AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Sorry.” Beau’s deep voice rumbled against her side as he shifted to the right on the bench. “Don’t mean to crowd you.”
“It’s okay.” Kit looked down at the blond hair sprinkled along his defined forearm. It wasn’t his fault that he was unfortunate enough to end up crammed on the bench seat of a boat between one sister who was dangerously close to falling apart and another who was ready to go straight for her sibling’s jugular.
His tanned hand, resting on his left knee, turned palm upward, and his long fingers spread. “I’d go to the bow, but . . .”
But there was a good chance Royal might toss him overboard.
A rueful smile rose to Kit’s lips. Her dad, always bullheaded, might try, but she doubted he’d be successful. Beau had two years on her, which would make him . . . forty now? Beau was at least fourteen years younger than Royal, and she could see—had actually felt a moment ago—that Beau carried more than twice the muscle.
Her half smile fell as she studied her dad, who sat at the helm, directly in front of them. His back curved over the low steering wheel, one arm clutched the wheel, and the other curved around the bamboo case housing her mother’s ashes. Apart from his warning to Beau prior to leaving the house, he hadn’t said a word. He’d climbed aboard the boat, sat at the helm, and stared at the bamboo case until everyone had boarded; then he’d left the dock and headed up Hope Creek toward the Ditch.
No one had spoken as they’d passed the Suttons’ empty dock, the sprawl of oyster cages floating along the upper end of Hope Creek, then traveled farther beyond Hilton Head and continued three nautical miles out into the Atlantic.
In a way, the silence had been a blessing. What was left to say after the painful—and humiliating—episode that had occurred at the house earlier?
Kit lowered her head and rearranged the towel housing a small pile of yellow jessamine in her lap. She’d untangled several lengths of the vine from the picket fence first thing this morning, the burst of honeysuckle-like scent tugging tears from her eyes as she’d unwound the flowers from the thicket of weedy overgrowth.
The vibrant vine had always been her mother’s favorite.
“Gorgeous,” Sylvie had told Kit once as she’d knelt by her side in the backyard of Teague Cottage years ago.
Kit flexed her fingers, still able to feel her mother’s gentle touch as she’d removed one of the vibrant trumpet-shaped flowers from Kit’s small seven-year-old hands. They’d spent the afternoon gardening together. That day had been a good one—quiet and peaceful. A rarity in her mother’s life.
“It’s beautiful,” Sylvie had said, smiling down at the flower. Her black hair had spilled over her shoulder onto a delicate petal, both reminiscent of silk, making Kit’s fingers itch to touch. “But poisonous.” Her smile had faded, and her thick lashes had lifted as she’d met Kit’s eyes, sadness pooling in the dark depths. “You should never get too close, Kit.”
“Happy to stand.”
Kit looked up. Beau stared down at her, his blue eyes examining her face. “I’m sorry. What did you say?”
His expression gentled. “If you need more room, I’d be happy to stand.”
She shook her head. “No, thank you.” There was a small cleft in his chin.... The curve of his jaw was strong and solid. “We’re almost there.”
The boat slowed. Royal cut the engine, and the boat’s thrust eased to a crawl, then stopped, the craft bobbing in the waves.
After standing, Royal paused once to lean heavily on the seat with one hand, then walked onto the casting deck at the bow of the boat, the bamboo case still cradled in the crook of his arm. The sun had fully risen, and bursts of gold streaked across the blue sky in all directions, the vibrant horizon at odds with Royal’s hunched, almost frail form.
Kit stood, clutching the towel filled with jessamine, and waited for Viv to join her, but Viv continued to sit and stare, the glare on her gaunt face intensifying. Beau stood instead, then rested his big palm on Viv’s shoulder. Her head dipped a bit lower at his touch, but she remained otherwise unfazed.
Kit walked to the passenger seat at the helm and stood beside Mackey. “Mackey? Would you like to say goodbye?”
Sniffing, he covered his ears with his hands, curled deeper into his seat, and tucked his chin tight to his chest.
“Okay.” Kit leaned down and kissed the top of his head, his soft hair tickling her nose. “It’ll be over soon.”
Drawing in a deep breath, she joined Royal on the casting deck. Waves lapped at the boat, and water rippled in all directions.
“This was her favorite part of the day.” Royal squinted up at the sky, the crow’s-feet fanning out from his eyes deepening. “She was always more like herself first thing in the morning.”
The white deck below Kit’s feet blurred. Blinking hard, she knelt down and placed the bundle of jessamine on the water. The thick emerald leaves and bright yellow petals spread, the vines lengthening across the undulating waters.
Royal’s shoulders jerked, and he clutched the bamboo case tighter to his chest.
“Dad?” She swallowed hard and forced out the words. “Do you want me to do it?”
He jerked his head to one side, then knelt beside her, removed the top of the bamboo case with shaking fingers, and withdrew a thinner white urn from the bamboo case’s interior. Leaning over the edge of the bow, he placed the biodegradable urn in the water gently and nudged it to the center of the jessamine.
The urn bobbed upright among the yellow flowers for a few minutes; then a gray cloud bloomed beneath the urn, spread throughout the water, and slowly dissipated in different directions.
