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“Did you know Ed?”
His grip tightened on the rope. “No.”
“Then why did you say I’d hit the jackpot? And how would you have felt if you’d discovered the man you thought was your dad wasn’t really your dad?”
“I never knew my dad so I can’t answer that.”
“Oh.” She stared at him. “He died when you were young?”
“I don’t know anything about him. I was raised in foster care.”
Mack was mortified. Her big mouth again. “I’m sorry.”
“You don’t need to be sorry. It’s not your fault.”
“But I said the wrong thing. I hurt your feelings.”
“My feelings aren’t that easily hurt. And everyone says the wrong thing sometimes. It’s part of being human.”
Her feelings were easily hurt. Far too easily hurt. “I’m feeling weird right now. Ed’s gone and I’m never going to be able to ask him any of the things I want to know.”
“What do you want to know?”
Feeling the boat rock, Mack sat down on the locker. “I want to know why he didn’t tell me. Finding out that there’s no Santa Claus or Easter Bunny was bad enough, but this is so much worse, don’t you think?”
“I never believed in Santa Claus or the Easter Bunny.” He flicked her a glance. “Decisions aren’t always simple. Life isn’t always that easy to figure out.”
Well that was true.
Scott had a quiet way about him that made it easy. He didn’t tell her what she should be thinking or feeling, and he didn’t nag at her or make her feel stupid. “I want to know if Ed really loved me.”
“That’s an easy enough question to answer.”
“What do you mean?”
Scott tightened his hands on the rope. “Did he leave you? Did he walk out?”
“No. He had a heart attack.” And she couldn’t get it out of her head. Had he known he was going to die? Had he had pain? What was the last thing she’d said to him? She couldn’t even remember and she felt awful about that.
“He was by your side for sixteen years.” Scott placed the rope on her lap and dropped to his haunches next to her. “I’d say the signs are that he loved you a hell of a lot.”
She gripped the rope. “I wish I’d known I wasn’t his, that’s all. I would have been okay about them telling me when I was young.”
“You don’t know that. No one knows for sure how they’d react if circumstances were different.”
“You’re on my mom’s side.”
“I don’t take sides.” He took her hand and placed it on the rope. “This is a mooring line. You’re going to learn to coil it ready for stowage. Are you right-handed or left?”
“Right.”
“So make the coils with your right hand, hold in your left.” He showed her and then handed the rope back to her. “Keep the coils the same length.”
She tried it, but her hands were cold. “The rope keeps kinking up—”
“Twist your hand out as you make the coil. That will stop it happening. That’s good—” he watched as she coiled the whole rope “—now finish it off and we’ll stow it in the locker.”
She did as he said and handed it over, wondering why coiling a rope could feel like an achievement. She gobbled up crumbs of approval like a starving bird. “So does this make me your crew?” She saw the corners of his mouth flicker into a smile and felt a sudden high. “Can I ask you something?”
