The Summer I Dared: A Novel

by Barbara Delinsky

“Ten hours. Molly will call with updates. I can do it, Mom. There was a reason why I got so much sleep here.”

  She left to go upstairs and pack her things. When she returned, her mother was waiting in the hall with her own small bag and her mind made up. She was coming along.

  The waves were fierce, looming six, then eight, then ten feet above the Leila Sue. She was carried along at their mercy, twisting and turning at times, at others rising on their crest, then plunging headlong into a trough with force enough to break her back if she hit bottom. Noah figured they were in deep enough waters to preclude that. But the water shallowed out in the trough when it was pulled up into a crest. And then there was the danger of twisting and turning. Each time the Leila Sue turned broadside, waves broke on her deck with greater force. The good news was that they didn’t roll over. The bad news was that between the volume and the force of the waves, the bilge began taking on water.

  With the bilge pump lacking power, Noah pumped by hand. He didn’t care if the engine got wet; with a fouled tank, the engine wouldn’t be taking them anywhere, anyway. No, his concern was the weight of water collecting in the bilge. Enough, and the Leila Sue would sink.

  They took turns at it, with the person who was not pumping holding a tether tied to the waist of the other. The hits were drenching; the rest of the traps had been swept from the deck long before. Noah didn’t want Ian or him washing overboard, too.

  His muscles began to scream. He was working ten minutes to every five that Ian did, but he figured the boy was hurting, too. Taking a break, he sent him into the cabin to console a howling Lucas. Ian emerged with the tether tied to the dog’s collar.

  “I can’t leave him in there,” he said. “It’s worse than here.”

  Noah was frankly pleased that one decision, at least, had been made for him. Actually, another one had. The battery, drained by the horn and those brief instrument runs, had just died.

  “That’s fine,” he told Ian. “Just hold him good.”

  The boat was running before the seas now, being swept up to the crest of a gathering wave, then plunged into the trough, all the while buffeted by wind-driven rain. Noah had never been in anything as bad before. But then, he had never been sabotaged before.

  Furious at Haber and Welk or whomever, feeling betrayed by Julia and cursed by the gods, he returned to pumping the bilge with a vengeance. Lacking a villain to yell at, he settled for yelling at Ian.

  “I don’t disapprove of you,” he shouted over the roar of the sea. “I don’t know why you say that.”

  “You don’t say positive stuff,” Ian shouted back.

  “Do I say negative stuff?”

  “You don’t come to Washington. You don’t phone me much or see me much. You don’t want me living with you, you just leave me with Mom.”

  “You have more opportunity living there. Your Mom agrees.”

  “Then summers,” Ian shouted. “You never ask for those.”

  “You’re always booked up with things that sound better,” Noah shouted back.

  Neither waves nor rain diluted the disbelieving look Ian shot him. “Better than my being with my dad?”

  “Better than lobstering. Better than hanging out here.”

  “I thought you liked it here. You chose to come back.”

  “Only after I experienced other things,” Noah called, working the pump. “I had choices. I want you to have choices, too. That’s what going to college gives you.”

  Molly called once when Julia was driving through Delaware and again when they were crossing New Jersey. Both calls were as discouraging as the gathering clouds. A third call came shortly before five, after Julia had skirted New York City and entered southern Connecticut. Her heart ached.

  Ending the call, she relayed the news to Janet. “There’s no sign of them. A Coast Guard cutter is out searching, but they haven’t a clue. They’re thinking something may have happened to them early in the day, because very few of Noah’s traps were moved.”

  “Maybe they’re riding out the storm somewhere else?”

  “If Noah did that, he’d have called to let someone know.”

  “What about emergency signals?”

  “He carries flares. The cutter hasn’t seen anything. But the fog is thick, thick, thick.”

  “Can’t radar cut through fog?”

  It certainly could. But if the boat had hit a ledge and broken up, there wouldn’t be a blip for radar to catch. Likewise if the boat had blown up.

  Julia fought tears. She would never have entertained the thought of an explosion if Kim’s car hadn’t been blown up. Like death by drowning, this, too, was real. If a bomb was planted in Noah’s boat, set on a timer to hit when he was far enough from shore so that others wouldn’t see…

  “Julia?” Her mother’s voice brought her back with a start. “Where were you?”

  “Somewhere I don’t want to be,” Julia said and drove on under threatening skies.

  Ian’s peanut butter sandwiches had been long since devoured. Huddled in the wheelhouse with the boy and the dog, exhausted and worried, with nightfall less than two hours away, Noah gave Ian one of the PowerBars he kept stashed in the cuddy, precisely for emergencies like this—which was truly pathetic. He kept PowerBars, but not a radio beacon, dye markers, or a backup ship-to-shore. He kept flares, as the Coast Guard required for a boat his size. But the flares were used up. So here were a whole other bunch of “shouldas”—all worthless. He could beat up on himself forever, but what good would it do?

  He reasoned that Julia hadn’t betrayed him. Truly, he had no cause to think that. She had left to take care of unfinished business. She would be back.

  And the storm would let up. Once that happened, they could drift on the Leila Sue until they were found. All they had to do was to hold out until then.

  “We need pails,” he told Ian and pushed himself up. Snatching two from a stack inside the cabin, he passed one to Ian, then, holding on to the side of the boat, worked his way back to the bilge hatch and began bailing.

  Ian joined him, with Lucas still tethered to his waist. They were both soaking wet—Lucas looking sickly thin with his fur plastered down—but there was no fighting that. Nothing was dry. Absolutely nothing. Noah could feel the wet through his oilskins, through his boots, through his jeans and shirt, through his skin. If he wanted to be morbid, he could say he was halfway to becoming a sea creature.

  “I’m not going to college,” Ian declared loudly as he scooped up a pailful of water and heaved it over the side.

  “That’d be dumb.”

  “There you go. Calling me dumb.”

  “I said not going to college would be dumb,” Noah shouted. He had a feeling using pails was going to be as ineffective as the pump, but he had to do something. Better to stand here, feet anchored in the bilge while he weathered the tilt and tip of the boat, than slide around the wheelhouse floor. “If you want me to talk, you have to take the good with the bad.”

  Ian didn’t respond.

  “Wise move,” Noah called.

  The boat angled sharply to port, and another huge wave broke on the deck. Lucas was washed to a corner of the stern before the tether attached to Ian played out. Staying low to the deck, Ian scrambled over and carried him back.

  “Why no college?” Noah called when he returned.

  Ian retrieved his pail. “I need time off. Lots of kids are doing that now.”

  “What would you do?”

  “I don’t know,” he said and dug the pail into the water, “but what’s the point of college if I don’t know what I want to do with my life?” He hurled the contents of the pail into the sea.

  Noah did the same once, twice, five times, ten times, while the boat yawed and pulled. Rain was indistinguishable from ocean spray, and with the bilge filling faster than they could bail, it suddenly seemed important to Noah that he keep talking. “That’s what liberal arts programs are for.”

  “I hate the colleges I’ve seen. The classes are
big, the dorm rooms suck, and the weekends are an orgy. You want me to do that?”

  “Try small colleges,” Noah said, throwing another pailful over the side.

  “Small means selective. My SAT scores stink.”

  “Ah.” The bottom line. Noah straightened. “You’re afraid you won’t get into the schools you apply to.”

  Ian, too, stopped bailing. “Do you know how embarrassing that would be for Mom?” he shouted. “Like, here she is, a big person at my school, and even with the pull of the college counselor, who is her friend, her own son can’t get into a college?”

  “No one’s asking you to go to an Ivy League college,” Noah argued as the boat headed up another wave. With water in the bilge, they were riding deeper now.

  Ian braced himself for the descent. “You went to one.”

  “You’re not me.”

  “Not as smart.”

  The Leila Sue crested the wave and soared down. “Just as smart,” Noah shouted, bracing himself as Ian was doing. “Maybe smarter, only growing up in a different time and place.”

  They hit the trough. The bow went way under, water poured up against the wheelhouse windows, then rose to the roof and threatened to continue on over into the body of the boat—it seemed forever that the Leila Sue hung there, forever that Noah waited in horror, until the whole thing reversed itself and the bow was buoyant again.

  Then he heard a strangled cry. He looked back at the stern in time to see Ian off the boat on the tail of a wave—boy and dog both—and Noah whirled, lunged for the end of the tether, and grabbed it tight. Losing his footing, he slid through several inches of water all the way into the stern before his boots caught, but he came up pulling the rope, pulling as hard as he could. Ian was ten feet behind the Leila Sue and being dragged right along into the next wave.

  He would be immersed. Human lungs were no match for the power of the storm. Even if Noah could go back for the life ring—which he couldn’t—Ian could be pushed underwater and held long enough to nullify the effect of the life jacket.

  Keeping his eyes on the boy, he pulled at the rope; the water fought him, or maybe it was the weight of boy and dog, but he kept at it. He pulled harder, pulled faster, saw Ian moving closer, but at the same time felt the upward surge of the boat. He didn’t shout to Ian, just pulled that rope, then, when the boy was close enough, reached down, grabbed his wrist, and hauled him up and aboard, all six feet, 170 pounds of him, as though he were a child. Lucas was next. Noah got him aboard seconds before a huge wall of water hit the deck.

  Just south of Boston, the rain began. Julia put on the wipers and tightened her hands on the wheel, but she didn’t slow down. Mind, heart, soul—all were on Big Sawyer with the rest of the people who were gathered at the Grill, anxiously awaiting word on the Leila Sue—and when mind, heart, and soul weren’t at the Grill, they were out in the storm. Julia felt the water again as she had the night of the accident. She relived the pull of the waves, the submersion, the terror. She was over her head in memories: split-second flashes of faces and cries, the pointed purple bow of The Beast.

  “He must be something,” her mother remarked gravely.

  Returning to reality with a start, Julia shot her a blank look.

  “Noah Prine,” Janet said. “We’ve been out of Baltimore all this time, and you haven’t once asked how I feel about going up there. It’s not going to be easy, Julia. Seeing your father is only the first challenge. The bigger one is seeing my sister. It’s been twenty-five years. I’m sitting here remembering everything, everything before and everything after. You haven’t asked about that.”

  No. Julia hadn’t. Nor did she plan to. This was one of the things she had learned in the past three weeks. There were times when her own needs came first. “I’m sorry, Mom. I’m on overload here. I can’t deal with that right now.”

  “That’s why I say he must be something.” Janet paused. “Yes?”

  Julia checked her rearview mirror. Putting on her left blinker, she moved into the passing lane. “Yes.”

  “Is he the reason you’re divorcing Monte?”

  “No. I’m divorcing Monte because our marriage has no meaning anymore. I’m divorcing him because he’s a hopeless cheater. I deserve better.”

  “Where does Noah come in?”

  Julia passed one car, then a second, cleared it comfortably, and blinkered right. “He is… just… a breath of fresh air.”

  “That could mean anything,” said Janet. “What about him is so fresh?”

  “The way he looks at me,” Julia offered without having to think. “The way he talks. The way he smiles. It’s all genuine.” She did think then. “His silence is fresh. We don’t have to be talking. There’s stuff up there that takes the place of words. Everything is sensual.”

  “As in pleasing the senses,” her mother correctly put in. “Is that what Zoe loves about the island?”

  “I don’t know. We haven’t talked about it, but I’d guess it is. Life there is rich.” She shot her mother a curious look. “I don’t know if that makes sense to you.”

  Janet didn’t confirm or deny. Instead, she said, “You were enthralled with the place right from the first. That’s one of the reasons I sent you and your brothers back. They had other things to do, but you had less, and you always looked forward to going. Could you live there?”

  “I think so.” Actually, she knew so, all the more the nearer they came. She was returning to a place she wanted to be. As frightened as she was for Noah, as much as he filled her mind, there was room for that knowledge.

  “What if Noah’s not there?”

  “Dead, you mean?”

  “Would you want to stay there then?”

  She hadn’t gone that far. She did know that her feelings for Big Sawyer were wrapped in and around her feelings for Noah. Big Sawyer without him?

  She teared up. “He’ll be fine,” she insisted and took one hand from the wheel only long enough to brush a tear from her cheek. “He won’t die. He’ll be fine.”

  Darkness snaked into the fog. There hadn’t been a monster wave since the last once, and though the boat continued to buck and turn and rise and duck, Noah was too exhausted, too numb with relief to do anything but sit in the wheelhouse with Ian. Their backs were against the console, their sides were touching. Ian had lost his boots to the sea, but he was alive. Same with Lucas, who lay sprawled, trembling, across their legs. Each had a hand on the dog. He was the connector, the one they touched in lieu of touching each other.

  In a situation that was grossly surreal, Noah picked up where he had left off. Quietly now, lacking the strength for more, he said, “The thing about Ivy League schools? It’s okay.” He breathed, shooting for greater calm. “Barely a third of my high school class went to college, and none of those applied to the ones I did. That gave me an edge in the admissions process.” He drew in another breath, though the air was saturated with water and salt. “I know that competition is bad in your class. But opting out is worse.”

  Ian was totally drained. His voice was weak. “What am I supposed to do?”

  Noah felt an inkling of strength. “Apply to different schools from those your friends choose. Pick ones you like. Don’t be pressured by anyone else, not by me or your mother or the college counselor, and certainly not by your friends. Here’s a chance to do what you want, for a change. Go for it.”

  “If we live.”

  “We’ll live,” Noah said, feeling even more strength. “We’ve come this far, haven’t we? If you didn’t die back there in the water, you won’t die now.”

  Nor would Noah, he realized. He had been spared dying on the Amelia Celeste so that he could mend his relationship with his son, and he was on his way to doing that. There were things they could do together, things that went beyond lobstering. And then there was Julia. For a little while, sitting there beside Ian, with the weight of Lucas holding them down against the rock and reel of the boat, he let himself think about her. It started with images of
the night they’d shared and went on to more innocent ones. Work, play, travel, family, sex—he could share it all with her, could do it in a heartbeat. He had let his marriage die of attrition. Julia was his second chance. Wasn’t this another reason why he hadn’t died with Hutch?

  Go for it, he had told Ian. The same applied to him. Realizing that, he felt conviction, and feeling conviction, he was suddenly calm.

  Then he realized that the calm wasn’t only internal. The Leila Sue continued to roll in the waves, but the waves were no longer as angry, nor the rain as fierce. Sure enough, as night fell, the storm waned.

  Chapter 21

  Thirty minutes shy of Rockland, Julia got word from Molly that the weather had begun to improve. By the time she parked at the pier, the rain had stopped. Even in the dark, the fog had lifted enough for her to see Matthew Crane and his nephew’s Cobalt, in full canvas, waiting to take Janet and her to Big Sawyer.

  Matthew helped Janet board, then Julia, who gave him a hug. Drawing back, she asked, “Any word?”

  “Not yet.”

  “Can you see enough to get us back?”

  “I got me here, didn’t I?” Matthew said lightly. “There’s no one else better in these waters than me. Know how many times I’ve made this crossing? There’s reason they sent me to get you. Besides, the others are heading out to search for Noah.”

  Julia didn’t ask him to speculate on what had happened to the Leila Sue, but just let him pilot the Cobalt. Inside the boat’s canvas, the three of them were protected from the lingering mist and sea spray that rose. The waves were hearty, but the Cobalt cut neatly through, and the fog continued to lift. Increasingly, Julia could see the running lights of other boats, lobster boats that would never be leaving port this late at night if one of their own weren’t in trouble.

  In less than fifteen minutes, Matthew steered into the harbor, and the chop was considerable even here. Julia could only begin to imagine what it had been like at the height of the storm. It was hard to imagine what docking would be like in less-skilled hands than Matthew’s. True to his word, he did know wind and waves, and negotiated the boat neatly alongside the wharf. Of all the people gathered there in jeans, slickers, and hats, front and center were Molly and George.