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"I could be several hours," warned Abby, handing him twenty dollars. "If I'm not back by lunch, go to the restaurant and have lunch on me."

Then she rushed off to the tackle shop where a Japanese couple was trying to understand their instructor. It was two in the afternoon when Abby was finally free to go. She walked back to the picnic table where she had left Jake, only to find him resting in the jeep, quietly watching the gulls overhead and sketching them on a drawing pad he had carried in his pocket.

"Sorry I took so long," apologized Abby, getting behind the wheel.

"I don't mind," replied Jake, still watching the sky and sketching.

"Where did you learn how to do that?" asked Abby, curiously.

"In prison," replied Jake, putting away the sketchpad.

"Listen, I know this guy who works at the tackle shop, and he sometimes hires someone to clean up his section of the dock after the fly fishing lessons. I'm going to go over and talk to him," suggested Abby, getting back out of the jeep.

"What about what your boss said?" asked Jake.

"The tackle shop is privately owned," said Abby. "The owner pays Terrence to send over translators, but that's all. I'll be right back."

Jake sighed heavily as he watched Abby walk away.

"PLEASE, God," he prayed, "don't let them send me back!"

The bell rang, as Abby opened the door of the Marina Tackle Store.

"Mr. Winkler?" asked Abby, approaching an old man sitting behind a desk with a lighted magnifying glass.

His hands moved slowly but surely, as he hand tied a custom fly for a customer who would pick it up later.

"Abby?" he smiled, looking up from his work. "Are you back, already? I'm afraid the Japanese couple already left."

"Yes, I know," answered Abby. "I'm here about a friend who needs a job," she explained.

"Where is this friend?" asked Mr. Winkler.

"He's sitting in my jeep," replied Abby. "Before you make up your mind, I must tell you that he's an ex-convict, who was sent to prison for killing his father, even though it was most probably self defense."

"'Most probably'?" repeated the old man.

"And," added Abby...

"There's more?" said Mr. Winkler, with raised eyebrows.

"Nick fired him yesterday because some pervert tried to take advantage of him in the men's room," she finished.

"Terrence already said 'no,' I take it?"

"Big time," Abby groaned in the affirmative.

"With all that's against this friend of yours-- you're still trying to help him?" asked the old man.

"Jake tries so hard," said Abby, with a hint of admiration in her voice. "If he can't get a job, they'll send him back to prison."

"So Jake is his name?" mused Mr. Winkler. "The name Jake originates from the name Jacob, or in the Hebrew, Yaakov, which means, 'the supplanter.' This Jake is young?" he inquired, carefully watching Abby's face.

"I guess so," shrugged Abby.

"Has he supplanted anyone in your life, yet?" asked the old man with a glimmer of knowing understanding in his eye.
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