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“Just a little,” I said, walking to the door. I stared at my grandmother’s room across the hall, knowing it was time to go in there.
In the background, Nyla’s pager went off. “Well, damn, there goes my break. I’ll call you back later, Everleigh. Just know I’m thinking about you, and I wish you luck when you see Jensen.”
“Thanks,” I laughed. “Don’t work too hard.”
We hung up and I shut the door behind me, holding my grandmother’s book to my chest. The entrance to her room haunted me every time I let my gaze linger that far down the hall. I had just started feeling like I had control over my grief, and I was afraid that would disappear once I opened her bedroom door.
Taking a deep breath, I let it out slowly and walked to her room. “I have to do it.”
I didn’t know what I was going to see, but I placed my hand on the knob and turned, letting the wooden door swing open. The breath left my lungs as I peered inside; it was as if everything had frozen in time. The old chair my grandmother had died in was in the corner; floral pattern was something that would have been popular decades ago. She loved reading in that seat. The blue quilted comforter on her bed had no wrinkles, and the sunlight filtering in through the open blinds seemed almost magical. I took a step inside and instantly smelled my grandmother’s rose-scented perfume.
Tears filled my eyes. On the bedside table was a picture of us together, taken the past Christmas when she and my parents visited me in Boston. I had made her an ugly Christmas sweater to match my own. She loved it and promised to wear it every Christmas.
I traced a finger over the photo, barely able to see it through the tears. “Don’t worry, Grammy. I’ll wear mine for you.”
My heart swelled with all the memories flooding into me. It was as if my grandmother was right there by my side, and for the first time since returning to Oak Island, I felt a sense of calm wash over me. Even though she was not here physically, I knew my grammy would remain with me.
7
JENSEN
The skyline of the marina slowly grew more prominent as we approached. The sun was setting, and its glow lit up the horizon in a beautiful mix of oranges and pinks. A sigh of relief escaped my lips; it felt good to be back on land again. I knew my guys would be anxious to get home after being away for two weeks. Seth Hampton, my first mate and one of my best friends since elementary school, hopped off the boat with his bag slung over his shoulder. He stopped and waved in my direction.
“Talk to you later, brother,” he said. “I gotta go. The wife is probably angry at me by now.”
His phone had taken a dive into the ocean earlier that week, rendering him unable to stay in touch during our journey out at sea. That was the risk we all took when heading out—no communication with those we left behind for a while. It was part of life on McLean Charters, which was started three generations ago and passed down to me.
I watched as Seth sprinted off down the dock toward the parking lot before returning my gaze seaward for one last look. There was nothing on the schedule for a while, so I was going to take some time off.
Once I did my walk-through on the boat to make sure everything was secure, I grabbed my bag and was about to climb off the boat when my phone continuously dinged with incoming texts and missed phone calls.
“Took you long enough,” I grumbled as I reached into my bag for my phone. It was probably time I got a new cell service.
When I glanced down at the screen, there were over a dozen phone calls from my parents and a couple from Michelle. Before I could call any of them back, I noticed someone walking down the dock toward my boat: it was my father.
“Hey,” I called out, watching him come closer with more energy in his step.
I was happy to see the improvement, especially since he’d been battling pancreatic cancer. However, judging by the trepidation on his face, I knew something had to be wrong. I jumped off the boat and hurried up to him.
“Dad, what’s wrong?”
He sighed and nodded toward Henry, who waved from his boat a few docks over. Henry was retired and spent most of his time on the water. My father and Henry also grew up together. “I figured there was something up with your phone, so I had Henry keep a lookout for you. When he saw you sailing in, he called me,” he said, his voice guarded.
“I’m sorry about missing your calls,” I apologized.
My father waved me off. “It’s probably best you didn’t find out until now.”
It felt as if a rock had formed in my stomach. The only thing it could be was bad news.
“What happened?” I asked.
He closed the distance between us and placed his hands on my shoulders, his eyes growing sadder. “Rachel passed away while you were gone, son.”
I thought I had steeled myself for any possible outcome he’d tell me, but the revelation of Rachel’s passing felt like a physical blow. She was the closest thing to a grandmother I ever had; her presence in my life was reassuring and supportive and it was as if she were a part of my own family. The last time we spoke, she was so enthusiastic about her upcoming trip with Everleigh. They were going to be gone by the time I got back.
The certainty of the news hit me like a wave, leaving me speechless. I ran my hands over my face, feeling the shock and grief settle in my chest.
“When? How?”
