Midge Gette - The more the sexier

Sharon grinned, waved, and peeled out and away with her usual enjoyment of the noise, laughing when the two men were jerked back in their seat. "Did you bring along any bait?" she yelled at the doctor.

"It's Dad's gear," he answered. "He said there are some flies and a couple of lures in the tackle box."

"No good," she told him. "Salmon eggs are the only thing right now, but don't worry. I brought along a couple of jars."

He smiled at her tone and Uncle Nate gave him a sly wink. Sharon caught it and frowned, then shrugged. She was determined not to let him spoil her day. Kill him with kindness, that's the way, she decided. Uncle Nate frowned slightly at her strange expression.

"Sharon's a real fisherman," he said. "Got me beat hollow."

The praise evoked her generosity. "Oh, you're pretty good, Uncle Nate," she conceded. "It's just that I've had so much experience. I've been fishing the lake ever since I was a kid."

John looked away to conceal his laughter. It was hard to believe she was the same girl he had seen the night before. These young girls nowadays, he thought. Can't tell them from their big sisters when they get all dolled up. "I wish Dad could have come," he said as the city was being left behind for open countryside. "Next to chess, he loves to fish."

"We'll have to have another little jaunt on Thursday, his day off. Or can you stay on through the weekend, John?"

"I shouldn't, Uncle Nate," John replied. "I could get one of the other interns to pinch-hit for me, I suppose, but I am due back Saturday morning."

"Well, we'll plan on Thursday, then."

Sharon frowned briefly, but said nothing. At least he was not going to be around permanently. She hummed softly. The feel of the steering wheel under her hands and the smooth purr of the engine were joys still so new they outweighed less happy thoughts. And young Doctor John was rather pleasant company.

At the lake, she took command, arranging for the rental of a specific motor-boat she favored, and becoming its pilot. Because he was so pleased at every evidence of teenage carelessness in her, John Harrow was merely amused by her bossy little ways. She looked like a careless boy despite the feminine curves of her slim figure, he thought, and decided that pale eyes in a smooth tanned face were a very attractive combination. He began to affect an avuncular attitude, and Sharon responded with ease.

"We'll head for the north end of the lake," she announced. "Thank goodness we got here early," she added. "We ought to get in a good hour's fishing before it gets crowded. You can get out the salmon eggs, Doc," she told him.

He laughed out loud. "Danged sassy kid you've got here, Uncle Nate," he said.

"I don't know how I ever managed to survive seventy-two years without her," responded the old man, a twinkle in his eye.

Her head turned. "That's pretty old, Uncle Nate," she said in a worried tone. "Button up your sweater. That breeze is cold."

"He doesn't look his age, Sharon," John told her. "And I have a hunch he's putting us on. As a medical man, I'd say he's a good ten years younger than that physically."

Sharon flicked him a grateful look. "Are you a good doctor?"

"The best." He grinned. "Just ask my mother, if you don't believe me."

"Okay, Doc," she replied, grinning, and cut the motor. "We'll troll here," she said.

The lake had a metallic sheen and the sudden silence was broken only by the clear, pure call of a bird in one of the trees that lined the banks. For a moment John watched the girl as she moved deftly, checking her reel and digging brown fingers into the salmon-egg jar for bait, her face rapt and concentrated. John glanced at Uncle Nate, who, having already cast out, sat smoking his pipe contentedly. Catching John's eyes, the old man gave a brief nod and smiled, as if to say, "No more chatter out of her now."

And it was true. Sharon became absorbed in fishing, the true fisherman's silence wrapping around her like an invisible shield. What a strong, beautiful profile she had, the young doctor thought, its lines cleanly exposed by the pulled-back hair. He felt an odd sort of tenderness move in him. Just this morning, while frying chicken for the picnic basket, his mother had remarked about a lonely quality she sensed in this girl and told him a little bit about her background. Unable, now, to keep from glancing at her often, John saw what his mother meant. In repose the girl's face was very young and vulnerable. I'd like to help her, was his thought, which struck him as slightly ridiculous, but persisted.

The sun was high when, driven by hunger, Sharon decided to call a halt. Their combined catch was nothing to brag about, but the hours spent were counted no loss. "Gee, I'm glad your mother was so thoughtful," Sharon declared. "I'm famished." And she let John pilot them to shore. Fishing always had the power to subdue her frustrations and rebellions. "I know a dandy picnic spot," she said. "Uncle Nate, why didn't we ever think of bringing along a picnic lunch before? You mother's a darling, Doc."

"Well, I'll tell you, kid," he replied. "I've had her for darned near twenty-eight years and no complaint so far. Of course, she's inclined to be a bit too bossy, like some other people I've noticed around here, but I guess it's just one of those incurable feminine traits we poor men have to put up with. Eh, Uncle Nate?"

Uncle Nate chuckled. "I'm afraid so," he agreed. "But we'd be lost without our little women to nag us into behaving ourselves."

Sharon enjoyed the teasing. "In a way it's a great waste of talent that I've decided not to marry," she told them. "I really think I'd make a great mother."

"Oh? You've got something against marriage?"

"I don't think it's all it's cracked up to be, Doc. I notice you're not wearing any ring on your finger."

"That's right. I just haven't had time to give marriage much thought. I expect I'll end up like you, Uncle Nate, and be none the worse for it."

"I don't know," Sharon said, studying him. "Your mother wants grandchildren. I think he ought to get married, don't you, Uncle Nate? -Doctors that aren't married can get into a lot of trouble with their patients, and then there are all those nurses-" For some reason the thought bothered her. "Well, here we are," she said, dropping the subject abruptly. "I'll go get the picnic basket while you tie up the boat, Doc," she said, and was first out of the boat and away, running.

"She's a nice kid," John told the old man.

"Yeo, I think a lot of her, John. I'm glad you two hit it off so well today. She needs to be with young people more." He let John help him from the boat, stood a moment studying the young man's face. "John, I've decided to build your medical center and won't keep you wondering. There's just one thing I'd like to ask you to do for me. Interest Sharon in the project. It won't make any difference in the long run, but she needs to have other interests than those of an old man. Do you understand.''

The night before, John would not have understood; today he had experienced a protective moment for Sharon. "Does she know you have decided?" he asked.

"She said this morning-" His old eyes were touched for a moment with sadness. "She reminded me that power corrupts, John, and it was a very significant remark to me. She's very young, but almost painfully honest. And just child enough to be jealous of anything I do that does not include her." He laughed. "I'll bring up the subject of the clinic at lunch, John. For the moment, just follow my lead. More than anything in this world I want her happiness."

John was not sure what was expected of him, but the singing joy within him overrode doubts. "I should thank you, Uncle Nate. I'm afraid I can't fi"d words-"

"Not needed, not needed. Here she comes. We'll thrash it all out another time." "Wow, this thing is heavy," Sharon told them, and let John relieve her of the basket's weight. "I peeked," she added. "Lordy, lordy, Uncle Nate. Fried chicken, chocolate cake, and I don't know what all. Even lemonade! Come on, let's hurry, before someone finds my picnic place first!"