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PROLOGUE: Bo
Two Years Ago
“Igot accepted,” Jamie said, catching me off guard with his sudden announcement. My small boat glided across the river while we headed to the shack after selling our latest catch in town. The day’s fishing had been epic. What came after, not so much.
I was aware that he’d applied to colleges but secretly hoped he wouldn’t be accepted. The wish was a shitty one considering I was in love with him. I turned toward him as he steered the boat, using the engine tiller as a rudder. He looked tired after a long day of fishing and checking lobster pots.
I crouched so as not to block his view and scooted to the bench seat, sitting beside him and reaching for the handle he held while he guided us to what I consideredourhome. “It’s my turn,” I said, tapping his hand. He made way and I took over, but he remained by my side. “When were you going to tell me?” I asked, forcing myself to look at him while keeping my emotions in check. I was terrified of losing Jamie.
He looked away and toward the shoreline. I knew he didn’t want to have this conversation but he owed me an honest answer. “I’m telling you now, ain’t I?” he groused.
“What am I gonna do without you?” I asked, biting the inside of my cheek so I wouldn’t tear up. “You said we’d be together at the shack forever, J.”
Jamie didn’t handle difficult talks well. In fact, he preferred avoiding them at all costs. But this time he found his voice and it was surprisingly strong. “Damn it, Bo! I can’t just tell my folks I ain’t gonna listen to them about making future plans and shit.”
The words stung. “What about our plans though?” I asked, being careful not to lock eyes with the boy I’d worshiped since sixth grade.
“I’ll be back every summer,” he defended. “It’ll go by fast, you’ll see.”
“What about our fishin’ business and fixing up the shack?” I asked. “We had future plans too, remember?”
“We ain’t got the money, Bo. How’s that shit gonna happen without money?”
He was right, we were broke, but we had each other and that made us wealthy in my eyes. We rode the final two miles across smooth water in silence, neither wanting to admit our childhood fantasies had been replaced by adult realities. I loved him and I hoped Jamie loved me. He swore that he loved me even if he couldn’t say the words out loud. We even did a blood pact in eighth grade, pressing our thumbs together in solidarity. He was mine according to his pledge. I knew I was his.
He jumped out of the boat and tethered us to the dock. I remained in the boat, looking up at him, cracking into a million tiny pieces.
“Take me with you,” I pleaded.
He stood above me on the dock, cupping his hand over his eyes so he could see me. I knew I sounded pathetic and hoped I didn’t look it. “How am I supposed to do that, Bo? I won’t have a job and you’ve got all this here,” Jamie argued, gesturing toward the fishing shack. “What will I have for my future?”
“But I told you I’ll share everything with you. One day I’ll own this and you’ll have half,” I reminded him. “You promised me.” Tears fell from my eyes despite my best efforts. I hated appearing weak in front of him, but I loved Jamie and the thought of him leaving without me was too much to bear.
“We’re kids, Bo. We’re barely out of high school,” he pointed out. “Did you actually think we’d be getting hitched one day?”
His question stabbed my heart. A wave of sickening understanding passed over me. “You didn’t?” I asked.
There’s always a big event or uncomfortable truth that happens to a kid when they cross over to adulthood. Life decides it’s time you faced some hard facts for some cold reason. All the years you wasted wishing you were older can be regretted when you get there. Wishing to drive. Wishing to be eighteen. Wishing to be legal so you can drink. We wish all those innocent years away, and for what?
“Bo, you know we can’t get married, don’t you?” Jamie asked. “This is the fuckin’ south, in case you forgot.”
A lie seemed appropriate after his comment. “Maybe,” I whispered. I lifted my face to him even though I knew my cheeks were covered in tears. “But I woulda done everything I could to take you with me if things were reversed, Jamie. I know that for sure.”
CHAPTER ONE: Bo
One Year Ago
Memaw always claimed the good Lord looked after those who believed. I’d wondered how she’d hung on to her profound faith consideringheorshehad taken her husband so young. The almighty, as she referred to God, wasn’t finished though. He decided to test her faith further by also taking her only child, my father. And as a final act, he took her prematurely as well.
She’d also been annoyed when I’d referred to God without a specific gender. Discussing the possibility that God could be a woman never sat well with her.“Of course He’s a man, Bo,”she’d stated dozens of times.“Who else would he be?”
I swiped the pine needles that were stuck in tiny spider webs from her headstone, running my finger along the numbers of the chiseled-in-marble year she was born. Nineteen-sixty didn’t seem all that old when I did the mental math. To me that was even more evidence that perhaps her God wasn’t so benevolent after all.
I planned on venturing this deep into Beaufort’s city limits only twice a year. Memaw’s birthday was on the first of May and then shortly after on Mother’s Day. She’d been the only mother I’d had so I felt an obligation to honor her role as such. I slid my fingers over her husband’s digits on the shared marker, noting he’d been dead longer than I’d been alive. Daddy had his own grave marker next to theirs with a less ornate headstone. The dates on his were even more depressing.
It seemed unfair that I lost my daddy when I was six, especially since my mother ran off four days after I was born. Of course, I had zero memories of that event and Daddy never showed me a picture of my mother. Memaw called herThe Whore, preferring to enunciate whore as,hoo-er. In Memaw’s mind a woman couldn’t call herself a good Christian and then abandon her child. Since I was Memaw’s only grandchild, the offense was ten times worse. I gently teased her when she didn’t add my mother to her nightly prayers at the supper table. I liked questioning her so I could pick at the blind faith she’d conveniently lose whenever my mother came up in any conversation.
It had been a tough year after my grandmother suddenly died. A person had to wonder if she’d been praying to the wrong God. I hadn’t possessed Memaw’s devotion and perhaps that in itself would be my savior. This was my first trip to the cemetery since the funeral and I had a lot of things to tell her. I decided to catch her up on the surprise that awaited me at her lawyers office six months ago. Memaw loved a good story and hated if I left the details out. I thought this one would make her happy since she achieved the impossible.
