The Lazy Fisherman

By Thomas Harley

Benjamin Pruett is a successful writer but is stuck. He decides to go back to his home state of Minnesota and spend time in Black Falls. Ben hopes the rest and peace will bring him some much needed inspiration. He has no idea his time spent encountering members of the small lake town will change his life forever.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lulu.com
• Release date: Aug 28, 2024
• ISBN: 9781304781925

Thomas Harley

Thomas Harley is a writer and poet – and is passionate about sharing the love of Christ with others. A graduate of Knox Theological Seminary in Fort Lauderdale, his work for an international ministry has taken him to more than fifty nations. He is the author of Some Birds Sing in Winter.

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Copyright © 2023 Thomas L. Harley

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any forms, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise) without the written permission of copyright owner except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

This story is a work of fiction. Any means, likeness to real persons in coincidental.

Paperback ISBN: 978-1-312-53221-2

Hardback ISBN: 978-1-312-49879-2

E-book ISBN: 978-1-304-78192-5

Cover Design and photograph by: Thomas L. Harley

To my family, thank you for your unconditional love and support

To my wife, who without your exhaustive art of persuasion (and nagging), this book would never have seen the light of day--- I love you and like you

CHAPTER ONE

※

Benjamin Pruett knew he had another great story in him. He just didn’t know where to find it. All he knew was he had to. He had come too far in his young career to simply be out of ideas. Not only had he worked for one of the most prestigious news sources in the country but he also found himself on the New York Times Best Seller’s List—twice. He could feel the vice locking down on him.

As he sat there at his desk watching the blinking cursor flashing on his computer, he couldn’t help but think of a traffic signal flashing in front of him. Why was he stuck sitting there? Why couldn’t he get the wheels turning in his head? Then suddenly everything became clear. It wasn’t a red light flashing in front of him. It was a beacon shining like a light guiding him towards an epiphany.

Ben needed to leave. His attention drifted to a picture on the wall. Seeing the beautiful blood orange sunset reflecting off the water brought a smile to his face. He knew where he needed to go and he knew he needed to go now. He quickly gathered a few items off his desk when the excitement he currently felt disappeared almost as quickly as it came to him. He was startled by the sound of the doorbell ringing. The sudden jolt of noise made him fumble and struggle to hold onto the items in his hands. He managed to set the items back down in a neat pile, of course. He wasn’t about to let whoever interrupted his attempt to break free come before his OCD habits. As Ben walked towards the door from his office he pondered.

I wonder who this could be. I’m not expecting anyone… Did I sleep order a bunch of random things at 3:30 in the morning again? I hope it isn’t someone trying to sell me anything. I really don’t’ have time for that right now.

Ben glared through the peephole but couldn’t make out much as the blazing sun hit him directly in the eye. Ben opened the door to find Ian Parker. Ian Parker, Ben’s lifelong friend and editor, stood there in his trademark designer jeans, black button down shirt, black patent leather shoes and black rimmed sunglasses. His look would not be complete without a cigarette in one hand and an energy drink in the other—which were both present.

What’s up Johnny Cash? Ben joked as he opened the front door to greet his best friend.

Very funny. Ian snarked as placed his cigarette underneath his foot and squished it into the ground before entering Ben’s house.

What are you doing here? Ben asked. I wasn’t expecting you to drop by today. I figured you’d be at the gym.

Ian pulled down his sunglasses and stared blankly at Ben. The dark circles under Ian’s eyes implied he was sleep deprived as did the huge can in his left hand.

Listen sunshine. Some of us have real jobs and don’t get to work two hours a day like you and then spend ten hours a day working out or however the hell long you’re at the gym Ian quipped.

Ben stopped and chuckled. Ian was right. Compared to Ian, Ben looked like a Greek God while Ian was somewhat lacking in the health department. It wasn’t like Ian set the bar high. Long work hours, lack of sleep, fast food diet, the smoking habit… Ian’s cards were stacked against him. It wasn’t that Ian was jealous of Ben. After all, Ben is an author and Ian is an editor. Ben got to choose when he worked while Ian’s wasn’t afforded such luxury. The two of them walked down the hallway into the open living room. Ben sat down on a plush brown leather sofa while Ian plopped down into a matching recliner next to him.

So what’s new? Ben asked. Can I get you anything?

No. Ian replied as he rubbed his hand across his face. I just came to check in and see how you were doing. I figured I hadn’t heard from you in a while. Got anything new?

"Not really. I’ve had a few ideas but nothing really tangible. How about you? Ben responded.

Oh you know… same old same old. Ian began. Work long hours and have no free time for anything else. I was kind of hoping you’d have some good news for me. Like a new best seller just magically appeared and was waiting to be published.

Wish I did too. Ben shrugged. Truth is I’ve been stuck lately.

That’s not what I want to hear from you Ben. Ian quipped sarcastically. Don’t tell me that.

Ian leaned back in the chair and ran his hands through his brown hair. He felt a migraine coming on so he lifted his drink to finish it off hoping the caffeine would kick in anytime.

If I go back and don’t have something to tell the boss it won’t be good. Ian complained.

Ben opened his mouth and stopped as he turned his head confused.

Aren’t you the boss? 

I mean technically but I still have bosses. Ian started. It’s not like I own the company.

Fair enough. Ben laughed. It can’t be that bad though.

Ben leaned forward and reached to his right. He opened the door to the small refrigerator sitting underneath an oak end table and came back up with two beers. He lifted one towards Ian.

Yes please! Ian exclaimed as he grabbed the bottle from Ben. Putting that thing there was probably one of the best ideas you’ve ever had.

Yeah and made me lazy. Ben laughed as he twisted the bottle cap off and took a drink. Seriously though how bad can it be? I mean it hasn’t been that long since I wrapped up the last part of the book tour. And it’s not like I’m your only author.

You have no idea. Ian replied as he took a swig. The stuff coming across my desk lately is complete and utter shit.

Ben smiled and began to laugh. Ian glared at him as he took another drink from his bottle. Ian smiled and chuckled.

Okay I guess it’s funny but I’m not lying. Ian smirked. The stuff is just bad. I mean it’s so bad a bird wouldn’t shit on it.

Ben hunched over and laughed uncontrollably which caused amber liquid and foam to shoot out of his nose.

The shit is so bad that if we tried to stick it in your fireplace and use it for kindling, it wouldn’t even burn because it doesn’t even deserve to be put on paper.

The two of them were laughing hysterically. Ben was leaning forward in his seat he was laughing so hard.

It’s so bad if you tried to wipe your ass with in, you’d ask for one ply instead.

Ben waved his hand to indicate he’d had enough.

You’ve got to stop. Ben said as he tried to catch his breath.

The laughter eventually subsided as the two friends sat nursing their beers and silence set in. It wasn’t an awkward silence. Ian and Ben had been friends long enough to know there was no need to try and fill a conversation with empty small talk. Neither of them could stand to hear about the weather and how it was supposed to rain tomorrow or how it’s going to…blah. That type of dribble was like nails on a chalkboard. Ben sat his bottle on the table next to him and leaned forward.

I’ve been thinking. Ben started. I think it’s time to get away from Chicago for a bit.

Oh yeah? Ian asked as he took the last pull off his bottle. Where you going to go?

You remember the town my grandparents always used to take me up to in Minnesota?

You mean the one I went with you to a couple of summers? Ian asked.

Yep. Ben answered. That’s the one. Up in Black Falls, Minnesota. We stayed at their lake house.

I loved going up there. Ian reminisced. I loved your grandparents. They were the best.

That they were. Ben agreed as he thought about the two most important people in his life. I think I’m going to go and spend the summer up there. Hopefully the seclusion of a smaller town and change of perspective will help give me some inspiration.

Couldn’t hurt. Ian agreed.

You can always tell them I’m taking some time off from writing. Ben began. Tell them I’m doing research before writing my next book. I want to make sure I get things right to paint a good picture… or whatever bullshit used car salesmen trick you’re so good at.

Ian shook his head in agreement while laughing. He knew Ben tried to help the best way possible. He knew his friend, the writer, needed more time to come up with something good to write about and he himself needed to be able to tell his bosses something to keep them from breathing down his neck. He wasn’t going to rush Ben. He understood good work is organic and you can’t rush it. Not even the best writers can drop a three hundred page story overnight. They were all focused on the big picture. Putting quality work out was more important than just printing something for the sake of printing it for the masses. That’s not how they operated. Their reputations were too important.

Ian looked down at his watch. The subconscious timer in his head was right. It had been about an hour since his last nicotine fix and he needed to remedy it. He stood up, shook Ben’s hand and headed towards the door.

Keep in touch. Ian said. Let me know if you need anything.

Ben shook his head to acknowledge his best friend and thanked him. Ian bent down to retrieve the cigarette butt he stomped into oblivion earlier. Another thing the two friends shared other than their inability to make small talk was their long suffering from obsessive compulsive disorder. He knew Ian didn’t give two shits about the environment. He just couldn’t tolerate leaving it on the ground. Ian smiled, waved and walked off towards his car.

Ben usually was the type who took the time to make sure he had what he needed before leaving on a trip. Having to stop and get things at the last second drove him mad. Not today though. He wanted to get out of Chicago and up to the lake as soon as possible. Ben loaded up his truck and before he knew it he was already halfway through Wisconsin before he remembered he forgot to grab the two plants he owned. He then came to the realization he didn’t care. He didn’t like them anyway.

CHAPTER TWO

※

Black Falls, Minnesota was a quiet town about one hundred and ten miles northwest of the Twin Cities. It was surrounded by tall cedars and luscious furs. At the heart of the town was Ash Lake. As Ben drove down the shoreline, he smiled. The memories he had going there with his grandparents were some of his best. For the longest time, coming up to the lake house was the only place he felt peace after the accident. It was a drive he could make in his sleep.

As Ben got closer to the house, he thought about the last time he had been there. It was about a month and a half after his grandfather passed away. He thought spending time up there alone would help bring him some closure. He was wrong. He had nothing but great memories of his grandfather but he had a hard time processing the fact he was finally gone.

There was a brief period where he thought about selling the house but that too would’ve been too hard to bear. He couldn’t leave it to anyone else in the family as he was an only child. He made a deal with the neighbors that they could rent it out to people for the summer or for whatever occasion arose. He didn’t want any profit they made off it. All he asked was they fix any damage and up keep the property. As Ben got close, he realized he hadn’t got in touch with them to see if it was already rented out for the summer. His carelessness, a trait which did not present itself much, frustrated him and made him laugh at the same time.

I guess I could always go with Plan B. Go down to the local Department Store and get a tent to stay in for the summer. Who knows, maybe it’ll lead to a good story?

Ben pulled up to an empty driveway which was a step in the right direction for him. He parked his truck and walked over to the neighbors. Ben felt a hundred percent better. The fresh air assured him he made the right decision to leave the fast paced runaround city that is Chicago. Even if it was only for a brief stay. Ben walked up the red painted steps of the Henderson’s deck. He forgot how beautiful the houses up here were. The Henderson house was modest by today’s standards. It was an elegant two thousand square foot home with three bedrooms and three bathrooms. What it lacked in size more than made up for in view. Ben knew this gray and blue house just as well as his grandparents.

Ben rang the doorbell. The door opened and there stood a man he knew well. He stood five foot nine, had broad shoulders and white hair—at least what was left. His name was Bruce Henderson.

Benjamin? Bruce asked as he looked over the cheaters resting on his nose. Is that you?

Mr. Henderson, how are you doing? Ben smiled.

"Come on in. When did you get into town?" Bruce asked as he reached out to shake Ben’s hand.

Just pulled up. Ben replied.

Passing through or coming to stay? Bruce inquired as he led Ben into the house closing the door behind him.

Well I was hoping to stay up here for the summer but I was so focused on getting away from Chicago I completely overlooked the fact you may have rented the house out already. Ben replied nervously.

Bruce’s age had finally caught up with him. His memory wasn’t what it used to be. Sometimes he had trouble recalling what he did five minutes ago. He led Ben down the hallway into a study filled to the ceiling with books. It was a room Ben loved. He spent countless hours there growing up. Bruce walked over to his desk. He lifted his thumb to his lips, moistened it and began flipping through a leather-bound calendar. Bruce ran his finger down the page and stopped the end.

It looks like you’re in luck. Bruce started. A family had it rented out for a month in July but had to cancel. Looks like it’s all yours.

Well that’s better than plan B. Ben joked.

Oh yeah? And what was that? Bruce questioned.

Going down to the department store and buying a tent. Ben quipped.

Bruce laughed. Oh you know we wouldn’t allow that. You could always have stayed here with us.

No I wouldn’t want to impose. Three months is a long time. Ben knew The Hendersons would have gladly done so but he wasn’t about to intrude on their lives for that long. Even if they were like a second family to him.

It would’ve been no trouble at all. The whole tent thing would’ve made for a good story though. Bruce joked.

That’s what I thought. Bed agreed

The two laughed back down the hallway. Bruce stopped and turned back towards the study.

Do you need keys? Bruce asked. Oh what am I thinking, you own the place. Never mind.

Bruce stopped Ben as he was leaving and reminded him not to be a stranger. Ben agreed and thanked him.

As Ben walked up the steps of the lake house, he realized he hadn’t been there in almost three years. Ben was glad he decided against selling it. The house was beautiful. The brick and Minnesota harvested limestone steps led up to a massive two-story house. The top story of the house was painted in a shade of blue it seemed as though it got its color from the reflecting water. The bottom was covered with rock of all different shapes, colors and size. Around the house stretched a grand deck built with the best redwood that Ben’s grandfather selected himself and stained with his own hands. The deck was completed with a lovely white banister which wrapped around the entire house. He loved that. He loved that no matter where he stood on that deck the view seemed to just get better.

Ben set his bags down by the front door and walked around to the back. He stopped just before the steps leading up to a lavish green lawn stretching down to an L-shaped dock. Ben reminisced about all the lessons he learned on that dock. He remembered his grandfather taught him how a worm works better than any shiny thing you can dangle in the water. He recalled the time he was made to gut and clean his first fish and how he nearly broke into tears at the thought of having to kill it. He also recalled how his grandfather comforted him and reminded him it was part of life and learning how to clean a fish would make him resourceful if the situation presented itself.

As Ben stood staring at the pink sunset as it reflected off the water, his attention turned to the task at hand. The gears in his head began to turn.

Where do I begin? A reclusive man sits on his dock staring the time away… no that’s not good. How much of myself should I use in this one?

Every great writer puts a certain amount of themselves into their work. From heartache to certain ‘quirks’ it helps the story feel authentic and even gives it more intimacy for the reader. Ben knew that and he was no different. In his first novel, ‘Troubled Heart’, he told the story of a boy who struggled to let others in after the loss of his parents in a fire and was forced to live with his a grandfather he never knew and didn’t want anything to do with. Ben used his own experiences to turn pain and suffering into healing and created a way for others to do the same when they read it. He had been raised by his grandparents but unlike the story, he was greatly loved by them. It was his grandfather who taught him to channel his thoughts onto paper.

Ben wondered if he should dive into that world again. Was there enough hurt still there? Had the pain run its course? How could he continue the story? It would be near impossible. Ben created enough closure in those characters and didn’t know if he would do them more harm than good. He wanted to do something which would touch people in a way they hadn’t been before. He knew if he was going to have a chance at achieving his goal there would be no rushing it.

As Ben entered the house, he noticed how it all looked the same. He was thankful for Bruce and Janet Henderson. They had taken such care to maintain the beauty the house had to offer but, more importantly managed to keep the memory of his grandfather’s study. It was where he was taught how to hone his craft. The red walnut desk was where he sat and was challenged to use his mind to create something out of nothing. Ben loathed his grandfather at times for doing so but now he was able to see and appreciate the point of it all.

Ben’s attention turned to a picture hanging on the wall. He had the same one hanging in his house back in Chicago. The black and white photo was matted on a black backing and surrounded by a dark walnut frame. In the photo stood a young twenty-two year old tall and handsome Captain Jack Pruett. Like most people in his generation, Jack answered the call to fight for his country in World War II. Ben loved that photo because of what it stood for. His grandfather did not speak of the War too much. Jack Pruett had been a proud and modest man—two traits he would later pass onto his grandson.

It wasn’t hard to read into the significance of the picture mounted on the wall. It wasn’t a picture of Captain Jack Pruett simply standing there in uniform. The photo was taken during the liberation from one of the worst places known to man. The picture showed Captain Pruett after the liberation of the Nazi concentration camp known as Buchenwald. Jack was carrying a young Jewish boy in his arms. The poor child was emaciated and covered in filth from head to toe. This picture wasn’t hung in the study to feed Jack’s ego. It was there to serve as a reminder that no matter how bad things get in life, they could be so much worse.

It gave Ben great pride to know his grandfather was part of something of such importance. While Ben had friends who recounted great anecdotes from their grandfathers’ time at War, Ben could say his grandfather had been there to help save thousands from death. It was better than any story which could be told to him by a friend. The only regret Ben had was he wouldn’t be able to paint a picture of what really happened. Sure he could spend countless hours researching the liberation of Buchenwald but he wanted to know what his grandfather’s firsthand account was. That would have been a great story.

As Ben stood in the study, he felt the same feelings creep in he experienced the last time he was there following his grandfather’s death. He realized the old adage that time heals all wounds was a misconception. The person who came up with the timeless saying must’ve never experienced true loss in their lifetime. Ben knew the pain would never go away but he was okay with that. In fact, he preferred it that way. He knew if the pain was always there than he would never forget his grandpa.

Ben decided to step outside onto the large deck. After a brief moment standing there, he made his way down onto the dock. The night sounds of crickets chirping had begun. The calming echo from rippled current in the lake water and the smell of the summer air put a smile on his face. Ben knelt down on the dock and lowered a hand into the water. If felt nice and warm as he swished back and forth. He stood up and shook the water off his hand. Ben knew he had a lot of work ahead of him but tonight was meant to relax. It was a night to reminisce and reflect. He was in the right place to do both.

Ben walked away from the dock, hands in pockets. As he passed a shed, he noticed a cord of wood stacked neatly in a pile against the side of it.

I’m going to have to thank Bruce for that.

Ben loved sitting around a campfire but he was too tired from the long drive to sit up tonight. He was worn down from the book tour he just wrapped up. The constant nagging about what he was going to do next also weighed heavy on him. He was ready to turn in for a good night of rest. Ben shut the door behind him. He smiled as he went to lock the door. It was a habit he had grown accustomed to living on the North side of Chicago. Black Falls was different though. It was quiet and had little threat of crime. Here he wouldn’t have to lie in bed fighting to remember if he locked the door or not. Ben locked the door before turning the lights off and heading for bed. It wasn’t because he was scared about someone coming into the house. It was because Ben’s compulsive behavior wouldn’t allow him not to lock it.

CHAPTER THREE

⁂

Ben sat with Ian as the two of them ate popcorn and watched a movie. They jumped when they heard a knock on the door. It was late but Ian’s mother, Christine, had let them stay up because it was Friday. She knew she should make them go to bed because it