12. Micah
12
MICAH
I walk along the Sleepy Slip docks over in Sunrise Bay, which is only a couple of miles from Aqua Vista. The salty sea air feels thick in my lungs, and as I inhale it, peace washes over me. It’s been so long since I’ve felt even remotely okay about returning here after everything went to shit, but I figure enough time has gone by that I won’t be recognized by any traditional fishers.
God, I haven’t held a fishing pole in forever , I think as I pass the Hook, Line, and Sinker supply shack and nod to the older man staring at me from the dusty window. Christ, Cap is still around? He’s run the place for the better part of forty years. He’d once been the captain of a naval rig and had more stories than anyone I’d ever known. He’d keep you at the counter for longer than you needed to be, and sometimes, it made me squirm, knowing my grandad was waiting so we could set sail.
“Micah Malone, that you?”
I stiffen briefly before turning to see him standing at the door. Silver hair, deep lines around his mouth and eyes, and gray-blue eyes that likely still see everything going on around him. “Sure is, Cap.”
“Didn’t think I’d see your face ’round these parts again.”
“Me neither,” I mutter, suddenly regretting my decision.
“Regardless…” He eyes me warily. “That was a long time ago.”
“Unfortunately, people around here have extensive recall.”
“Eh, plenty of new fishers. Even more women running these boats.”
I almost roll my eyes. It’s as if he’s shocked that females would even enjoy fishing, let alone make money at it. “That’s a good thing. We’d probably all be better off if women ran the world.”
“Now, I wouldn’t go that far.” He wrinkles his nose. “My daughter and grandchild said they can help run the shack, but I don’t think this is a place for a girl.”
Of course, he wouldn’t. I remember him snickering along with some burly fishermen talking about their wives. Even my grandpa would partake, though his heart didn’t seem in it. Mrs. McCoy told me once that he changed after losing my grandma. That was long before I was born.
Before I can open my mouth to stick up for them, he says, “That’s only because they think I’m getting up in age, work too much, and my health is suffering.”
“Sounds like they’re only worried about you.”
“I suppose. But just like I told them, I’m perfectly fine. I like my work. Besides, where would the fishers be without me being here bright and early?”
It’s true that his readily available supplies make it very convenient.
“Speaking of health and old age, I was just thinking about your grandfather. I hear he passed.”
My stomach constricts. Hearing it said aloud is still a shock. “He did.”
“I also hear he left you his boat.”
“I honestly wasn’t sure if he’d kept it after he retired.”
“Sure did.” He motions with this thumb over his shoulder toward the storage warehouses. “In lucky number seven.”
I bark out a humorless laugh. “Does it still float?” It seemed on its last leg when I was in high school. But the fishing industry is no joke. These boats get battered during storms and high tides. I’m surprised it held on as long as it did.
“Probably has better bones than some of these newer models.”
“Damn straight. I’ll go check it out.”
He eyes me. “How long you in town?”
I shove my hands in my front pockets, suddenly feeling guilty about leaving town again. “Only long enough to sell his house.”
He quirks an eyebrow. “Hollywood calling you back?”
I look away and mutter, “Something like that.”
He chuckles. “I always told your grandpa you had a fisherman’s knack with movie-star looks.”
“That only gets you so far,” I reply. “The looks, I mean. Not the fishing, obviously. Haven’t been in a long time.”
“That’s a shame.”
“Yeah, well, I sort of ruined all that.”
“Not to give you a pass, but you were only a kid. A troubled kid.”
“Still deserved everything I got.”
We exchange a glance. No need to spell it out. He knows my grandfather forbade me from the dock and his boat after I ruined the fishing competition for him. Had it not been for me, he would’ve won a ton of cash. I’m just glad they decided not to press charges. Staying away was punishment enough, given how much I loved being out there. He even sold my favorite rod and grounded me for who knows how long. The memory is fuzzy now. What’s not fuzzy is the disappointment in his expression that day.
“Anyway, better get moving.” I glance toward the warehouses, then back to him. “Hey, Cap. Why do you think he left me his boat?”
“He told me once after all that went down that he thinks you’ll miss the water,” he says, and I feel a wistfulness in my gut. He was right. “He said you were most peaceful when you were fishing.”
Right then, a group of fishers walk by, one of them asking Cap a question about worms and lures. I walk toward a post and stare out at the water, mulling over what my grandfather said. This ocean looks different from the one in LA, but I don’t know why. Maybe because I don’t use it much. Here, it’s practically all you have.
Well, that and the mountains. My gaze flicks over my shoulder toward the foothills. It’s a damned pretty place, I’ll give it that.
I inhale salty sea air as I make my way to the storage units.
My grandfather tried to get my dad to settle in Aqua Vista when my grandmother was alive, but he refused. Thought it might calm him like it did me. But by then, he was already partying hard. My mother was a one-night stand who left town after I was born.
I walk up to a man wearing the Sleepy Slip storage facility logo on his shirt and old dusty jeans. He’s chewing on a toothpick and eyes me up and down. “I’m looking for the boat that belongs to Griggs Malone.”
“Who’s asking?”
“I’m his grandson. He passed away and left me the boat.”
He stares at me before recognition gleams in his eyes. “Probably got some algae on the hull. Rust too.”
I nod as I follow him into the warehouse, though I highly doubt my grandfather would’ve let the saltwater rust his boat. He was meticulous about cleaning it. But what do I know? No way he could keep up with it as he aged.
He leads me to a dry stack in the seventh slot, and there she is. A twenty-six-foot bay boat with a casting deck on the bow and stern. I smile at the name. Vitamin Sea . He truly believed that.
“Doesn’t look so bad after all,” the man says. “Name is Bert, by the way.”
“Micah.” I reach out to shake his hand. “Do you think it can be put in the water?”
“Definitely. Just needs some tending to.”
I wonder when she was last waxed. “Do you think she might sell?”
“That what you want to do with ’er?”
“Maybe,” I reply, even as my stomach feels uneasy over the idea. “But I’ll get back to you on that. Want to check her out first.”
“Let me pull the paperwork, see how much time is left on the storage lease, and then we can put her in the water for you.”
“Thanks.”
I pull out my cell as I wait and text John: Busy morning?
Yes and no. What’s up?
Meet me at the Sleepy Slip? I’ll explain when you get here.
On my way.