Chapter 21
Twenty-One
There is nothing so American as our national parks.
—Franklin D. Roosevelt, president
The carriage roads were a mess.
Maisie dodged a cyclist who apparently thought the roads belonged exclusively to him, then stepped over an empty gel pack someone had tossed onto the path.
Frankie, of course, had something to say about all of it.
“Look at this.” He grabbed the gel pack with two fingers like it personally offended him.
“These things are everywhere. You spend thousands of dollars on a bike, but you can’t carry your own trash?
And don’t get me started on these cyclists.
Taking up the whole road like they own the place.
” He kicked a stray pebble off the trail for emphasis.
“And the treasure hunters! Every five minutes, someone’s slipping into the trees with their little metal detector like they’re about to strike it rich. ”
Maisie barely heard him. She’d spent some time working alongside Jake, a seasonal ranger who was heading to Bowdoin College in the fall, who was funny and easy to be around.
They’d swapped trail stories, talked about favorite hikes, debated the best ice cream flavor in Bar Harbor.
(Jake was wrong, it was clearly blueberry.)
Then, this morning just as they were about to head off to different locations with their teams, Jake had pulled out his phone.
“Hey, Maisie, give me your number,” Jake said, grinning. “Maybe we could hike together sometime. End with ice cream?”
Maisie’s heart practically stopped. This was it. Proof she was officially cool now. A cute guy wanted her number! But before she could even open her mouth, Frankie cut in.
“Dude, you could get arrested. She’s just a kid.”
Jake blinked. “Oh. Uh—”
Maisie whirled on Frankie, practically vibrating with fury. “I am not a kid.”
Frankie raised an eyebrow. “You still drink hot chocolate.”
“So do plenty of adults!”
“You still call it ‘squishy bread’ when a sandwich gets smushed.”
Maisie’s face burned. “That is completely irrelevant!”
“You make a wish when you go over a railroad track.”
“That is completely beside the point!”
Frankie smirked. “Is it, though?”
Jake cleared his throat. “Uh, I’ll—uh, see you around, Maisie.” He gave a little wave before heading off, leaving Maisie and Frankie standing in silence.
As soon as Jake was out of hearing distance, she spun toward Frankie. “Why? Why do you have to ruin everything for me?”
“Keep your cool on! He’s too old for you.”
“He’s your age! Except way more mature.”
Frankie scoffed. He watched Jake’s receding back. “There’s nothing cool about him.”
“To you? You think you’re the king of cool?
Because you’re not. You’re incredibly uncool.
All this time, despite what everyone said, I thought there was something really good and wonderful inside you, deep, deep down.
I was the only one on this entire earth who defended you and stood up for you.
” She let out a frustrated sigh. “But I was wrong. You are hopeless.”
To Maisie’s surprise, Frankie looked hurt. And she didn’t care.
Scout walked down toward the pier, hands shoved in her pockets, the morning breeze cool against her face.
She was glad Frankie wasn’t with her today.
She didn’t want to hear his running commentary on everything from boat engine sounds to tourists’ choice of footwear to badgering her about his share of the gold.
She needed space—to think, to sort through the knot of thoughts Naki had left tangled in her mind.
She’d known from the start that goodbye was inevitable.
But she hadn’t expected it to be so . . .
indifferent. No promise to check in, no hint that he might show up again.
Just a nod, a glance, and that was it. The hunt for gold was over.
They were both heading back to their regular lives.
She shouldn’t care. But as the dock planks creaked beneath her feet, she couldn’t shake the feeling that she did. Quite a bit.
She lifted her head and spotted her father standing at the pier, leaning against the railing like he had all the time in the world. Well, doesn’t that just ice the cake for the day? Yet another man in her life who stirred up all kinds of complicated feelings.
Last evening, she’d returned to her cabin with Naki and his stitched-up hand to find her dad reading on the couch.
Mother had gone to bed. Scout didn’t ask how their conversation had gone but assumed the worst. At least they hadn’t murdered each other.
Dad left with Naki to return to Penobscot Indian Island.
In the morning, Scout rose early and left for Ranger Rivers’s office.
She had wanted to avoid her mother, with whom she was so angry, so frustrated, so disappointed.
She didn’t want to say something she’d regret, and she knew she would.
“Scout,” Dad said, tipping his head in that easygoing way. “Got a minute?”
Her footsteps faltered, but she didn’t stop. “I don’t. I’m due on the tourist boat.”
“This won’t take long.”
She paused. “I don’t have time to discuss Mother.”
“Understood.”
She let out an exasperated sigh and put her hands on her hips. “Go. You have one minute.”
“Scout, you were right. I could’ve tried harder to connect with you. I shouldn’t have let your mother keep us apart. She shouldn’t have done it—”
“No. She certainly shouldn’t have.”
“—but I could’ve fought harder. Instead, I used it as an excuse to stop trying.” He took off his hat and scratched his head. “I’m not proud of this, but I’ve just never been able to prioritize family over my love for my work that keeps me on the road.”
“Or on the seven seas,” she said, crossing her arms.
He winced. “I deserve that.”
Scout didn’t let him off the hook, though part of her wanted to.
“You’re not exactly breakin’ a headline here, Dad.
Even when you and Mother were still together, you were gone more than you were home.
But when you left for good, you let me down.
You’re the reason I became so self-reliant.
I don’t want to feel that kind of . . . broken heart . . . ever again.”
His eyes grew shiny. “Honey, I regret leaving more than you’ll ever know.”
Her throat tightened at the rawness in his tone. She glanced down, tugging at the brim of her hat. “So what now?”
“I’d like to have a place in your life, if you’ll let me. I’ve missed you, honey.”
Scout’s chest ached, but she swallowed hard and lifted her gaze to meet his.
Loving him and hating him—somehow, she’d managed to do both at the same time.
But in the end, loving him always won. He was her dad, after all.
“I missed you too,” she said softly. “I even wrote to you. Emails. I archived them. Eleven years’ worth of, well, highlights in my life. Things I wanted to tell you.”
His shoulders sagged in relief, and his eyes grew shiny. “I’d like to read them.”
She gave up a slight smile. “I suppose that could be arranged.”
He stepped forward to wrap his arms around her in a hug. It was awkward and still somehow perfect. When he finally released her, his voice shifted. “I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive your mother.”
Scout stiffened. “We agreed we wouldn’t discuss Mother.”
Naturally, he went on. “Try to see it from her side.”
Scout let out a short laugh. What other side was there? Everything always revolved around Mother’s point of view.
“When she’s afraid of losing someone, she holds on too tight. She did it with me. She’s done it with you.”
“She smothers. Suffocates. Sucks the oxygen out of the room.”
He gave a dry chuckle. “Fair. But she clings because of fear. She knew that if you had a choice back then, you’d have picked me.”
That was absolutely true.
“Losing you terrified her. So she did what she knew how to do—she held on. Too tight, I know. But she was trying to keep you.”
Scout had never pictured her mother as afraid. Demanding? Sure. Overbearing? Always. But afraid? Still, something in her dad’s voice tugged at her. Her mother’s life did seem a little . . . sad. A husband who chose distance over devotion. A daughter who followed in her father’s footsteps.
“Still, she threw out your letters. She let me think you stopped carin’ that you even had a daughter.”
“I know. And I hate that she did that. I hate myself for letting it happen. But honey, your mother was there for you. Every day. Every event. Every time you needed someone.”
Honestly, that was also true. Her mother had provided a stable home for her, something her father wouldn’t have done.
But still—those letters. That silence.
“I just wish . . . I’d been given a choice.”
“Well, honey, now you have one.” He put his hands on her shoulders. “Just one more thing.”
She glanced over at the line of tourists waiting by the gangplank. “Dad, I really, really need to go. I’m on duty.”
“Chase Fletcher isn’t husband material.”
Scout blinked, taken completely off guard. “What?”
“Your mother’s on a campaign,” he said, his voice tinged with amusement. “Don’t let her talk you into it.”
“Trust me, I’ve had plenty of practice not conformin’ to what Mother wants.” She squinted. “But why do you say that?”
“Don’t get me wrong. He’s a sharp guy.” He pointed to his head. “But the thing is, Chase Fletcher is . . . well, he’s just like me. My shipwrecks are his newspaper. That paper will always, always come first.” He looked her in the eye. “You know what kind of life that would be for you.”
She was stunned. This was so unexpected, so father-like. Heavens, how she had missed him. She put her hands on his upper arms and squeezed. “I’ll take your advice under consideration.” But she’d already figured that out about Chase.
He grinned. “Now Naki . . .” He let the name hang in the air for a moment, his smile knowing.
“Gotta go to work!” Scout turned on her heel and headed down the pier to the Baker Island tour boat.