Cape Grace

by Nathan Lowell

She blinked at him, trying to process what he was saying. “I’m not ready for that yet.”

  “You’re gonna live with your old man forever?” he asked, a sneer in his voice.

  “That’s dumb. Of course not.”

  “You can’t be a shaman,” he said.

  She blinked back the burn in her eyes and stared out over the bay. “Maybe not, but at least he understands what being a shaman is.”

  “What makes you think I don’t?” he asked. His voice had changed tone, no longer confrontational. Almost soft.

  “You couldn’t,” she said, staring at him. “How could you?”

  He shrugged and pressed his lips together. “Maybe I don’t know exactly, but I know a few things.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like you walk the beach and listen to the world. That you carve whelkies.” He shrugged again. “You don’t seem to enjoy being on the boat. Wrestling the traps.”

  She rocked back on her heels. “You say those words but you don’t know what they mean.”

  “Yeah, that’s true,” he said. “I only know because you told me. I don’t know what it really entails, but it must be fun—or at least pleasant, because it’s all you want to do.”

  She clamped her jaw closed and breathed through her nose, trying to keep calm.

  He ran a hand through his hair, displacing his cap momentarily, and looked at the deck. “Look, I’m sorry. All right. I’m messing this up.”

  “Messing what up?” she asked.

  He sighed. “You remember last year, I proposed?”

  She nodded.

  “You never gave me an answer,” he said, looking up from the deck.

  “I gave you an answer. I said no.”

  He shook his head. “Yeah, but that wasn’t really an answer. You didn’t even think about it. All you said was we never even went out on a date.”

  “We still haven’t,” she said.

  “I want to fix that,” he said. “I want to fix all of this.”

  “All of what?”

  He waved his hands around. “This. Crabbing. Settling down. Getting married. Making it so you can walk the beach and listen to the world and whatever else you shamans do.”

  A whirlwind of thoughts swirled in her head. A maelstrom of feelings roiled in her chest. “You think getting married will solve all that?”

  He shook his head. “No. Not solve.” He looked out to sea for a moment as if weighing his words. “If I do good this winter, I’ll be on the road to getting a dragger job. That’s a job that could support us both. We could live in our house. My old man isn’t coming back and there’s nothing here for my mother to come back to. We could live there. I could work for the company and you could shaman your heart out.”

  “That sounds like you’ve got it all worked out.”

  He sighed. “No. It’s just what I’m thinking. I’m asking what you think.”

  She blinked and shook her head. “You can’t ask me that.”

  “I just did.”

  “I can’t answer. My brain is having hiccups.”

  He smiled. “You can’t say it’s sudden. I did ask you last year.”

  Something about the situation made it difficult for her to catch her breath, to form coherent thoughts—to say nothing of expressing them. She shook her head. “I need time to think about it.”

  His smile widened. “I can accept that.”

  “I’m not saying yes,” she said.

  “You’re not saying no, either.”

  She sighed. “I’m not saying no, either.”

  “We’ve got some time,” he said. “There’s still a few weeks left in the season. I’ve still got to show I can cut it on the draggers this winter.”

  She swallowed, suddenly afraid of her own mind. Could she really go through with this?

  “In the meantime,” he said. “It’s just about dinner time. Lemme take you to dinner.”

  She shook her head.

  “Come on,” he said, his tone teasing. “You can’t say we’ve never even been on a date if you never give us a chance.”

  She swallowed hard and nodded. “All right. Sure. Dinner.”

  He grinned. “See? That wasn’t so hard was it?”

  He surprised a short laugh out of her. “Yeah. Actually it was.”

  He stepped onto the pier and held a hand out to her. “Come on then. I’m hungry and Ginny’s making shepherd’s pie for the special tonight.”

  She took his hand and let him lead her off the pier. It didn’t feel right, but it would shut her father up if she married Bobby. At least about being deported. Just the thought of that weight being lifted from her shoulders for the first time in her life made her think that maybe—just maybe—Bobby was right.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-TWO

  Cape Grace: November 2, 2349

  RACHEL SMILED AT THE people around the table. “It’s settled then.”

  “You don’t have to do all this, Gramma,” Sarah said.

  “You’re my only granddaughter and by all that’s finny in the sea, I’m going to do this. I’m only going to get one chance.”

  Sarah glanced at Bobby who smiled and nodded. “I think it could be fun,” he said.

  “So, June fifteenth is the big day,” Rachel said, looking from face to face until each one nodded.

  Otto asked, “What’ll you do for a crew on the boat, Bobby?”

  He shrugged. “There’s a couple of guys that have asked me about it. I’ll see who’s serious over the winter. Don’t suspect it’ll be a problem.”

  “Any idea where you’ll live?” Rachel asked.

  “I’m still livin’ in Dad’s house. He won’t be back any time soon. Mom’s got a sweet berth over in Maggie’s Landing. Probably stay there.” Bobby cast a glance at Sarah.

  “Will she come for the wedding?” Rachel asked.

  “Maybe,” Bobby said.

  “Maybe?” Rachel’s eyes went wide. “Her only son getting married and she won’t be here?”

  “Depends on Dad.”

  “He coming?” Sarah asked.

  “Dunno.” Bobby stared at his hands. “We don’t talk much.”

  Rachel shared a glance with Otto. He shrugged and said, “We’ll work it out. Plenty of time between now and then.”

  “Maybe we could visit her at Maggie’s Landing after the wedding,” Sarah said. “Spend a few days there?”

  Bobby didn’t look up from his hands but shrugged. “Sure.”

  Otto stood and started pulling utensils out of the kitchen drawers. “You stayin’ for dinner, Bobby?”

  Bobby glanced up at the chrono and shook his head. “I gotta get over to the chandlery. Marty’s expecting me.”

  “I’ll walk you over,” Sarah said, rising and pulling her coat from the peg.

  Bobby followed suit and in a few moments, Rachel and Otto had the house to themselves.

  Otto glanced at his mother. “Ask away.”

  She gave a small quiet chuckle. “Am I that obvious?”

  “Not really. The kids probably didn’t notice. Father would have.”

  “He the right boy for her?”

  Otto finished chopping an onion before answering. He tossed it into the pot with a bit of oil where it hissed and sizzled. “He’s the only one who seems interested.”

  Rachel sighed. “That’s pretty thin sauce.”

  “That’s what I said. Flanagan thinks maybe she shouldn’t stay on planet.” Otto kept his attention on moving the onions around.

  “What? When did you talk to Flanagan?”

  “According to him, I’ve never talked to him. Never met the man.” He shrugged. “Last spring.”

  “Sounds like Flanagan.”

  “You know him?”

  She shook her head. “Not directly. Know of him through your father’s interactions. Never met the man myself. Really. Never met him.”

  “Father mention anything about the contract?” He glanced over his shoulder at her.

  “What about it?”


  “Rumor is the company wants to tighten up. Doesn’t want as many nonemployees working on planet.”

  “And a shaman’s not an employee,” she said. “How long has this been going around?”

  “First you’ve heard of it?”

  “Your father never mentioned it.”

  Otto nodded. “Not sure what they’re worried about. There’s been shamans here almost since the beginning.”

  “Most of them are dependents like your father.” Rachel shrugged. “You’re the only one I know that’s not married to an employee.”

  “And I used to be.” He started pulling food out of the chiller. “It was pretty tough going before that.”

  “Even with the stipend?”

  Otto nodded. “I put my hand-lining and crabbing experience to good use over in Maggie’s Landing. I didn’t starve.” He paused and grinned at her. “I about pulled my hair out over the lack of good driftwood for carving, though. That was so frustrating.”

  She laughed.

  “I got a couple of buckets of shells while I was there, but I think I found about two good pieces of wood a month there.”

  “No beach?”

  “All I had was a small shelf at low tide and it was inside the harbor. The outer headlands dropped straight into the water. The only way to get to a beach would have been to take a boat out to one of the barrier islands.”

  “Sounds dreary.”

  “You never been?”

  She shook her head.

  “You and Father should make a trip out there. It’s really striking with the mountain right behind the town and the cliffs surrounding the harbor.” He grinned at her. “No tram. You’d have to fly in or take a boat.”

  “Maybe we will one day.” She tipped up her mug and finished off her tea. “But Flanagan thinks she should leave?”

  Otto glanced at her.

  “No, I didn’t lose track of that,” she said.

  “He didn’t say as much. Just suggested that her beach might not be on St. Cloud.”

  “You’d let her go?”

  “Well, once she’s reached majority. Not much I can say if she decides to leave.”

  “It’d break your heart, though.” Rachel’s low voice barely carried over the sound of sautéing onions.

  Otto bit his lip and didn’t speak.

  The door opened and Sarah breezed in, closing the door with a firm slam. “Brrr. It’s cold out there. What’re we having for dinner?”

  “I’m making fish chowder. Maybe you can prevail on your grandmother to make some biscuits.” Otto grinned at the two women.

  “Pshaw,” Rachel said. “She can make them as well as I can by now.”

  “Yeah, but I haven’t had yours in ages,” Otto said.

  Rachel laughed. “All right. All right. Not fair makin’ a poor old woman work for her dinner. And a guest, too.”

  “Well, you poor old woman. The bowl’s up there and your granddaughter can show you where the rest of the fixin’s are.” Otto pointed with his wooden spoon.

  For a time, he focused on food. There’d be time enough to worry about the rest later.

  CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

  Cape Grace: January 18, 2350

  ED COMSTOCK LEANED back in his chair with a grin. “I don’t know how you did it, but it looks like your shaman problem is working itself out.”

  “How so?” Otto asked.

  “I just got the wedding request.”

  “Is there a problem?”

  Comstock shook his head. “Nope. Best thing I can think of. I was a bit concerned that we’re too small a pond for your special fish.”

  “We’ll see. It’s a long time until June. A lot can happen.”

  Comstock frowned. “You’re not usually so pessimistic. Anything I should know about?”

  “Just a feeling. Bobby seems to be a nice enough kid. I think Sarah has warmed up to him.”

  Comstock leaned forward and placed his forearms on the desk. “I don’t hear the L-word being bandied about.”

  “Me, either. I heard it out of Bobby’s mouth once and I’m not sure Sarah is aware of it. Maybe that’s not a conversation that fathers are privy to.”

  “So, what? Bobby’s a good worker. Doesn’t need a wife to stay.”

  “I’m not sure. Maybe they’re bonding together out of desperation.”

  “I get Sarah’s problem. Bobby?”

  “He’s not the most popular young man on the waterfront.”

  “Body odor?”

  “Guilt by association. Apparently his father left a lot of hard feelings around the docks.”

  “He’s been gone for a couple stanyers now,” Comstock said.

  “Some folks have real long memories.”

  “You have any reservations, Otto?”

  “Of course. She’s my daughter. She’s got a ticking bomb in her gut and a need to follow her calling. Personally, I suspect she’s just marrying him for his residency.”

  “Well, it’s one way to stay on planet.”

  “And the other ways are closed off to her. One way or another,” Otto said, tasting the bile on his words.

  “Otto, it’s not like there’s a gun to her head.”

  Otto sighed and rubbed a hand across his lips.

  Comstock shook his head. “I’ve got Bobby on the short list for dragger crews. It’ll be a nice step up for him if he can get on one of the big boats.”

  “What about the crabbing?”

  “Half a dozen people have asked me about it. Looks like the crab business is going to take off. Lots of second and third kids aren’t waiting for older brother or sister to move on. They’re looking to get a bit of experience themselves.”

  “And it pays good for what it is,” Otto said.

  Comstock smiled. “Also, true.”

  “So, you’re going to approve the marriage license?”

  “Of course.” He paused and looked at Otto from under lowered brows. “Can I ask you something?”

  “Sure.”

  “What’d Flanagan say?”

  “When?”

  “When you quit crabbing after one season. He was behind that, wasn’t he?”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about. We never met. We never had a discussion about the problems with the shaman clause.”

  Comstock nodded. “And I never had a discussion about Sarah and her gift.”

  “You think they’ll boot the shamans?”

  “I’m not sure what they’ll do, but there’s something got the home office people scratching and I think they’re looking at the shamans as fleas.”

  “Changing the contract will only affect people like me.”

  Comstock’s eyebrows shot up. “You? Why?”

  “I’m not married to the company.”

  “You were.”

  “I’m not now.” Otto shrugged. “How long would they give a person to grieve before they forced them out?”

  Comstock took a deep breath and stared hard at his desk for a long moment before blowing it back out. “Good question.”

  “I’d have to find somebody to marry.”

  “You always have a career crabbing.”

  Otto let that idea roll around the office a bit. “Who’d do the unofficial calls?”

  “Like Barb Tatum?”

  Otto nodded.

  “You don’t have to convince me, Otto. I’m just dancing to the music here. Somebody else is calling the tune.”

  Otto nodded again. “Yeah. We’re all on the dance floor but I’m not sure everybody hears the same music.”

  Comstock chuckled without much humor.

  “Flanagan didn’t visit me twice,” Otto said.

  “Really?”

  “We didn’t have a discussion about the shaman rule.”

  “Well, that’s good to know.” Comstock chewed the inside of his lower lip.

  “You know, it occurs to me that one of the problems the company has with shamans is that we don’t fit in the structure.”


  “How d’you mean?”

  “Well, a company concerned about too many nonemployees on a planet might look at this shaman thing as a threat. They have no leverage to have us toe the line.”

  “Not like company admins,” Comstock said, his lips curled into a wry grin.

  “Exactly not.”

  “So, what’s the answer? Hire you?”

  Otto nodded. “We’ve talked about this before. Lotta villages offer stipends already. They see the value in having a shaman in town.”

  “You got one at Maggie’s Landing, didn’t you?”

  “Yep. It was small but it helped.”

  “Would that be a problem for you? Company butting into your business like that?”

  “Nope. Not sure why it would. What would you have me do different?”

  Comstock stared at him for several long moments. “If you were on my payroll? I can’t think of a thing.”

  Otto shrugged. “Not like you could tell me how to exercise the gift. And unlikely that you’d want to have me punch a clock or something while I’m walking the beach.”

  “Might mean I’d call on you more often to look into stuff I can’t.”

  “Or sooner.” Otto shrugged. “Wouldn’t be a bad thing. Finding problems earlier.”

  “Or sooner,” Comstock agreed. He squinted his eyes a little as he looked across the desk. “You wouldn’t have had this conversation with somebody like Flanagan, would you?”

  “Me? Never met the guy.”

  CHAPTER FIFTY-FOUR

  Cape Grace: May 11, 2350

  SARAH WATCHED HER FATHER head down the trail toward the village and considered her options for the morning. The tide wouldn’t change for another stan and she didn’t have a whelkie in progress to take up her time. She went to the top of the headland and looked along the flooded beach, its character so drastically changed at high tide compared to the long flat stretch at low. Perhaps a walk on the escarpment. She’d gone a couple of times since Mary had shown it to her. She had time now.

  When she turned, she found Mary coming around the corner of the cottage. Sarah waved, drawing the girl’s attention. “Hey.”

  Mary waved back and met Sarah halfway. “Hi. I hope I’m not intruding.”

  “Nope. I was just wondering what to do with myself this morning. Thought about walking the escarpment and here you are.”