by Aurora Rey
They waited.
“Shouldn’t she be responding?” Graham whispered in Dom’s ear.
“Sometimes it takes a few tries. If she’s not at the wheel, she might not hear the first time.”
A perfectly plausible explanation. Not that it made her feel any better. Stuart repeated himself. Again they waited.
A voice crackled over the speaker, but it belonged to a man with a thick New England accent. “Crossed paths with her about an hour ago. She was headed north. Over.”
Dom swore under his breath while Stuart thanked the captain of the Donna Jane for the information. Stuart tried a third time and Graham had to fight the urge to rip the microphone from his hands and yell into it for Mat to fucking answer them already.
She was spared from embarrassing herself by the sound of Mat’s voice. “This is the Paquette. Over.”
Stuart relayed the weather forecast and asked Mat’s location. Mat responded with her coordinates and a confirmation that she could very clearly see the storm approaching and was heading in. Dom pointed to the microphone, which Stuart activated. Dom leaned over his shoulder. “Be quick about it. I’ll be waiting here to kick your ass. Over.”
“Just needed some fresh air, man, a little fishing. You’ll have to contain yourself. Over.”
Dom laughed, but indicated he wanted to say something else. Stuart obliged. “We’ll see about that. Over.”
Graham joined Dom in thanking Stuart. They stepped back out onto the pier. Graham glanced at the sky. The clouds on the horizon were closer and more menacing than they had been. Still. Mat was on her way back. Graham told herself to relax.
“Sorry I got you all worried and dragged you down here for nothing.”
Graham shook her head. “No, I’m glad you did.” She looked at the sky again. “Do you think she’s going to make it?”
Dom put a hand on her shoulder. “She’ll be fine. I probably overreacted. I was mad because we talked about it and I thought she was hauling without me anyway.”
Right. There was no reason at all an experienced fisherman couldn’t take her boat out alone. The primary danger in their line of work came from the possibility of getting caught up in the ropes and the lift and the weighted traps. Bad weather was coming, but between modern technology and her relative proximity to shore, Mat would be fine. Assuming she didn’t do anything stupid.
“Are you going to wait here until she gets back?” Graham asked Dom. She didn’t want to leave, but Mat didn’t even know she was there. And if their last conversation was anything to go on, she wouldn’t be welcome.
Dom nodded. “I am. I’m worried about her. She doesn’t go out for fresh air.”
“Yeah.” Graham had thought that, but it wasn’t her place to say so.
“You should, too.” Now that his fears were allayed, Dom seemed to give her his full attention. “I mean, if you want to.”
Graham sighed. “I always want to be where Mat is. It’s the being wanted that’s the problem.”
“I know it’s hard. Are you,” Dom stopped, as though he didn’t want to finish the sentence. He met her eyes. “Are you thinking about giving up?”
Only about a thousand times a day. And another few hundred during the endless hours of night. But every time she told herself she needed to walk away, the pain that settled in her chest became unbearable. She couldn’t go on like this forever. She refused to be the woman who pined for someone she’d never have. But she wasn’t at that point. Not yet. “No.”
Dom nodded. “Good.”
“You don’t think I’ve crossed the line into pathetic?”
He scowled. “Absolutely not. Mat is a stubborn ass, but if I didn’t believe you two were perfect for each other, I’d never encourage you to stick around.”
“Thanks.” A flash of lightning in the distance caught both their attention. Graham swallowed, a lump of apprehension in her throat. “I hope she beats the storm.”
“I was just thinking the same—”
Stuart appeared in the doorway of the office. “Oh, good. You’re still here.”
Graham didn’t miss a beat. “What is it? What’s wrong?”
“Mat’s out of fuel. She just radioed in for help.”
Dom dropped his head. “Son of a bitch.”
“She said the storm is close and she’s going to go below deck and wait it out.”
Graham didn’t like any part of that plan. “Can’t we send someone out now?” She turned to Dom. “How did she run out of gas in the first place?”
“She was fucking careless, that’s how. That’s what’s been worrying me so much—not that she’s going out alone, but the fact that she’s doing it with only half her brain working. That’s how people get themselves killed,” Dom said.
Graham felt the blood drain from her face. She felt lightheaded and swore her body temperature dropped five degrees. Even as she told herself Dom was talking in extremes, the reality of the risks Mat took every day hit Graham like a punch to the stomach. “Do you think—”
“Jesus. I’m sorry, Graham. I shouldn’t have said that.” Dom looked at her with alarm.
Graham chuckled feebly. She must look even worse than she felt. “It’s okay. I know what you meant. Really, though. What are we going to do?”
“I’ll call my dad about taking his boat. I’ll bring her enough diesel to get home.”
“How about I call the Coast Guard?”
Graham had forgotten Stuart was still standing there. His face looked more worried now than when they didn’t know where Mat was. “Is it getting worse?” she asked.
“Worse than I’m comfortable with. The last thing I want is two boats caught in a storm.”
Graham couldn’t decide if the suggestion made her feel better or worse. She didn’t want Dom going out alone, but she also hated any scenario that called for the Coast Guard.
“They’re better equipped for rough seas. And faster.” Stuart’s voice was confident and sure.
Graham was convinced and it seemed as though Dom was, too. He said, “Okay. What do you need from us?”
“Not a thing. I’ll call it in and then we wait.”
Wait. Graham looked out at the water. The entire western half of the sky had darkened. Flashes of lightning were constant and the first rumbles of thunder sounded in the distance.
* * *
Mat swore. She tried to start the engine even though she already knew nothing would happen. Engines didn’t turn over when the fuel tank was empty. When she’d already tried to start it ten times before. When she’d already radioed for help.
How could she have been such an idiot? Because she’d let herself get distracted, be careless.
It was one thing for Dom to know, to give her a hard time. He had that blend of haranguing and genuine concern that made him annoying, but tolerable. Now she’d broken one of the cardinal rules of fishing and everyone—everyone—would know it.
She glanced up at the menacing clouds. Fucking storm. It hadn’t been in the forecast. Although, given the strange temperature swings of the last few days, she shouldn’t be surprised. But if it weren’t for that, she could have radioed in and the only people she’d have riding her ass would be Stuart and Dom. And Stuart hardly counted. He was a good guy and, for a man who made his living with fishermen, wasn’t a gossip.
She shook her head. She was doing it again, allowing her mind to run a thousand different directions when she had things to do. God, it was pathetic. She could hardly stand herself. It didn’t help that the rain had started, the kind of cold rain that refused to turn to snow on principle. She’d dressed warmly, but not in rain or fishing gear. It didn’t take much for her clothes to soak through.
Before another wave of self-loathing took over, she finished stowing anything that wasn’t bolted down. Tools, ropes, her logs—everything went into the small hold at the front of the boat. She hated the idea of including herself in that list, but with no fuel, she’d be useless on deck. No, she’d backed herself right
into a corner of helplessness.
The good news was that she had no real fear of capsizing. The Paquette had weathered a lot. She was a squat, sturdy thing and Mat felt safer aboard her than just about anywhere else. She’d ride it out, then deal with the humiliation of being rescued.
Feeling everything was as secure as it could be, she went down below. She spent a moment securing things in the hold so she’d have less worry about things sliding and flying and otherwise making a mess. After a moment of hesitation, she slipped on a life vest and pulled the straps tight. When that was done, she looked around. Nothing to do now but wait.
The waves picked up, causing the boat to lurch from side to side. The choppiness that never bothered her on deck made her queasy. It had to be the lack of a horizon, the smell of diesel. Those explanations were far preferable to the idea that the weather was more severe than she anticipated, or that she might in any way be in danger.
Although she had no signal, Mat kept her phone on to keep track of time. Minutes passed slowly, to the point of being painful. She’d never done well with sitting quietly. Feeling powerless and trapped made it a thousand times worse. And no amount of fidgeting could stop her brain from spiraling in a dozen directions—her mother’s version of things with Lindsay, Graham’s face when they fought, Dom’s worry. So much for taking her mind off things.
It wasn’t long before the rain intensified enough to lash against the side of the boat. Based on the sound it made pinging off the metal, Mat was pretty sure ice and sleet were mixed in. As the boat listed, she tried to relax and let her body move with it. Not only did that not help, she found herself on the wet and dirty floor of the hold.
Mat let out a string of expletives that didn’t make her feel better. If Dom were there, he’d call her on it, but maybe also give her points for creativity. They’d at least get a laugh out of things while they waited.
Mat closed her eyes and let her imagination take over. Graham was there, not Dom. And they weren’t caught in a storm without fuel. It was late summer and the sun was shining. Unlike the day they went out together and hauled traps, they were out for the sake of being on the water, together. The breeze would be salty and warm and Mat would be able to taste the sea on Graham’s lips when she kissed her.
She was yanked back to reality when a wave hit with such force, she thought for a second the boat might actually tip. The lick of fear in her belly was unfamiliar and unpleasant. She made her way to the door and kept her hand firmly on the latch. She wouldn’t survive long in the frigid water, but it would be better than going down with the boat. She wasn’t much for praying, but her childhood training kicked in. The Hail Marys and Our Fathers proved soothing if nothing else.
Mat lost track of how long she stood like that, poised for action she hoped she wouldn’t need to take. Eventually, the roiling lessened. The rain stopped, or at least let up. She let go of the handle and tried to work the cramp out of her hand. She looked around the tiny space, said a prayer of thanks that it wouldn’t be the last thing she saw.
When the worst of the waves seemed to pass, Mat decided to venture out. The sky had lightened and the wind had died down considerably. She looked around for signs of damage. Nothing appeared out of order, although flecks of sleet remained on the windows and ledges of the boat. Mat almost lost her footing; a layer of ice had settled on the deck as well. All in all, things weren’t nearly as bad as they could have been.
She picked up the radio transmitter and prepared to swallow her pride. “Paquette to Coast Guard. Over.”
The reply was immediate. “Paquette, this is Coast Guard Vessel 136. We are en route to your last reported location. Over.”
Mat checked the GPS which, thankfully, was still functioning. “I seem to have drifted south a ways. I’m at,” She rattled off her coordinates and ended with, “Over.”
The female voice on the other end of the radio repeated the coordinates. Mat confirmed and got reassurance they’d be to her location shortly. Mat thanked her. She switched channels and called up the harbormaster’s office to let Stuart and Dom know she was safe. She expected judgment, or at least some mild ribbing, but the only thing she could detect in Stuart’s voice was relief.
It was at that moment everything caught up to her—the ordeal of the storm, the fight with Graham, the fight with Dom, her parents. Angry, exhausted tears spilled down her cheeks, the heat of them immediately chilled by the air. She’d spent her entire adult life avoiding entanglements that would make her feel this way and it had all been for nothing. She let her guard down and now she was miserable, and quite possibly alone.
The sound of an approaching boat snapped Mat back to the moment. She swiped away the tears and sniffed a few times. Not the time to fall apart.
The whine of the engine intensified and the Coast Guard lifeboat came up alongside her. The two members of the crew were professional and kind. If they were judging her stupidity, they didn’t let it show. They helped her pour a few gallons of diesel into her empty tank and stood by while Mat went to restart the engine.
Instead of hearing it roar to life, she was rewarded with a sad gurgling sound. “Fuck.” She turned her attention to her rescuers. “I think the starting block must have taken on some water.”
The older woman nodded in a matter-of-fact way. “Not surprising given the last hour. We’re not equipped for towing, but we should be able to get someone out here in a few hours. The worst of the weather has passed.”
Mat cringed at the cost and the added hassle, but knew she was still making out easy. “Yeah.”
“We’ll radio it in and you can ride back to shore with us.”
“I’d rather not—”
She didn’t let Mat finish. “All due respect, ma’am. You’re wet and shivering, probably not far from hypothermia. You should come with us.”
As much as she didn’t want to leave her boat, refusing would make her seem even more stubborn and foolish than she already did. “Yeah, okay.”
“Don’t worry about a distress flag. They’ll be looking for it.”
Mat looked around. There was nothing she needed to take with her at this point. “Thanks.”
The younger man hooked a pole to her side railing to bring the sides of their two boats close and hold them steady. Mat stepped from one to the other, then turned to look back at the Paquette. It seemed foolish, but it felt like she was leaving her child behind.
“They’ll take good care of her.” It was the woman who said it, and her eyes were full of understanding.
Mat chuckled at being so transparent. “Right.”
The younger guy used the same pole to gently push the boats apart. The next thing Mat knew, they were in motion. Relief was the strongest feeling she had as they headed toward shore. Still, she couldn’t help but look back at her boat, growing smaller with each passing second. Just as she couldn’t tear her thoughts from what awaited her back on land. And square at the top of that list sat Graham.
Chapter Twenty-nine
The storm had pushed the temperature down a good twenty degrees. So now, in addition to being soaking wet, she was freezing. She’d refused one of those foil blankets because the idea of wrapping herself in one was at least one layer of pathetic she could avoid. But now, with her teeth chattering and her soggy clothes plastered to her skin, she realized the ship of self-dignity had sailed a while back.
She took the blanket.
Mat half-expected the entire town to be standing on the pier, awaiting her return. When she saw that wasn’t the case, she felt her muscles relax slightly. People were coming and going and, with the sun shining, it seemed no one was the wiser. Almost no one.
She made out Dom, standing with his legs braced and his arms folded across his chest. Next to him stood Graham.
Mat swallowed. Her chest constricted and, for the first time in this whole ordeal, she found it difficult to breathe. Only for a moment had she truly worried about her safety. Even then, the frustration and the embarrassment were
tantamount. She’d imagined Dom would be angry, then judgmental. She realized now, though, that she’d made him worry. She felt small and stupid and, perhaps worst of all, selfish.
And Graham. It had only been a few days since they fought at the trap yard, but it felt like an eternity. The yearning in Mat’s body, in her very bones, consumed her. The rescue boat pulled into a slip and one of the crew helped Mat onto the pier. She thanked them again, trying not to loathe how insufficient the words seemed.
Mat climbed the ramp to the main part of the pier. Dom and Graham moved toward her. As relieved as she was to be back on land, a feeling of trepidation sat heavy in her stomach. And then she looked at Graham. Their eyes met and Mat couldn’t feel anything but longing.
She tore her gaze away long enough to look at Dom. His face held a strange mixture of tension and relief. She opened her mouth to say something, but no words came out. Before she could try again, Mat found herself pulled into a hug. She couldn’t believe how warm and strong Dom felt. But before she could process that, he let her go. Another pair of arms came around her. Smaller, but with a grip that felt fierce and protective. And familiar.
It was the familiarity that did her in. Mat’s mind flashed to a dozen moments when she’d been wrapped up in that embrace—in bed, on their first real date, after meeting Graham’s aunt. The tears came fast and hot and she was powerless to stop them.
Graham’s hold on her tightened even more. Mat felt the warmth of her breath near her ear as she said, “You scared me to death.”
Mat laughed, but it came out as one of those awkward sounds that sounded a lot like a sob. She pulled back, looked at Graham’s face, then Dom’s. “I’m sorry.”
Dom gripped her shoulder. “You should be, you stubborn son of a bitch.”
The insult, and all the love she could feel behind it, made the tears flow even more. She couldn’t remember the last time she was such a mess. Graham reached over and smacked Dom in the arm. “Don’t be mean.”
