by Liz Johnson
“Is that why you’ve been trying to be so strong all this time? Never showing your emotions?”
“I haven’t—” A squeeze of his hand cut her off. He knew it wasn’t the truth, and she did too. “I just didn’t want you to think you had to take care of me too.”
“Sweetie.” He pushed her blanket back from where it framed her face, brushed her hair behind her ears, and looked right into her eyes. “I want to take care of you. You’re my little girl.”
“I’m almost as tall as you are.”
His chin dropped, his serious eyebrows coming together. “Megan, you will always be my little girl. And I’m here for you. I know all of this with your mom is hard. I know the answers we got weren’t what we hoped for. But we’re promised storms in this life. We’re also promised that our hope in God is an anchor in those storms. He’ll hold us steady even in the wind and the waves.”
“Yes, but—”
“It’s been scary for you, all this change and all the unknowns.” There was no question in his words.
She nodded.
“I’m scared too sometimes. But I know that God gave me you and your mom, and there’s no one I’d rather go through this storm with than my two girls.”
She couldn’t blink back the tears fast enough, and they escaped, rolling down her face, spilling onto her chest.
“I’d worry more about you if I never saw you cry. You think I haven’t had a few moments myself?”
She shook her head. The very thought of her rough and steady dad breaking down made her chest jerk on a silent sob and the tears press harder.
He flicked his thumb over her cheek, catching a few strays. “I don’t need you to be strong for me—or your mom. I just need you to be here with us. Your mom has had more fun going out with you and Oliver than I’ve seen her have in years. You did that for her, and I can’t tell you how much I’ve loved watching you both together lately. Something’s changed.”
“It was his idea.” She still couldn’t say his name. “He said maybe we should make memories while we could.” Her gaze dropped to her hands, and she bit her trembling lip to hold it still. “I don’t want to have any regrets.”
“Then let’s not.” He pressed a gentle kiss to her cheek, and she sank into his shoulder, free for the first time in years to just sit and be sad. To simply hug her dad and not have to hold him up.
He was stronger than she’d given him credit for. Or maybe he knew how to lean into the One even stronger than him.
Maybe Pastor Dell had been right about the sound of tears being the sound of love. Her mom and dad didn’t need her to pretend, they just needed her to be with them. When the time was right, there would be words of truth and hope. But in the sorrow, in the cacophony of pain, all she could hear was her dad’s slow and steady heartbeat.
The hole in her heart hadn’t changed. It was the place where all of Oliver’s kindness, all of his understanding had been. Those were gone now, but she heard her dad’s love echoing in the vacant corners of her soul.
When her breathing gradually calmed from the erratic half sobs to an even pace, her eyes beginning to dry, her dad patted her leg once more. “What did Oliver say when you told him you thought he’d been sabotaging your work?”
She took one more steadying breath. “He said he didn’t do it.”
“And do you believe him?”
“I think I want to,” she whispered.
He chuckled, his shoulders shaking so much that she had to sit up and give him her best teacher look.
“Then why don’t you? The Scriptures say that love bears all things, but also that it believes all things. Love lets you see the best in Oliver, even when it might not look like he deserves it.”
“But it all started off as a lie. He was just trying to make me like him so he could get the Pinch. Violet told me.”
“Hmm.” He hummed low in his throat. “Is it possible that he’s not the same man he was on the wharf that morning all those weeks ago?”
“Maybe.”
“I think you might be surprised.”
Narrowing her gaze, she nudged her dad’s leg with her toe. “What do you know?”
“A great many things, my dear. Chief among them—love is worth the sacrifice.”
She wanted to scoff and roll her eyes but couldn’t. If anyone knew the cost of love, her dad did. He’d given up everything—his livelihood, his legacy, his life—to serve her mom. Because love was worth it. “And you think I’m in love with Oliver Ross?”
“I think love grows in unexpected ground. And I think it looks a lot more like caring for the things you care about than boxed chocolates and red roses.” He stood then, kissing her squarely on her forehead. “I love you, kid. And I’ll come cry with you anytime.”
Her throat closed, and she managed only a wobbly nod as he walked away.
“You practicing to face down a bear or something?”
Oliver slammed the trap down, shoving a fistful of bait into the netted kitchen. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.” But his growl was on par with a grizzly’s.
Kyle chuckled dryly. “You want to talk about it?”
“Nope.”
“This have something to do with Eli?”
Oliver shook his head hard. But it didn’t do a thing to dislodge the memory of his mom’s silent tears the night before, when he’d told her as much as he knew about his brother’s situation. He’d read in her face the same question he’d asked. What if Eli still didn’t come home? It was a question he couldn’t answer, and one he refused to dwell on.
“It’s not Eli.” But he almost wished it was.
“I get it. You and Meg break up?”
“Hard to break up when you were never together.” Oliver shoved a cluster of traps back into the water, watching the line disappear into the blue bay and wishing that this conversation would go with it.
“Coulda fooled me. You seemed like you were getting pretty close there. Thought I didn’t notice. Pah.” Kyle leaned back as Oliver set the boat toward the next buoy. “All those covert glances. Rubbing the tip of her hair with your fingers. Watching her every move.”
“It wasn’t like that,” Oliver nearly snarled, not bothering to turn from his place at the helm.
“Either you liked her a whole lot or you thought she was up to no good. No one watches anyone that way without a reason.”
Oliver liked the older man, always had. Kyle had had every right to push back when Whitaker said he was going to sell to Oliver, but he hadn’t. That didn’t mean Oliver was going to stand around and listen to his nonsense or willingly let memories of Meg sneak back into his mind.
“I didn’t—”
“You can keep lying to yourself all you want, but that don’t make it true. And it wasn’t like it was just you. Her eyes lit up whenever she saw you.”
“Ha.” It was his turn to laugh, even if it held no humor. If what Kyle said was true, Meg had sure done a good job of hiding it. “She hated me.” Oliver pulled up to their next stop and turned to face Kyle, who was already working Meg’s job at the hauler.
Kyle shrugged. “Maybe. Early on. But that lasted all of three seconds.”
“Coulda fooled me,” he mimicked Kyle. “She laid into me last week pretty good. Told me I’m about as trustworthy as my dad. Accused me of being the one to cut the line and break the hauler.”
Kyle’s snort rippled like the waves. “That’s pretty funny.”
“She said I was trying to make her quit, trying to make it hard and scare her off so I’d get the license. So I could sell it.”
Kyle let out a belly laugh then, his shoulders shaking so hard that he missed the table and dropped a trap back into the water. Oliver pulled it back up, lined it up, and extracted a perfect brown hard shell. With a quick flick, he measured it, then put rubber bands on its claws.
When he finally caught his breath, Kyle tucked the catch into its cubicle within the plastic crate, his eyes glistening. “Well, why’d she do
that?”
Oliver chewed on his lips. “I may have failed to tell her and Whitaker that some big-shot broker had an interested buyer. But only because I was so close to making the down payment, and I just needed a few more days to get it together.”
Kyle whistled low and serious.
“And there was this thing about how Violet told me I should be nice to Meg. How it was the only way I’d have a chance to walk away with the Pinch at the end of the season.” Oliver wanted to scrub a hand down his face, but his gloves were covered in seawater and herring, so he settled for hanging his head and taking a deep breath. “Meg found out, and now she thinks I was just trying to manipulate her.”
“So, her pride is hurt because she thinks she fell for a charade.”
“But I wasn’t pretending. I mean, maybe it started out a little bit like that. But I genuinely . . .” He squeezed his glove into a fist to keep from running it through his hair. “Meg is amazing—she’s smart and strong. She cares so much about her parents. She’s never complained—not once—about having to leave uOttawa. I don’t think she’s ever regretted that choice. And even though it scared her to get closer to her mom, knowing she’s going to lose her . . . Meg’s face when she made her mom smile—making her mom laugh is her joy. And I understand.” He shook his head. “The first time I made Meg laugh, it was like I’d invented the lightbulb and was looking for the chance to flip the switch again and again.”
Kyle closed up the last of the traps on the line and gave them a push back overboard. “Sounds a lot like love to me.”
“Well, it’s too late.” Oliver slid off his gloves and tossed them down, sitting on a plastic crate as he dug into his pocket. He held out a protein bar, but Kyle shook his head and pulled out his own snack. “She made her choice. And it wasn’t me.”
“Or you need a second chance. Seems to me she gave you one awhile back.”
“Yeah, and then she took it back.”
“Is that the truth, or is that your wounded pride talking?”
Oliver crunched into the peanut butter and chocolate bar, usually his favorite flavor. It tasted like sawdust.
“I’m just saying—pride’ll get you. Look what it did to your dad.”
He snapped to attention, his gaze narrowing onto Kyle’s face. The man’s features were relaxed, but there was a calm certainty to his voice that couldn’t be ignored.
“Your dad wasn’t always a thief. Your mom never would have married him if he had been.”
That was true. Mama Potts wouldn’t have put up with that. And Oliver had a feeling that if he hadn’t told his dad to get out and never come back, his mom would have. Nineteen years of marriage was gone with one fist to his face.
Kyle shoved another bite of his bar into his mouth and spoke around it. “Your dad thought he’d beat the odds, thought his bets couldn’t lose. And with every loss, he thought one more would be enough to win it all back, to make up for all the savings he’d burned through. He had a choice. Own his sins and change or leave. At the end of the day, he couldn’t face the mistakes he’d made. And here’s what I know—he may have left, but he took his pride and his sins with him.”
Oliver had never thought of it like that. He’d only ever thought about the mayhem his dad had left behind. What chaos had he taken with him? Aside from all he’d stolen from Druthers, he’d carried a weight that he wouldn’t be free of until he faced it.
“You know Whitaker cares about who takes over his namesake.”
Oliver nodded, his eyes drifting into the Pinch’s corners and shadows.
Kyle shook his head. “I’m not talking about this boat or the license. I’m talking about what he leaves behind. We’re all going to shuffle off this mortal coil and meet our Maker at some point. When we do, what will we leave behind? Whitaker loves fishing, and I’d never seen anyone who loves it as much until I met you. I think when Whitaker met you, he saw a chance to help you leave your own legacy—by passing down the boat to you, he’d give you a chance to change your course. He’d give you a chance to choose a different path than your own father.”
The protein bar turned to solid rock in his stomach. If Kyle was right, Oliver was Whitaker’s legacy. Meg too, of course. But he’d chosen Oliver. He had chosen to pour himself into a twenty-one-year-old kid, to pass down his love of the sea and his love for people.
The weight of that honor pushed Oliver’s shoulders forward as his arms rested on his knees.
“Seems like a waste if it’s pride keeping you and Meg from being together. I’m pretty sure that’s not what Whitaker wanted for you.”
“It’s too late.” Oliver pressed his hands to his face. “We’ve tried, and there’s too much history between us, too many reminders of past hurts that make us jump to the worst conclusions. We tried to forgive, but . . .”
“That’s the thing about forgiveness—it’s a renewable resource. The act of giving it fills you up to give it again. The more you practice forgiveness, the more you have to give.” Kyle swiped his hand down his pants. “And trust me, when you’re married as long as I’ve been, you’ll be glad of that fact.”
“Married?” Oliver swallowed thickly.
Kyle shrugged. “Seems to me that when a man loves a woman, he wants to share his life with her, even if it starts out a little bit rocky. When you know you can get through the rough patches and still choose the other person—well, that’s a good start.”
Oliver heaved a sigh, knowing he should return to the wheel and get them to the next buoy. But all he could think about was having Meg in his life. Forever.
Except at the moment, he didn’t have Meg at all, which pretty much explained his more bearish qualities of late. And when he saw his future stretched out ahead of him without her in it, he felt seasick. Pressing his hand to his stomach, he scowled. He hadn’t been looking for her. He hadn’t been looking for anyone, really. He’d been working toward building a future. And then, after his debt was repaid, he would have thought about a family.
Only now his dreams weren’t about a boat and a good price per pound. They were little girls with their mom’s blonde hair and shining blue eyes. They were making Meg laugh every day. They were caring for each other when the two of them were weathered and worn.
“I don’t know how to fix it,” Oliver said. “How do I make it right?”
“Well, maybe start by showing her you’re not like your dad.”
“And how would I . . .” But the truth was already there. “I could tell her why I told Whitaker I couldn’t take the business.”
Kyle’s jaw dropped almost comically low, his eyes nearly popping out of his head. “You did what?”
Oliver pushed against his knees, already turning toward the helm. “I couldn’t take it from her.”
“Does she know that?”
“I have no idea. But she’s going to know it as soon as we finish up.” With that, he launched the boat toward the next buoy and the chance at the dreams that mattered.
Meg squeezed her mom’s hand and squatted down before her spot on the sofa. “Can I get you anything?”
Her mom began to shake her head but stopped. “Where’s Oliver?”
Meg’s heart thumped a little harder. She hadn’t talked about him since her dad had come to see her four days before. She wished she hadn’t thought about him either, but he’d taken a seat in the front of her mind and wouldn’t give it up.
With a glance at the clock on the wall, she said, “I guess he’s probably on the boat.”
“Why aren’t you . . . there?”
Her tongue felt thick and useless. Taking a deep breath, Meg searched for her voice. When it finally came, it was scratchy and unfamiliar. “We had a fight, Mom.”
For the briefest fragment of time, her mom’s eyes focused. Meg could physically feel the intensity of her gaze, leaving a trail of goose bumps across her skin. “Then make up. Apologize.”
It was so simple but so terribly complex. Her mom made it sound like one small word would
change everything. But in her experience, “sorry” wasn’t always enough. It wouldn’t wash away the wrongs that had been done on either side.
But neither had her anger changed all the wonderful things Oliver had done for her. All the times he’d held her. All the times he’d let her cry on his shoulder. All the times he’d dropped everything to care about the things she cared about. If that’s what love looked like, love looked like Oliver Ross.
“He’s a good boy.” Her mom reached out and cupped her cheek, and Meg held her hand there, the frail fingers so soft. “He’d do anything for you.”
And he had. He’d forgiven her awful grudge. He’d taught her how to fish—even when that meant he could lose it all. And he’d shown her a better way to grieve her mom’s condition.
She’d never regret investing in her relationship with her mom. But she would have missed out on all of it without him.
“Mom, I don’t know how to make it right. I don’t know—”
Only she did know. She knew exactly what he wanted most in the world. Exactly what she could offer him.
Kissing her mom’s hand, she said, “Thanks. I’ll be back later.” She raced down the hall to her dad’s office, where he sat in his desk chair staring at the ancient computer. Mouse clicks echoed their sharp staccato, and she recognized an industry news report on the screen.
“Dad?”
He spun around, a wide grin in place.
Before he could speak, she said, “I want you to give the business to Oliver.”
“You don’t want it?” He sounded a little bit disappointed, a little bit sad, but not at all surprised.
She snuck across the room and pulled the folding chair closer to him, leaning forward so she could look directly into his eyes. “Come on. You had to know. The mornings are killing me. And the bait—oh, man. It smells like leftovers that have been in the fridge for years. And if I ever forget my patch, I can barely stand on the boat. I’m so grateful that you want me to want to take it over, but Oliver deserves it. I made him promise me that he’d split the responsibilities evenly—but it was never even. It was never going to be. He loves the business in a way I never can. And he’s worked so hard, given it everything. If I step back, he’ll have everything he wants.”
