Sailing Lessons

by Hannah McKinnon

  Beverly lifted both shoulders. “She’ll have to get out of jail first.”

  • • •

  There was no better or worse time to share her idea, so she just did. Wren gathered the kids up on the porch, and had her father sit down. He was wearing out right before her eyes, and she could tell she needed to get him home. “I have a summer project,” she told them, rubbing her hands together. “A sort of family project. But I’m going to need your help.”

  “What is it?” George asked.

  Wren studied each little face, whose attention she had for only a short time. “I can’t tell you until you agree to help.”

  “But we don’t know what it is yet,” Avery pointed out.

  “Trust,” Wren told her.

  “What if it’s gross? Like scooping dog poop?” George burst into giggles and so did Lucy.

  Wren put her hands on her hips, in mock outrage. “Would I do that to you?”

  “If we agree can we back out?” Winnie asked.

  Wren nodded her head. “But I promise you’ll like it. And I promise it will be something you’ll be really glad you did. Even if it involves hard work.”

  The girls looked at each other doubtfully. “And fun,” she added quickly. “Who’s in?”

  “I’m in!” George shouted.

  “Me, too,” Lucy said.

  Avery and Winnie looked uncertain.

  Caleb cleared his throat. “I can tell this is going to be good, but I can only agree if the girls do, too.”

  Wren wasn’t sure how this would go over. They had only just met him. But to her relief, Winnie was on board. “Okay,” she said. She elbowed her sister, who echoed her.

  • • •

  Wren asked Lindy to gather some paper and pens and pencils. She passed them out to each kid and kept one for herself. “Let’s brainstorm what we’re going to need.”

  This appealed a bit more to the older girls, who with their sailing experience got to act as the experts for the little kids. Together they made lists: clean boat, sand and paint the deck and bottom, check canvas on deck, replace the rigging. To start they would need sandpaper, varnish, primer, and marine enamel. When the list was compiled, Hank went down to the basement to retrieve saw horses. Wren, Lindy, and the kids went out to the shed. The Beetle had been long tucked in the corner, and they had to climb over and around the clutter that had accumulated around it. The kids helped pull things out of the way: old beach chairs, pots, a bike with one wheel.

  “Are you a hoarder?” George asked his grandmother.

  Lindy smacked him lightly on the head. “Go help Grampa Hank with the saw horses.”

  Finally the kids stood back in the grass, and the adults surrounded and lifted the Beetle. “On the count of three,” Wren said. “Three, two . . .” They set the boat down right side up on the horses. After some shifting and rearranging, everyone stood back. In full sunlight they could see the work that needed to be done.

  Wren couldn’t help it. Standing around the Beetle Cat like that, all of them quiet in thought, made her think of a funeral. “All right,” she said, finally. “Enough work for today. Tomorrow we start bringing this boat back to life.”

  On the way home, Wren’s thoughts whirled. She had to run over to the shop, the very thing that needed her most and that she’d barely set foot in. She needed to get her father to bed, and she needed to go to the market: they were out of oatmeal and bananas, and the green tea he favored. What she really needed was to lie down and be still, without anyone talking to her or touching her or needing one more thing from her. Her sister was at the Chatham Police Department being bailed out by her husband. On top of all that, there was now a boat to restore. It was the single least important thing that any one of them could imagine: and yet restoring the Beetle Cat had suddenly taken on an urgency she could not rationalize.

  Lucy was humming along in the backseat, the open window blowing her hair. Next to her, Caleb turned. “Shannon’s kids coming over today,” he said softly. “How did that come to be?”

  Wren looked at him. Up until now Shannon had kept her family away from Caleb. Of course he’d wonder at their sudden turning up in Lindy’s yard that afternoon. There was no use keeping it a secret.

  “Something happened with Shannon.” With one eye on the rearview mirror, Wren quietly explained what she knew. Lucy was getting an education in grown-up life that summer she wouldn’t wish on the most well-adjusted adult she knew.

  “She was drunk?” Caleb asked.

  Wren nodded.

  Caleb stared out the window a long time. “Your poor sister. It seems she’s inherited both the best and the worst from her father.”

  Forty

  Piper

  It was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard. Shannon had placed herself in exile; her kids had been introduced to her father against her will. Wren had started a business she had barely set foot in since the opening party, and Piper herself was unemployed, homeless, and dating a married man. But they were all going to build a boat together.

  “Not build,” Wren had tried to explain. “Restore.”

  “Whatever. Who has time for this? Have you not looked around at what’s happening to this family?”

  But Wren was as stubborn as they came. “Look, I need to get to the shop. And you asked for a job. I’m reassigning you to Mom’s driveway for the week. You’ll get to spend time with your nieces and nephews, and with Dad before he goes.” She shrugged. “Or you can find another job.”

  Piper hated the idea. Wren was sticking their father right under their mother’s nose. And deciding how the kids were going to spend their week, with or without Reid and Shannon’s input. Who knew? Since she’d been bailed out she’d taken exactly one call from Piper, and that was for two minutes. “I fucked up, Pipe. I have to figure this out.”

  No word since. Reid had been the only one to show his face, arriving to drop off or pick up the kids. He’d been leaving work early to do so, but even still, Lindy’s house had turned into a day care of sorts. And a loony bin.

  In the end she agreed to Wren’s terms for their father. Yes, she needed the money, but she knew enough people in town to get another job if she really wanted to. But Wren was right about one thing: her father wanted to fix up this stupid boat, and he needed help.

  For the next several days, Piper found herself in old T-shirts and jeans. They made trips to the hardware store. The kids joked. And argued. They were too hot, too tired, too bored. But they always came around, and just when she figured everyone was about to fall apart, Lindy would show up with ice cream or Winnie would crack a joke. Or her father would call them all around the house in a booming voice and when they rounded the corner, fearfully, they were met with the hose. Piper had never seen Beverly move so fast as when she heard the kids screaming and bustled out to the back to see what was going on. She found them all running around the yard shrieking in joy and dodging the water, Bowser barking and chasing after them. “What on God’s green earth?” she yelped, hands on hips. Then to Caleb, “Give me a turn with that.”

  By the end of the week, the hull was scraped and sanded down. They’d applied marine enamel to the bare spots, and the entire hull had been primed and repainted. Piper had learned more about sandpaper than she ever wanted to know: a 180 grit was good at getting the surface stuff, but a 220 was even better.

  After the second day her hands were so raw she had to wear a pair of Lindy’s yellow rubber dish gloves. But she didn’t care. She needed the work and the distraction; she needed to fall into bed at night with aching muscles, every joint and muscle protesting. She needed to be numb.

  Derek had texted the night he’d come into the shop. I’m so sorry! I had no idea it was your sister’s shop. Are you ok?

  Piper had replied. You were here! Remember the dressing room? But then it occurred to her that he’d parked and entered the store from the back, that the lights had been off, and they’d never made it past the dressing area. What did any of that matter
now? She’d seen his wife. The faceless woman she’d built up in her mind as a needy, naggy wench was flesh and bone. A woman who was not only beautiful but funny and nice. With children. Two innocent children she shared with him.

  Piper was dying to see him, but before she could lose her nerve, she texted back, I can’t do this.

  Is this because I didn’t say I love you? he replied.

  It’s because I saw your family. I can’t be that other woman.

  She’d cried herself to sleep that night, and the following. But as the week went on and she helped take care of the kids and drive her father back and forth to Wren’s and work on the boat, she was engrossed and engaged and just plain exhausted enough that she started to sleep through the night. Maybe Wren hadn’t been so far off.

  By the end of the week, they were done. “She’s a little rough,” Caleb said, standing back appraisingly, “but she’s still a beaut.”

  “Now what?” the kids wanted to know.

  “That’s up to your Aunt Wren.”

  They took a lunch break, as they had each day, spread out on the front porch and around the yard. Avery suggested a game of capture the flag when they finished. Lindy had made grilled cheese for the kids, and sliced watermelon. Piper brought her father’s lunch out and handed it to him, a bagged sandwich he brought with him every day from Wren’s. “You eat the same thing every day. Aren’t you tired of tuna fish sandwiches?”

  “Sometimes, but it’s what gives me the least amount of trouble.”

  She knew he had digestive problems, and he’d been slow to recover from his collapse at the opening. But if she weren’t mistaken he seemed thinner to her now than when he had arrived just a couple weeks ago.

  “Are you feeling all right?”

  “I’m not feeling great,” he replied. “But I have to say I’m enjoying all of this. I want to see all of you as much as I can before I go back.”

  Although there had never been a clear end point for her father’s visit, he’d been talking about going back more and more. Something that filled her with anxiety. They were getting on so well, and she was enjoying having him around so much.

  “What about you?” he asked. “You’ve seemed a little down, if you don’t mind me saying. Is everything all right?”

  Piper took a bite of her grilled cheese. She could not tell him all of it, but she suddenly wanted to. “Someone I’ve been dating hasn’t worked out. It wasn’t just him, it was both of us.”

  “I see. A local guy or someone back in the city?”

  “The city. But he’s here, actually.” She almost added, “with his family.”

  “Have you seen him since he got into town?”

  Piper paused. “I shouldn’t have. But I did.” She had that awful feeling she got in her throat when she was about to cry but she was trying not to. Her father had proved to be a good listener, but she didn’t want him to know the truth about what she’d done. Here he was just getting to know her. She didn’t want to share the worst of herself. What would he think? And yet she felt like she was lying, sitting here and keeping most of it to herself. “I made some bad choices,” she said, finally.

  Caleb hadn’t eaten much, but he set his sandwich down and stared out across the yard as if he were done. She wondered if perhaps he hadn’t heard her, and she was partly relieved; she really did not want to elaborate. But she also needed to confess. At least some of it.

  “I am no man to talk to anyone about bad choices,” he said. “But one thing I have learned, is people forgive. I don’t know whether this young man owes you any forgiveness or not. But either way, you have to forgive yourself.”

  Piper had not thought of it that way. She hadn’t wronged Derek so much as she had his family, and her own values. At least the values she thought she had. All along she’d been worried about what her sisters would think, what Lindy would say if she knew. She had an idea that they knew something unsavory was up, even if they didn’t know the details. But she had never thought about forgiving herself. “I never thought of it that way.”

  “You’re a good girl, Piper. I wish I’d been around for you and your sisters more. I wish I’d been able to keep my own problems out of the way so that I could.”

  Piper had not meant for this; she’d only been speaking of herself. In no way did she want to turn the spotlight on her dad. Not here, and not now. “Dad, I wasn’t talking about us.”

  He looked at her. “I know. But I’d like to, if that’s okay.” He reached over and pointed to her forehead. “Do you remember how you got this?”

  Piper shook her head. “Mom says it was the day we had the boat accident. That I banged my head. But that’s all I remember.”

  Caleb thought about this. “I’m going to tell you something that may change the way you think about me, but I need you to know. You’re talking to me about mistakes you’ve made, and about forgiveness. That morning of the accident, I was drunk.”

  Piper felt herself exhale. No one had said that to her. In all the years since. “I knew you had a drinking problem. But I never knew it had anything to do with that day.” She gasped and put her hand to her scar. “Is that why you left? Because I got hurt?”

  “No! No, I was hurting our family before the boat accident. And I had to leave before I hurt anyone else. I have never forgiven myself for that. For the drinking, for taking you kids to the beach that day . . .” He put his hands to his eyes, and broke down in tears.

  “Dad, please. I’m okay. You didn’t mean to hurt me, and I never blamed you.”

  “But your mother did, and rightfully so. And I know Shannon did. She won’t even look at me. I need to apologize to everyone. That’s why I came back.” He looked so frail to her.

  “Of course I forgive you,” she said. She wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Despite the heat, he was wearing a flannel shirt, and she ran a hand across the back of it. “I’m just glad you’re here. Now we can get to know each other. Spend more time together.”

  “There’s something more.”

  The screen door squeaked, and Lindy stepped out on the porch. “The kids are quiet. That’s never a good sign.”

  Caleb sat up and swiped at his nose. “I’d better go see what they’re up to.”

  Piper wanted to tell him to wait. She wished her mother had not chosen that moment to come out. But her father was already standing, at least trying to. “Oh, these legs are old and stiff,” he said, reaching for the railing.

  Lindy put her hands out. “You okay?”

  “Yes, yes,” he said, chuckling. “Just not used to chasing all these kids.” He turned to look at her. “You’ve done a marvelous job.”

  Piper watched him round the corner of the house, then looked at her mother. Her expression was unreadable.

  “What was that all about?” Lindy asked.

  “I don’t know. He said he came back to say he was sorry.”

  Lindy waited for her to say more. “How do you feel about that?”

  Piper picked up her plate and started up the stairs. Her father’s words hung in the air. “I know he just got here, but I feel like he’s saying goodbye.”

  Forty-One

  Shannon

  It was one thing to be pulled over in front of your yacht club. And yet another to be handcuffed and taken away in a police car. But the moment Shannon could not get from her mind was the look on Reid’s face when he picked her up at the Chatham Police Department. She’d been booked and was being held, while outside in the real world a court was determining bail, Reid was scrambling to post it, and someone else had her children. After a promise to appear in court for arraignment, she was released. And that was the worst. They were parked in front of the Chatham Police Department, Reid completely disheveled in his work clothes, his face streaked with perspiration. He had not touched her, would not even look at her. After sitting in the car in silence, she said, “I’m sorry.”

  Reid exploded. He pounded the steering wheel with both fists, his face a color of red she’d ne
ver witnessed. “You drove drunk with our child in the car!”

  It was the lowest moment of her life.

  When he pulled into the garage, minutes later, he slammed the door and left her there. Shannon sat in the car alone. When she got up the courage to go inside, she found him in the kitchen, tearing through their cabinets. Doors were ajar at odd angles, the contents spilled across the counter tops. Bottles were in the sink. One by one he raided the liquor: the freezer, the wine fridge, the rack on the countertop. He dumped each bottle down the drain. With every clink of glass or glug of liquid she felt a piece of herself shatter.

  When he was done, he turned to her. “I don’t know what is going on with you, Shannon. You won’t talk to me. You don’t want to talk to your family. But today you could’ve killed yourself and our child. You’d better figure this shit out with your father, Shannon, or I swear to God it will be our undoing. Our whole family’s undoing!”

  There was not a single thing she could say. He was right about all of it. Only she had no idea how to fix any of it. Pouring all the alcohol down the drain wasn’t going to make a dent. She went upstairs to her bed, and she stayed there until the kids came home that evening.

  Reid had them take showers and baths, avoiding her in every room of the house. She had no idea what he’d said to them, but she heard Winnie in the hall. “Don’t go in there, George. Daddy said she’s not feeling well.”

  George. Her baby, who she’d put in the car and driven away with under the influence. She wanted to call him in, to call all of them in, but she lay there alone until the sunset streaked her walls in gauzy oranges and yellows. She waited until the showers and baths stopped running, until she heard the kids go downstairs. It was supper time, and when she went down to see about dinner, the kitchen was dark. Reid’s car was gone from the garage. Had he taken them out to eat? Was it possible he had taken them away from her for the night? She slammed the door to the garage, a tightening sensation crossing her chest. She climbed the stairs to bed.