“He can tell me. I can walk. You know as well as I do, that’s not what being a shaman is.” Otto shrugged. “If he got too pushy, I’d move to another village. There are still more villages than shamans.”
Flanagan chewed his lower lip and kicked a small rock around with the toe of his boot.
“Besides,” Otto said.
Flanagan looked up.
“Employment contracts can’t restrict by gender. Confederated Planet Joint Committee on Trade regulations. The only way they get away with it now is we’re not employees.”
Flanagan looked out at the small boat and a grin worked its way across his face.
“So what brings you all the way out to my point on the coast?” Otto asked. “You just happened to be in the neighborhood?”
“Funny you should ask. I was sittin’ on the dock at Langille’s Point a couple days back. I heard somethin’ on the wind and thought I’d come see you about it.” Flanagan grinned. “Guess I was right.”
Otto laughed.
“Anyway. That’s a great idea. Been struggling to keep the rules in place so long, I guess I didn’t think somethin’ else might be better.” He turned back toward the village and started walking away.
“What’d you hear?” Otto asked, raising his voice above the surf.
Flanagan turned back. “What?”
“On the wind. You said you heard something on the wind.”
“Oh, yeah. Storm’s coming and it seemed like somethin’ I should talk to you about. Glad I did.”
Otto nodded. “Thanks.”
Flanagan waved and headed back toward town.”
Otto looked back at the two kids working their traps. The spring smell mixed with an undertone of meat left out too long. Of something gone rotten. He looked around the rocks but didn’t spot anything. With a sigh he turned to look straight out to sea and worried about a storm that everybody seemed to know about but him.
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Cape Grace: September 4, 2348
SARAH FELT THE PRESSURE building inside. Days of it. Seasons of it. The world sounded distant, muffled with the boat and the bait and the crabs. Being on the water every day during the season and only being able to walk the beach, to listen to the world clearly. She lunged for the buoy and missed the line. She screamed her frustration into the wind.
Bobby looked over his shoulder. “You all right? That’s the second one you’ve missed today.”
She nodded, shrugged, shook her head. “I know. I know.”
He spun the wheel and came around for a second pass. She hooked the line and looped it onto the winch. The capstan spun, pulling the line up in a wet, slimy pile. Her fingers felt like icicles in the wet gloves but the rope would turn her hands to ground meat without them.
She got the string up, emptied, and prepped to drop—forcing herself to focus on the task at hand. One thing at a time. The wind carried the smell of exhaust and crab bait in a ring around her head.
“We ready?” Bobby asked.
She nodded.
He worked the boat around into position and gave her the high sign.
She dropped the first trap and let the movement of the boat pull the rest. She had a few ticks to get ready for the next string so took off her gloves, wringing them out and scraping some of the slime off before she needed to catch the next buoy.
“You know,” Bobby said, talking over his shoulder as he lined up. “I’ve got a couple of the guys who’d love to take your slot here.”
Sarah stared at the back of his head. “Where would that leave me?”
Bobby didn’t answer, his gaze fixed on the buoy in the water ahead. He throttled back and nodded to it. She hooked it on the first pass and started hauling the string in while Bobby angled the boat clear.
“You’re not answering me,” she said, yanking the first trap up onto the sideboard and tossing crabs into the box.
“Well,” he said. “You need to be working or married.”
“I think we’ve already been around this harbor a couple of times, Bobby. This is my job. I’ve been through all the other jobs in Cape Grace.” She slopped some rotting fish into the bait bag and slid the trap aside to make room for the next one.
“Yeah. Probably so.”
She glanced up from the trap to see him poised at the wheel, one hand on the throttle, and a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “You haven’t told any of those guys they can have my job, have you?” She yanked the trap up and slammed it onto the sideboard. “I swear by all that’s finny in the sea, Bobby Tatum, I’ll cut you into bait and hide the evidence in the traps if you have.”
“Easy,” he said. “I haven’t said anything to anybody.”
“So what are you proposing?” she asked.
“Exactly,” he said.
She finished with the trap and moved on to the next. “What?” She glanced at him while the winch pulled the trap to the surface.
“I’m proposing.” He shrugged.
“Proposing what?” she asked. The exasperation filled her chest and she wanted to throw a crab at him but she tossed it into the box instead.
“Marriage,” he said. “I thought that was obvious.”
She felt like she’d been slugged in the chest. She couldn’t catch her breath and almost lost the trap over the side. “To me?”
He nodded. “Nobody else here. I ain’t marrying any of those crabs.”
She stared at him, one hand on the crab trap and the other on the line to the winch. “You’re crazy.” She pulled the last of the crabs out of the trap and refilled the bait bag before pulling the last trap onto the boat. She cleared it away and got the string ready to go back into the water.
“Is that a yes?” he asked.
She rounded on him. “That’s a you’re out of your mind. Get your head back in the boat and let’s get these traps back in the water.”
He put the engine in gear and slewed the stern around to point back the way they’d come.
Sarah stared at the back of his head and shook her own. He kept shooting her smirks over his shoulder. He slowed the boat and she pushed the first trap off the end of the sideboard, letting the boat handle the rest until she could toss the marker buoy off and clear of the stern. He swung the boat again and goosed the engine a little to send them on their way to the next string.
“Why would I marry you?” she asked.
He grinned at her and shrugged. “Anybody else asked ya?”
The audacity of the man kept her speechless. She found the handle on her tongue as he lined up the boat again. “You’ve never even asked me on a date. Now you want to marry me?”
He pulled the throttles back, disengaging the engine. “Okay. How about a date? What would you like to do?”
She sighed and hooked the buoy as it came into reach. She looped the line on the winch and started the traps coming up. “How should I know?” she asked. “I don’t know anything about dates.”
“Well, why did you bring it up?” he asked.
She glanced at him before leaning over the side to wrestle the trap aboard. The trap was almost full of crabs and it nearly pulled her out of the boat when she relaxed the line on the winch.
Bobby grabbed the line and stuck a hand over the side to help heave the trap up onto the sideboard. “That’s a lot of crabs,” he said, his eyes round. “How’d they all get in there?”
Sarah looked around the harbor, getting her bearings from the shore. “Something down there likes them.”
Bobby stepped back to the wheel and nodded. “Or something isn’t eating them here.” He shook his head. “Not like we haven’t put a trap here before.”
“You mean, like yesterday?” she asked.
He nodded and shrugged. “Must be a fluke.”
She pulled the door open and crabs started falling out of the trap faster than she could grab them and toss them in the box.
“Let ’em fall,” Bobby said. “We can get them after we’ve got the string out of the bay and I don’t
have to keep that line from tangling with the boat.”
She nodded and did her best, tossing the squirmy buggers as fast as she could without getting nipped. After a while the whole thing began feeling ridiculous. First Bobby, then the crabs. She shuffled her boots to keep them from getting under her feet while she kept pulling more and more of them out. She finally got the last one and reset the bait bag. “I’m almost afraid to see what’s in the next one,” she said.
He laughed.
The rest of the pots had normal amounts of crab and took almost no time for Sarah to get squared away. Bobby left the boat idling and helped her corral and box the loose crustaceans. “There,” he said, stepping back to the wheel and resting a hand on the throttle. “Bonus pay today. Wanna go to dinner?”
She looked up at him, feeling her jaw unhinge. “What? Tonight?”
He shrugged. “Unless you’ve got a better offer.”
“Where?” she asked.
“Ginny’s?” he said. “Unless you fancy hitting the Saving Grace.”
She shook her head. “This isn’t happening. No. No dinner.”
He shrugged and put the boat in gear. “Another time,” he said.
She peeled her gloves off and wrung them out while he lined up for the next string of traps.
He kept shooting glances out of the corners of his eyes. If he didn’t have that self-satisfied smirk on his face, she might just reconsider. She sighed and shook her gloves out before putting them back on. They felt cold and clammy, but she pulled the gaff up and leaned over to look ahead. The next buoy bobbed just ahead of the boat.
“You still haven’t answered me,” Bobby said, pulling the throttle back to idle just as she reached for the buoy.
She caught the line and pulled it up, shaking her head. “No,” she said. “I will not marry you. I’m not quitting this job.”
He shrugged and grinned at her. “We’ll see.”
She focused on the line and the trap and the water. She ignored that cheesy grin and the smug attitude standing behind the wheel of the boat. Marry Bobby Tatum? She’d have to be crazy to even consider it. Whatever possessed him to ask her anyway?
She spent the rest of the trip in a daze. Her hands and arms did their work while her brain spiraled around and around.
* * *
Sarah pulled the last of her gear off the boat for the season. The last few months had paid well but she kept getting that weird feeling from Bobby. He’d crossed the line somewhere with the proposal. She steadfastly refused to discuss it.
She glanced down the dock to where the boatyard crew set up. Bobby and her father stood beside the boat lift. Bobby’s arms waved as he talked. She couldn’t see her father’s face but Bobby looked—not angry, exactly. More like earnest. The situation made her skin crawl a little but she couldn’t say why.
One of the yard gang trotted down the pier and gave her a big grin. “All ready for us to take it?” he asked.
“Yep. She’s good to go.”
He pulled the lines in and fired up the engine to take it to where the lift waited. When the engine fired, Bobby looked in her direction and said something to her father. He clapped him on the shoulder and waved to her before thrusting his hands in his jacket’s pockets and strolling off through the yard.
She walked to meet her father and they watched the lift pull the Harbor Fairy out of the water.
“Good season?” he asked.
She shrugged. “We turned a profit. Caught a lot of product.”
“Gonna go again next season?”
She glanced at him. “Unless something better comes along. I’m mostly just planning to walk the beach this winter. Do some carving.”
He nodded and they turned their steps toward the cottage.
“What was Bobby on about?” she asked.
Her father snorted. “Nothing. Big tales. Small fish.”
“Oh?” A chunk of ice fell into her stomach.
“He thinks he can get onto a dragger next season. Wanted to know what I had planned for you if he quit.”
A laugh burst out of her in a short bark. “If he quits?”
Her father shrugged. “He’s got a lot of room to grow yet. He’s still a little too big for his britches. I don’t know what Comstock will say about it but it’s good he’s got his sights set higher than Cape Grace.”
Sarah swallowed hard. “That’s not a path that’s open to me.”
He shook his head. “No. It’s not.” He sighed. “Maybe look around town. Find your friend—what’s her name? With the whelkie?”
“Mary?” she asked.
“Yeah. Mary. What’s she doing. Would she like to work with you?”
Sarah blinked. “Why would she do that?”
He glanced at her. “Well, you’re not the only kid coming of age and facing a trip off planet.” He grinned. “You could save each other, if she’ll play along.”
“Does she know how to run a boat?”
He shrugged. “You didn’t know the side rail from a stern line not that long ago.” He glanced at her as they strolled along the path. “He’s not going to quit.”
“No, he’s not,” Sarah said. “He’s already old enough to get booted so he has to have a job lined up by spring.”
They walked in silence for a time, the shells on her father’s staff clinking in the wind. “How is it, working with him?” he asked. “Any problems?”
She thrust her fists into the pockets on her coat and shrugged. “He doesn’t like showing up on time.” She grimaced. “Well, he didn’t like it at first.”
“Oh?” he asked. “What changed?”
“I don’t know that it has, but I got mad at him one morning. We may have had a bit of a spat but he apologized and he’s been pretty good about it since then.”
“Good for you,” he said.
“I also carry my knife and a carving while I wait so it’s not too onerous.” She grinned at him. “It’s actually kinda peaceful. Sitting there waiting. Carving. Listening to the world.”
He smiled at her and nodded. “I could see that.”
She shook her head. “I don’t think he’ll quit. I don’t think he can get a job on the draggers.”
“Even over the winter?” he asked.
“We don’t fish over the winter,” Sarah said.
“They fish the mid-ocean ridge year round.”
“Oh. I knew that but didn’t realize people from Cape Grace went out.”
“You don’t hear the flitter taking crews out on Wednesday mornings?” her father asked. “It’s loud enough to rattle the windows in the cottage.”
“I thought all our seasonal crews just worked here.”
He shrugged. “Fish to catch. Credits to earn. I suspect it’s time on deck for some who are trying to get better jobs.”
She bit her lip and pondered that as they walked. “Like Bobby?” she asked.
He shrugged again. “Dunno. Maybe.”
“No,” she said. “He’s not going to quit.” Was he?
CHAPTER FORTY-NINE
Aram’s Inlet: November 15, 2348
JIMMY LEANED BACK IN his chair and ran both hands over his scalp. The quarterlies looked good. The equatorial ridge let the crews work through the winter. It helped with quotas but played hell with logistics. He really needed to get a handle on the crew situation. Trying to figure out who wanted to work through the winter, then getting them the support they needed without playing favorites, and getting the crews out and back without disrupting the existing crews already had him pulling his hair out.
He looked up at a knock on his door jamb. He’d been so absorbed he hadn’t even heard footsteps in the hall.
Tony stepped through the door followed by Maisie McIlheny. “All right, Jimmy. I think you know your new assistant?” Tony said.
Jimmy stood up from his desk and looked at Maisie. “You? Who’s running things out at Potter’s Landing?”
She shrugged. “I got the word that Mr. Spinnelli was looking for an
assistant to the director and applied. He hired me and my assistant stepped up to take the harbormaster job.”
Jimmy glared at Tony. “You hired her?”
Tony nodded, a self-satisfied smirk on his face. “Of course. You told me to.”
“I didn’t tell you to hire her.” Confusion washed over him, drowning out rational thought.
“You told me—and I quote—’Find me an assistant.’” He waved a hand at McIlheny. “Here you go.”
“You didn’t ask me? After the last fiasco?”
Tony shook his head. “No. I should have known better with him. That one is on me.”
“I’m standing right here, boss.” McIlheny punched the last word hard and folded her arms. “You have a problem with me?”
Jimmy paused and took a deep breath, trying to calm the unexpected panic rising in his chest. “No,” he said after too long a pause. He swallowed. “No. Not a problem with you. I would have appreciated some opportunity to offer feedback on any candidate first.” He looked at Tony.
Tony shrugged. “You needed an assistant. You told me to get you one. Here she is.” He turned to McIlheny and offered a hand. “Welcome aboard, again, Maisie. You’re going to be great.”
McIlheny smiled and shook Tony’s hand. “Thank you, Mr. Spinnelli. I’m really looking forward to getting my feet under me. I’ll do my best.”
“I know you will,” Tony said. He waved a hand at Jimmy and disappeared down the hallway.
Jimmy stared at the empty door frame for a moment and found he didn’t know where to put his arms. They felt awkward just hanging there so he crossed and uncrossed them, eventually leaning forward with his hands on the desk. “All right then,” he said.
“Is there a problem?” McIlheny asked.
“Yes. No.” Jimmy sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “He caught me flat-footed.”
McIlheny grinned. “I figured that much out on my own.”
Jimmy took a deep breath and blew it out before waving at a visitor’s chair. “Have a seat.”
She lowered herself into the chair and looked right at home there.
Jimmy settled into his own chair, feeling better once he had the solid desk between them. “So. He’s hired you already, I take it?”
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