“Buy a house!”
“I have a house.”
“Pay off your mortgage!”
“Been paid off since 1992.”
“Then go on vacation!”
“I don’t want to pay money to relax in some strange place. You know what I want? I want to sit on my couch and watch my television. I’m tired.”
“Still. You can’t just give me a boat. That’s insane!”
“I can and I did and I won’t hear any argument on the matter. It’s done. I had the title papers drawn up with your name and everything. Already transferred my lobstering permit to you with the folks down at the Fish and Wildlife Department. Just need a notary to sign and you’re officially a commercial captain.” He looks at me, his expression the closest togiddyI’ve ever seen on that typically dour face. “Go on. Take a good look at her!”
Shaking my head, half-certain I’ve nodded off on that sun-drenched bench and am drifting in some vividly detailed daydream, I walk the length of the boat, bow to stern, taking in her details up close. I run a hand along the beam, marveling at the glossy fiberglass decking and flush-mounted cleats. She really is a thing of beauty. By the time I reach the rear section, there are practically tears in my eyes.
“Tommy, this is too much.” I shake my head. “I’ll never be able to—”
My words break off suddenly as I spot the name plastered across the stern in curvy, capital-lettered serif font. He’s christened the boat something so unexpected, I blink three times to make sure I’m reading it right. I reach up and rub them — hard — but the word does not waver from my vision.
JOSEPHINE
My eyes fly to Tommy’s. He’s standing a handful of feet away, hands in his pockets, looking rather proud of himself.
“Fine name for a boat, don’t you think?”
“Why?” I choke out, throat tight. “Of all the names—”
“You know why, kid.”
I shake my head, rejecting his words. “You don’t understand. She’s not— we’re not— ”
“You’re not what? Not together?” He shrugs. “And whose fault is that?”
My eyes narrow. “You don’t know a thing about it.”
“Actually know quite a bit. Or did you forget you spilled your guts out at my kitchen table a few nights back?”
“It’s not that simple.”
“Never is. Love is messy and inconvenient and always arrives at the wrong time. My late wife—” He sucks in a sharp breath, seems to steel himself, as if just mentioning her is enough to cause him pain, even after all this time. “She was the best thing in my life. But before we got together, before we stopped dancing in circles and admitted we wanted to walk the same direction instead… Trust me, it was one long headache. She was feisty as a panther; I’m stubborn as a mule. Led to a lot of miscommunication. Lot of useless arguments. Looking back, that’s the thing I regret most… knowing I wasted even a minute with her. All that time fighting was time we could’ve spent loving each other. Do you know what I’d give to get those minutes back, now that she’s gone?”
My stomach is a ball of lead. “Tommy…”
“Life is short. So goddamn short. And it’ll knock you off balance long before you’ve found your sea legs. That don’t mean you give up. That don’t mean you stop fighting the tides.” His eyes flash with emotion as he takes a step closer to me. Such a show of passion is completely out of character for this reserved man. It rattles me. Shames me. Hits me square in the chest. “You got knocked down, kid. Last summer, everything that happened… everything you lost… it sent you sprawling. But it’s time to find your feet again. Because wallowing in misery, hating yourself, numbing your pain with whiskey every night isn’t going to fix a damn thing.”
“It’s not fixable.”
Tommy smacks me upside the head.
“Ow!” I rub at the spot he walloped. “What was that for?”
“For being obtuse. Your dreams died.Youdidn’t.” His eyes soften. “You’re better than this. Deep down, you know it.”
“And if I’m not?” I’m horrified when my voice cracks. “What’s the fucking point of standing up if I’m just going to get knocked on my ass again?”
“Then it’s a good thing you’ve got people around you to help. Plenty of hands stretched out, trying to haul you back to your feet. You just won’t let yourself take them.”