“I like to be alone,” I lie, the hint of hurt in my tone betraying me. “Now think about it. What keeps you here? Any sorrows? Anything that makes you angry or anything that makes you worry about a loved one?”
Saylor gazes to the side, biting on his cheek, lost in thought. The silence stretches on, with only the radio playing in the background, and I begin to fold my jeans to pass the time and give him space to think.
“Well, I can’t think of anything pressing. I mean, it should be super pressing if it keeps me here, right?” he finally asks, and I shrug nonchalantly.
“I’ve heard a lot of reasons. Some of them are big, some are petty or small for others but not for the person themselves,” I explain.
“You do this often? The whole helping ghosts thing?” he asks, tilting his head, looking interested.
“I did.” I shrug again. “Now, tell me what you thought about first when I asked you.”
He laughs. “How did you know I thought about something?”
“Everybody has that one thing nagging at their consciousness,” I reply.
I know I could name a few.
“It’s dumb,” he dodges, looking down at his hands and squeezing them.
“Come on, humor me,” I encourage him, setting down the last piece of laundry beside me on my bed.
“There’s a necklace…” he begins.
“What about that necklace?” I ask, my full attention now focused on him.
Maybe this will be over sooner than I expected. If it’s just about a necklace, he’ll find peace quickly.
But why does the thought of that leave a lump in my throat?
“It’s a necklace our grandmother gave us,” he explains. “Every Jones gets one at their birth. It’s a gold necklace with a round pendant. On it is St. Andrew, the patron of all fishermen, and on the back, our birthday and name are engraved.”
As he speaks, I get a sudden flashback to the night with Nash and remember the gold necklace he was wearing. I hadn’t paid it much attention at the time, but it dangled from his neck as he was laying on top of me. I had thought it was pretty right before he slid into me.
Thinking about that moment causes a rush of desire to flood through me. I feel my cheeks grow warm, so I clear my throat. “Okay, so, what’s the story with your necklace?”
“I heard that my brothers think I lost it when everything happened, but in fact, I lost it in a poker game the night before,” he admits, cringing.
“You did what?” I ask, disbelief evident in my tone. “Why would you even gamble something like that?”
He rubs his neck, looking somewhat embarrassed. “Because I had already lost all my money. I thought I could win it back with just one more game, but that asshat cheated. I wanted to play against him again the next day to get it back, but, well, that didn’t happen.”
“How did you die?” I ask, my tone much gentler now.
“I drowned.” He shrugs, though it’s clear that the topic isn’t nonchalant for him.
I suppress a shudder at the thought. What a horrible way to go.
“How did it happen?” I press, not wanting to let this go. It’s important for him to come to terms with his death, if he hasn’t already, to find his peace.
“We were out on a boat, doing our daily business, getting in the lobster cages,” he recounts, his eyes growing distant. “It was a little windy, but it was fine. Out of nowhere, a storm grew, and the boat got pushed around on the waves. The sky got darker by the minute, and it gotsobad we couldn’t hear each other anymore and barely see anything other than the water droplets flying by. We did our best not to capsize, but a big wave crashed over the deck and took one of my crew over the railing. I was hooked on a wire rope on the crane that gets the cages up since bringing them up to us was my job. He was standing next to me when he was just washed away, and I saw the shock in his eyes when the wave hit him. I didn’t think when I jumped after him.”
I swallow hard, feeling a heavy weight on my chest as I process the gravity of what he has just revealed. “You jumped off the boat for him?” I ask, my disbelief evident in my voice.
Saylor nods, his gaze steady. “No one’s gonna be left behind.”
That sounds absolutely horrible.
And so damn brave.
