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She laughed. He could get used to such a lovely sound. He stared down at her, his eyes lingering on her golden wisps of hair, blowing across her brow in the wind.
She looked away quickly, and he did the same. Focusing on the woman’s beauty wouldn’t lead to anything satisfactory. She said herself that she’d never want his way of life.
“Really, though,” she pressed. “Do ye think I be terrible now? I know how ye dislike your seiners.”
He sobered, his heart thudding against his chest.
“What?” she asked, her voice softening.
She must have sensed the change that had come over him, his hesitance. He didn’t like speaking of such things, but perhaps, since she had opened up, he could find the courage to do the same.
“I’ve ne’er told ye why I do dislike seiners as much as I do, ’ave I?”
She shook her head in silence.
He drew a deep breath, picking up another stone and rolling it between his fingers as the sun edged closer to the sea, ready to take its final plunge.
“Years ago, me father made an agreement with a man who owned a seinin’ company. It was a fine year, and we didn’t ’ave enough space at the cellars to store all the fish we caught, even after the excess we sold ’round Tristwick and elsewhere. So Father reached out to a few seinin’ companies to sell ’is fish to ’em.
“One man agreed, but ’e ne’er specified the amount of fish ’e’d required. When the deadline came, the seiner asked for more, and when Father couldn’t deliver ’em, the man threatened to break the contract unless Father could fill the order by the end o’ the day.”
Trevik grimaced, the memory at the forefront of his mind. He could see Father’s frazzled expression perfectly, as if it had happened yesterday. “Desperate to not lose out on wages for ’is men, Father chose to work on a Sunday in the darkness. The seiner found out and rallied other towns to come to Tristwick. They made a barricade along the shore so the fish couldn’t be brought from the gurries to the seinin’ company—all ’cause they were displeased with Father fishin’ on Sunday.”
He shook his head, anger still riling within him. “We knew ’twas a risk, just as we knew we oughtn’t be fishin’ on Sunday, but Father was only doin’ so for the good o’ Tristwick.”
“What happened?” Miss Hollow asked softly beside him.
“Father couldn’t keep ’is end o’ the bargain, and the seiner pressed charges. ’E was sent to debtor’s prison for nigh on six months.”
She released a dismayed sigh. “That be terrible.”
“It was. Fortunately, the men ’round Tristwick rallied, and saved enough money to get ’im out. Still, Father’s ’ealth was not the same after. And ’e died a few months later, still hurtin’ from the environment he’d suffered while in gaol.”
“I be so sorry,” she said, her eyes not leaving his. “I…I see that it is no small reason for ye to mistrust seiners. And I wouldn’t blame ye if ye don’t trust me any longer, seein’ as ’ow…”
“Seein’ as ’ow ye be a seiner’s niece?”
She nodded, and he gave a half-smile.
“’Tain’t like ye be a seiner yourself. ’Sides, ye ain’t givin’ me no reason to mistrust ye.”
How could he say such a thing? She’d given him ample reasons to not trust her. And yet, had she not told him the truth of everything? Even while fearing his disapproval?
Their eyes met, surprise lighting her face before a warmth as soothing as the sun melted across her features. He found himself powerless to look away, even when she did.
He followed the soft curve of her profile, the slight upturn of the end of her nose, the shadow of wrinkles beside her eyes as she winced, staring into the sunset. Her lips were arched up at the ends, as if she didn’t know she smiled.
“Do ye e’er forget things ’bout your father?”
He started at her words. How long had he been staring at her? He looked away, clearing his throat. “There are certain things that ’ave faded from me memory. At times I think I be forgettin’ what ’is face looked like. I s’pose that can’t ’appen, though, as everyone says I look just like ’im.”
She smiled. “That must be nice.”
He watched her again. “What about ye? Do ye look like your mother?”
“She had green eyes like me, but Father was the fair one.” She stretched her legs out before her, dangling them over the rock and leaning back on the palms of her hands. “It be the small things that I keep forgettin’ that upset me. Like how Mother looked and what her voice sounded like.”
His heart folded. He had the same issue with his father. And yet, he cared more about easing her burden than his own.
