“Seas are down to two feet, light northeast breeze about five knots. You should have an easy ride.”
In his new position as head of the harbor commission, Lucas always seemed to know the conditions out on the water.
“Thanks. This is goodbye, then.” He reached over the railing to shake Lucas’ hand, but Megan jumped onto the float to give him a real hug.
“We’re going to miss you around here.” From the meaningful look in her eyes, he knew she was referring to Zoe.
“Keep an eye on her, would you? She’s going to need a lot of help.” Damn, he couldn’t even say her name at the moment.
“Of course. We’re already setting up a schedule to give her regular breaks. Harbor rats to the rescue.”
“That’s great, she’ll need some time to herself now, and—” He broke off. Zoe wasn’t his business anymore. Her life didn’t involve him. She couldn’t possibly have made that more clear. “It was good to meet you, Megan.”
Finally he reached his absurdly high-end little cabin cruiser. He slung his bag onboard and did a quick check of the fuel level and instruments.
Ruby, Megan’s daughter, came running down the float just as he was turning on the engines to warm up.
“Bye, Padric!” she called, waving. Lucas’ old dog Fidget trotted at her heels.
He waved back with a big smile. She was such a bright little spirit, but right now she was shooting him a stern glare.
“Don’t you know you’re supposed to wear a PFD?”
“Technically, only children have to actually wear them,” he told her. “Adults can simply keep one within grabbing distance.” He picked up an orange life jacket he’d left on the hatch door to dry out. “See? Grabbing distance.”
She rolled her eyes. “Why do kids have to do it if adults don’t? It’s so unfair.”
Catching Megan’s pleading glance, he switched gears.
“You know what? You’re right. Everyone should follow the same rules.” He put on the life jacket, but didn’t bother to zip it. He’d be ripping it off as soon as he was out of her sight. The damn things got in the way. “Happy?”
“I wish my mom didn’t make me wear one.”
“Moms are like that for a reason. Hey, want to cast off for me?”
Of course she did. All kids liked to unfasten the lines from the cleats and toss them onboard. It made them feel like grownups. Ironic, since he felt like a kid in his goofy orange PFD.
“Goodbye!” He waved to Ruby, Lucas and Megan as he maneuvered the boat out of the slip.
“Bye!” Ruby jumped up and down as she watched from the float.
So he’d gotten a sendoff after all, and it turned out that he didn’t mind. The saddest part was the reminder of the moment when he’d arrived, and had seen Zoe watching him from this very float.
As he glided across the glassy water of the harbor, he soaked in the sights and sounds and smells one last time. Tar mingled with seaweed. The moist gaze of a sea otter surfacing to check him out. The chatter of fishermen loading groceries onto their trawler.
It wasn’t all idyllic. He also noticed iridescent floating patches of diesel. Fumes from an idling engine. The cacophony of gulls fighting over a halibut carcass. This was a working harbor as well as a tourist destination.
As he reached the breakwater that marked the entrance of the harbor, his gaze was drawn to the Eagle’s Nest. Its windows reflected the bright afternoon sun, forcing him to look away. Just as well. He didn’t need the reminder of what he was losing. All of the steamy memories he and Zoe had created were burned into his mind forever.
He opened up the throttle to bring the boat on step so it hydroplaned across the surface of the waves. Lost Harbor quickly receded as he steered towards Far Point. No more looking back at Lost Harbor. He’d come here to make sure Zoe was okay, and he’d found something even more important. He’d gotten her back—the Zoe of yesterday, anyway. The Zoe of his past, the friendship that had meant so much to him.
Now she meant even more. He loved her. He loved her too much to cause trouble in her life. At least this time she knew he loved her and wouldn’t spend years believing that she wasn’t worthy, or that he’d rejected her.
The Jaunty tilted to one side as it skimmed over a wave. He heard sloshing somewhere in the inboard engine compartment. He throttled down to a calmer pace and stepped onto the deck to listen more closely to the engine—
And then he was flying through air as a sound like a thunderclap slammed his ears.
Some implacable force was expelling him from the boat. Heat licked at his heels.
Fire? Explosion?
No time to think. The ocean was coming at him. He closed his eyes as his body smacked against the surface and plunged underwater.
An automatic gasp reflex filled his mouth with seawater. The cold felt like a full-body electric shock. It stopped his breath. Was his heart even beating anymore?
Get to the surface. Air. He needed air. He’d learned about this in training. If he could keep his head above water for a few minutes he’d be able to breathe normally.
He still had his life jacket on, but one arm was coming off and getting in the way of his arm movements. He used his legs to kick up toward the surface. Gasping for breath, he managed to pull the two parts of the life jacket together and zip it up.
At least he was floating now. He felt like a cork bobbing on a vast sea of ice water. He smelled the acrid stench of burning plastic and turned himself around to look at the Jaunty. The entire back half of it was blackened and torn apart from the explosion. A fire still burned above the engine compartment, but it wouldn’t for long because it was rapidly sinking below the surface.
Should he try to hang on to any part of the boat? Could he use it to paddle toward shore? How far was he from the harbor? Why had a brand-new boat fucking exploded? Had someone witnessed it? Could he call for help? Where was his phone? Why wasn’t his brain working properly?
Shock.
He remembered this in the volunteer training program. Boat accidents were one of the things the fire department helped with because there wasn’t always a Coast Guard boat handy.
Best way to survive an unexpected immersion. Information swam to the surface of his brain. Under the ice assault of the Alaskan water, his shivering would turn violent in about fifteen minutes. In thirty minutes his muscles would cramp. In an hour, he’d be unconscious, and in two hours he’d be dead from hypothermia.
But that wouldn’t happen because someone must have seen the explosion. He wasn’t in the middle of the ocean, he was about fifteen minutes outside of Lost Harbor. Too far to swim, but surely he could stay alive until a rescuer arrived.
To conserve energy, he kicked up his feet and lay on his back, letting the PFD do all the work. Okay, personal flotation device, let’s get personal. My life depends on you right now, so it doesn’t get more personal than that.
He tucked his hands under the armpits of the jacket. Extremities would go first as the body fought to protect vital organs. His feet were insulated by socks and boots, but his hands were completely exposed. If he got frostbite on his hands, he’d have trouble playing the guitar ever again.
Did that matter right now? He laughed at his own foolishness. He could die out here, floating on his back like a piece of driftwood, or an otter enjoying a mussel. And he was worried about his music career? Try worrying about the possibility that no one had noticed the explosion.
Keeping his movements minimal, he turned his head this way and that to look for any signs of a nearby fishing boat or a charter or a water taxi. Misty Bay was so remote that it was generally fairly empty. He’d seen other waterfronts with dozens if not hundreds of sailboats and a constant flow of pleasure boats and trawlers. Not here. That didn’t bode well for his prospects.
To the sound of the hiss and crackle of the Jaunty’s last moments, his mind drifted as he gazed at the sky. Such a pretty day, with cotton ball clouds flitting across a tender blue sky. A bird circled ov
erhead, its long wingspan creating a shadow on the water.
A vulture, eager to pick his bones?
He laughed at that, since vultures were rare in Alaska. This must be a heron or a sandhill crane or even a very large eagle. He squinted at it, trying to make out its color.
Dark wings, white head. Bald Eagle. His Bald Eagle? The one he’d talked to behind the pizza shop?
“Hey you,” he said softly to the bird. “Do you remember me? We didn’t get off on the best foot the last time. In fact you pooped on me.”
The eagle caught a wind current and rose higher into the air.
“Come back! Don’t go yet. Stay and talk to me.”
The eagle tilted its wings and cocked its head. But it didn’t leave.
“Here I go, talking to birds again. Any chance you could spread the word that I need help? Hey, how about a song? I told you I was going to put you in a song. I thought of one the other day. About eagles returning to their nests. You’d like it.”
He half-closed his eyes, trying to summon his song about the eagle.
It was gone.
Maybe it was too new. He hadn’t worked out all the lyrics yet. He tried to think of another song, but again he came up blank. Were all his songs gone? Had the ocean frozen them all out of his brain?
Heart racing, he thought of sitting in the hospital room with Mrs. Bellini, strumming his guitar and singing his newest creation. Something about yesterday? What the fuck? Why couldn’t he remember?
Truly panicked for the first time, he splashed himself into an upright position. His songs were gone. His mind was completely empty of all his music.
A deep grief twisted his insides, and he lay back again and uttered a sound somewhere between a sob and a croak. Where was his voice? Same place his songs had gone?
The eagle flapped its magnificent wings and he knew it wasn’t a bird after all, it was an angel. An angel of death come to collect him.
He closed his eyes, regret dragging at him like a current reaching from the deep. All this time he’d been beating himself up about his music and the kids misinterpreting it. But now that it was all gone, images flashed across his vision like a movie in fast forward.
His first performance at a coffee shop. The girl who’d cried at the table in the front and thanked him afterwards. The boy who’d called the radio station during an interview and revealed that he’d listened to “Lost Chance” a hundred and eighty-three times to pull himself out of a depression. The feeling of expressing something true. Something from the heart. The feeling of adding his voice to the river of magic that was music.
God, he loved that.
As his vision grew dark around the edges and numbness crept over his body, a new feeling took hold. Gratitude. More memories came at him, a whole flock of them. Even if he was about to die, he couldn’t complain. He’d spent his life singing and making music and he was thankful for every second.
And he’d gotten to see Zoe again, to tell her he loved her, to take away that shadow of doubt that clung to her.
“Thank you,” he whispered as a roar of sound reached his ears. The angel must be getting close. Another second or two and it would all be gone. Zoe’s face came to mind, that tender, curious expression as she came in close for their very first kiss.
Right there. That was what he’d hold on to as the angel of death lifted him up to whatever came next. “Thank you,” he repeated, still in a whisper.
“Dude, we haven’t even rescued you yet.” A familiar voice came from the direction of the angel-eagle. “Don’t thank us until we get you onboard.”
Padric opened his eyes to see a boat floating a few yards away. It was roaring like the angel had been. He looked upwards. Where was the Bald Eagle? It was gone. Maybe the rescue boat had scared it away.
What did that matter?
He shook his head to clear away the fog. Had he gone unconscious? He wasn’t even sure what had just happened. “I’m freezing,” he managed.
“We’re coming to get you.” The boat eased closer to him. He couldn’t see who was at the wheel, but Nate and two other first responders leaned over the side with a float attached to a line. “We’re going to toss this to you and all you have to do is grab it. We’ll do the rest.”
He untucked his hands from the life jacket and gave them a thumbs-up. A woman tossed the neon orange float toward him. Nice shot—it landed just a few inches from his face. He used the last of his energy to wrap his numb arms around it and hang on for dear life as they towed him toward the side. He spotted the red stripe that identified the boat as a Coast Guard vessel.
From there, Nate and another crew member reached down and grabbed onto his arms. They hauled him up the side of the boat, which must have taken a lot of strength, because not only was he dead weight, but all his clothes were soaking wet.
Nate helped him take off his life jacket and bundled him into the cabin of the boat. Since he could barely move his hands, he needed more help getting his clothes off. Nate wrapped a dry blanket around him.
“You sure know how to make an exit.”
Padric laughed, or tried to. His throat was sore from swallowing so much saltwater. “Guess I wasn’t ready to leave.”
And even better—that wasn’t a whisper, that was a full-on statement in an almost normal, if rough, voice.
“Hey, you stay as long as you want. No need to blow up a boat.”
Padric frowned. “I didn’t…brand-new boat.”
Nate’s gaze sharpened. “Someone sabotaged it?”
Padric nodded slowly as his sluggish brain pieced together what must have happened. “I think so. Maybe someone at the station. I went to say goodbye. They knew.”
“You mean one of the volunteers?” Horror crossed his good friend’s face. “No. Who would do that?”
Padric shrugged his shoulders, since he was in no shape to argue. The truth would come out. A more important question had flashed through his mind. If his voice was back, what about—
“I got yesterday in my pocket…” he sang. Then pumped his fists in the air. “Yes! They’re back!”
Nate peered at him curiously, then called to the rest of the crew. “Make sure an ambulance meets us at the harbor. Possible concussion.” He paused, then cocked his head. “Pretty good song, though.”
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zoe went straight from the airport to the hospital. Outside her mother’s room, a nurse filled her in. In the two days Zoe had been gone, Mama had made excellent progress. She could form words better, and her vitals had improved. She slept only eighteen hours a day instead of twenty, and had even been seen to smile.
Zoe received one of Mama’s tremulous post-stroke smiles when she walked into the room, straight from the airport. She hugged her so tightly that her mother squawked in protest.
“It’s so good to see you looking better, Mama. You really scared us.”
“Zoe. Carina.”
Zoe teared up at the familiar endearment. “Do you want to hear about my trip to Canada?”
Her mother listened eagerly, not saying much but clearly soaking in every word. When her eyelids started to droop, Zoe said, “Listen, Mama, I came straight from the airport and really could use a cup of coffee. You rest for a little bit. I’ll be right back.”
In the cafeteria, she went right to the coffee machine. Yawning, she pressed the button for “black coffee” and watched the liquid fill her cup.
Snippets of conversation drifted her way.
“Some fishermen in the lagoon saw it…”
“A tourist called it in from a Jacuzzi at the Eagle’s Nest…”
“An explosion in Misty Bay. That’s got to be a first…”
“Lucky there was a Coast Guard cutter in port.”
Even though Zoe’s coffee cup was full, she lingered by the machine to hear more.
“They didn’t know if they were going to find any survivors.” A nurse was talking to a lab tech at a table nearby. “The boat was so damaged, they couldn’
t tell anything about it. Name, class, size, anything. When they got closer, they saw someone in the water. Non-responsive at first.”
“Alive though?”
“That’s what I hear. He’s on his way here in an ambulance right now. I guess he’s conscious but I wonder how much damage has been done. My cousin went overboard once and he had to get his toes amputated. But guess what else?”
The nurse lowered her voice so no one else could hear this apparently confidential information. Zoe knew she ought to walk away so she didn’t overhear anything private. But her curiosity was piqued. An explosion in Misty Bay. That didn’t happen every day.
“They’re saying it’s that rock star who grew up here. The one all the teenagers like.”
Zoe’s coffee cup slipped through her fingers and dropped to the floor.
Everything crystallized into hard, clear truth.
She needed to be with Padric the second he got here.
But she needed to do something else first.
She launched herself into a sprint across the cafeteria. Across the hall, down to the A wing, into her mother’s room.
“Mama!”
Her mother turned her head in surprise. Her sisters had just arrived, but she barely paid attention to them.
“I have to say this, and you have to listen.” Not that her mother had any choice, but Zoe skipped past that part. “I love Padric. I’m going to him right now, because he’s on his way here because his boat blew up, and I have no idea how he is and,” sobs threatened to choke her off, but she blew past them, “and nothing is going to stop me from being with him. It doesn’t mean I won’t still take care of you. I always will. I promise you that. But I love him with every particle of my heart and soul, and he loves me, and you’re just going to have to get used to it!”
Her mother’s dark eyes went wide as she listened. She didn’t say or do anything at first. It felt as if the entire room was holding its breath.
Then the twins burst into chatter. “Is he okay? What happened?”
“Where is he? What room?”
Yours Since Yesterday Page 23
