RIVER GHOSTS

By Nicholas Els

This is a Romance story of a ring handed down from mother to daughter. A myth is created and retold as each new owner is given a ring that the ring promises the holder to draw your destined true love. Penny loses the ring in the Snow River and forgets about it, and the fable of the person who brings it to the owner will be that one true love.

The story contains adult themes.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nicholas Els
• Release date: Dec 17, 2022
• ISBN: 9780645692358

Book preview

ELS

D:\GeneralThumbDrive\Els&Associates\logo.jpg

2022

Copyright © 2015 by Nicholas Els

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner without the publisher’s express written permission except for brief quotations in a book review or scholarly journal.

First Printing: 2015

ISBN 978-0-6456923-5-8 (e-Book)

Nicholas Els

P O Box 2946

Geraldton, Western Australia 6530

Disclaimer

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or events is purely coincidental.

Acknowledgements

" Stock Photo ID: 742075135

Double exposure portrait of a young thoughtful woman combined with, used under license from Shutterstock.com."

Contents

Disclaimer      vi

Acknowledgements      vii

Preface      3

EMERALD POOL      5

THE RANCH      21

THE PARTY      30

GIRL TALK      54

THE PANEL      63

LIMBO      79

PERSPECTIVE      87

THE START      134

LOVE      146

LIFE AND DEATH      165

THE CAVERN      194

DEATH      201

ADЀLE      221

RIVER GHOSTS      230

References      261

THE PAINTING      263

Preface

The story is of a ring handed down from mother to daughter. The infinity-shaped ring is passed down through generations with the promise of finding true love.

Mothers shared the legend that if a daughter desired true love. The ring had to be thrown into the Emerald Pool in the Snowy River.

If she were destined to find true love, the ring would be found and returned by the person destined to be that true love.

Penny’s grandmother, before her death, throws the ring into the Emerald Pool, making a wish for her granddaughter.

Often when you least expect love and not looking for love, love finds you and your world is turned upside down.

EMERALD POOL

A man appeared on the sandy bank and stared across the pool towards a rocky overhang. The sun projected his shadow, stretching it across the pool’s surface.

Penny was immediately alert and agitated. Another city person trespassed on their land, fishing the river without permission, an ongoing problem with unrestricted fishing disrupting the trout breeding.

He jumped like a mountain goat onto the rocks surrounding the pool and moved swiftly across, using the boulders to move towards the other bank as he blended into the shadows.

With a casual flick of the wrist, he cast the line from the trout rod, not over his shoulder but across his chest from left to right in a methodical flick driving the lure parallel over the surface of the water.

The fly made its way across the surface, mimicking the water dragon’s flight path, haphazardly dipping its abdomen onto the surface, causing tiny ripples to break.

The sunlight reflected off the line as it snaked across and dipped delicately deep into the overhang. The line reflected in the sunlight looked like a spider’s thread floating in the air. The trout hiding under the overhanging rocks could not resist the fly as it dipped, causing a ripple, and a cascade of exploding water took the lure.

The man held the line stiff as he quickly returned to the sandy bank of the pool, keeping the line taut and not allowing the fish to escape into the deeper rocky holes.

The battle was on, and the large trout rose into the air riding on its tail, breaking the calm surface of the pool.

She had secretly filmed him casting the line illuminated by the early morning rays creating a spectacular contrast of light and shadow. Then the strike in a fountain of water and the fish wagging its tail as it fought for freedom.

Penny found his casting elegant and smooth, as if painting with light brush strokes.

The battle was brief, and the trout gave up and was reeled in towards the surface. He waded into the water knee-deep and reached for the trout pulling its head up with one hand and fiddled in the bag for something.

He seemed pressured by too many tasks. Penny realised he was not one of those anglers who took whatever they caught, no matter the size. His actions alluded to a trophy angler who wanted to tag the catch.

She called out, having come down from her rocky hiding place and moved toward him.

You need help?

He looked up, seeing her shadow silhouette like a ghost with the sun behind her.

Yes, please, I need to tag this monster and throw her back. She is heavy with roe.

He held the fish balanced in his open palms, moving it through the water and keeping its gills oxygenated.

She joined him and removed the tagging implement and a yellow tag from the small trout basket. Penny leaned forward, looking for a place on the dorsal fin, want me to remove the one there and replace it?

He shook his head, hell no, someone was before me. Lock the second one below the other one.

She clipped it on the dorsal fin. He was focused on the fish, still unable to see her features with the sun behind her. Her perfume was a subtle fragrance that lingered tantalising on his nose.

He closed his eyes, almost tasting like roses in the morning air.

Could you take a pic of the tags for reporting? He held the dorsal fin above the water with the numbers visible. I have a mobile somewhere in the backpack.

She removed her mobile and held it close to the fish, taking a picture. He said, focusing on the fish.

There is a scale as well, also the tape measure.

He turned to look up at her, eyes blinded by the sun, and smiled broadly across at her. She fiddled in the back and retrieved a weighing scale, and he quickly weighed the fish. She measured the fish announcing the measurements. She asked sarcastically.

I assume you want a photograph as well?

That would be nice, again the big smile, sorry to make you work like this. He commented apologetically.

She moved backwards in the water and pointed her mobile phone in his direction. He proudly held up the trout, and several clicks sounded coming from her direction.

He quickly lowered the fish back into the water, removed the fly hook with a free hand, and then held the fish steady in the water, gently pulling his hands away.

With a dismissive flick of the tail and a splash of water, the trout skimmed the surface and dove deep, returning to the opposite bank’s shadows.

He turned to find that she had walked back to the bank and was observing him as he waded towards her. He plonked himself on the grass facing her, pulled off his boots and removed the soaked wet socks.

He looked up at her. She was standing looking down at him with a not-so-friendly stare. She asked him in an educated, accented voice with hints of a French accent in her intonation.

You are not a local or from around here?

He was able to see her clearly for the first time. She was good-looking and in her twenties. A lithe body with a dancer’s poise. Long tanned legs in a pair of shorts. A checked-lose long-sleeved shirt covered a tight cotton top. The sleeves of the shirt were rolled up to her elbows.

Her dark hair poked out under a felt cowboy-styled hat. Two plaits hung tucked behind her small, shaped ears, touching her shoulders.

Two things caught your attention immediately. Her wide-set large deep brown, almond-shaped eyes curved up in the corners, giving her a hint of an Asian influence in her genes. Then her heart-shaped lips, with a prominent cupid’s bow and full lower lip framed in an oval-shaped face.

She wore no makeup and had a fresh country youthfulness. Her expressive electric eyes flashed angrily, mirroring her no-nonsense body posture.

Michael still had her lingering fragrance of hers in his nose. She had an elegance of a self-assured woman. Someone who was used to dispensing authority. He found her immediately appealing. He looked up at her and told her with a boyish charm.

Nope! Visitor and a guest of Ron’s, here for the big bash this weekend.

Ah, the soiree! she sarcastically commented. He rummaged in his backpack, retrieving a flask and two cups. He grinned up at her and spoke.

You must be Em’s sister Penny, I assume?

Emma, the sister, was a breathtakingly beautiful blond-haired girl. She was admired by men who found her spontaneity and party-girl bravado irresistible. She shamelessly flirted with everyone but only had eyes for Ron, who seemed oblivious of her desires for him.

Em was that ray of sunshine backed by a breezy personality and sexy body. Her sister Penny was the complete opposite her alluring beauty masked something else that he found strangely exciting.

Yes! she commented guardedly, how do you know that?

Em warned me that I might bump into you last night when I mentioned I would do a little trout fishing.

Oh!

Warned you?

He laughed, pouring two cups of coffee and offered her one holding it up towards her. Penny reluctantly knelt on her knees, reaching with both hands to take the cup.

Her elegant long fingers immediately struck Michael. She reverently touched the cup as if gently coveting something precious. As her fingertips came together around the cup, he saw impeccably manicured nails with a hint of colour.

She may have expressed a degree of sassiness and suppressed energy in her eyes, but her hands spoke of an intense, passionate soul. He explained further.

She said you were the trout police and would give me a tough time about fishing in your river.

Em said I must give you a secret code to get you off my back.

What was that? Penny asked, one side of her mouth lifting slightly as she stifled a grin.

Eittoh!

Penny suppressed a humph! and did not elaborate on the secret code, realising that Em was telling her that he was a hottie and had her approval.

She looked at him with renewed interest liking his casual manner and intelligent air of relaxed confidence that exuded about him. Unlike most men she encountered, his lack of male arrogance was refreshing. This man piqued her interest.

Where do you know Ron from?

Casual acquaintances, sport.

She nodded, finishing