Excerpt:
Lewis completed his daring scramble across the cliff and settled on his regular sitting rock high above the Little Lost River gorge. As far as he knew, he was the only person ever to sit upon this particular stone. It was his personal rock-his private retreat from anxiety-filled world on the other side of the fence. He'd discovered it the previous May, the day after his fifteenth birthday. Despair had driven him out onto the cliffs, and instinct had guided him toward the upper lip of the river. By chance, he reached and climbed onto the rock just as wind gusted through the gorge and parted the frothy curtain of Slippery Falls. In that instant, he saw a pool of water that had heretofore been concealed behind the falls. Within the pool he saw (or thought he saw) the shadow of a huge fish. It was just a glimpse-for the wind quickly died and closed the curtain-yet the sighting lifted his downcast spirits and inspired him with a purpose. "I'm going to catch that fish," he determined with resolve that did not wane between then and now, despite repeated failed attempts.

Indeed, in the year since sighting the aquatic monster and building his custom rod, Lewis had caught nary a minnow. That was fine with him. If merely catching a fish was all he wished to accomplish, he would've dropped a line from the bridge south of town where the regular crowd routinely pulled in perch, pickerel, and gar. Lewis, however, was not interested in small fry. He wanted the big one, which time and his imagination had transformed into a gigantic rainbow trout more than forty inched long.

He inspected the lead on his lure (a silver spoon with a red-feather tail), drew his rod over a shoulder, and whipped it around. Line zinged from the reel. The lure plunged through the cascading wall of water and into the pool behind the falls. Or so Lewis hoped, just as he also hoped a backwash current swirled his bait seductively about.

Lewis watched his line and waited, his senses soothed by the sonorous song of the failing Little Lost. The springtime sun fell like a blessing on his pale, winter face.

Time passed.

Patience is the virtue of all good fishermen. It is both a task and a reward.

More time ticked by.

Soon the sun dipped below the western mountain peaks and flooded the canyon below Lewis's feet with shadows. He waited a brief while longer for the giant trout to strike, then reluctantly reeled in his line and retraced his path along the cliff face.

He had half-hoisted himself onto the ledge by the fence when he was startled by a voice and nearly fell backwards.

"I knew you were there," the voice trilled triumphantly. "Your shoes gave you away."

Lewis caught himself and continued upward, and soon stood face-to-face with Amanda Dot. If not for the fence between them, they were close enough for kissing-an appealing notion for Lewis, yet something he'd never brought himself to try. "What's to give away?" he asked, sticking his fishing gear though the fence and beginning to climb. "I wasn't hiding."

"Perhaps not," Amanda retorted, "but if you were hiding, I would've found you."

"No doubt," Lewis allowed after landing on the park side of the fence and sitting by his shoes.

Amanda squatted so that she was eye to eye with Lewis. "I was thinking about your problem and I figured out what you should do."

Lewis grimaced. His chest grew tight, and he had difficulty breathing. "What did you figure?"

Amanda pushed an errant lock of brown hair from her pretty, round face. "It's simple, really. Don't know why I never thought of it before."

"What?"

"Write a letter or send an e-mail to the National Archives in Washington, D.C. They must have some record of who you are."

Lewis concentrated on tying the laces of his shoes. When he was done, he stood and inquired sarcastically, "What do you suggest I tell the people in Washington? That I was found in a basket? That some woman with a foreign accent stepped from behind a tree and foisted me upon my father?"

Although Amanda did not approve of Lewis's tone, she could hear the pain in his voice and excused his scornful manner. She hooked arms with him and started walking, and waited until they were halfway across the park before saying, "You know, Lewis, you have a choice. You can feel sorry for yourself from now until kingdom come, or you can accept the facts and be happy."

"I wish is it was that easy."

Amanda let five seconds pass. "Choosing happiness is as hard or easy as you make it."

Lewis's chest grew tighter. Amanda had a point, of course. She usually did. Sill…he couldn't quite find his happiness switch.