Page 121 of The Wild Beneath

“I’m going to stay here tonight.”

“Come home, Annie. Take a shower. Put your feet up.”

She says nothing.

“You’re thinking about going after him, aren’t you?” Henry says quietly.

“I can’t think right now.”

“Well.” Henry massages the back of his neck. He doesn’t fight her. “Let me at least build you a fire.”

Once the wood stove is aglow, he gives Annie a squeeze on the shoulder and leaves. As soon as his footsteps fade, she shuts off the light and removes her boots. Still fully clothed, she burrows into the sleeping bag, into Walker’s almost presence, listening for his sound and finding it.

Above his hum floats a higher-pitched whisper. A voice, isn’t it? Annie closes her eyes to listen. She sees herself on the transom ofAmphitrite. Her body holds her strong, careening over dark green water. The whisper-voice morphs and expands, then condenses, until it’s clearer. Then unmistakable. It’s her mother’s voice.

Here, Mara says,here.It repeats again and again, hypnotizing her, until Annie cannot help but sleep.

Sunlight wakes her in the morning.

The fire has died. Her body is stiff and sore, like she slept a thousand dreamless years. But her mind is already racing:Meet me on the water, Walker’s dream said. And now this one:Here.

The messages are frustratingly far away. Why wouldn’t Walker have waited for her? Where is he going with no radio and no navigation? Why did she hear her mom’s voice?

Outside, it is already bright and talk radio floats over the harbour. Fishing boats are setting out.

Henry stands over a cardboard box on the wharf.Galenebobs next to him, moored in a slip.

“You’ll need provisions, if you’re going.” He looks up at her briefly. “I put a new radio in. New mainsail, too. The electrical on the outboard is all rewired.” He raps his knuckles on the hull. He seems about a hundred paces in front of her.

“What are you doing?”

He turns to face her, a can of green beans in one hand, a box of spaghetti in the other.

“Since you were born”—he raises his eyebrows—“you’ve never been happier than on a boat.”

“You think I’m going to chase him?”

He stacks the provisions on the foredeck. “Might as well get you properly set up. I owe your grandmother that much.”

Annie rubs her face. “I don’t even know where he’s going.”

Henry pulls canned salmon out of the box. “Rain should be holding off.”

She risks a glance atGalene, its rolled jib, the way she sways in the water. A sharp longing behind her breastbone. She’s come this far.

Would it even be possible to turn back?

It takes the whole morning to get ready, to eat a cold breakfast at Rosie’s, to remember the workings ofGalene. She tries the GPS, tests the radio handset, fills two large water jugs, greases the winches.

She’s mustered the courage by midafternoon. Annie unties the stern line from the dock cleat.

Henry reaches down, touches the water, and tastes it.

Annie pauses. “You’ve always done that.”

“When I’m not on the water, I’m always missing it.”

“I tried not to think about it.” She lowers her head. “I love a lot of things in the city. We have season tickets to the symphony. And espresso. The grocery stores... they have everything. Sometimes I even love working.”