Chapter 36
JONAH
The radio crackled as I adjusted the dial, hearing static and popping noises as it tried to find and focus on a station.
‘…Pine Harbor coastal conditions are expected to deteriorate this afternoon, with southwest winds increasing to twenty-five knots, gusting higher at times. Snow developing in the afternoon and increasing overnight, with gale-force warnings in place.’
My eyes lifted to the gray sky, seeing dark clouds low on the horizon.
Clouds like that never led to anything good.
But I’d seen worse. The diesel thrum of the engines worked its way into my bones the way it always did after a few days at sea.
Jim’s boat was bigger than mine, designed and built to handle the harsh winter punishment, but even she would seem flimsy if the seas got too heavy.
We’d been out for three days already, working a line of traps off Williams Bank. In that time, we’d only seen one other vessel. Williams Bank lay in the middle ground between the safer, inshore breeding grounds and the deep, deep waters further out, where bigger boats could stay out for weeks.
It was cold. Bitterly cold. I hadn’t felt my nose for days – that kind of cold – and my fingers were numb even through my gloves.
Jim came into the wheelhouse. ‘Wind’s picking up,’ he said, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth. His moustache was yellowed from the nicotine.
‘Yeah, just caught the tail end of the forecast. Things might turn to shit later.’
‘What’s new.’ He shook his head. ‘Good old Maine in December. You still good to stay and haul the rest of the traps?’
The temptation to say nah, let’s go home instead so I could see Mae was strong, but that wouldn’t be fair on Jim. These trips paid his bills. ‘Yeah, I’m good.’
My phone dinged in my pocket, I pulled my glove off so I could check it.
Mae
I heard the weather forecast. Things might get a bit rough out there later.
Jonah
Yeah I heard it too. We’re keeping an eye on it.
Mae
Are you guys going to head home?
Jonah
Not yet. Still have a few traps to pull. Back tomorrow as scheduled.
Mae
OK. Be careful.
Jonah
I always am.
Mae
I miss you.
Jonah
I miss you too.
‘What’s got you all happy?’ Jim asked, coming up from below with two steaming mugs of coffee.
‘What?’
‘Well I know that big old smile ain’t for me.’
‘You’re right. It’s not.’
‘In my experience, a smile like that can only be from a woman.’
I chuckled and blew on the top of the coffee. ‘Her name is Mae. She’s a nurse. Moved here not long ago. We’ve been… getting to know each other.’
‘Mae? I’ve heard about her. She’s been going to the house and changing the dressing for my brother after he had that skin cancer off. He said she’s very pretty.’
‘She is.’
‘He also said she’s real nice. Kind.’
‘Your brother is right.’
‘It serious?’
I thought about it before answering. ‘I think so, yeah. It’s early days, but I’ve never felt like this about anyone before.’
‘She must be pretty special.’
I thought about Mae trusting me to teach her how to use snowshoes.
Our dance at the turning of the light. Ice skating.
The sheer and utter panic I’d felt when I couldn’t find her in the storm, and then our night together in the tent.
I thought about her face the other morning when I’d kissed her goodbye.
It was the middle of the night and she’d still been in bed.
Sound asleep beside me. I’d tried to get up without waking her but extricating my body from beneath her head, arm and one leg had been impossible, and she’d woken up, sleepily asking if I had to go.
I hated leaving her. Hair disheveled, lips pouting.
I wanted nothing more than to crawl back beneath the sheets and make love to her.
But I’d already committed to Jim, and I never went back on my word.
‘Yeah, she is,’ I told him. ‘Very special.’
A gust of wind sent the wheelhouse door banging.
‘We’ll finish this lot and head north,’ Jim said, peering out at the sky. ‘Storm ain’t looking like anything we can’t handle.’
‘Copy that.’
The radio crackled to life.
‘Amber Dawn, Amber Dawn, Amber Dawn this is the Golden Pearl, channel 6, do you copy? Over.’
Jim picked up the radio. ‘Golden Pearl this is Amber Dawn. Over.’
‘How’s your catch, Jim? Over.’
‘Not bad at all, thank you for asking. But don’t worry, we left you some. Over.’
‘Generous as always. Over.’
Jim chuckled. ‘You boys heading back in? Over?’
‘Negative. We still have pots in the water. Keeping an eye on that weather though, which is why I’m calling. You guys sticking around or heading home? Over.’
‘He’s nervous,’ Jim said to me. ‘Can hear it in his voice.’
I looked out the wheelhouse window at the horizon. ‘Can’t say as I blame him.’
‘We’re staying put for now,’ Jim replied to Dylan over the radio. ‘Over.’
‘Glad to hear it. Keep in touch. Over.’
Jim exhaled heavily, cocked his head as if listening to the wind. ‘Lock down your boat and stay safe, Dylan,’ he warned. ‘Things might get a little gnarly later. Over.’
‘Roger that. Over.’
We spent the next few hours working hard side by side.
The deck was slippery, the wind biting. When it got dark, Jim hit the switch for the deck lights and flooded the deck with yellow light.
Snow started falling, but in light flurries, scooped away by the rising winds before it could land on the deck.
The wind picked up, whipping the sea into a frenzy.
By the time we’d scooped the last trap I was done in.
Numb, starving and tired. Back inside I stood in front of the small bar heater and tried to defrost. It was like trying to melt an iceberg with a flashlight.
‘You look like death warmed up,’ Jim commented.
‘You don’t look so flash yourself.’
He laughed. ‘Why don’t you take the first sleep. I know how hard it is for you young’uns to keep up.’
I chuckled ruefully, heading downstairs to the bunks in the small crew cabin. ‘I’m too tired to argue.’
After peeling off my wet layers, I climbed into the sleeping bag and closed my eyes. Even the shuddering and heaving of the boat couldn’t keep me awake, and very quickly I was out like a light.