Free Ode to a Fish Sandwich by Rebecca M. Hale Page B

sorrow…”
    “You’ve been spending too much time with Burt,” Winnie snapped as she turned back toward the kitchen.
    “Your head’s gone soft.”

Chapter 19
The Offering
    OFFSHORE FROM THE diner, in the placid swath of sea protected by the boulder pile, the doctor’s plaudits were received by a far more appreciative audience.
    The Yellowfin tuna floated in the bay, where she had maintained her vigil, night and day, since their first meeting. She bobbed at the water’s surface, desperately trying to monitor the events on the beach as Dr. Jones took his regular seat at the picnic table in the shade of his umbrella.
    The tuna watched him jump up to greet the West Indian woman carrying out his tray, and she listened—enthralled—as he sang out his praises to his favorite food.
    On any other island, with any other fish, the doctor’s words would have drifted away, a meaningless murmur from an alien world.
    But in this instance, a supernatural spirit intervened, facilitating the language translation from human to fish, and the doctor’s soliloquy was transmitted directly to the tuna’s fanaticized brain—which then worked its own lovesick interpretation.
    The tuna swooned as the man’s voice seeped through the water and into her eager ears.
    He’s talking about me , she thought. It’s a poem about me .
    Throughout the doctor’s lunch, the fish basked in the misperception that the soulful serenade had been intended only for her.
    What a perfect day , she thought, blissfully swishing her tail.
    And when, at the end of his meal, he got up from the table and began walking toward the shore, she broke into a fit of rapturous joy.
    He’s coming to visit me!  
    ~
    PATTING HIS STOMACH, Dr. Jones swung his legs to the outside of the table’s side bench. He slipped off his sandals, pulled the bandages from his remaining blisters, and rolled up his pants legs. With the hot sand squishing between his toes, he strolled across the beach to the water’s edge. Splashing his feet in the light surf, he wandered in until he stood shin deep.
    Pondering, he adjusted the brim of his floppy hat and stared out at the sea.
    It had been a restful week of much-needed recuperation. He’d come to the island a broken man, far more emotionally damaged than he could have admitted, even to himself.
    Tugging at the corners of his shirt collar, he flipped the fabric up to cover the back of his neck. His fingers then twiddled with the plastic adjuster for the hat’s chinstrap. It was a distracted motion, reflective of his inner contemplation.
    He was about to make an important life transition. When he returned to the real world after the week’s vacation, he wanted to start anew, unburdened by the misery of his previous mistakes, the past pared down to just the essential components of the lessons learned.
    Breathing in the salty mist, his face spread into a confident smile.
    He was ready.
    There was just one thing he needed to get rid of first.
    He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small object, one that caught the sun’s rays, casting flashes of light across the water.
    With a grimace, he clenched his fist, closing his fingers tightly around the sparkling item. Then he reached back, extended his arm to its full length, and hurled the object into the sea as far as he could throw it.
    In the distance, the arc of a Yellowfin tuna burst out of the water, leapt into the air, and swallowed the trinket in a single powerful motion.
    ~
    SOMEWHERE IN THE humid island ether, Delilah beamed with devilish delight.

Chapter 20
Damned Fish
    FROM THE SHADE of the diner’s rear porch, Winnie kept her eye on the doctor as he hungrily devoured his fish sandwich.
    “I don’t know what’s got into him today,” she grumped, her arms crossed over her chest. “Carrying on like some half-baked nincompoop.”
    A fly buzzed a circle around her head. Scowling, she reached behind her back for the handle to a tattered swatter.
    “It’s a good sandwich,