by Susan Wiggs
Mike and Mary Margaret stood at the edge of the room for a minute, looking around. “That’s Allie Monroe,” she said, indicating a girl with curly hair. “She just got braces. And the one dancing right by the DJ is Kandy Procter. Her dad’s related to that TV news lady. He’s bald, isn’t he?” Mary Margaret’s face glowed, and she grabbed Mike’s hand. “And everybody’s checking you out. You’re the bomb, Dad.”
“You might change your mind after you see my dancing.”
“We don’t have to dance if you don’t want to.”
The music changed to “My Girl.” Perfect. “Are you kidding?” he asked. “Come on, gorgeous. We’re dancing.”
Leading her out to the floor, he forced himself to remember the steps Sandy had taught him. Forward-left-back-right-forward. He hoped like hell he wouldn’t blow it.
He didn’t blow it. He and Mary Margaret danced as though they were old hands, never missing a beat. The way she looked up at him, with such wonder in her eyes, made him feel ten feet tall.He’d spent the past year nursing bitter regrets about all he’d lost; now it was time to move on. Moments like this reminded him that somethings would always be a part of his heart, no matter what.
The song ended, and he twirled her under his arm like Sandy had shown him.
“I thought you said you didn’t know how to dance,” Mary Margaret said, grinning.
“Yeah, well, I took a few lessons.”
“Really? From who?”
He could tell from the look on her face that she wished she hadn’t asked. But she had. “From Sandra Winslow, as a matter of fact.” He hesitated. “Do you have a problem with that?”
Mary Margaret hesitated, her face answering without words. “I’m hungry, Dad.” She headed for the refreshments table.
Fine, he thought, following her. She didn’t want to hear it. She might have to one day, though. Since last weekend, when he and Sandy had all but ignited the boat, he’d thought a lot about what it would be like, having her as part of his life. He’d have to bring her together with his kids, and not just incidentally. He wondered if he could do that.
Chapter 25
On a blustery Saturday afternoon, Mary Margaret and Kevin scrambled out of the car at the Paradise docks. She almost forgot to say good-bye to her mother and Carmine as she grabbed her gear out of the trunk. It was a rare day of glorious sun-shine, an unexpected gift in the middle of a drab winter. Her dad promised they could go boating if the weather held. She loved boating more than the Backstreet Boys, pepperoni pizza and field hockey combined.
Dad waited by the harbormaster’s office. Zeke and Kevin raced across the parking lot toward each other and met in a joyous clash. Her mom went over to her dad and started talking while Carmine waited in the car, the engine running. Mary Margaret could hear her mother rattling off the usual instructions. Make sure they wear their life jackets. Don’t let Kevin drink anything with caffeine in it. They need to be home early tomorrow because both kids have homework. . . .
Mary Margaret thought about the way her parents had been the other day, when her dad came to pick her up for the Valentine’s dance. Her heart had practically leaped out of her chest in wild, impossible hope. But the moment passed, and things went back to the way they were.
Her dad nodded his head and reassured her mom— they’d be fine, he wouldn’t keep them too late tomorrow, he’d make sure they brushed their teeth. He always tried to be totally cooperative with her mom, because he didn’t want to get a bad evaluation from the social worker who checked on them and wrote her stupid reports. Mary Margaret hated the fact that some custody evaluator kept tabs on them. It wasn’t like they ever did anything wrong.
Mary Margaret remembered to turn and wave as her mother and Carmine drove away. Dad gave them both his special glad-to-see-you grin and said, “Ready, guys?”
“You betcha,” Kevin yelled, and ran down the dock, his untied sneakers slapping on the planks. Zeke’s toenails skittered on the wood as the dog kept pace.
Mary Margaret fell in step with her father. “Where are we going today?”
“I thought maybe the state park at Wetherill. What do you think?”
“Fine by me.” She didn’t really care. It was the getting there that mattered.
“We’re having company today,” he said, his voice very casual.
“What do you mean?”
“I’ve invited a friend along.”
This was something new. Usually when her dad took them boating, it was just the three of them, motoring along through deep waters, exploring the islands and inlets of the coast. In summer, sometimes they’d go out as far as Block Island. But they’d never had company before. Back when her parents were together, her mother used to come along sometimes, making egg salad sandwiches in the galley and yelling at Kevin to keep his life jacket on.
“You mean someone else’s going with us?”
“Yep. Grab that bag of ice, will you?”
She frowned, trying to figure out how big a deal this was to him. He was acting cool, but then, her dad always acted cool. They got to the Fat Chance. Mary Margaret froze when she saw who waited there, in the cockpit, holding on to an aluminum ladder.
“You guys remember Sandra Winslow,” Dad said.
“Hiya.” Kevin jumped into the boat. Zeke leaped in after him. Kevin grinned at Sandra, not at all bothered by her presence. Mary Margaret stared down at her hands. The Coral Candy polish from her Valentine’s Day manicure was badly chipped. She should have rubbed it all off with nail polish remover.
“How are you, Kevin?” Sandra said. “This is my first time to go out on your dad’s boat. You’ll have to show me what to do.”
“You need to wear a life jacket.” Kevin puffed up with authority. “You have to keep it on at all times.”
“I think I can handle that.” She passed him a yellow life jacket from the stowage locker in the cockpit, and pulled out another for herself.
“That one’s mine,” Mary Margaret burst out, climbing into the boat. “I always wear that one.”
“Liar,” Kevin said. The traitor. “They’re all the same.”
“Shows how much you know,” Mary Margaret said. “This is the one I always wear.” She prepared herself for combat, but Sandra Winslow simply handed over the thick yellow jacket without saying a word.
“The straps are adjusted for her fat butt,” Kevin said, doubling over with giggles.
Mary Margaret’s temper seethed, but before she could react, Sandra grabbed Kevin by the vest and said, “So is this one adjusted for your big mouth?”
That made him giggle harder. Dad hadn’t said a word, but she could feel him watching them. She couldn’t tell what he was thinking.
Sandra put on a different vest, a mildewed one, clipping it over her green hooded sweatshirt. Dad paused to tighten the nylon belt around Sandra, and as he did, he leaned forward and murmured something in a low voice. When she looked up at him, there was no mistaking what was in her eyes. Mary Margaret had seen it a hundred times in a hundred other women—the librarian, the grocery checkout clerk, her earth science teacher . . . They all wanted her dad, and Sandra was now a member of that club.
Sandra stepped back and smiled, nice as you please. “It’s good to see you again, Mary Margaret.”
Mary Margaret didn’t know what to say. Now she knew why Sandra was being so nice. It didn’t have anything to do with her or Kevin, just her dad. She hated it when women were nice simply to impress him—it happened all the time. She was getting sick and tired of it.
She burned with resentment. This was her weekend with her dad. She didn’t want to share him with anyone, even a famous writer.
“You want to help me fire up the engines?” he asked Kevin. Neither her dad nor her brother seemed to notice how quiet Mary Margaret was. She could feel Sandra watching her and wondered if she had noticed.
Dad went to the pilothouse and started the engines. They coughed to life, filling the air with diesel smoke. He acted like there
was nothing unusual about having a stranger aboard. A stranger he called his friend. “We’re ready to cast off,” he said over the rumble of the engines. “Mary Margaret, can you get the bow lines?”
“Sure.” She scrambled forward and untied the lines from the big cleats attached to the dock. She was an expert at this, and proud of it. She knew how to cast off and climb aboard without allowing the rope to foul or get wet. She did the port side first and then the starboard side, and finally the stern lines. Sandra stood there in the cockpit like useless ballast.
Within a few minutes, they were motoring through the narrow channel connecting Judith’s Pond with the wide blue Atlantic. A fresh chill flavored the air. Kevin ran out of the pilothouse to wave at the fisherman monument, a ritual he’d followed since he was tiny. Dad remembered to sound the horn, another tradition. Zeke put his front feet on the gunwale and barked at the circling gulls.
They cleared the harbor and the land fell away behind them, the squat buildings turning Paradise into a toy town. When they got out into open seas, the boat picked up speed, slapping over the waves and leaving twin plumes of water in their wake. With the cold wind on her face and the sun in her eyes, Mary Margaret forgot her resentment for a few minutes. She loved being out on the water, looking back at the land, the trees and the tiny houses small and insignificant compared to the endless blue Atlantic.
Climbing to the foredeck, Kevin straddled the pulpit, his face pushed into the wind as he shouted random pirate phrases and lost himself in a world of make-believe. Sandra went into the pilothouse with Dad. They stood side by side, gazing out at the view ahead while her dad pointed at something on the horizon. They stood close together, their arms touching. Dad turned and bent his head to talk to Sandra, and Mary Margaret didn’t like the way it looked— private and intimate, a shared secret.
Turning her face into the sea breeze, she concentrated on the view of the lighthouse off the port side. The beacon bristled with antennas and radar equipment, but from a distance, it looked old-fashioned and postcard-pretty with a puffy bank of clouds behind it and the sun glaring on its polished windows.
Mary Margaret couldn’t help spying on them. The next time she glanced at the pilothouse, she saw her dad take off his favorite cap and put it on Sandra’s head, with the bill turned backward. They laughed together, and their hands brushed.
It was too much. As loudly as possible, Mary Margaret stomped along the deck and barged into the pilothouse. Kevin got cold, and took Zeke down the hatch to the saloon.
“Where are we going today, Dad?” she asked, her voice a little louder than normal.
“Lenny Carmichael put out a few traps at Purgatory Point. He said we could check them, help ourselves to whatever we find.”
It felt cramped inside the pilothouse with the three of them there. But Mary Margaret refused to budge. “Good. Lenny’s traps always have lobster in them. Lobster’s my favorite food.”
“We’ll have it for supper if we’re lucky.”
“Can I steer?” she asked.
“Sure, Princess.”
Stepping deliberately in between Dad and Sandra, she gripped the wheel. Sandra moved to the door. “I think I’ll go inside and see what Kevin’s up to.”
She left in a cold swirl of wind. Mary Margaret was terrified her dad might leave, too. She was an experienced helmsmen and he often let her steer unsupervised. To her relief, he stayed by her side.
She didn’t look at him, but kept her gaze fastened on the horizon. She scanned the waterway for any floating debris. Hitting a big log could be a disaster, and she had to make sure they didn’t take a wave broadside.
“What’s with the long face?” he asked.
So he’d noticed. Good. “It’s the same face I always have.”
He wasn’t buying it. She knew that by the way he shook his head. “You’re upset because Sandra’s here.”
“I thought it was going to be the three of us.”
“I didn’t think you’d mind.”
Was he kidding? Of course she minded. But suddenly she felt selfish and petty admitting it. “Is she your girl friend?”
Her dad was quiet for a long time. The motor burbled along at a steady clip. James Island rose to the north, a good distance away. The day was so clear she could see for miles.
“Well? Is she?” Mary Margaret prodded.
“Yeah, I guess she is. Does it bother you a lot?”
Of course it bothered her. A lot. It was bad enough her mother had Carmine; now her father had someone else as well. She should have known it was only a matter of time. Single dads dated. It was an ugly fact of life.
“Well?” he prodded.
Mary Margaret kept staring straight ahead. She nodded once, firmly.
“Sorry to hear that, Princess. It’s pretty lonely out here for me and Zeke in between your visits. I like Sandra a lot, and I think she likes me.” He stroked his hand down the back of her head, the way he’d done for as long as she could remember. “I like being with her. You know I love being with you. Let’s just take it easy and see what happens.”
He sounded so reasonable. Too reasonable. One thing about her dad—he took things seriously. She knew he wouldn’t have brought Sandra if he didn’t mean business.
Mary Margaret felt the surprise burn of tears. She hated the way everything kept changing. Nothing stayed the same. Until today, she’d been able to count on having Dad all to herself. Now that was over, too.
At least he didn’t lecture her or advise her to be polite to Sandra. When her mother had introduced them to Carmine, she used to threaten Mary Margaret and Kevin, bribe them, warn them to be nice. Her dad did none of those things. He simply expected her to behave. She toyed with the idea of a low-grade tantrum. Maybe a bout of sea-sickness. But he’d see right through that, and no matter what she thought of Sandra, she couldn’t stand disappointing her dad.
They didn’t talk anymore, just motored along while the sun arched high overhead. The sea was a shifting mirror, mysterious and intensely dark blue, unusually calm for this time of year. After about half an hour, Dad pointed out the tagged markers of Lenny’s lobster traps. There were three of them in a row, bobbing gently in the current.
“Go ahead and cut the engine,” he instructed.
She did so, and in the sudden silence, could hear Kevin laughing in the salon below. The rat. He seemed to like Sandra just fine. The dork liked everybody. He was probably telling her all his favorite lame jokes, and she was probably forcing herself to laugh at them.
“Tell your brother and Sandra to come help with the traps,” Dad said.
Mary Margaret clomped down to the cockpit and slid the door open. “Dad says come and help with the lobsters.” Without waiting for a reply, she turned away, leaving the door open. A moment later they both appeared, looking eager as kids on Christmas morning.
Dad dropped anchor and handed out thick rubber gloves. Mary Margaret grabbed the boat hook. Feeling superior because she had done this a hundred times, she snagged the bright orange buoy and dragged the trap toward the boat. She loved looking down into deep water. The rope seemed to disappear into dark eternity. When she tugged it upward, hand over hand, she savored the breath-less anticipation of waiting to see what the trap held.
Working quickly and efficiently, she let the wet rope coil on the deck beside her. At last the igloo-shaped trap appeared, trailing seaweed and metal permit tags. Mary Margaret held her breath. Once the crate cleared the water, it grew heavy, but she wouldn’t let the rope slip. Dad came and helped her haul it over the side. Eagerly, she flipped up the lid. Zeke went nuts, sniffing it.
The trap was empty, the bait reduced to broken skeletons of herring and beef spine. “Nothing.”
“Can’t win them all.” Her dad opened a battered old ice chest. “Bait that trap again, and we’ll lower it.”
Mary Margaret hated baiting the trap. Chicken feet and old beef bones. It was completely disgusting. She turned to Sandra and spoke to her directly
for the first time since they had pulled away from the dock. “You want to bait the trap?”
“Sure,” Sandra said. “I’ve never done it before, so you’ll have to show me.”
“Easy as pie,” Kevin piped up. “You just put some gross stuff from the bait bucket into the well of the trap.”
Sandra eyed the bucket with suspicion. “Here goes nothing,” she said, and flipped the lid. “You weren’t kidding about how gross this is, Kevin.”
Mary Margaret hoped she would act squeamish. Dad had no patience with squeamish people. Sandra didn’t freak out, just kind of screwed up her face, reached her gloved hand in and grabbed some old bones and fish heads. Stuffing them into the bait well, she asked Mary Margaret, “Is this enough?”
“A little more,” she couldn’t help saying.
Sandra filled the well and Mary Margaret shoved the trap overboard. It made a big splash, then settled and sank into deep blue nothingness.
“That wasn’t so bad,” Sandra said. “Thanks for your help. You’re a pro, Mary Margaret.”
“Yeah, right,” she muttered.
“You did a good job piloting the boat, too,” Sandra added. “I ‘ve never gone out in a boat before.”
“Really? That’s pitiful.”
“Never had the chance. I’m not a water person.”
“I am,” Mary Margaret said.
“I’m trying out for swim team this summer,” Kevin piped up. “Do you like swimming?”
“Actually, I never learned how.”
“You’re kidding,” Mary Margaret blurted out. Now that really was pitiful. She thought everyone knew how to swim. Her dad seemed as shocked as she felt. He stared at Sandra with narrowed eyes.
“I’ll get the next trap.” Kevin grabbed the hook. He took a long time reeling in the line.
This one was empty too, Mary Margaret saw with disappointment. They baited it again and sent it overboard.
“Let Sandra do the next one,” Kevin said.
Mary Margaret sat back and watched with grim satisfaction as Sandra handled the rope clumsily, tangling it on the deck. It took her twice as long to bring the trap aboard, but when she set it down, they could hear the unmistakable clicking sound of a lobster. Zeke growled and shrank from the trap. Kevin jumped up and down in excitement. “Two of them,” he yelled, punching the air. “Two great big ones. You caught two great big ones, Sandra.”