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She didn’t answer, a sad—somewhat lost—look in her eyes.
Beau stood, then joined them at the bow of the boat. “Kit? You okay?”
Kit jerked her gaze away from the horizon and faced him. Her smile was forced. “Yeah. I forgot how beautiful it is out here. My mom loved it. She used to bring us here all the time.”
Mackey looked down, his lips trembling. “Mama always let me have the first one.”
“It’s okay if Mackey gets the first oyster,” Cal said, joining them at the bow and tugging on his gloves.
“See?” Mackey smiled again. “Cal said it’s okay.”
Kit rubbed her chin thoughtfully, a renewed smile returning to her mouth. “And what about Beau? What if he wants the first oyster?”
Mackey spun around and stared up at Beau, his eyes wide and expression solemn. “You want it?”
Beau shook his head and ruffled Mackey’s windswept hair. “Nah. You take it.”
Mackey released a shout of joy. “First one is mine!” He grabbed a bucket, hopped up on the gunwale, and jumped overboard.
Kit grabbed after him. “Mackey, wai—”
Too late. Beau leaned over the gunwale and chuckled. Mackey had landed feetfirst in mud up to his ankles. “How’s it feel down there?”
Mackey threw his head back, his cheeks speckled with sticky mud, and squealed. “Fantastic! Come on, Beau. Cal! Kit! Come on!”
Beau bumped Cal with his hip and stepped onto the casting deck of the boat. “Beat you in, son.”
“Don’t do it, Beau.” Kit tried for a stern look, but a smile flirted at the edge of her lips. “You’re not familiar with this bed like we are. You land in the wrong spot, you’ll sink up to your elbows, the creek will swallow you whole, and we’ll be forced to leave you here.”
Beau grinned. “I ain’t ignorant, baby. I know what I’m doing.”
With that, he sprang off the casting deck, felt the soles of his boots slap against soft mud, then slid down until it hugged his ankles.
Beau glanced up at Kit and Cal, who smiled down at him from the boat, and winked. “See? I know exactly what I’m doing.” He pulled his right foot out of the mud and took a step toward the oyster bed. “All it takes is—”
The bottom dropped out, and his right leg sank as though a huge mouth was attempting to swallow him whole. He fell forward, sank in mud up to his butt, and scrambled for footing on more solid ground as cackles of laughter echoed around him.
“You need a hand, Dad?” Cal laughed. “Or you know what you’re doing?”
Beau tried to twist around and scowl, but the suck of the mud was too strong. He waved a hand in the air. “Much as I hate to admit it, I might need a little help.” He glanced to his left. “Mackey? Want to give me a hand?”
Mackey, bent over a cluster of oysters several feet away, straightened, with a freshly culled oyster in hand. He surveyed Beau’s predicament, carefully placed his oyster down, then headed over and grabbed one of Beau’s hands. “Okay. Get up.”
Beau tried—Lord knows, he did—but made no progress. As a matter of fact, he thought he might have sunk farther. “Not happening.” He waved his hand in the air again. “Cal? Come on down here and give Mackey a hand.”
Cal joined Mackey, navigating his way across the mud much more carefully than Beau had, grabbed both of Beau’s hands, and pulled. It worked . . . for an inch or two. Then he sank back down three inches.
“Kit?” He made a face and waited until her full-throated laughter had subsided into soft giggles. “Much as I hate to admit that I was wrong, I need you to come down here and lend us your muscle.”
“Oh?” Was that a feigned note of surprise he detected in her voice? “You need me to come down there and pull, too?”
He swallowed his pride, along with a smidge of nausea-inducing mud that had splashed onto his lower lip. “Yes.”
“Down there?” she asked. “Where I told you not to jump?”
“That is correct.”
There were scuffling sounds, then a plop and several sloshes. Kit walked in front of him, stepping carefully beside the tracks Cal had made, smiled down at Beau, leaned over, and held out her hand.
