A gentle surf lapped at the beach where Hannah and Drew stood to take their vows before Judge Jeremy Eckler, Roger Mayfield, and a pelican perched on a driftwood log. The bride wore her mother's powder blue silk wedding gown, the groom a set of clothing taken from the clothesline before being completely dry. Neither bride nor groom wore shoes; both wore smiles of utter joy.

Roger Mayfield cried with unabashed fanfare when his daughter promised to love, cherish, and never, ever again leave her husband. Judge Jeremy watched the seagulls diving for their supper and whistled softly when the groom took his direction "Now kiss your bride" to record lengths.

The mood was rushed as Mayfield and Jeremy boarded their sailboat for the trip to Galveston. As father of the bride, Roger wanted to be well away from Wild Horse Island before his baby girl went to her marriage bed. Such things did a father no good to consider. At the same time, as president of the Texas Historical Preservation Society, he was near bursting with excitement at the thought of retrieving the Declaration of Independence from his new son-in-law's safe.

Jeremy Eckler was in a hurry to leave, too. As payment for his judicial services, Drew had gifted him with an entire set of Castaway Bait Company fishing lures. Jeremy intended to turn the wheel over to Mayneld on the trip up the coast and get in a few hours' trolling. "I like the looks of that Lone Star Bobber," he called to Drew as the boat slipped its mooring.

"It's a good one," Drew agreed, keeping his arms wrapped around his bride.

"I prefer the Musky Wriggler, myself," Hannah said, snuggling back against her husband.

They watched and waved until the sailboat disappeared from sight. Drew turned to his wife and said, "Well, Mrs. Coryell. We have about an hour before dark. Any ideas on how you would like to spend the time?"

"As a matter of fact, I do."

He grinned, took her hand, and started to lead her toward the cabin. Hannah, however, planted her feet and refused to go. "I want to go fishing."

"You what?" he snapped.

"Yes." She tugged his tie free, then began to work the buttons of his shirt. "You see, Mr. Coryell, I am an avid angler, and I am searching for that perfect lure, a unique bait that will be mine and mine alone."

Drew both relaxed and tensed as she pushed the shirt off his shoulders, then turned her attentions to the button at his waistband. "I suspect that as president of the Castaway Bait Company, you might have just what I've been looking for."

"You think so?" Drew rasped as her fingers worked her magic and his pants dropped to the ground.

"Oh, my. Oh, yes. I knew it." Hannah's eyes twinkled wickedly as she dropped to her knees before him and said, "Now that, Drew Coryell, is what I call an eight-inch Throbbing Bob."

Geralyn Dawson