intense gaze, he watched as recognition dawned in her eyes, “Ben?”

He supposed he shouldn’t have been surprised. In such a small town everyone knew everyone else and the Danforths were a well-known family within the region. Rapidly sifting through his memory-bank, trying to bring to mind an old acquaintance who might have grown into the captivating woodland nymph before him.

Upon seeing his confusion and loss for words, she laughed, sitting back on the bench of the canoe, “It’s Josie Greene─Amie’s friend?”

“Carrot-Top!?” He exclaimed, recalling the nickname he and his brothers had given their baby-sister’s best friend. The two girls had been inseparable when they were younger. His mouth dropped and he gaped incredulously at her across the short expanse of water. “Little Josie Greene!?”

As she grinned the sunshine grew stronger, the mists fading away. He could see now that her hair was, in fact, a deep red colour and the same smattering of freckles still dusted her nose. Josie had certainly grown into her knees and elbows, filling out in all the right places.

“Wow!” breathed Ben, letting the realization sink in.

He was hard pressed to even remember the last time he’d seen Josie Greene, but eventually he recalled the night of Amie’s junior prom. Ben had been home on leave and had gone to pick the two girls up from the high school. There was no doubt in Ben’s mind that if he hadn’t come along when he did, Josie’s date would have certainly had his way with her.

Coloring visibly, as though they’d both been recollecting the same memory, Josie turned her attention to the fish. She used the oar to bop the creature on the head, abruptly ending it’s life, then stowed it in the wicker basket dangling over the side of the canoe.

“So─how’re things? What have you been up to?” He drawled, side-stepping the one question he really wanted to ask.

She shrugged, “Same old, same old.”

“Oh yeah? How’s Grampa Joe?”

All of the Danforths referred to Pap’s best friend, old Joe Greene, as “Grampa Joe”. The man was like a brother to Pap and a second grandfather to the rest of the family.

Josie’s smile fell, anguish filling her eyes. She looked down at her hands in her lap, “He—passed away in November, Ben.”

“Oh Josie—I’m so sorry,” Seeing her pain and sadness, Ben wondered why Pap had neglected to mention the loss. “I didn’t know—”

“You had no way of knowing.” She said quietly. Lifting her gaze, Ben saw the tears brimming in her eyes. “You’ve been gone for so long…”

He stared at Josie helplessly, feeling as though he’d been kicked in the gut. He was beginning to realize just how much he’d missed by running off to join the military…

Drawing in a breath, Josie seemed to collect herself, taking up the oar and shifting on the bench-seat of the canoe. It was then that he noted the weariness about her. The dark shadows under her eyes and the deep sense of sorrow about her. Yet, there was also a grim sense of resolve. He was intrigued. Ben wanted to know more about the woman Josie had become. Who was she now?

“It’s really good to see you, Ben,” she said soberly, dipping the oar into the waters of the pond as she prepared to leave him. “How long are you home for?”

“Home for good,” he announced, and for the first time since being discharged he found himself happy about it.

Now it was Josie’s turn to be surprised, and he delighted in the warmth that surged into her eyes.

“Yeah—turns out all it takes is one little near-death incident and the Marine Corp will drop you like a hot potato.” Ben said, unable to keep a tinge of bitterness from his voice. He’d given his country the best years of his life, given them everything he had, sacrificed his life, his family, and in the end, when it came down to it, all he’d ever been to his commanding officers was just another soldier in a long line of soldiers. They didn’t care about Ben the Man, only Ben the Soldier.

“Near-death incident!?” Josie gasped, concern evident in her eyes as she looked him over. “What happened? Are you okay?”

Her reaction to the news of his injury caught him off-guard and Ben found himself admitting the truth of the matter, “My right leg got pretty messed up and being a civilian again is going to take some getting used to—but it sure is nice to be home.”

Grinning, Josie said smartly, “I’m sure your family are happy to have you back.” She’d been to enough Sunday suppers to know the kind of razing that went on in the Danforth household.

Ben laughed, “Oh yes, they’re making me feel right at home!”

They shared a laugh, then Josie said warmly, “I’m sure I’ll see you around, then.”

“Yes, you sure will,” Ben agreed heartily, as she slipped away across the water toward the opposite shore. He promised himself he’d make damned sure their paths crossed again real soon.

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Long after Josie had disappeared into the forest Ben sat there bobbing on the water, considering the encounter. Not ready to return to the ranch just yet, he paddled lazily around the pond, taking in the atmosphere of the water, Blackstone Mountain on the western side, Black Hill to the east, and the vast wilderness all around him teeming with life.

He gave thanks to whatever gods may be for bringing him home again. Grateful for a second chance at life, Ben was determined to do it better this time. He was done being angry at the world for it’s transgressions against him. And he was done running.

Finally, Ben was ready to live his life. He didn’t quite know what he wanted to do with it—but he knew he wanted it to have meaning.

Spying the little red cabin as he came around the marshy end of the pond, Ben gazed upon it with disbelief. To see the place sitting there on the knoll above the pond, looking so neglected and forlorn, with a mighty pine tree fallen across the top of it came as something of a shock.

Gliding closer, Ben found the long dock that jutted out into the pond had long since sagged beneath the surface of the water. Landing the kayak on the overgrown beach instead, he made his way up the hill to the cabin, cursing the throbbing in his leg that came from the exertion.

Upon closer inspection he could see that several years had gone by since the pine tree had fallen on the building. The big picture window had been broken, the top of the chimney knocked clean off, and there was a hole in the roof. The porch was rotting and pulling away from the building, but the front door was open and Ben went inside to survey the interior.

Inside the cabin, everything was exactly as he’d remembered it. The antique cast-iron cook-stove in the kitchen, the long table with the bench-seats, and the great stone hearth in the sitting room.

The hole in the roof had allowed rain and snow to fall through onto the floor below, and the boards there were rotted, unsafe to walk on. Skirting that area, he peeked into each of the two back bedrooms. Small though they were, one housed a set of bunk beds, the other a full-sized mattress. These rooms, of course, had been where the adults slept. The boys had slept in the loft above, splayed out across the floor on camp-cots or egg-crate foam with their sleeping bags and a Coleman lantern. What great times they’d had there!

Then it dawned on him—like lightning—and suddenly Ben knew exactly what he wanted to do with himself. He’d move into the cabin and fix it up!

Josie would rent the place to him, he was sure of it.

And Ben could live there while he figured out what he was going to next. Thanks to military living, he’d managed to save a substantial amount of his wages over the years. Really, he had plenty to live on—enough for the rest of his life, if he wanted to live frugally.

No, it wasn’t about the money. It was about doing something meaningful with his life. Meaningful to society, yes, but also meaningful to himself.

Filled with a new sense of optimism at having some sense of direction, Ben returned to the kayak. Still eying the old camp even as he pulled away from the beach, Ben was glad he’d taken Pap’s advice to go fishing. The idea of living in the cabin deep in the Maine wilderness excited him.

And the idea of being closer to Josie Greene was too enticing to resist…

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Thank you for reading and following along with my debut novel: On Blackstone Mountain. Please feel free to leave your questions and feedback in the comments. Much love to you and yours, my friends!

Sam