He also wasn’t as confident that the wood from the terrasse would be strong enough to withstand waves. They were already weathered and worn from being exposed to the elements for years.
He was considering his dilemma, while sitting on a log staring at the boat, when a bottle of rum was set beside his foot.
He looked at it, frowned, then at the person who had delivered it. “Ann, right?” He was finally learning their names, not that Miss Driscoll had bothered to introduce them.
She nodded.
“Does your sister know that you have brought me this?”
She shook her head.
This was odd and he grew suspicious. Was Miss Driscoll waiting to catch him take a drink in front of the child? Except, why would she when she had hidden the bottles to begin with.
“Why?” he finally asked.
“Because I want to help you.”
“Help me what?”
“Fix the boat.”
“Why?”
“Because I do not like mending,” she answered as if it was a reasonable explanation.
He frowned. “I haven’t figured out how to fix the boat.”
“Because you lack tar or pitch,” Margaret answered with authority as she joined them.
“You know a lot about boats, do you?” he chuckled and reached for the bottle.
“I know about a lot of things.”
“You do, do you?” he chuckled as he uncorked the bottle and took a drink.
“I like to read but you do not have any books in the house, but I have watched boats be repaired in the harbor back home.”
“Very well, you can help me,” Rhys said as he corked the bottle again. “Both of you.”
“What should I do?” Ann asked with excitement. The child truly must be bored.
Rhys studied the boat for a moment. “It does need to be scrubbed on the outside,” he said. It was dirty, which he always found odd that a boat could get dirty in the water. One would think it wasn’t possible since one bathed in water.
He shook his head. Of course, he understood how it got dirty, it just seemed wrong that it could happen.
“I will gather rags and return,” Ann offered.
“The inside needs to be scrubbed first,” he said after a moment. “I will see to that.” He couldn’t ask a child to clean up dried blood.
It had probably stained the inside and he might need to consider new paint as well. Except, he did not have any of that either.
“I can clean the inside,” Ann insisted.
“So can I,” Nicoll said as she sat down on the other side of him.
“Do none of you have something else to do?”
“No,” Ruth, the eight-year-old said as she came up from behind followed by the other two sisters.
