The strong wind slowly settled down. After some moments of sail through the tranquil, blue lake, she pulled out an angling tool from the deck of the boat. After attaching bait with hook, she threw it in the water.
“Angling is like Horse racing, you know”, turned to my side she said. “Because, we rode on a horse, and fishes make us carry a rod”, she meant the pun in words.
“And it’s also like Golf. Because, we use rods in both”, I said joining the laughter.
When the sun reached a higher position, she came and sat with me. I was resting below the shades of the mast, and she took the freedom to put her head on my shoulder. My shoulder has become the most preferred head rest for her.
“Do you remember our talk on angling and Black Dog?”, throwing the line to the water after attaching bait, she asked. “He might be a luxury lover, Walter Millard, otherwise he wouldn't have got connected with angling.” Recollecting the famous story behind the naming of Black Dog, she said. “You remember it right?”
“Yes, I do remember, that’s how Black Dog got its name”, I said.
“A perfect angler, a luxury lover, an adventurous one, and the discoverer of the curious blend called the Black Dog Scotch, through which he contributed to the 130 years of long history of unwind and relax; Walter Millard was a true man. His interest in angling, and attachment to his favorite Black Dog fishing fly, are the reasons for one of the world’s finest Scotch whisky to get such a unique brand name”, she was eloquent when talking about Black Dog.
“Diane, I noticed today something. I know I will be labeled as naughty and will be called an uncultured one, if I ask you a question”, I said.
“What’s that?” she asked out of curiosity.
“Today the wind played some joke on you, and your skirt was so obedient to the wind that it got lifted up along with the wind. Then I saw something”, I said with courage.
“Oh! Really? You saw something right? Was that a good sight?” She asked fully giggling, while putting her head on my shoulder with more trust.
“Yeah, that was a gorgeous view. But, I saw some discolored black wound marks on your skin, just some inches above your knee. My heart is still aching on the thoughts of that. Did you go through any accident, or?” I asked.
“You might have imagined something, there are no such marks on my body”, with no changes in her tone, she said. I couldn't have seen her face to check if she was telling lie or truth.
(To be continued!)
Part of a series prepared for Ginger Claps Blogging experience.