Chapter 18 #2
We may have rowed thirty yards, or maybe fifteen.
The house still looked so far, and now that we were aware the canoe was taking on water, it was really taking on water.
My oar kept slipping in my slick hands, blood thumping wildly in my ears.
Come on, I thought, trying not to panic. Come on, come on, come on—
My pulse spiked, then it soared when I heard the putter of an engine.
“Is everything okay?” I turned to see Charlie at the bow of the Carmichaels’ Boston Whaler and Luke at the wheel.
Dripping wet, Sage stood next to him, cradling her water skis.
“When we spotted you guys earlier, it looked like you were heading for the beach.”
“We were.” Connor’s voice was hoarse. “But our ride’s about to crap out.”
“We have a leak,” I translated, and from there, no time was wasted. The water was now up to our ankles, making the canoe tougher to row, but Luke was able to maneuver the Whaler so we could easily hand Charlie our stuff before bailing.
“You’re not wearing any life vests,” he commented once our heart rates had returned to normal. “Where are your life vests?”
Our sheepish silence said everything.
Luke shook his head. “Connor, you’re a childcare professional.”
Connor, already bright red, went even redder.
Sage, wearing a life vest, fake-coughed. “And Olivia, you’re an Eldest Daughter!”
Point taken, but I let a smile slip out, the plethora of TikToks, Reels, and memes coming to mind. Eldest Daughters could rule the world, competent in all areas of life.
“Well, let this be a lesson learned,” Charlie said with an air of finality, then he flicked his eyes to his husband. They quickly warmed. “To the beach, Captain.”
Luke saluted him. “Aye-aye, C.”
Must we? I thought, embarrassment now seeping in. Someone had to tell Topper and Peggy that their old canoe was foundering in the middle of Oyster Pond.
I hoped they hadn’t hung on to it for all these years for sentimental reasons.
“I’ll explain everything to the Carmichaels,” Connor whispered in my ear after Luke cranked up the Whaler. “It was my idea.”
“And I thought it was a good one,” I whispered back. “We’ll explain together.”
Then I took his hand and squeezed it as we sped toward the shore.
* * *
Charlie recruited his dad and Nick to rescue the canoe on their grandparents’ behalf, and Nick was surprisingly pretty pissed about it.
“Don’t give it another thought,” Topper told Connor and me once we came clean.
“That leak has been there for years, and it’s our fault for not patching it.
” He shook his head. “I’ve just never been able to tell where the damn thing is! ”
“We’re so glad you’re both safe,” Peggy said, fanning herself with this month’s issue of Vanity Fair. “You did have life vests, right?”
I gritted my teeth, never wanting to hear the word life vest again, but my family had other ideas. Maisie and Bryce ran up to me after I’d showered and changed for dinner, grinning mischievously. “What’s that?” I asked, noticing that Maisie had something hidden behind her back.
“Dad says you have to wear this!” Bryce was giddy when our sister revealed a lime green life vest. “Until you go to sleep tonight!”
Touché, Christopher, I thought but couldn’t help but be a little amused. “This doesn’t match my outfit at all,” I stage-grumbled as I slipped on the bulky vest and zipped it up before adjusting its straps. The twins couldn’t stop laughing.
“Connor has one too,” Bryce said. “It’s pink and has ruffles.”
I snorted. “He’s hilarious, our father!”
At least he wasn’t reading Connor the riot act for putting my safety at risk.
But did I maybe want him to?
* * *
Before dinner hit the grill, we all said goodbye to Luke and Charlie, who were catching a late-afternoon boat back to the mainland. Agent Morrissey needed to work this week, but they would be back next weekend for Topper and Peggy’s big anniversary dinner.
The house quieted not long after dessert. “I’ll be back in a bit,” Connor told me while I settled in with everyone for a movie. “I really owe Liam a FaceTime…”
Nick randomly suggested the original Mulan and was astounded that Maisie and Bryce had never seen it. I, on the other hand, still had the soundtrack memorized, so after the first twenty minutes, I slipped away to grab my iPad.
I wanted to look at the photos I’d taken for Annie’s book, maybe even experiment with some Shutterfly book templates. “Oh,” I said when I turned the reading room’s doorknob to unexpectedly find Erica sitting on the daybed. Her eyes snapped up from the big book on her lap. “Hi…”
“Hi.” Erica got straight to the point. “I’m hiding from my sister.”
“Okay.” I wanted to ask, You couldn’t hide in your own room?
“I’m sorry,” she added. “I know this is your space, but our room is obvious and she knows all my other spots.” She tucked a pencil behind her ear. “She won’t think to look here.”
“Mmm,” was all I said, then I nodded at her reading material. A light green album with a creamy white pages. “Is that the scrapbook?”
“Yes, I’m supposed to be hard at work on it.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Supposed to be?”
Erica sighed. “Well, with squeezing in work and Beth hounding me to hurry up on this, it’s been difficult to really dig in.” She tapped her pencil. “I’m sketching out some ideas, though.”
My stepmother was a meticulous planner; in all the years she’d been compiling scrapbooks, she’d never been one to glue down a photo without considering the rest of the page.
“What brings you here?” she asked.
“I sleep here,” I deadpanned.
She rolled her eyes, but I could tell she was amused. “I thought you would be spending time with Connor.”
“He’s FaceTiming with his brother,” I said. “We’ll”—I hesitated, then used her words—“spend time together later.”
There was a beat of silence. Was “spending time together” some type of euphemism? It came off so parental, but “hanging out together” didn’t sound right either. Connor and I weren’t going to talk about next-to-nothing before hooking up.
“I can leave if you would like,” Erica offered before I could reflect too much. She closed the scrapbook. “Hide-and-seek aside, this is your personal space—”
“No, that’s alright.” I shook my head. “I just need my iPad to go through some photos I took today.” I took a few steps over to where it sat charging on the little room’s end table, figuring I’d trek across the house to Summer Camp’s porch.
Then I changed my mind and asked Erica if she could scoot over a bit on the daybed. “Oh, sure.” I caught the surprise in her voice. “Of course.”
“Thanks,” I said, and for the next half hour, we worked side by side in silence. She didn’t peek at the humble beginnings of my Shutterfly project, and I didn’t ask about the grand vision for her assigned scrapbook pages.
But still, it was nice.