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Kit wrapped her hands around the bow pulpit railing and squeezed. “My earliest memory is different. It was on this boat, in fact.” She gestured toward one of the lowered outriggers. “Dad brought all of us out here—well, except for Mackey. He wasn’t born then. We were around six or seven, and Mom was having a good day. One of the best ones she’d ever had, I think.”
Viv had turned away again, but at least she hadn’t left. Instead, she stared out at the water rippling in the sunlight.
“She showed us how to work the gear and set the nets.” Kit grinned. “I remember her smelling like sunscreen and hair spray. She even dolled up for a day on the water, but, boy, could she haul some shrimp. When those nets came up, she yanked that line, and we plopped down right over there”—she pointed toward the aft work deck—“and sorted through shrimp and bycatch for hours. It was hot—sweltering almost—but she sang out of key the whole time we worked, made us laugh and forget we were working. That is a good memory. That’s what I choose to hold on to.”
Viv tucked her hair behind her ears, her fingers sweeping quickly over her cheeks.
“Can we try that?” Kit asked.
“What?”
Kit slipped her arm around Viv’s and curled her hand around her sister’s elbow. “Can we pretend, just for today, that you don’t hate me?” She swallowed hard, past the lump forming in her throat. “Can we set everything aside for a few hours and be sisters again? Just for today? For a few hours on the water? Because that’s something I need, Viv. And that’s all I’m asking for now.”
Viv stayed silent for a few minutes, tears flowing freely, the wind drying them on her cheeks. “I’ll try,” she whispered. “Just for today.”
* * *
Beau hadn’t quite figured out what had changed between Kit and Viv since the shrimp boat left the deepest waters of Hope Creek and reached the even deeper waters of the Atlantic, but whatever it was, he’d take it.
“You’re weak!” Viv threw her head back and laughed, her arms wrapped around one end of two large, flat rectangles of wood. She watched as Kit struggled to lift her end and maintain her hold on a metal rod above her head.
Kit, cheeks red and an adorably fierce expression on her face, squatted lower by the side of the boat, renewed her grip on her end of the wide planks of wood, and heaved them upward with a groan. “There!” Her arms trembled as she held the wood up, and a bright smile wreathed her face. “See. I’m not weak. I just had to warm up is all. And besides, it’s not the weight. It’s Dad’s jacked-up system.”
Viv laughed harder and palmed her cap lower on her head. “His system is not jacked up. You’ve just been sitting behind a desk for too many years, that’s what.”
Unable to sit by and watch Kit struggle, Beau strode over, reached around Kit, and secured a firm grip on the wood, taking some of the weight off Kit and freeing up her grip. He glanced down at her flushed face and smiled. “Better?” At her relieved nod, he asked, “What exactly is it that you do, anyway?”
Kit, puffing her hair out of her eyes, blinked up at him. “Marketing.” She paused, breathing hard. “I’m in marketing.”
He stifled a smile and lifted more of the weight with his hands. “What do you market?”
“Lingerie, cosmetics, cars, and ceiling fans,” Viv shouted over the blustery ocean breeze and the squawks of birds overhead.
Beau raised an eyebrow at Kit and grinned. “Lingerie? Really?”
If possible, Kit’s face turned redder. “Once,” she said. “And it was a great-paying gig. I manage campaigns for a vast”—her grip slipped as the boat bounced over a swell, and she winced, stumbling two steps to the right—“array of products.”
“Y’all got them doors lowered yet?” Royal shouted from the opposite side of the boat.
Beau glanced over his shoulder and shouted back, “Not yet. Still working on it.”
“Well, tell them gals to get a move on.” Royal turned back to his own task, calling directions loudly over the wind and waves and pointing out equipment to Mackey and Cal, who were assisting him.
“All right,” Kit said. “Let’s drop ’em.”
Viv nodded, and Beau followed their lead as they shifted the wood up and over the side of the boat and lowered the doors that would hold the nets open into the deep water below. Kit and Viv immediately began pulling a series of cables, dragging the doors away from the boat and lifting them up to the end of one of the outriggers.
“Done,” Kit said, clapping her hands together once with satisfaction. “Nets are next.”
Viv eased by him, tugging at his shirtsleeve as she passed. “Come on. If you’re on the boat, you got to work.”
Beau stood still for a minute, watching Kit and Viv work in tandem as they unhooked nets, carefully unfolded them, then grabbed a long thick line. It was the strangest thing, the two of them working side by side without frowns or speaking in tight-lipped monotones.
“Come on over here, Beau,” Kit said, smiling up from her crouched position on the deck, beside the nets. “These knots aren’t gonna tie themselves.”
Cal walked over and knelt beside Kit. “Royal asked if you’re done yet.”
“Almost.” Kit smiled at him. “Did you help launch the other line?”
