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Chapter Six
The call from Michaelcame around ten minutes after Wayne left the Bloomingfeld.
Wayne looked at the name—at one time so familiar on his phone and felt a stab of sadness and flickers of memories. In the old days, Michael had called him every few days after his work shifts, asking for a drink on the porch, a companion for a horseback ride, or an afternoon on Wayne’s sailboat.
In all the years since Michael had left, Michael hadn’t called Wayne a single time. Obviously, Wayne had dialed the number a few times in the first weeks after Michael’s disappearance, to no avail. Michael hadn’t wanted to be found.
After the fourth ring, Wayne lifted the phone to his ear.
“Hello?”
Maybe in the old days, he would have started with a joke. Right now, he wanted to tread carefully, so as not to startle Michael away again.
“Hey, Wayne.”
Silence fell between them. Wayne unzipped his jacket, suddenly warm, and jammed his free hand in his pocket.
“What’s up, man?” Wayne asked finally.
Michael cleared his throat. “Thanks again for meeting me at the house last night. I’m sure it wasn’t easy for you.”
Wayne blinked back tears. He didn’t want to say what he really wanted to say:I’m so glad you’re back. Where have you been? You nearly killed us when you left.
“Anyway, I wondered if you wanted to head out on the sailboat,” Michael said. “I haven’t been out on the water like that in three years. It would be nice to catch up.”
Wayne could hardly believe it. He hadn’t expected Michael to reach out like this already.
“That sounds great. I can meet you down by the docks in ten minutes,” Wayne said.
“I’m on a hike by Arch Rock. I’ll head that way.”
Wayne walked toward the docks, his pulse quick. He paused next to The Grind to peer in, make sure it was up to snuff. Only two people sat inside, one with a laptop and another with a book. A barista swiped at the counter with a washcloth. Back when he and Tara had decided to open The Grind, she had told him it couldn’t be a forever thing. “This is what we’ll do to make money for a while, and then we’ll travel the world together,” she’d said, her bright eyes electric with excitement.
When Wayne reached his sailboat, theTara, he found Michael already stationed beside it, his hands stuffed in his windbreaker pockets. Out in the grey light of the early afternoon, Wayne was allowed a better picture of the guy than he’d had last night. He was gaunt, hard-edged, and his eyes remained shadowed and almost afraid. Years before, they’d been mischievous, alive.
“Hey there,” Wayne said. He forced his voice to be chipper.
Michael stuck out a hand, which Wayne shook. All he wanted in the world was to hug this kid. He probably hadn’t hugged him since Tara’s funeral. What was it Michael had said at the wake?“She didn’t deserve this. Why didn’t we go with her? Why weren’t we there? We were always there. It should have been us.”
It should have been us.
Obviously, that had stuck with Wayne over the years, as he’d grappled with guilt and rage and the all-encompassing sadness.
“How was the hike?” Wayne asked as he swung a leg out onto the boat.
“Good. Nothing like those autumn leaves,” Michael said. “And now that Mom wants to feed me every five minutes, I guess I’ll have to go on a whole lot more hikes to keep myself fit.”
“I guess you’re just going to have to let her dote on you for a while,” Wayne said with a friendly laugh. “At least, as long as you feel like sticking around.”
Michael didn’t make eye contact. He followed Wayne’s lead and got the sailboat ready, performing the same tasks Wayne had taught him when Michael had been twelve or thirteen. Back then, Michael had had his first few real spats with his father and mother and had retreated to Tara and Wayne with complete adoration.
In no time flat, Wayne and Michael had the boat out on the water. The crisp wind whipped across Wayne’s cheeks, knife-like and chilly. Waves surged across the sides of the boat and licked at the bottom of the word,Tara.Wayne finally got up the courage to glance at Michael, who had his chin lifted and his eyes closed, totally enjoying the feel of the air, the water, and the smells that wafted around them of the island itself.
“What does it feel like?” Wayne asked finally.
Michael opened his eyes only slightly. “What exactly?”
“To see Mack after so many years away,” Wayne said. “I’ve never spent more than a few weeks off the island at any one time. Even when I went to school as a kid off the island, we still came over to the island all the time. I know in my heart and mind that the place is beautiful, but I no longer see it the same way. It’s all I know.”
