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  His phone vibrated, and Jamie pulled it out of his pocket. He groaned and answered the message quickly. “What is it?” Arty asked.

  “I’ll tell you later,” Jamie said as calmly as he could, putting his phone back in his pocket. Lyle excused himself, and Katherine watched him go before turning back to the others.

  Lowering her voice, she said, “Gerald has a bee in his bonnet for you. He put the word out that no one was to go out with you if they wanted him to loan them any up-front money for future fishing runs. The little shit.” She smirked.

  “And yet you came with us,” Jamie said, glancing at Arty with concern. His mind went to how Gerald could make trouble for them. Jamie didn’t know Gerald very well, but he’d had experience with plenty of guys being assholes over the years.

  “I’m not going to let that little man tell me what I can and can’t do,” she said. Jamie liked her even more. “Lyle is the same way. But Gerald said he’s going to block you from docking here… or others who work with you.”

  “He can’t. Dad owns the dock and the small piece of land it attaches to,” Arty said. “And as much as Gerald might sputter, he can’t block access to it either. That would be illegal and make him look like a real dick.” Arty sighed. “Though I wondered how he was going to try to get back at me. He always had an inflated ego. And as we know, has no compunction about cheating people.” Fire burned in Arty’s eyes as he spoke more normally. “What I really want to know is, how much money has he stolen from the families here? How many kids have had to go without, because he wasn’t paying the market price? I’m sure there are other fishermen who are in the same position as my dad because he was swindling them.” Arty looked around, but Jamie didn’t dare. He kept his gaze at the table, but heard some rumblings from other tables.

  “Damn, Arty, you missed your calling. You should be in politics,” Katherine commented, but Arty shook his head.

  “Theater,” he added. “Life is theater, and sometimes all you need to do is put on a good show. Gerald is only looking petty, and he’d be better off to keep quiet and go about his business. Dad was worried about what Gerald would do as well.” Arty seemed more tense than Jamie had ever seen him. But that’s because he knew Arty now. To the world, Arty seemed calm, but under the table, Jamie saw his foot bouncing on the floor. “I probably should have been more careful, but I was so angry over what he was doing. Nobody deserves to be taken advantage of.” Arty still seemed to be playing to the gathered group.

  “I know that, and so does everyone else. He’s in a pretty tight box right now, but who knows how long he’ll stay that way? People will go on, memories fade, and Gerald is a shit who can hold a long grudge.” Katherine made a good point. “I need to get back to my partner, Susan. But you two have fun tomorrow and don’t let this business with Gerald get to you. There are plenty of people who are grateful for what you did, and so are their families.” She tapped the table a few times. “I’ll see you both on Friday.” She stood and stopped at the bar area to pay her bill before leaving.

  “What are we going to do about Gerald?” Jamie asked. He was concerned that the asshole was going to make real trouble for Arty and his dad.

  “Nothing right now. Let him sputter a little. It makes him feel better and soothes his ego. But he was caught cheating people, and no one here is going to forget that, no matter what Gerald tries to do. They have options now, and if everyone got together, they could put him out of business. Not that anyone wants that, including me, but it could happen.” Arty paid their bill and then they left the restaurant, giving up their table for someone else.

  Jamie was still concerned, but there was nothing he could do about it and it really wasn’t any of his business. Still, it worried him as they walked back toward the house. “What was the message you didn’t want to worry me about?” Arty asked.

  “My dad is freaking out and threatening to come out here to find me and bring me home.” Jamie and Arty stopped walking. “I know he cares for me in his own way, but this behavior is getting just a little obsessive.”

  “Do you think he’d hurt you?” Arty asked.

  “Not physically. But God knows how he thinks coming out here is going to change anything. He can’t tie me up and force me to leave. He doesn’t even know where I am, exactly.”

  Arty paused. “Are you sure? Is your phone on his account? He might be able to track it because, in effect, he owns it.”

  Jamie scoffed. “Are you kidding? My dad would never pay for anything like my cell phone. I’ve always taken care of my own bills. I don’t have the greatest service, but at least the phone is mine.” That was one thing he didn’t need to worry about. “But Dad probably has a pretty good idea of where I’m at.”

  Arty shrugged. “At least you’re not at your aunt’s place. Then he’d know exactly where you are. Maybe he’ll calm down after a day or two. Then you can call him and make him see reason.” The idea made sense, but Jamie knew that sometimes sense was something his father didn’t have a lot of.

  “Who knows what he’ll do?” Jamie was starting to get a little nervous about how far he was pushing his father. He and his dad fought sometimes—when Jamie had defied him or had complained about how hard his father was working him—but he had never turned his back on his dad this way before. It was hard. His dad was the only really close family he had. Jamie was well aware that his aunt, his dad’s sister, had divided loyalties. She did care about Jamie and had tried to help him, but she was first and foremost his dad’s sister.

  “What do you want him to do?” Arty asked, which seemed like a strange question.

  “I want him to stay home and take care of his own business, and let me have a life of my own.” They moved closer to the side of the road as a car slowly came toward them and passed. “I want a little freedom. What do you want from your dad?” He wasn’t sure he wanted all this examined too closely, so he turned the tables.

  “I want him to talk to me, to be proud and to be my dad. To act like a dad. I barely know him at all.” Arty continued down the road and Jamie followed.

  “But what is a dad to you?” Jamie asked. “Does he yell and try to force you to do what he wants? When you left for New York, did he try to stop you?”

  Arty shook his head. “No.”

  “When you were a kid, did he force you to work on the boat because you were free labor? Did he watch what time you came home from school and scold if you were late because there were chores to do?” Jamie put his hands on his hips.

  “No. I went out with him when I was off school, sometimes. But he never forced me. After Mom died, and it was just the two of us, the house was pretty lonely and really quiet.” Arty sighed. “I miss my mom. She was full of life. She worked hard, but she was fun. She used to take me out to watch the dolphins. Believe it or not, it was my mom who taught me boating and boat safety. She loved the water and she was patient with me. Even when I was a teenager. I lost her to cancer when I was thirteen, and after that, it was just Dad and me.” Arty leaned on a fence post in front of the house. “What was your mom like?”

  “I remember her taking me out when I was maybe eleven or so to watch a cow being born. I asked if I could have him and she said I could. So Bubba became my cow. I fed him and watered him. Dad said he was a steer, not a cow, but I just thought of him as my boy cow. I didn’t know then what it meant.” Jamie came closer. “I was eleven when I got him, and then a year later, Mom died in an accident. She fell out of the hayloft and broke her neck.” Jamie wiped his eyes. “I would go up there all the time to talk to her when I couldn’t talk to Dad.” He wiped his eyes again and blinked. He was not going to cry over this. Not now.

  Arty stayed still, but Jamie felt his gaze on him. “I know there’s more.”

  “Yeah. I came home from school to feed Bubba, but he was gone. Dad said that he was big enough and that it was time.”

  “Oh God, no.”

  “Yeah. I didn’t eat beef of any kind at home for a year because I was afr
aid some of it might have been Bubba. If Dad pulled it out of the freezer, I’d become sick and that was it. I know what farming is and that livestock is raised for food or to be sold. I never named another animal in my life after that. Not even a dog or any of the barn cats. I learned my lesson.”

  “But your mom gave you Bubba,” Arty said. “He didn’t talk to you or anything?”

  “Nope. He made his decision, and that was that. Dad said he was trying to teach me a lesson, and maybe he did. But the lesson I learned was that my dad was one cold son of a bitch.” Jamie took a deep breath and released it. “I think that’s enough for one day.” Lord, they had taken a long walk down Maudlin Road.

  “Yeah,” Arty agreed.

  “What are you going to do for the rest of the day?’ Jamie asked.

  “I have a number of arrangements to make, and I have to take Dad to the doctor in half an hour. You can ride along into town with us if you’d like, or you can stay here. It’s up to you.”

  “I’ll take a walk around here, if that’s okay.”

  Arty led the way inside, and Jamie turned on the television while Arty and his dad got ready to go. Mr. Reynolds shuffled out to the truck, and Arty drove off. Jamie turned everything off, then went outside, locked the house, and set off for a little exploring.

  “DAD, YOU have to do what the doctor says and take the pills,” Arty was saying as Jamie came in through the back door. “The infection isn’t clearing up the way it should, and if there’s no improvement soon, the next step is an IV at the hospital. Is that what you want?”

  “I want to be left alone,” he growled. Arty stormed into the kitchen and stopped when he saw Jamie. “I don’t know what to do. The wound on his leg isn’t healing, at least not as quickly as it should be. His other leg is mending, but again, slowly. He has to stay off it more. But the stubborn jackass won’t do a damn thing the doctor says.” Arty slumped into one of the chairs. “I have to take him back in two weeks. If there’s no improvement, they’re going to put him in the hospital and start IV antibiotics.”

  “I’ll be fine,” Arty’s dad called out.

  Arty got back up, stomping into the other room. “Dad, the infection was so bad that the doctor thought you might lose your leg. You never told me that. Because of the ongoing infection, your system is stressed, and the bones aren’t knitting like they should. Just take the pills and do what he says, okay? I want you well so you can go back to your life and your friends.” Some of Arty’s snappishness slipped away. “Everyone misses you. People ask about you all the time.”

  “No one comes here,” he grumbled.

  “Maybe if you didn’t act like a bear with a sliver in its paw, they might actually stop by to see you.” A knock on the door caught his attention, and Jamie went to answer it. A woman with a casserole dish stood on the doorstep.

  “Mrs. Marshall.” Arty seemed happy to see her. “Thank you for stopping by. This is Jamie. He went out with me on my last trip, and we’re leaving on another on Monday.”

  “I brought a pasta casserole for you.” She stepped inside and put it in the refrigerator. “Just heat it through for your dinner.” She turned and smiled at Jamie. “It’s nice to meet you.” Jamie shook her hand.

  “How is your dad?”

  “Go on in and talk to him. Maybe you can get him to do what the doctor says. He doesn’t want to take his pills,” Arty said loudly.

  “They make me tired!”

  “Then sleep, but take the pills—they’ll help you.” Arty turned to Mrs. Marshall, who was on her way to the other room. “I hope she can get through to him.” He sat back down and held his head in his hands.

  “You’re really worried,” Jamie commented.

  “He’s my dad,” Arty said with more feeling than Jamie could remember having for the man who raised him. “I have to make some calls and get things arranged or we aren’t going anywhere.” Arty pulled out his phone.

  “What can I do to help?” Jamie asked, and Arty pulled out the chair next to him.

  Arty grabbed a tablet and set it in front of him. Jamie took notes and wrote down details that Arty told him as he made call after call. Arty put the casserole in the oven a few hours later and asked Mrs. Marshall if she wanted to stay for dinner.

  “I have to get home, but thank you.” Arty hugged her, and Jamie wished her a good night. Then they got back to arranging for fuel and getting the other supplies together. By the time dinner was ready, Jamie had created a calendar of sorts, outlining when everything needed to happen. Arty put it aside, and pulled the casserole out of the oven while Jamie set the table.

  Arty made a plate and took it in to his dad, along with a glass of ice water.

  “I want a beer.”

  “Sorry, Dad, the doctor said no alcohol. Here, water tonight, and take a pill before you go to bed.” Jamie waited for the grumble, but instead, he heard soft muttering. Maybe the two of them were talking, because Arty stayed in the living room for quite a while.

  THE ROOM was still dark when Jamie woke sometime in the early morning. He and Arty had spent a quiet evening, after Arty’s dad went to bed, watching old movies until neither of them could keep their eyes open. “Do we need to get used to fishing hours again?” Jamie asked, and Arty answered by throwing his arm over his chest, snoring a little louder. Jamie was grateful and closed his eyes, going back to sleep.

  “We need to get up,” Arty said, pulling Jamie out of a sound sleep sometime later. “It’s after ten, and if we want to take a real ride, we should get moving.” Arty was out of the bed and on his way to the bathroom before Jamie could say anything, so he rolled over and went back to sleep, only to be woken by Arty lightly slapping his bare butt.

  “Okay. I’m getting up.” Jamie got out of bed, dressed, and took his turn in the bathroom. By the time he was done, Arty was arguing with his father about his meds.

  “There’s food in the refrigerator, and Mrs. Marshall will be over later. So be nice.”

  “I’m always nice,” Mr. Reynolds barked.

  “You are not,” Arty countered almost jovially as he headed for the door. “Maybe you could work on that.” Arty was still smiling as he led Jamie down the street toward the wharf where a beautiful Chris-Craft wooden boat was moored. “This is a classic and one of the best boats ever made.” Arty helped Jamie board, then started the engine and cast off the line.

  “I feel almost regal.”

  “This boat is from another time, when boating was for the wealthy. Katherine’s father bought it and worked to bring it back to life, and Katherine has continued the work.” He ran his hand reverently over the woodwork.

  “We should be careful, then,” Jamie said, sitting down near Arty.

  “I love how this boat rides. It reminds me of one of those water babies movies from the fifties and sixties, with all those women in lovely suits, smiling under water, or water-skiing in pyramids.” He motored them deeper into the bay and around the point until the fishery disappeared from view. “See, boating is completely different like this.”

  Jamie chuckled. “For one thing, it isn’t four o’clock in the morning.”

  “No, it isn’t.” Arty tugged him up, and Jamie stood next to him. Arty wound an arm around his waist as they stood together, gazing out at the horizon, the entire Gulf of Mexico in front of them. “I swear you could blindfold me, put me anywhere near here, and I would know where I was by the scent and the sound.” He sighed, and Jamie leaned over to kiss him.

  The water slapped the wooden sides of the boat as they motored slowly. “It’s so different like this, without having to look at the water and everything like it’s work.”

  “Exactly. I wanted to take you to have some fun.” Arty smiled and pointed. “Look, a pod of dolphins.”

  Jamie stood next to him, watching and almost shaking with excitement. “There are so many of them.”

  Arty slowed as another pod drew closer and passed within a few feet of the boat, their slick bodies visible under the water.
“Wow,” Arty breathed and slipped an arm around Jamie’s waist. “You don’t see that often.”

  Jamie turned to him, grinning and pressing closer to him as the sun warmed the air around them. He wished this could never end. “What are those?” Jamie asked.

  “Osprey nests,” Arty explained.

  “They’re stunning,” Jamie whispered, continually looking all around as more dolphins passed. He turned to him, and Arty caught Jamie’s gaze. “I’ll remember this forever.” Jamie leaned closer, kissing him, drawing Arty nearer to him. A pelican sailed right in front of the bow of the boat, gliding away in its search for food, but treating them to yet another spectacular sight.

  Arty knew he’d remember this too and continued onward, slowly turning out toward the center of the bay. “I used to love to come out here, drop the anchor, and just lie in the boat and watch the sky. It gave me a chance to think and get away from Dad and everyone else.”

  “Where did you do that?” Jamie asked, and Arty pointed, taking them in that direction. Jamie got the anchor, and when Arty cut the engine, he dropped it into the water. The boat rocked on the small waves and in the wake of passing craft, but Arty barely noticed as Jamie drew him into a kiss and then down onto the stern cushions. “I bet you never did anything like this.” Jamie smirked and slipped his hands beneath Arty’s T-shirt, kissing him hard.

  They shimmied and groaned as their clothes slipped off. Thank God what they were wearing was loose and easy to get out of. “Out here you can make as much noise as you want. The wind will simply carry it away.”

  “Oh, thank God,” Jamie said, and they proceeded to frighten away every bird or fish within a hundred yards. The future and the rest of the world be damned—at least for a few hours, passion and pleasure could rule their hearts.

  Chapter 9