Page 5

Seven children, Mabel and I being the only girls.
Our father tried, but he is and always has been a fisherman, often heading out in the boat for weeks at a time. And when he wasn’t on the ocean, he was in a bar dealing with the heartbreak of our mother running out on him and leaving all of us, including five-year-old Earl.
She left the day my little brother started kindergarten. She dropped him off and never came back to pick him up.
The two oldest Crow brothers—Hank and Lloyd—had already left home by then, and we heard about them more than we saw them: the fights, the breaking-and-entering arrests, stealing cars. Hank now owns a garage in nearby Mary’s Harbour, but Lloyd is serving a twenty-year sentence for manslaughter.
My other brother Reggie is also in prison for starting a fire that burned down two farms and at least ten acres of forest. It had been expected that he would end up in jail for something.
Mabel was six years older than me and took care of the rest of us the best she could. Earl, the youngest, is now a fisherman like our father and, also like him, spends his free time in the bars of Battle Harbour. Tommy was the one who got away—he lives in Halifax now and we exchange Christmas emails.
“When are you seeing him?” Mabel asks as I slip the piece of glass in my pocket.
Bo, not Tommy. It’s been eight years since I’ve seen my husband.
Husband.
I’ve hidden the fact I have a husband for years. I pull it out now, like a folded receipt you find in an old jacket.
“Tomorrow.” There is a note of determination in my voice that I don’t feel. I’m not about to let Mabel know how much I’m dreading this.
And how excited I am.
How terrified and yet looking forward to seeing him in person. Has he changed? What is he like now?
How does he feel about me?
That, though, is not a question I should ask anymore.
I left, Bo didn’t stop me, and our lives have gone on.
It’s for the best.
2
Bo
Onceagain, I’m yankedout of sleep by the screech of metal that sounds like it’s being dragged around the room. And the scream, the second scream is too loud to have just been in my head.
I canhearthe rain beating down on the crumpled car, steam rising, making the pavement even more slick.
I never saw the accident, so why do I keep dreaming about it?
Drawing a shaky breath, I blink into the darkness, confused and so sad, just like every other time I’ve had the dream. And there’s been more than a few times that it’s haunted my subconscious over the years.
Kody stirs on the floor by the bed. I like the quiet, but sometimes the silence gets to me. “I’m awake, boy,” I tell my dog, just to hear the sound of a voice.
The thump of his tail answers me. I lie in the dark until the outside is more grey than black, and then I pull myself out of bed.
Dreaming about the accident that killed my mother happens often enough for it not to be a surprise, but it still throws me, even after all this time. And each time, the nightmare gets harder to shake off.
But I can shake it off. Coffee will help.
Kody follows me into the kitchen, watching from his spot by the door as I measure coffee grounds, add water, and wait for it to percolate. One thing I really miss about Battle Harbour is the coffee. Silas makes the best. When I stopped in over the holidays, I mentioned if he could somehow supply a bag for me, I’d be willing to pay any amount.
His new girlfriend, Fenella, overheard the request and promised to come up with something for me.
Even if I used the same beans and machine, it’s the way Silas makes it that has the Coffee for the Sole brew taste so good. I haven’t found anything to compare here in Wabush and I’ve been living here full time for almost six years now.