Page 48 of As a Last Resort

AUSTIN

Black clouds were never a good sign.

We had a full day of ferry runs across the water and the fact the sky looked how my insides felt seemed a little too on the nose for me.

“I’ll grab the top deck panels.” Patrick hopped up the stairs and started rolling down the plastic sheets that would hopefully keep some of the rain from accosting our guests.

He must have picked up on my vibes from the moment I stepped onto the dock this morning because he had yet to drill me with questions about how I was doing.

Even though I hadn’t slept a wink the last couple days, I was grateful for a full day of work ahead of me. Anything to try and distract me from the vision of Sam’s face was a welcomed diversion.

The wind started howling the moment we latched the last panel down. As we escorted guests from the building on the mainland onto the boat, the rain picked up.

“Welcome aboard, everyone!” Patrick laid on his Jamaican accent.

“You know what they say when it rains on your wedding day? Same thing applies to vacation. You’re guaranteed a beautiful trip from here on out.

But for now, please keep your butts in your seats and hang on.

It’s going to be a bit of a bumpy ride today. ”

My phone ding ed on the way out of the mainland marina. My palm was slick with rain as I took it out of my pocket, trying to quell the hope of it being Sam’s name on the screen. It was a text from an unknown number.

UNKNOWN: We’ve got a deal.

My guy’s going to captain it down for you this week.

It was the owner of the north Florida charter who was looking to dump his passenger ferry.

After finding out the new resort development’s plans for their monster ferry to the island, I wasn’t in the position of offering what the boat was actually worth.

I had maybe two years max making money with Scuttle’s Ferry before I was forced out of business.

I lowballed thinking there was no way he’d take my measly offer, but he did.

I’d give her a once-over for maintenance, do a few cosmetic repairs, and have her shuttling people by the end of next week.

I’d already done all the numbers and scheduled out the new routes.

While we’d run six days a week still, we could cut down on trips across and almost double our capacity and revenue.

But we still wouldn’t be anywhere near five hundred passengers a run.

All of Sam’s star-chasing comments about fishing rattled around in my brain.

Yes, that was the ideal situation but timing was important.

My current business was important. My crew depended on me to put food on their table.

It wasn’t in the cards to give that all up and go follow a shooting star. At least, not today.

Lightning lit up the sky. A few of the guests looked around, unease painted on their faces. Storms like these were typical in Florida, but lightning and thunder hit differently when you’re over water. You’re more exposed.

I wondered if it was raining in the city.

My Google search of what is New York City like came up with three things consistently.

There was a lot of brick and concrete. There were no palm trees.

And it was the most populous city in the United States, with over eight million people jammed into three hundred miles.

I couldn’t fathom that. Where did everyone sleep?

But it was surrounded by water so it couldn’t be that bad.

Who was I kidding? I’d look like a fool in the city. I was beer and sandals at a dive bar. She was espresso and high heels at a museum.

I had convinced myself there was a chance she wasn’t one of those who left the island for good and never came back.

I had convinced myself the island could be a place of peace for her just because I was here, ignoring everything she had lost on it.

And I had done a damn good job of convincing myself I hadn’t fallen for her.

But I had.

The storm cleared halfway through the day and the rest of the runs across went smoothly.

“Drinks after work at my place?” It was one of the few things Patrick had said to me all day. My hunch was that Lexi had given him a heads-up for what to expect.

“Nah. Not today.”

“How ’bout you come on over and have dinner. Mom’s making lasagna.”

I eyed him. “Is that an official invitation?”

“She’s expecting ya, if that’s what you’re asking.”

“That’s a low blow.” And he knew it. You didn’t pass up Mabel’s cooking.

It wasn’t an option. It was the best thing on the island and when you got an invite, you went or she’d come after you for turning down her food.

Took it as a personal insult. Ain’t nobody have so little time they can’t eat , she would say.

I walked through their front door and spotted Mabel over the stove decked out in a colorful doughnut-printed muumuu.

She turned and wiped her hands on her apron and stomped right over and gave me a hug.

A real one. The kind that pricks your eyes because you know how much love someone’s trying to give you through it.

“Now, I heard you had a little run-in with love. We’re gonna talk about it after your belly’s full.” She never beat around the bush. She set expectations up front and carried on. She shoved a plate of lasagna at me and told me to go sit down.

But the moment the plates were cleared she dove in.

“Patrick, you go on and clean up the kitchen. This boy and I got some life to do.”

She led me out to the back patio and patted the small cushion on one of the iron chairs.

“Now,” she started as she leaned back, the chair squeaking under her weight. “I heard that girl up and left, just like she said she would.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“So, what are you gonna do with that?” She stared out into the garden in her backyard.

It was overflowing with all kinds of fruits and vegetables, vines crawling up over each other and hugging the worn wooden fence.

It was impressive on its own, on top of the fact that gardening in Florida heat was no small feat.

Words weren’t coming to me easily that day. I didn’t know how to say it felt like my heart was bleeding out without saying exactly that, which felt a little dramatic.

We sat in silence for a few minutes.

“You see all that?” she asked, pointing to her garden.

“It takes time and attention. Lots of it. Those things don’t just decide to pop up overnight.

Stubborn little suckers sometimes. But I sit with ’em long enough, water ’em when I need to, prune ’em when they need it, they come back year after year for me. ”

“You’re the only one I know with the luck to grow things in this heat.”

“It’s not so much about luck. But giving ’em what they need when they need it. Just hard to know what that is sometimes.”

“Are you telling me Sam needs a tall drink of water?” I asked with a forced laugh.

Mabel gave me her look , like now wasn’t the time to be covering up emotions.

“She’s not coming back, if that’s what you’re getting it.

” My tongue felt heavy saying it, like my mouth had wet glue inside it.

“I could give her all the space in the world. That’s not what she’s looking for. ”

“And what’s it that she’s looking for?”

I thought about how everything she talked about wanting revolved around work or the city up until a few days ago. “A corner office and a promotion, I think.”

“What exactly do you think that’s going to give her?”

I thought for a second. I was sure it was a trick question. “More money?”

“Please, that girl doesn’t care about money. Keep guessing.”

“A better view of New York?”

“You always were a bit of a sass.” She narrowed her eyes on me.

“That poor girl grew up too soon. Losing a daddy who loved her, and a mama who did too, just didn’t know how to show it.

Too caught up in her own grief to know the difference between up and down.

Loss does that to people. It messes ’em up a bit, some for a good bit of time. She lost too much too soon.”

“Her mom’s in rehab now.”

“Heard through the grapevine she’s doing pretty well, too.”

So many of Sam’s words flew through my mind. “She said I should start my own fishing charter.”

“You told me that exact same thing when you were eight years old.” She closed her eyes and tilted her head up to the sky. “Do you want to?”

“I don’t know what I want. I bought the ferryboat from that north Florida charter that sold.

Patrick doesn’t even know yet. They’re delivering this week.

” She looked at me, and even though I was busying my eyes tracing a tomato vine, I could feel her gaze roaming over my face to see how I felt about it all.

“Do you think the fishing thing is a good idea?”

“Do you?” she asked.

“Why do you always answer a question with a question?”

“Just trying to get my boy to think is all.” She reached over and patted my hand. Her hands were warm and callused. “If people asked more questions these days, they’d be a lot better off.”

“The ferry thing makes sense. Buy the bigger boat. Grow the business.”

She sat there silent, watching her vegetables sit still.

“I remember the first time my dad and I ever took Patrick out. I can still see the look on his face when he reeled in the first fish he’d ever caught. He had this big old goofy smile plastered across his face that he couldn’t wipe off for hours. I loved seeing that. Being a part of that.”

She sat in silence nodding her head and smiling to herself.

“I don’t know,” I continued. “Maybe there’s room for that too.”

“When we share something we love with others it’s hard not to spread that joy around. That goofy smile you’re talking about? You have that too when you’re on that fishing boat.”

“But the business is doing really well. Although fast-forward two years and it may not be around anymore.”

“Patrick told me about the resort and their boat. Don’t count on other’s intentions as concrete. Plans change. And you can’t control what other people do. There’s more to life than just work, you know that.”

“It was easier when there wasn’t,” I replied under my breath.

“Aw, now where’s the fun in that? Life would be boring if all you did was work and then die.”

“Not with your job, it wouldn’t.”

She chuckled. “Well, now you’ve got me there. All the crazies keep me on my toes.”

We sat for a few seconds as my fingers mindlessly drummed the metal chair. I took a breath, knowing I wanted to get something off my chest, but not sure my heart could take any more cuts. “She said she’s worked since high school to get away from this place.”

“This place looks different to her than it does you and me. We all have ghosts, they’re just hiding in closets for us. Hers get to walk around the streets out here.”

“I don’t know what to do.” It was the first time I had said it out loud and it felt good to just admit it. “I thought about going up there. To the city.”

“And what thoughts did you come up with?”

“Patrick said I’d have to go to museums and wear tight pants.”

“Oh, good Lord, could you imagine?” Her laugh was hearty and warm, like homemade bread right out of the oven. “Your father would have a heart attack.”

I had imagined myself a million different ways in the city, but no matter what it looked like, it never fit.

“You know, I had an old man on our floor last night. Drunk as a skunk. Mean ol’ thing. You know what he told me he needed? A liter of vodka and to get the hell outta there. That man didn’t need no vodka. He needed a few hours of withdrawal and a swift kick in his rear.”

I could see Mabel on the floor in her nurse’s uniform, giving hell to some poor guy as he cowered underneath her shaking finger.

“Sometimes we have no idea what we actually need. But oh, we think we do. That’s the fun part.

We just need to put one foot in front of the other, and one morning we’ll wake up and the answer will be waiting for us like it was there the whole time.

Sometimes we see the same thing we’ve been looking at every day, but all of a sudden it looks different. ”

I hoped she was right. Because every way I looked at it, my heart was broken.