Chapter 21
CHAPTER 21
B randon had never understood nature lovers, tree-huggers, granolas, or earth-loving barefoot dancers, whatever they were called, until now.
“I want to buy a boat!” he said when they returned to the harbor after hiking to the lighthouse. The tiny island that housed the red and white lighthouse turned out to be much bigger than he expected. Over half a mile in diameter, the island in the middle of the bay had granite cliffs, tall, sturdy pine trees, and the most stunning views he had ever seen. He felt like he was at the edge of the world.
Cora laughed, and so did the captain of the ship, Kyle, who had to be no older than twenty.
Cora turned in her seat to face Brandon. “Isn’t it amazing?”
Brandon nodded, still in awe of the views, as Kyle slowed the boat in the no-wake zone. “I’ve never been on a boat before besides a ferry.”
Kyle grinned at that. “It’s addicting, so watch out.”
When they docked, Brandon shook Kyle’s hand. “Thanks so much for taking me out today.”
Kyle shrugged it off as though taking a day away from catching lobsters was no big deal. “It’s slow this time of year anyway. I would’ve been stuck at home fixing traps. I’d rather be on the water.”
Brandon liked the young man who drove a boat better than most people could drive a car. “You do this every day? Go out and fish for lobsters?”
He suddenly didn’t think writing was his only dream job.
“Yup,” Kyle held the wheel steady as they drifted into the docks.
He admired the young man who had his own boat and fished. From what Cora told him, fishing for lobster could be quite lucrative, but it also came with quite a bit of danger. Not everyone could become a Kyle, Brandon supposed. But not everyone could write a novel, either.
“We’re headed to Billy’s Tavern for the best chowder in New England,” Cora said as they docked.
“Is Kyle joining us?” Brandon asked, wondering if it would be just the two of them.
“No,” she shook her head. He’s got a girlfriend he has to hang out with.”
Brandon noticed Kyle roll his eyes. “So, your mom is dating his dad?”
Cora nodded. “They’re family at this point.”
Kyle’s grin grew at that. “You guys enjoy your chowder.”
“We will,” Cora said, jumping onto the dock. She held out her hand to Brandon, but he pretended he didn’t need it, only to stumble getting out.
“Was it that hard to take my hand?” she asked, grinning at him.
He chuckled. “I’m trying to act cool.”
“It’s not cool to take a woman’s hand to get out of a boat?” she said.
At that moment, Brandon took a big chance—one of the biggest chances he ever took—and said, “Not if you’re trying to impress her.”
She stopped in her tracks on the dock, the floating boards swaying up and down.
His heart sped up the longer she stood there, silent.
Then, the right side of her mouth perked up. “So, that’s what that was?”
She let out the sweetest laugh he had ever heard and slipped her arm into his, leaning her body against him.
He placed his hand on top of hers as they walked together in sync. “That’s what this is.”
They got a table by the window that overlooked the harbor and talked about nothing and everything as they ate clam chowder. They talked about school and family. They told work secrets and funny stories like how he got locked in the women’s bathroom or how she set off the alarm in the middle of the night. He couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed that hard.
“So, what do you think of the chowder?” she asked.
“It’s good,” he said. “But I’ve had better.”
This made her laugh, and he liked the feeling he got when she laughed.
“Oh, really?” she said.
“If I can get my hands on some of that cod from the market. I’d make the best chowder you’ve ever had.” He couldn’t get over the fresh fish her aunt and uncle sold just down the street. “Forget about it.”
She held up her fingers like Marlon Brando and said, in a thick Italian accent, “Forget about it.”
Brandon roared at how bad her impersonation had been.
“You’ll love dinner,” Cora said, pushing her finished bowl to the side. My mom makes the most amazing lobster pie. It’s so good.”
She closed her eyes for full effect.
“So, how’s working at the mill?” he asked, curious if she liked it. He wasn’t sure if he was going to tell her about his run-in with Madame Dubois.
“Great,” she said, enthusiastically. “I’ve already learned more about the process of creating fabrics than I ever did working with Madame Dubois.”
“She’s an idiot,” he said, not willing to dampen the mood by mentioning her stupidity. “She let the best thing she had go.”
Cora tilted her head at him. “I’m glad you came up.”
Brandon couldn’t help but stare at her. He couldn’t get rid of his smile either. “I’m glad I came up, too.”
He couldn’t believe he had waited all this time to do it.
Her eyes focused on him from across the table, and for a moment, Brandon didn’t notice anyone or anything around him. It was as if he and Cora were the only two people in the whole restaurant.
“You want to go for a walk in some blueberry bushes?” she asked.
“Let’s go.”
They walked along the main street back to the park where he first saw the statue. Then followed a path beyond the public beach that meandered along the granite shoreline. While they walked, she told him the story of her grandfather’s shipwreck and survival. She shared about his addictions and how they ruined his family. “My grandmother ended up leaving him and meeting my Grandpa Gordon.”
He wondered if he would’ve been that guy if he had kept drinking. When they stopped to take in the view of the rocky beach by her mother’s cottage, he slowly reached out to her hand and took it in his. When she squeezed it, his heart jumped inside his chest, and he couldn’t hold back his smile. He didn’t know how long they stayed staring out at the water, but he could’ve stayed there all night.
When they started walking again, he told her about his family, about his father’s cancer, and how he started drinking to cover up the fear of losing his father.
“It’s why writing this book is so hard,” he explained. “I knew I had to write about a character going through grief who redeems himself, but it’s hard to sit in the pain again.”
“Like growing pains,” she whispered. “I could feel that while reading it.” When Brandon rolled his eyes at the compliment, she continued. “The grief felt real. I could feel the weight of his pain, knowing he never got to fix their relationship.”
Brandon’s biggest regret. His father died before he could redeem himself.
When the sun began to fall behind the trees, and Cora’s nose turned pink, they walked back to the cottage. As soon as they reached the front door, Brandon could smell a mouthwatering aroma coming from inside.
“Is that the lobster pie?” he asked.
“It sure is!” Cora said, opening the door.
“Hi,” Muriel said. “I’m Muriel.”
“Brandon.” He offered his hand. He could see the resemblance right away. Even Cora’s sister’s laugh sounded like her, light and feathery and contagious.
As they ate dinner, it didn’t take long to see where Cora got her warm personality. Everyone in her family, including her mother’s boyfriend’s extended family, had been so welcoming and kind that Brandon felt completely at home. When the doorbell rang, he almost thought he saw Julian peeking in the window when he realized who it was.
“Oliver!” Muriel waved at him to come inside. “You don’t have to wait outside. You can come in.”
The couple came together in a kiss before he said hello to the group. “You must be Brandon.”
Brandon stood from his seat to reach out his hand. He couldn’t believe how much the brothers looked alike—it was almost uncanny. “Nice to meet you,” Brandon said.
Meredith served a warm blueberry pie with vanilla ice cream for dessert. After everyone finished, Brandon helped clear the table with Cora as everyone retreated to the living room.
“I really like your family.” He used a fork to scrape all the crumbs off the plates.
“Yeah, I’m starting to appreciate them more being here,” she said.
“Have you talked to your dad?” he asked.
She shook her head. “No, not really.”
He nodded. “I don’t know much about your relationship, but if there was any way I could have one more moment with my dad, even fighting, I’d take it.”
She set down the plates she held in her hand and let out a long sigh. “I know. You’re right. I know I just have to get over the whole young wife thing. It’s just hard.”
He got it. “I bet.”
“I should probably just go over to his house and talk,” she said, crossing her arms against her chest.
“You should still have boundaries,” he offered, remembering how many times her father would come into the restaurant, not caring if she was working or not.
She turned on the water. “Do you have plans for tomorrow?”
He dropped the silverware into the dishwasher. “I’m going to try to finish a book.”
“Right.” She turned to him, holding the sponge, then said, “If you do, how about I make you my famous fish and chips for dinner?”
“That sounds perfect.” Brandon decided right then and there that he’d do whatever it took to finish that book.