31. Cole
THIRTY-ONE
Cole
TWO WEEKS LATER
“Cole Sunshine Morrissey, you are a Bering Sea fisherman. You don’t need to be afraid of a five-year-old.” He wraps his arm around my shoulders and kisses my temple. “He’s going to lose his shit.”
Morgan raps the door. He texted Shay to warn her so Finn would answer. Footsteps race across the floor.
“You said I’m not allowed to open the door. Ever,” Finn’s muffled voice says. “What if it’s the pest guy on the electric scooter?”
“It’s not. I think,” Shay yells. “Just open it.”
“Pest guy?” I ask.
“He wants to sell us a pest control package and he’s very persistent.”
Morgan knocks again.
The knob twists. The door cracks open. Finn peeks around the corner.
“Uncle Morgan?” He opens it wider.
In the span of a single second, I panic. What if he thinks I’m Seb? We should have told him.
“Uncle Cole? Uncle Cole!” The door swings open and he runs out onto the stoop, just in time for me to kneel and open my arms.
I squeeze him so hard, and the reality of him in my arms, of the miracle of this tiny human giving me another chance, is all so overwhelming.
“I missed you, buddy. I missed you so fucking much.”
“I missed you so fucking much too,” Finn says.
“Way to go, asshole,” Shay says from somewhere within.
I pick Finn up, and he presses a tiny palm to my cheek. “I’ve never seen you cry before.”
I snuffle a laugh and wipe my tears on my shoulder. “Yeah. I thought I’d give it a try, and now I never stop.”
Morgan strokes my back, and musses Finn’s hair. “Missed you, kid.”
“Thanks for bringing Uncle Mor back, Uncle Cole.”
“I brought your daddy’s mitt back too.”
“When do you have to go fishing again?” he asks me.
I look at Morgan. We decided we would wait until he asked, but what if it’s too much for one day? What if something happens and I can’t stay? I don’t want to let him down.
“We’re both staying home for the holidays,” Morgan says. “Then I’ll go back to drive the Briar for opies and Uncle Cole will stay with you.”
Finn’s brow wrinkles. “You’re not going together?”
“Not this time,” Morgan says.
“I want to be where you are,” I tell Finn. “If that’s okay?”
I brace for him to slap me with his rejection and tell me I killed his dad, but no. He emits a high-pitched squeal that only a whale could understand.
“Can we have a slumber party again, Auntie Shay?” he hollers over his shoulder, then turns back to me, eyes narrowed. “You can’t leave this time.”
“I won’t. I promise.”
“Let’s go inside, hm?” Morgan says, picking up our bags.
I move to stand, but Finn clings to me like a very adorable barnacle, so I pick him up and hug him again. “Thank you, Finny. Thank you.”
“What for?”
“Helping me find my way back home.”
He tightens his arms around the back of my neck and rests his head on my shoulder. “Daddy would be proud of you.”
I meet Morgan’s gaze over Finn’s head. Finn’s probably just parroting back something Shay and Morgan have said, but I feel Seb here.
I never felt closer to him. Not on the Briar, not on the Bering Sea, not where we buried Seb’s things.
I feel him here, in Finn’s pint-sized heart beating against my chest, in the warmth of the home he wanted me to raise his son in, in the view of my husband, no longer estranged, the husband who dove into danger to save me.
After Seb died, I was so focused on what I lost, but Seb gave me so many gifts, and I’m not going to waste his sacrifice. Not anymore.
It takes us all a few minutes to be normal again. Finn recovers the quickest.
He casually leans against the dining table and gives a meaningful look at the duffle Morgan left on the bench. “What did you bring me for Christmas?”
Morgan looks at me, feigning confusion. “You got him something, right?”
“What about the gift of our presence?” I ask.
Finn’s eyes narrow.
Morgan unzips the duffle stuffed with gifts. “Do you really think we’d forget to pay the Finn tax?”
Finn gasps, eyes wide, then pushes his lips into a thoughtful pout. “That’s a lot of presents. What about Santa?”
“Don’t worry,” I say. “We saved a few things from your list for him.”
“You can open one.” Morgan pulls out a gift box wrapped in paper patterned with orcas frolicking in a sea of northern lights. “The rest of these are going under the tree.”
On the week-long commute back from Alaska, Morgan and I did a lot of shopping.
“Let’s open it on the couch,” Morgan says, then places the gift before Finn like an offering once we’re seated on either side of him.
Finn unwraps the box slowly, solemnly sliding his fingers under the tape like he wants to save the wrapping paper.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “We have a whole roll of that stuff. Go ahead and hulk out.”
He smiles and tears the rest of it open, then lifts the lid. “Wow! An orca!” He pulls out the stuffed animal almost as big as a pillow, the perfect size for him to hug as he grows.
“Not just any orca,” I say. “That’s Springer.
She’s an orphan who got lost not too far from here when she was only two years old.
She was strong and took care of herself, but it was really hard for her to be alone.
Orcas, like people, need friendship and family.
” I smile at Morgan. I picked out this gift because Springer’s story reminds me a hell of a lot of him.
“Scientists and people who love orcas helped her find a new family so she would never be alone again.”
“What happened to her?” Finn asks.
“She’s still out there somewhere with her family, only a few hours from here. There’s a book underneath so we can read all about her. Maybe one day we can even go look for her.”
“We can?”
“Yep. If we’re lucky, we might not have to go farther than the ferry. That’s where people saw her the first time.” I inhale slowly and marshal my courage. “Your Springer is special. When you squeeze her, she plays a recording of your daddy’s voice with a message he wanted you to hear if he died.”
Morgan reaches across the back of the couch and squeezes my shoulder. I was nervous to say the d-word, but he explained how important it is to talk about death in clear terms for kids Finn’s age.
Seb never told us about the message he recorded.
Morgan and I found it while searching for pictures to include in a gift we made for Finn—a book filled with stories about Seb told by his fisherman friends.
Like any fishing tale, the stories are embellished, but they paint Seb as the hero he’s always been, and will preserve his memory for Finn.
“Do you want to try it?” Morgan asks.
“If you’re not ready, that’s okay too,” I add.
Finn nods, and hugs the stuffed orca.
Seb’s voice rings out. “Hey, Finny.”
Finn’s brows lift quizzically. He hugs the orca again.
“You only have to hug it once,” Morgan says.
Finn gives him a condescending look that all but says I’ll squeeze the orca however many times I want.
“I miss you so much, and I love you even more,” Seb continues.
“I’m sorry that you’re missing me too. I promise I did everything I could to come back home to you.
” Seb clears his throat. “Talking to you is the best part of my day, and I wonder if maybe you could still talk to me? It doesn’t matter where or when, or whether you talk to me out loud or in your head, I’ll be listening, and don’t forget…
” His breath gusts against the mic. “If you miss me, you can find me in the little things—the soft silence of drizzle, the long night of winter, the warm sun on your face, the slow fall of rain. Find me in the puddles on the streets, especially when lights glimmer in them like gems. Find me in the waves lapping at the dock, in a bell ringing, whether it’s attached to a ship or not.
Find me in the flap of a bird’s wings, or a butterfly’s.
Find me in every living thing, and in everything that reminds you of me, because even though I can’t be with you, I will never leave you completely. I love you, Finny.”
Silence falls. Tears slide down Finn’s pink cheeks. “Daddy used to tell me that every night when he was fishing.” He strokes the soft plush on Springer’s head and squeezes it again. “Can I have a hug, Uncle Cole? You remind me of Daddy the most.”
“Of course.” I turn on the couch toward him and open my arms, expecting a simple hug, but Finn climbs into my lap and rests his chest against me, and then his head.
“I’m sorry I wasn’t here,” I whisper, and hug him so tightly. “But I’m here now, and I’m not going anywhere.”
“Thank you.”
He squeezes the orca again and settles against me.
Finn is asleep by the time Seb’s message finishes.
My tailbone aches, and muscle spasms tighten around my hips, but no amount of pain will stop me from being here for Finn.
Shay dims the lights and pantomimes that she’s going upstairs.
I bet she can’t wait for a break, and to return to her life, though I’m sure it’ll be hard on both of them.
Morgan sidles closer. “I’m proud of you, Sunshine.”
I rest my head on his shoulder. “Thank you for not giving up on me.”
“Never. Until death, remember?” He rises and reaches for Finn. “Come on. Let’s go to bed.”
I tighten my arms around Finn. “But what if he wakes up without me?”
“Finn is a deep sleeper who does karate in bed. We can set an alarm and wake up before him.”
“I don’t want to risk it. Make a bed for me on the floor. A true slumber party.”
Morgan rolls his eyes, and walks toward the guest room, returning a few minutes later with a mattress he then hauls up the stairs, like the strong, sexy man he is. The soft thump above means he dropped it in Finn’s room.
He returns for Finn and I follow as he carries him upstairs. The orca drops from Finn’s limp arm and tumbles down the steps.
“I’ll go get it,” I say.
When I pick it up, I hug it to my chest until I hear Seb’s voice again, and it feels like he’s not just talking to Finn, like he hoped his words would comfort me too.
“Find me in every living thing, and in everything that reminds you of me, because even though I can’t be with you, I will never leave you completely.”