I hesitate again, not sure whether to bring up his longtime girlfriend’s frequent absences. Tara was aDeep Seacustomer, just passing through. Ten years later, I suspect she still wishes she were only passing through. She doesn’t like it here, doesn’t like the men who move through it like sharks in the shallows. The men own the town in all the ways that matter. You don’t get in their way, and if you do, you either leave town quietly or you don’t leave at all.
Not for the first time I wonder if, in her mind, Heath belongs among those men. I love my brother, but I know he bends the rules just enough to get what he wants without breaking anything too important. There’s a glint in his eye that says,Don’t ask too many questions,and a smile that makes me say to myself,You owe him this.
I know it’s wrong, but when it’s your brother, sometimes you look the other way. I suspect he does the same thing with me.
I lean back, limbs loosening. I feel my brother here, in the boat. See him in it, too. The hull gleams, the ropes are neatly coiled. I watch him run a hand along the railing with a small nod, inspecting the rigging with a focused eye. For my father, this boat and this business were a chore. For Heath, it’s an honor.
He looks over his shoulder directly at me and asks, “Ready, Min?”
I nod and he calls out, “Hold on, everyone! Gets a bit bumpy out there.”
With a jolt, we surge forward and the ocean rushes past. It’s a good feeling. Like you’re flying on your feet. The engine thrums in my fingers, my teeth. It’s the first time I’ve relaxed in days. Weeks, even.
The sun is sinking fast. By the time Heath pulls the throttle back, loosening his grip until we come to a slow stop, it’s gone completely, leaving us in sudden darkness.
I watch him as he makes his way to each client, speaking to them in his patient way. He crouches in front of the blond kid, shows him how to thread the silverbait through the hook.
“All right.” Heath claps both hands, grinning. “Rods in the water!”
It’s funny how quiet it gets when everyone casts over the side of the boat. Their backs are to us, silent and hopeful.
“The boat looks great,” I tell him. “You’ve done a lot to it.”
“It’s yours, too,” he says, stopping to peer at me. “You know that, yeah?”
“No,” I say firmly. “It’s yours, Heath.” Silently, I add,It’s for protecting me when no one else even thought to. Let me give you this. I have nothing else.
“We’ll see about that,” he says, before adding softly, “You here by yourself?”
“…Yeah.”
He nods, once. He’s never met Oliver, and now he never will. Thank God.
I look out at the water. It’s still and silent, hard to see now. I lean back in my seat, open my mouth to say something.
And then, from across the water, a scream rings out.
I freeze. This isn’t a shout of joy or even alarm. It’s a scream of horror.
Heath whirls around, searching the dark water. It’s deathly quiet now, just the soft lapping of the water and the murmur of the little boy from behind me, “Dad…what’s going on?”
Heath leans across the railing, squinting through the darkness. I see the outline of the pier and, next to it, a boat decorated with a skull and crossbones.
I squint. “That theEasy?”
TheReel Easyshares a long rivalry with theDeep Sea. The two fishing charters used to butt heads back in the days when our dads were running them. But my dad disappeared and Steven Newton, owner and captain of theReel Easy,reluctantly retired, handing the baton to his son, Luke. My brother’s former best friend.
Heath marches up to the skipper’s seat and reaches for the marine radio. “You there, Luke?”
Nothing.
“Luke?”
Another scream rips through the air. It’s coming from the pier. Heath hangs up the radio, and calls out sharply, “Rods up, please.”
Silently, they begin reeling in. “What’s goin’ on?” the kid’s dad asks, nodding at theEasy.“They in trouble?”
“Not sure.” Heath bustles around the boat, tying everything up, pressing the winch to bring the anchor up. When the anchor is aboard, he rushes to the skipper’s seat. “We good?”
