Undertow

by Natusch, Amber Lynn

  “Aesa . . . my updated drop-off date is only ten days into the season. It would be possible for you to come with me on the boat and be back in time to catch a flight down to Anchorage to start your work there. Would you consider this?” he asked before hesitating slightly. “For me?”

  My body's visceral reaction to his words was undeniable. Sweat began to form on my brow, and I could feel the blood drain from my lightly freckled face. I not only hated the open water, I feared it ardently.

  I looked past his impassive expression and saw what his body language was telling me. He shifted his weight back and forth while he picked at the edge of the crumbling laminate countertop. It was clear that he knew he'd gone out on a limb with his request but did it anyway. He wanted me to go with him and had cast his line, hoping to snag his most elusive catch—me. I had come home to try to mend what was left of our bond. To have turned him down would have been tantamount to cutting the line and letting our relationship drift out to sea forevermore. I knew I had to try. I owed that to myself, if no one else.

  “I'm not sure I'll be much help to you on deck. I'm not a fisherman,” I reminded him, fully recognizing that the deck of a crabbing boat is one of the most dangerous places to work, not even taking into account the dangers the water possessed.

  “You know far more than you think, but you will be inside with me. If you feel the need to go out and help bait on occasion, I would not object. Otherwise, I prefer to keep you where there is little danger.” He mumbled something under his breath as the kettle whistled from the stove beside him. I never did discern what he said.

  “I can cook for you all. I know that will be a huge help. The boys can stay on deck longer and spend less time cleaning up the galley afterward. Besides, it will give me a little time to study up on a few things. I haven't had the luxury of idle time in years. Maybe I'll find I enjoy being lazy.”

  He tossed a glance over his shoulder while he poured the scalding hot liquid into a brown mug from the seventies.

  “Fredriksens are not lazy, Aesa. It is not in your nature to be so. You are one of the hardest workers I know.”

  Again, his compliment caught me off guard, and I found myself ill-equipped to respond to him. Perhaps he knew me better than I had believed.

  “Then I guess you'll have to find ways to put that work ethic to good use,” I mumbled uncomfortably, loosely shielding myself from his gaze with a veil of long auburn waves.

  When I finally brushed my hair aside, I saw him looking over at the clock on the microwave. It was nearly four in the morning.

  “I have an idea,” he said suddenly. “If we get cleaned up now, I could see if Earl will repay the debt he owes me and fly us to the mainland. It'll be faster and easier to get things done there. They'll be far better equipped to supply what we need on short notice and it will save us a lot of time in the long run. I know you had a long day yesterday; are you up for another?”

  “Whatever you need, Dad.”

  “Let us go then. You shower first. There will be barely enough hot water for the two of us; I don't want you to freeze to death if we run out. I remember how long it takes to wash all that hair of yours.” He placed the mug of tea down in front of me, resting his hand gently on my back. “It will still be warm when you are done.”

  “Thanks,” I said softly, soaking in the normalcy the moment provided. But before it could permeate, I stood and made my way down the hall, escaping to the bathroom. After locking the door, I looked up into the broken mirror, staring at the broken reflection of myself. Broken, I thought. Perhaps it wasn't just my relationship with my father that needed mending. Maybe I did too.

  3

  After two days of preparation, it was time to load the vessel and head out to sea. I tried to play my nerves off, but I was failing miserably. On the drive over to the docks, there were several times when my father looked over at me and appeared as though he wanted to say something, but then stopped himself. Afraid to start a fight, I never asked him what he wanted to tell me. I was too on edge.

  We pulled up in front of the Norwegian Queen, and she looked just as majestic as I remembered. My father may not have taken care of himself, but he did take care of her. Navy blue with hints of orangey-red, she was a stunning testament to my heritage and legacy. The fact that she was kept in better repair than his relationships gnawed at me slightly as we got out to board her.

  “Don't you dare try to load those bags on the ship, Aesa. I'll get one of the boys to do that. Wait here. I'll be right back.”

  I watched while he gimped his way toward his pride and joy, yelling for one of his deckhands as he approached. Moments later, a familiar face popped up on the other side of the rail. Robbie Townsend had been on my father's ship since I was sixteen. He was only two years older than me, but looked at least a decade more; yet another confirmation that life at sea was hazardous to your appearance and longevity. Luckily for him, he still had his boy-next-door appeal. He may have been far more muscular and mature-looking than I remembered, but his bright blue eyes held their childlike, mischievous glint. He was trouble in the most entertaining of ways.

  “Aesa! Is that you?” he shouted as he leapt gracefully from the ship to the dock in one jump.

  “It is indeed,” I replied, unable to suppress my smile. Robbie was the kind of guy you just loved being around. He'd always been like an older brother to me and the son my father never had. Once my dad realized that I would never take to the family business, he started priming Robbie for the position. He was the perfect candidate: loyal, hardworking, single, without any children, and, most of all, Norwegian, though his name did not imply it. His mother was English, and when his father left both her and Robbie, she changed his last name to hers. Robbie was only a child when it happened.

  Where I ran from the sea that had taken so much from me, Robbie chased it, hoping to find solace of some sort there. It had claimed his dad long after he'd abandoned them—around the time it had stolen my mother. He and I had that in common.

  “How's my girl?” he asked, jogging down the dock toward me. Before I could respond, he scooped me up in his arms and spun me around till my head felt woozy and I begged him to put me down. After I got my bearings, I gave him a little punch in the arm, feigning anger.

  “I'm dizzy as all hell, that's how I am, thanks to you!”

  “You're in for a shitty couple of weeks if that little stunt did you in, Aesa. The Bering Sea can be a bitch.”

  Didn't I know that.

  “I have meds for that, just in case. I always plan ahead, Robbie. You should know that by now.”

  “Too true. I guess I've frozen a few brain cells since the last time I saw ya.”

  “That seems highly likely,” I joked, turning toward the bed of the truck for my bags.

  “Don't even think about it, Aesa. If your father catches you loading those bags, he'll hoist my ass up to the top of the sodium lights and leave me there for days. If it's all the same to you, I'd prefer to keep my feet firmly planted on deck.”

  “Until you have to climb the stack,” I countered, knowing he was one of my dad's most adept deckhands, especially when it came to tying down the pots for travel.

  He laughed as he slung the two duffel bags over his shoulders easily. Fishermen are strong in the same way that farmers and ranchers are. They may not look overly formidable, but every ounce of them is designed to carry out their labor-intensive jobs on a daily basis without end. Strength is an inevitable side effect.

  “Try to keep up, Aesa. I don't want anything happening to you on my watch,” he called out as he walked back to the vessel. Like a small child who had fallen behind, I ran to catch up. I looked on as he tossed the bags to another man on deck then easily jumped onto the ship. I made my way up to the metal railing slowly, knowing that one of the most dangerous things for a crabber to do was board. If you were unfortunate enough to fall between the boat and the dock, you had only minutes to be rescued before dying of hypothermia or getting crushed be
tween the boat and the dock. Father had lost a deckhand only two years earlier to that very fate—or so I'd heard.

  Staring down at the freezing water below, I tried to gauge the distance between the Norwegian Queen's deck and me. Robbie had taken my bags below, so he was nowhere to be found, and the others were all fastidiously working to prep the boat for its departure. Not wanting to bother them, I sighed and tried to clear the nerves I felt growing. Just as I was about to jump, a voice called out to me, stopping me in my tracks.

  “Wait! Let me help you,” he ordered as he approached. I didn't recognize the deckhand, but that was nothing out of the ordinary. Men swapped ships somewhat frequently, always in search of a crew that they gelled with. As he neared, I was startled by his appearance. Where most fishermen appeared haggard and worn, he did not. He was rugged, but in a way that just seemed natural to him, his disheveled brown hair oddly enhancing his looks when it should have detracted from them. His muscular build was typical of the younger crew members, though the lack of cigarette dangling from his lips was definitely not. I had long joked that you couldn't work on a crabbing boat without smoking. Robbie was the only one I'd ever known who didn't partake in that particular habit.

  “Give me your hand,” he said, extending his toward me, his long arm covering a vast distance. With little hesitation, I leaned over the rail and took his hand. Feeling more secure, I climbed to the ledge and crouched down, my knees involuntarily shaking. “You'll be fine. Trust me; I won't let you fall.” His words were oddly reassuring, as was the intense stare from his chocolate brown eyes. There was a sincerity in both that I had neither heard nor seen in a long time.

  Much to my surprise, I did trust him.

  Without another thought, I leapt to the deck that had seemed to taunt me only moments before. When I landed firmly on my feet, I looked up at him to thank him. I was met with a satisfied smile.

  “Trust is something you have to have on this ship. The crew always has one another's back.”

  “Yes, well, I'm not really on the crew,” I replied playfully. “I'm really just an over-educated cook on this voyage.”

  “You must be Aesa. I heard Robbie mention you earlier. You're the captain's daughter.” His tone was respectful and curious as he spoke to me. Growing up, I was used to my father's crew being courteous to me, but it always seemed they did it because they had to. I didn't get that feeling from the man in front of me.

  “I am. It's good to know that Robbie hasn't changed at all. He never could keep his mouth shut about anything.”

  “I've noticed that,” he replied with a crooked smile. “I'm Decker. I've been with your father for three seasons now. He's a great man.”

  The smile that had been growing on my face slowly disappeared.

  “It's nice to meet you, Decker.” I extended my hand to him, and his far larger one engulfed it in a firm but appropriate shake. “Thanks for the help. I'll let you get back to work. Don't want to give my dad any reason to give you grief.”

  I turned away from him, heading toward the main door that led to the rooms below deck. Something about how highly he regarded my father irked me. I should have been proud to know that my dad was esteemed by his employees, but I wasn't. Instead, I felt like the young girl who was jealous of the career my father loved more than his family. Hearing that he treated his crew so well somehow made that sting even worse.

  As I took the stairs to the galley, I reminded myself that I was no longer that child and he was no longer that man. What life's cruel twists had done to change me had also changed him. My mind was going to constantly battle between what I'd always known to be true and what was applicable now. Maybe hours at sea with little to do would provide the time I needed to correct my thinking.

  But maybe it would only give me hours to wish I was anywhere but there.

  4

  I was unpacking my things when my father showed up, asking me to join him and the others in the galley for formal introductions and his briefing before we—and the rest of the fleet—set off. Desperately wanting to get my belongings unpacked and in order, but not wanting to disappoint him, I agreed and followed him down the narrow hall to the kitchen area where the whole crew was huddled in the banquet-style seating around the table. When all eyes turned to me, I felt acutely uncomfortable. I liked blending into the crowd, not standing out in it. I'd chosen Ohio State University because it was the largest in the country and had a great medical school. It was easy to hide there and be just another face. Standing there beside my father, I was very much a known entity, and I seemed to be quite interesting to some of the crew. Females were rarely found on crabbing boats, either as deckhands or passengers.

  “The final thing I want to go over is regarding Aesa. She is my daughter—my only child. You will treat her as you would treat me, or you will no longer have employment on this boat. Given that we have one of the highest quotas to catch, this happens to be one of the most profitable boats to work on. One wrong move and that all disappears. Have I made myself clear?”

  The group nodded with unchanged expressions. I, however, felt the blood rising to my cheeks. I hadn't expected my father to say anything like that. It was simultaneously off-putting and endearing. Robbie gave me a little wink across the table before he decided to add his two cents.

  “And I'll be keeping an eye on them for you, boss. No worries there. I won't let anything happen to her.”

  “I'll hold you to that, Robert. Do not disappoint me.”

  While the uncomfortable tension grew in the air, I tried to think of a way to escape the situation gracefully, but failed miserably. Luckily for me, my father seemed to have finished, and, with a final “prepare to sail” command, he climbed the stairs leading to the captain's room and disappeared from sight. By the looks on the faces of the crew, they hadn't gotten the motivational speech they were used to. I couldn't help but feel that I was somehow botching things for them already.

  “Hi,” I said with a shy wave. “I'm Aesa. If you guys need me to help out in any way, please let me know.”

  Robbie, Decker, and Andy, the oldest deckhand of the lot, a man who'd been with my father since I was a child, all gave a tight smile and nod while the greenhorn, otherwise known as the lowest man on the totem pole, gave me a sly smile. Judging by his response, his interpretation of my offer left a lot to be desired. He was young, cocky, and had no idea what he was in for, both in regards to me and the boat. A greenhorn's job was grueling and thankless. Most never made it through a full season. A few were able to hold out just long enough to be moved up. Others died at sea due to either carelessness or ignorance.

  I had grown up knowing many of those.

  The last crewman simply gave me a cold stare from across the table. He looked roughly my age, which meant, if he'd been a crabber his entire working career, he was likely younger than me. He appeared hardened and impossible to read. A tattoo on his neck made me think he'd done time at some point, having seen many like it during my time interning at the inner city hospitals in Columbus. Something about him made me wary.

  “Aesa, why don't you go finish unpacking and join your dad?” Robbie called to me, pulling my gaze away from the unnamed crew member. “The crew needs to gear up and head out on deck to help your father push off.”

  “Sounds good to me,” I agreed and disappeared down the hall to my room, locking the door behind me. I collapsed onto the small bed and pressed my head back against the thin pillow, thinking that perhaps I'd made a mistake in coming, that I didn't belong there. Many thought women being on a vessel brought bad luck. I hoped I wouldn't prove to be just that.

  * * *

  Time passed strangely on a crab boat. The crew routinely worked through the night, pulling twenty-four to thirty-six hour shifts in order to either set the pots along a predetermined string or retrieve them from the depths of the sea to determine if the count of their catches was on track to meet their allotted quota. Crab could be an elusive creature, often traveling away from where the
skipper thought they should be. Prospect strings were cast out to soak for hours as a means of testing certain areas of the sea floor. If they came up producing high enough numbers, the pots were re-baited and thrown back in. If not, they were stacked on deck, a grueling and time-consuming process, in order to sail away and find more lucrative territory.

  Our first night at sea, we steamed ahead toward prospective crab fishing grounds late into the night. In lieu of having dinner with the others, I decided to stay in the captain's wheelhouse and attempt to further thaw the lifelong chill that existed between my father and me. The task still seemed insurmountable, but it was why I had agreed to come on the voyage, and I couldn't help but think it was why he had invited me. Years at sea had hardened him not only physically, but emotionally as well. It was a necessary job requirement as far as he and the others were concerned, but, even in my short time with him, I was encouraged by the glimmer of hope that he had not entirely lost his softer side—alongside lost friends, crew, and his wife— to the sea.

  “How long till we reach the grounds?” I asked, needing to fill the silence that had slowly closed in around us.

  “We should be there in about eight hours. Get some sleep, Aesa. You've had a long day.”

  “I'll stay up here with you, if that's okay. But I can go if I'm bothering you . . . ”

  He turned away from the darkness before him, a glint of light playing in his eyes from the dim light of the cabin.

  “You have never been a bother to me, Aesa. Of course, you may stay.”

  He held my gaze while we stared at one another across the tiny room, and I swore my heart stopped, if only for a moment. Never been a bother . . . His words echoed through my mind, contradicting so many things I had thought as a child, thoughts that had colored my adult truths. Perhaps I had been wrong about him. Perhaps I had been wrong about a lot of things.