He placed one hand on the gunwale.
“One day,” he said.
I came to stand beside him.
“Yes.”
“What does she need?”
“Fuel system inspection. Battery test. Cooling lines. Launch cradle.”
“Half a day.”
“For three people.”
“Still.”
He looked through the open harbor doors.
“Could we launch her this week?”
The question found every fear I carried.
Speed.
Engines.
Cold water.
Noah on a moving boat while his balance, concentration, and fatigue remained unpredictable.
I forced myself to answer the question he had asked rather than the disaster my mind supplied.
“We can prepare her.”
“And put her in the water?”
“In the inner basin.”
“You drive.”
“Yes.”
“No open water.”
“No.”
He studied my face.
“You’re frightened.”
“Yes.”
“And you’ll still do it?”
“Yes.”
His hand settled at the back of my neck.
