I’m lost about what is happening.
His father is distraught and takes me aside. “He’s just angry with himself. There was an accident. That’s all. It could have happened to any of us, but he won’t forgive himself.”
I’m totally confused. What are they all talking about? But my heart sinks because something really painful is being resurrected. I just don’t know what.
Anjanette joins us, and before I can say anything, she tells me to go to David. “It’s not my story, but Dave surely needs to get it off his chest. He’s probably feeling it hard for the first time, as he’s never talked about it, as far as I know, but you are probably the one to hear it. The person he can finally talk to. To help him through it.”
Georgia joins us again and nods. “It’s never too late to recover. To thrive. He’s done that. He just doesn’t accept it. Accept how wonderful he is.”
My heart is about pounding through my chest as I grab a beer before finding him alone on the edge of the patio, and I step over broken glass before handing him a fresh bottle. “You don’t have to tell me anything. We can just leave if that’s what you want.”
But he starts talking after welcoming the drink I offered.
“I come from a lobstering family, as you’ve now heard, and it’s what I wanted for myself. It was going to be my life, mycareer. To carry on my family’s work and legacy, their good name. Yet one time—one stupid fucking time—I let a boy onto the boat. A really young kid who was crazy about fishing boats of all kinds. It was a stupid move, I knew. This kid, Billy, was in town with his family for yet another summer.
“I’d seen him and his family for years, and he often looked sort of dejected. Bored. But he always had his head in a book. I swear the only time he looked up was when he came to the docks to watch us unload traps, and he’d barrage me with questions, wanting to know every detail about lobstering, dealing with weather, what we wore, measuring our catches. He was so cute and just didn’t stop with everything. Not surprisingly, he begged to go out with me and my crew, so much so that, eventually, I agreed. By the way, with Billy’s parents’ enthusiastic permission.”
Dave now laughs. “So, this kiddo’s favorite color was blue. Like, he worenothingbut blue shirts over the years, and so I started affectionately teasing him, calling him Little Blue. He loved the nickname. His parents loved the nickname.
“We went out a few times, and not only did Billy love it, but his parents thanked me, touting how I helped with their kid’s self-esteem. How Little Blue was finding himself, loving his timeat sea. I thought I was passing on the love of working on a boat the way my dad did for me.”
He sighs. “I did the opposite. The last time we went out, everything went to shit. Much of that day is a blur, but so much of it is also still crystal clear. It haunts me. It willforeverhaunt me.”
“Tell me what happened,” I say softly.
“There are rope coils we all set on deck. Ones that roll directly into the ocean.”
“The short story is that Billy goddam left his seat—even after I told him six hundred times not to move—got his foot tangled up and was sucked off board.” Dave swears a thousand times before he continues, “We all carry knives on us, just because we’re always ready to cut ropes. But usually not for such dire situations. At least I saw this happen. We all did. We all heard the scream. I immediately dived into the water as Jimmy simultaneously cut the rope. Thank God he was as fast as hell.”
This must have been terrifying. Deeply traumatic.
“If you can believe it, Little Blue was actually laughing when I hauled him from the frigid water. And set him on the deck. I’m sure it was some kind of crazy adrenaline because his leg was all sliced up from the rope that had ripped through his skin. The force could have taken off his leg. Diana, it truly could have amputated a limb. It was so damn bloody, and I cannot unsee that. I mean, I could have killed him. It was such a stupid decision to even let him on board in the first place, and he’s all whooping and cheering in my arms while I was doing my best to fend off a panic attack. But it still must have affected him. And his poor parents? Shit, I cannot imagine how much they hate me.”
“But he was okay, yes?” I ask.
Dave half laughs. “Okay in the sense that he lived. There were sirens flashing, and blaring sounds, and lights when we docked,and maybe I was in the ambulance with him, but I don’t know.” He shakes his head. “No, his parents must have gone with him. Anj drove me to the hospital. Not sure I can remember the details. Nobody would tell me anything because I wasn’t family. And Blue’s parents were there, of course, but I made sure they didn’t see me.”
“Let’s get you home.” I guide him to the car.
“Blue and his family never came back to Snowshoe Cove, of course.”
I buckle him in. “You’re a hero, really. Whether you like it or not, you are. You saved a child.”
“No. He never should have been onboard. I made a stupid choice that surely ruined his life. I just didn’t say no to this kid who loved boats and loved reading.”
He’s breaking my heart.
“An accident that came from wonderful intentions. It’s not a secret you have to hold on to. Not anymore.”
Dave is feeling his hard rain. And now I understand his Super Bowl. How he turned this devastation into beauty. It might never make the pain dissipate entirely, but it helps.
After I get us home and walk him to the bedroom, he falls onto his side of the bed, and I stay until he’s breathing rhythmically. Until he’s in a sound sleep. Then I find Whiska sweetly on the couch, and I move tentatively to read him a book, doing what I can do to soothe us all. Eventually, he and I are tired enough to call it a day, and I slip under the comforter and grab ahold of Dave.
He’s held me for so many nights; it’s time I finally try to pay back the love.
Chapter 23
While I rouse with a feeling of dread, there is a serene cat on the end of the comforter—one who is warming my feet—and there is also the smell of something lemony and familiar in the air. As much as I don’t want to hop out of bed and disturb this brave cat, it’s clear that Dave is making eggs Benny, so I slip out from under the duvet, somehow without disturbing my Whiska.
