Chapter 8
EIGHT
MAX
Max looked up at the gray house perched on top of the hillside.
From her position on the bobbing dock that creaked with each passing ripple in the water, the house looked no larger than the size of her thumb, and if she squinted, holding it up for comparison, the house completely disappeared.
She leaned back on the heels of her hands, weathered planks of pressure-treated wood scratching against her skin.
Winter in Maryland differed drastically from the ones she had grown accustomed to in Connecticut.
For example, it was Christmas Day and warm enough for her to lie out on the dock without needing anything besides the dark blue crewneck with big yellow letters spelling out the word NAVY she had borrowed from her dad.
It had been a while since she had seen her dad, not since Christmas three years ago, and she hadn’t really talked to him in the last few months.
Not out of a lack of love, but due to the ever-dwindling list of shared conversation topics between them.
Max liked to think she got her stoicism, her I can take on any challenge in my way mindset, from her dad.
She had always admired his hard-working nature, but now, well into her adult years, she couldn’t help but wonder if her dad was hiding something behind that strong facade he showed the world in the same way she was.
The dock shifted beneath her and a moment later a long shadow blocked the sun. She opened her eyes, squinting up into her dad’s smile. In his hands, two mugs, one topped with an aggressive amount of whipped cream, the other with a single jumbo marshmallow.
“I have chairs.” Her dad’s voice was warm and low as he tilted his head to the stack of chairs piled next to the tiny riverside shed.
“Too much effort required for chairs, but I’ll take the hot chocolate,” Max joked, curling her body up into a criss-cross position. “C’mon, pull up some dock.” She patted the ground next to her. “Watch out for the seagull shit.”
Her dad chuckled, handing her a mug as he took a seat next to her, taking a large bite off the top of the fluffy white whipped-cream mountain.
“That can’t be healthy,” Max muttered, her dad grinning like a little kid.
“It’s not, but it sure is fun.”
They sat like that for a moment. The sun warmed their faces as they sat cross-legged on the dock looking out over the water. They each watched as a bald eagle swooped down onto the dock across the way, a fresh hunt clutched in its talons.
“It’s like you have your own private viewing of Animal Planet,” Max muttered, bringing her mug to her lips, the creamy chocolate liquid coating her tongue.
When Max was younger, the only child of two lifelong members of the Navy, she’d kept a notebook full of the descriptions of the weather and the animals from all the various places they had lived.
There had been Southern California (not the fun part, but the part out in the desert that she remembered being incredibly hot).
From there, they had moved to North Carolina, Florida, and a brief stopover in Rhode Island before landing in Maryland ahead of her senior year of high school.
But this place had never really felt like home to her. Especially after her mom passed away.
“I’ve got a bird guidebook upstairs I can grab. We can get the binoculars out like when you were little.” A tiny, hopeful smile lit up her dad’s face, and Max couldn’t help the twinge of guilt in her chest. She really should visit more. They were, after all, the only family they each had left.
“I’d like that.” She smiled, taking the mug from her dad’s outstretched hand as he got to his feet, disappearing up the wooden staircase.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She grinned, seeing Annie’s name and a new message from her.
Annie 11:34 AM
Hope you’re having a good Christmas! Did you decide what to spend your pickle winnings on?
Max 11:35 AM
Merry Christmas. I did indeed. My pickle winnings were enough to purchase one way’s worth of gas to drive down to Maryland. Inflation’s a bitch.
Annie 11:35 AM
Truth. What are you doing in Maryland?
Max 11:36 AM
Visiting with my dad for a few days. We’re about to log some solid bird-watching hours. You?
Annie 11:37 AM
Sounds relaxing. I survived Christmas with my family so far, and now we’ve all kind of spread out for the usual Dillinger post-Christmas morning crash. If you see anything fun, take a picture and send it to me?
Max leaned forward, grinning as she braced her weight on her forearms, typing out a snarky response while getting an idea.
She opened up the camera app, fixing her hair in the mirrored view, snapping a photo of herself: sun on her skin, the dock and hillside behind her as a backdrop.
But it was the smile looking back at her in the image that stopped her.
It wasn’t forced; it wasn’t fake. It was her real, genuine smile reserved for only those closest to her.
When had she decided Annie crossed that threshold?
She sent the photo off without a second thought as the dock jostled, her dad returning with a guidebook and binoculars in hand. Her phone buzzed again.
Annie 11:38 AM
What’s this? A rare sight to behold. The elusive species Maximus Martinus spotted in the wild. Truly glad this moment was documented. ;)
“Uh oh,” her dad said, sitting down on the dock beside her. “What’s her name?”
Heat rose in Max’s cheeks at her dad’s insinuation. She shoved her phone into her pocket, ready to explain. “It’s not like that with Annie.”
Her dad shifted, setting the items down before he picked up his mug. “Okay, sure.” He nodded. “And why isn’t it like that with Annie?”
Max let out an exasperated sigh. She and her dad weren’t the closest, but there had always been one thing that bonded them together. Her dad, a US Navy Admiral and Commandant of Midshipmen at the Naval Academy, was a sucker for gossip.
“It’s not like that because Annie is a serious person.
Like, she wants to get married and settle down with the white-picket-fence-and-two-point-five-kids type of girl.
And I still haven’t really even figured out a career yet.
” Max shrugged as if that settled that, but a part of her knew that wasn’t the full truth.
“How are things with work? Are you still juggling the winery and the country club?” her dad asked.
What was it about dads and always wanting to know how work was going?
She inhaled deeply, letting out her exhale in one long breath.
“Work’s okay. I was supposed to meet with the man who owns the club last week to talk about that wine expert position, but it got pushed back till after the holidays.
Winery is great; I think I’m doing a good job running the tasting room, and Jack—he’s my friend I told you about, the winemaker whose parents own the vineyard—he has been showing me so much about the ins and outs of making wine. ”
“That’s really great stuff, Max.” Her dad’s voice trailed off as he picked up the bird guidebook, thumbing through the yellowing pages that were older than she was.
For a moment, a hurt lingered in place of the conversation she hoped they might have, of the opportunity for a deeper point of connection between them, but it was clear her dad wasn’t interested, which really shouldn’t have surprised her at all.
He hadn’t always been like that—someone who only wanted to exist at surface level with her.
Max had grown accustomed to spending a great deal of time one-on-one with each of her parents as their family navigated deployments and duty stations.
It wasn’t uncommon for one of them to be gone for six to twelve months out of the year, the other staying back to take care of Max, giving her ample time to really get to know her parents and who they were.
To her, that had always been normal life.
It was only after her mom passed away and Max had fully moved out that she started to notice the changes in her dad.
Where there was once a spirited, animated, good-natured man, there was now a shadow of that person, like the light had been extinguished from his life.
For a while, Max had tried to work past that part of him, tried to find the man her dad used to be, but it was no use.
That part of him died along with her mother, and the heartbreak of trying to resurrect it had been too much pressure on her shoulders.
She looked out over the water where gentle ripples emanated from a central point.
A loon was carving its way across the surface.
Max didn’t know what came over her, but the next thing she knew, a question was leaving her lips, soft and unsure.
“When was the last time you talked to Mom’s parents?
” It felt weird to refer to her grandparents in such a removed way, but it wasn’t like she had known them very well.
Her dad’s face twisted, confusion spreading as his dark brows knit together in thought behind the thin frames of his glasses. “At the funeral,” he answered, finally. “Why?”
Max sighed, suddenly unsure if she should have opened this can of worms. “Just curious. What do you know about the land they left me? The vineyard in Michigan?” she asked. Now that the conversation had been started, she might as well get what she wanted from it.
“Not a lot. Your mom wanted nothing to do with it or the family business. That’s why she joined the Navy—it was her way out of a predetermined life,” he said simply, as if that was all the information needed, but Max wanted more.