Sailing Lessons

by Hannah McKinnon

  That was where she was when someone knocked on her door much later. She rolled over in bed, squinting as it swung open. A head was silhouetted in the hallway light. “Darling?” It was Beverly. Followed by Piper and Lindy and Wren. All four women crowded uncertainly in her doorway.

  “May we come in?” Lindy asked. For the first time all day, Shannon burst into tears.

  The four of them sat on her bed, watching her as one might a trapped animal. Lindy spoke first. “Honey, I had no idea. I feel like I’ve let you down.”

  “I’ve been so tied up with Dad and the shop, I didn’t realize what was going on.” Wren scooted over closer. “Are you all right?”

  No, she was not all right. But something about those four women being there—right there—gave her the faintest glimmer that she could be.

  “I don’t know where Reid is, and he’s so mad at me. I could’ve killed us both. I could’ve killed someone else. But I didn’t think I was drunk. I would never have gotten behind the wheel with George if I did. You know I wouldn’t have.”

  Lindy handed her a box of tissues from Reid’s side of the bed. “For years, I watched your father drink. Little bits here and there, but they added up by the day’s end. There were times I’d worry, and I’d ask him about how much, how often . . . all of it. And yet he was so highly functioning, so brilliant at his work. I told myself it was the stress of the travel with his job. I told myself it was being away from us, always coming and going. But I could never admit your father had a drinking problem, until the day he took you girls out in the Beetle.”

  Beverly was sitting very still on the edge of the bed. “It’s true. I watched him the same way, and I wondered. But I didn’t want to pry. I figured your mother would tell me. Or I’d know for sure. When you’re in the thick of it, you start to normalize it.”

  Shannon sat up. “Do you think I’m an alcoholic like Dad?”

  “Do you?” Piper asked.

  Shannon didn’t know. Yesterday she wouldn’t have said so. She put her head in her hands. “Today was the worst day of my life.”

  Beverly reached over and rubbed Shannon’s foot beneath the sheet. “Let’s talk about today. The only thing you did today was embarrass yourself. You did a mighty fine job of it, that’s for sure. A for effort! But no one got hurt, thank God. No real damage was done. This may have been the best day of your life.”

  • • •

  Reid came to bed, but much later. She rolled over and pressed herself against him. “Are you awake?”

  At first he didn’t answer, and she listened to his breathing. She needed him in this. She could not do it alone.

  “I am,” he said finally. All the fight was gone from his voice. “But I’m angry, Shannon. I know it’s not fair, but I’m so angry at you right now.”

  She lay quietly behind him. “I know. I’m angry, too.”

  Slowly Reid turned over, facing her. “When I got that call at work, all I could think was that something awful had happened. That you . . . or George . . .” He couldn’t finish.

  She pressed her lips to his forehead. “Don’t.” She kissed him again and again, until he wrapped both arms around her.

  “You are going to have to promise me that you’re going to figure this out. Whatever it takes. Therapy. Counseling. I’ll support you in all of it. But you’re going to have to do this, Shannon. We could’ve lost everything today.”

  She knew all of this, and yet it terrified her. Shannon was not sure what was wrong or where to start. But it was something she had been carrying for a very long time. Too long. And Beverly was right; today she got to set it down.

  “What do we do?” Reid asked. “Do you want me to call the doctor in the morning?”

  “All right. But there’s something I need to do first.” She sat up in bed.

  • • •

  Wren’s house was dark, but the outdoor light was on. She found the key under the potted geraniums on the porch and let herself in. The house was still.

  At the bottom of the stairs, she hesitated. What if she woke up Wren and scared her? Or Lucy? Badger appeared at the landing at the top of the stairs, a low growl emanating from his throat. “It’s me, buddy. It’s okay.” To her relief he wagged.

  She stopped outside the guest-room door and listened. There was the sound of a light snore within, and for a second, she was taken away. It was summer at the old house in Ridgevale. Shannon had been sleeping in her shared room with her little sister, but it was a humid night and there was no breeze. All night she’d slept fitfully, until one point in the middle of the night she’d had a terrible nightmare. The house was on fire. Her sisters and she were trapped. The fire was everywhere: skittering across the ceiling, climbing up the walls. The whole room glowed in orange light. Shannon sat bolt upright in bed, her nine-year-old chest pounding against her narrow rib cage. With the heat of the room, for a second she feared her dream was true. She cried out and ran to the door. Down the hall she went, to her parents’ room. When she raced through the door, her mother’s side of the bed was closest. But she did not go to Lindy. She walked around the far side, to her father. She nudged him awake, tears in her eyes. “What is it?” he’d asked, scooping her up onto the bed.

  She told him. About the blaze and the fire and being trapped. “I want to sleep with you.”

  Her father did not tell her to go back to bed. Nor did he chide her. He peeled the covers back very slowly and grabbed his pillow. Down the hall they tiptoed back to her room. “But I don’t want to sleep here,” she protested.

  He helped her back into bed. “Shhh. You are safe.”

  She watched over the edge of her bed as he rolled out the blanket and set his pillow on the floor. Then he lay down beside her.

  She tried to sleep but could not. Each time she closed her eyes the flames licked the back of her lids. “I’m scared,” she said.

  “My love, you are safe.”

  Throughout the night Shannon would stir, and each time she peered over the bed he was still there. He did not tell her not to worry. He did not tell her that her fears were silly. When she sat up he could sense her. “You’re safe,” he’d murmur.

  Now, as she stood outside the guest-bedroom door, listening to the gentle vibrato of her father’s breath on the other side, she whispered to herself. “You’re safe,” she said. And then she turned the knob.

  Forty-Two

  Wren

  For the first time all summer it rained. The rain fell in horizontal sheets across the rooftops and shops. It stained the sand on the beaches with watery dapples. It blew and gusted and made the Bailey women wonder if it would ever slow. They spent their days inside, cooped up and edgy. They paced in their respective houses as the Beetle Cat lay on the sawhorses in the driveway. Caleb was growing more tired each day. He did not finish his oatmeal and bananas at breakfast. She knew their time was dwindling. His friend Alice was calling daily now. Wren welcomed the calls, finding comfort in the soft voice on the other line. Knowing she’d also be there on the other side of his trip home. “How is he doing?” she’d ask.

  “He’s slowing down,” Wren said, keeping out of earshot. “I’m worried.”

  “Honey, I think it’s time we book the tickets. Just tell me the date. I’ll pick him up. I’ll take it from there.”

  Wren knew Alice was right. Her father needed to get home. Home to die, as he’d made them all promise they would allow him to do. “One more day,” Wren would say.

  Alice’s voice on the other line was thick. “All right, but we can’t let many more pass. He needs strength to travel, remember.”

  “I know,” Wren said, trying to keep the tears from her eyes. “We won’t keep him much longer.”

  But the rain did not let up, and Wren knew she had to book Caleb’s ticket home. He was ready, he said, when she sat on the couch to tell him she’d spoken to Alice. She called her sisters to tell them, and then she went online. She cried when she chose One Way.

  On the third day, when s
he thought the air could not possibly hold another drop of water and that she would lose her mind, she picked up her phone. It had been six years since she had dialed that number; for all she knew it had been changed. She was surprised when he answered on the second ring.

  They met at the Red Nun. When she walked in he was already there, seated at the bar, a pint in front of him. She allowed herself to steal the moment, to take him in. His hair was a little longer now, looser around his head. His skin was a little ruddier, from all the time on the water. But when he looked up, his eyes were still the same, crinkling in the corners like they were laughing.

  “You came,” he said.

  “I asked you.”

  James ordered her a beer and passed it over. They made polite small talk at first. She told him about the shop. He told her about life in Seattle. He’d stayed out there for five years, and he liked it. He’d gotten his master’s degree in marine ecology. Working the boats had been harder than he’d thought, but he’d learned a lot. And done all right financially to go back to school.

  “Why’d you come back?” she asked.

  James shrugged. “I missed the East Coast. It’s so beautiful out there, but this is home.”

  She thought about this. About his wanderlust and how much it had worried her.

  “Why did you call?” he asked.

  Wren took a deep sip of her beer. “I heard you were back. And I guess I wanted to see how you were.”

  “Is that all?”

  She switched the subject. “What are your plans now?”

  “I’m living over in Brewster. I’m working for State, for the Division of Fisheries and Wildlife.”

  “So you’re back to stay?”

  “So far. I’ve been back for a few months now, but the job is going well and I’m closer to my family. My mother is happy about that.”

  “I’ll bet.” Wren had always liked James’s mother. She’d liked his whole family, in fact.

  James’s voice had an effect on her that she’d not been prepared for. It had been so long since she’d seen him. And so long since she’d cared about anyone. Having Lucy absorbed all of her: her time, her energy, her thoughts. But sitting next to him now, hearing the soft gravel in his voice, smelling his scent coming off his wet T-shirt, something in her shifted.

  “What about you? You have a child.”

  Wren reached for her phone but then thought better of it. “I do. She’s six. Her name is Lucy.”

  “That’s a great name. I bet you’re a great mom, too.”

  She couldn’t help but smile. “It’s the hardest job I’ve ever loved. She’s a good kid. Loves animals, nature, reading. I can’t keep her out of the water.”

  James laughed. “Sounds like her mama.” A small part of her ached to tell him she was just like her dad, but the larger part remained protective. This was already risky enough.

  “You and your husband must be proud.”

  “Oh, there isn’t one. It’s just me.”

  James cocked his head. “Divorced?”

  “Never married. Her dad is not in the picture.”

  Whether it was feeling sorry for her or not, she couldn’t say, but James’s expression shifted. “I didn’t mean to pry.”

  “You didn’t. It’s common knowledge. And I’m fine with it. It was my choice, actually.” She stole a glance at him to see what he thought about this, but it was hard to read James. He had always been good at keeping his emotions in check.

  “How about you?” she asked. “Married? Any kids?”

  James shook his head. “No, and no.”

  “Don’t want any?”

  “No.” He laughed. “I mean, no that’s not the case. I do want kids someday.”

  Wren was surprised to hear this. But she wasn’t sure if this was good news or not. If James was back and he was now open to the idea of having children, he might be upset to find out about Lucy. More than upset. As Lindy had warned her back in the beginning, a father could claim parental rights. He might want her.

  “I have to get going,” she said. She pushed a ten-dollar bill across the bar.

  James looked startled. “Already?” Then, “No, please. This is on me.”

  Wren made a show of glancing at her watch. “Yeah, I have to run back and check on something in the shop. It’s been nonstop lately.”

  “Oh, okay.” He started to say more, then decided not to.

  Wren slid off the stool. “Well, good luck with the new job. It was good to see you.”

  “Yeah, you too.” James was watching her curiously. He didn’t ask to see her again. Nor did he try to get her to stay. “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

  “Maybe.”

  Outside in the parking lot, the rain had slowed. Wren ran to her Jeep. This was all a terrible mistake. All she wanted was to get home to Lucy.

  • • •

  After a week of straight rain, the sun finally showed its face. It rose the next morning in a red orb outside her bedroom window, and Wren rolled over to face it. Red sun at morning, sailors take warning. They only had a few more days before Caleb would be boarding a plane home to Arizona. She still did not like this decision, but it was his, and he insisted. As the rain had born down on Chatham and the beachgoers filled the shop and crowded the sidewalks beneath their umbrellas, Wren had cursed silently. They needed one day. One clear day with their father before he left. She pulled back the sheets and pulled her curtain aside, tipping her face back in the light. Today was their day.

  After a few calls around the neighborhood, she’d found a friend who let them borrow their trailer. It had been years since any of them towed a boat, but as Caleb helped Wren back it up Lindy’s driveway, it felt right. They loaded the Beetle Cat. Piper joined them.

  Lindy met her outside with a bagged lunch. “Good luck out there.”

  It was not unlike her mother. To feel one way about something or someone, and to tuck those sentiments away for the benefit of her girls. Wren could not imagine having invited a man who could not do the same, a man whose demons had kept him away from his family, back into her home and her life for her children. Since becoming a mother she’d made sacrifices, large and small, for Lucy. And there were also times she’d sacrificed her time with her daughter to do the things she hoped would be good for them both. As she hugged her mother goodbye in the driveway she made a decision. This one was for Lucy.

  They had chosen Stage Harbor, over near Shannon and Reid’s house. There was a boat launch beside the Yacht Club and when they pulled in, Wren was surprised to see her waiting in the lot. She rolled down the Jeep window. “Where are the kids? I thought you were all going to meet us here.”

  “They’ll be here, but I was thinking it’d be fitting that we launch the boat first. Just the four of us.”

  It was a gesture beyond measure, especially for Shannon. In recent days she’d been coming by here and there to see their father. While she hadn’t warmed to him completely, Wren had sensed her need to at least connect. As for him, Caleb seemed more at peace than he’d been since he arrived, and he took her in without question. Whatever inch she gave, he seemed to measure in miles.

  “You coming too?” Wren asked.

  Shannon leaned in the window. “Not for me, thanks. But if you don’t mind?” She held her camera aloft, shyly.

  Caleb smiled, unable to speak at first. “The light is good today,” he said.

  • • •

  The protected waters of Stage Harbor were perfect for launching and sailing along the shore, but there were narrow shoals and fast-moving channels farther out. The day was crisp and clear, and there was a good wind coming from the west.

  Caleb stood at the water’s edge. There was a clear view to Morris Island and the Stage Harbor Lighthouse on the adjacent point.

  “What do you think?” Wren asked.

  “I think it’s time.”

  Wren backed the trailer down to the water and the three women unloaded the Beetle. Their father hovered on the edge, wanti
ng to help, but unable. Wrapped in a throw blanket, even on this hot morning, he watched from the top of the boat ramp. Once in the water by the dock, it took all three of them to help their father in. He settled on the floorboards of the cockpit. Wren climbed in after him, then Piper. “It’s tight in here,” Piper said, leaning back against the floorboards.

  Caleb’s voice was soft against the wind. “You were much smaller the last time.” He looked to Wren. “Why don’t you man the tiller today. Shall we cast off?”

  The wind was light and the sky clear. Back on the dock, Wren could see Shannon pointing her camera in their direction. She hoisted the sail, one eye on her father as she did. The last time she’d been sailing had been years ago with James, but sitting in the cockpit with Piper and her father today felt natural. The Beetle Cat moved at a hypnotic pace across the water, steady and sure. Across the floorboards, knees to his chest, her father tightened the blanket around himself. “How you doing, Dad?” Piper called.

  But Caleb Bailey did not answer. He closed his eyes and tipped his head back against the wind.

  Forty-Three

  Hank

  Twenty years ago when he was a bachelor living in Boston writing for the Globe, if anyone had told him if he’d be celebrating his sixty-fifth birthday surrounded by women and children and dogs, he’d have told them they were mistaken. And yet Hank would not have traded a single moment (or canine) for anything.

  It was early September, what most considered to be the best time on the Cape. The waters of Nantucket Sound were the warmest they would be after a season of summer sun, and the hours in the day still long and golden. Lindy had reserved a table in the Stars dining room at Chatham Bars Inn, and though Hank had initially wished for a bar seat at the Sacred Cod Tavern, now that he was dressed up and seated by the window overlooking Chatham Harbor and the fishing fleet, he decided not to second-guess his brilliant wife again. Lindy was a vision, seated beside him in a loose flowing dress, her signature bracelets sliding up and down her elegant wrists as she spoke animatedly to the table. Across from her were the girls, cutout silhouettes of their mother, the same long limbs, the same striking strawberry blonde hair. Seated among them were their offspring, bright-eyed and spirited. George had his napkin on his lap, but kept picking it up to blow his nose. Lucy was whispering something in his ear that struck her as so funny she kept breaking down in fits of giggles, unable to finish.