“I’ve been wondering ... about your hands.”
“My hands?” The scars constricted, curling his fingers into his briny hair.
Mary tilted her head, gazing ahead. “Sometimes you rub your palms, but you stop when anyone notices. And when we dance ... just now when you touched me...” She set one hand on the wrist he’d held only moments earlier.
Jim swallowed. Above his head, the edge of the sail ruffled. He sprang to Mary’s side. “The wind shifted. Head a bit to starboard.”
Mary complied, and the ruffling ceased. “If you don’t want to talk about it, that’s all right. I understand.”
A sophisticated man didn’t have scars, but Jim uncoiled his hands before her. Shiny scars ran along the fleshy ridges of his palms.
“Oh,” Mary sighed. “How did that happen?”
He returned to his seat, elbows on his knees, the evidence on his palms facing the clear blue sky. “The first time I tried to take charge, to make waves.”
“What happened?” She had such a soft way of asking, without accusation.
“The day Lillian lost her leg.”
“Oh dear. I knew she had an accident, but no one talks of the details.”
“She was five, so I was seven, Rob nine, Dan eleven. Lillian and Lucy might be identical twins on the outside, but they couldn’t be more different on the inside.”
Mary tipped up a smile. “True.”
“Lucy liked to stay home and play dolls, but Lillian was a tomboy, always wanted to tag along with us boys. I liked to play with her, but Dan and Rob didn’t, so they always prevailed.”
“I understand. My older sisters didn’t let me tag along either.”
The boat rose and fell with the waves, the constant reassuring hiss of water on wood, the wake spreading white behind them, spray cooling Jim’s skin. “One day we boys were heading into the woods, and Lillian wanted to come. She begged me. She never used tears to manipulate me, but this time she cried. So I told her to follow us at a distance. Then when we arrived at the fort we were building, she’d show up. Dan and Rob would be annoyed, but they wouldn’t send her home, and they’d see how much fun she was.”
“You’re a sweet brother.”
Jim glanced away, toward the homes along the shore, the lighthouse on the point. “She followed my instructions too well. She kept off the path so she wouldn’t be seen, but she strayed too far. Halfway to the fort I heard a scream.”
“Oh no.”
The memory of that sound ripped through him, fresh and raw and primeval. “I raced back. Dan told me to stop, because a wounded animal was dangerous, but I knew it was Lillian. Knew it.”
“It was a trap, wasn’t it? I remember.”
Never once had Jim been seasick, but now nausea cramped his belly. “You can imagine—strong enough to hold a wild animal—and her little leg.” The mangled, crooked, bloody mess.
Jim’s fingers bent down, working their way into the imaginary trap. “I tried—I tried to open it, but I wasn’t strong enough. I wasn’t thinking, didn’t care about my hands, just wanted to save her.”
“Of course you did.”
“Then Dan and Rob arrived. Dan flipped the release lever, calm as can be, and he carried her home.”
“Poor Lillian.”
“They couldn’t save her leg, amputated the same day.”
“And your hands...”
He curled up his fingers, the tips resting on the hard smooth scar tissue. “For a while, I wished the doctor would amputate my hands too.”
“Oh, Jim...” Mary’s voice wavered.
