Nantucket (4 page)

L
iam had just locked up the boathouse when he heard tires spinning in the sandy parking lot. He looked around the corner of the building, and as the dust settled, he saw John Alden climbing out of his black sedan.

“What's up, John?” he asked.

“Jordy had an accident with
Pride & Joy
—she's hung up on the rocks near our beach.”

“Is he okay?”

“He's fine—he and his buddy swam to shore, but
she's
taking on water.”

Liam nodded and reached for his launch keys. “We need to get her off the rocks before the tide changes or it'll rip her apart.”

The thirty-foot launch, which was kept in a slip next to the railway, was equipped for any emergency—extra batteries, an air compressor, a bilge pump, extra lines, life jackets, and under the foredeck, two large, heavy air bags and two heavy nylon belts—each six inches wide and twenty-four feet long.

John jumped into the boat. “That damn kid,” he muttered, shaking his head. “I tell him to be careful, but he thinks he knows everything.”

“Most kids
do,
” Liam said, turning the key.

Ten minutes later, John's waterfront property—formerly known as the Wellington estate—came into view. Liam glanced up at the stately house as John pointed to the sailboat across the bay. Liam nodded and carefully maneuvered the launch alongside to assess the damage. He suddenly realized the tide was already coming in, so he quickly pulled the two airbags from under the deck, unfolded them, and climbed out onto the rocks submerged just under the surface. Then he and John worked together, belting the airbags to the hull. When they were secure, Liam climbed back in the launch and turned on the compressor. Air began to slowly fill the belts, lifting the damaged boat off the rocks. They waited several more minutes for the tide to rise, too, and when the boat was finally free, Liam gingerly pulled it away from the rocks, its hull groaning.

As they towed it slowly back to the boathouse, Liam looked over his shoulder several times. He and Coop had built the gorgeous eighteen-foot sloop from plans Cooper had drawn. Liam had been in his late twenties at the time, and although he'd grown up with a love for boats that were made by bending wooden planks over wooden frames, his reverence had deepened as he'd worked side by side with his uncle on
Pride & Joy
with her gorgeous, varnished deck and painted white and green hull. “Wooden boats have a way of giving a man's life purpose,” Coop had said. “They symbolize things that matter.”

Now, as Liam looked back at the wounded sailboat, he shook his head in dismay—if Coop were alive, he'd be crushed . . . but he also knew he would've poured his heart and soul into her repair.

When they finally pulled up to the dock, Liam quickly tied the launch, hopped out, and maneuvered the damaged sloop, floats and all, onto the marine trolley and set the blocking. Then he started the winch. John watched gloomily as a flood of gray seawater gushed from the hull. Liam stopped the winch halfway up the ramp, removed the floats, and walked around to take a closer look at the ravaged wood.

“Do you think you can fix her?” John asked.

“It looks like her center board's broken—it must've caught the rocks before it could slide into the trunk.” He shook his head. “I can fix her, John, but I doubt I'll have her back to you before the season's over. You're welcome to take her to a different shop. I won't charge you for the tow.”

John nodded. He knew he could probably take her to a different shop and have her back sooner, but that would be an insult to Liam—who'd helped build her—and whose meticulous craftsmanship, like Cooper's before him, was legendary. “No,” he said. “I'm just glad you can fix her. Maybe Jordy'll learn something from not having her around.”

“Maybe,” Liam said skeptically. He'd known John for years, and although he was a good guy, his parenting skills were definitely lacking, and as a result, his son suffered. Jordy was notoriously spoiled and irresponsible—supporting Liam's long-standing theory that nothing good comes from a kid who has access to too much money. But John wasn't the only one to blame—his wife, Lexi, was a bitch on wheels, as Coop had liked to call any woman he didn't like, and she walked all over John, spoiled Jordy . . .
and
was the undeniable source of the bad seed.

Before he left, John helped Liam un-step and seat the mast. “How much do you think it'll cost?”

Liam shook his head. “I don't know. I'll have to work up an estimate.”

John looked glumly at his boat and nodded. “All right, I'll wait to hear from you,” he said. Then he shook Liam's hand.

“If you don't hear from me by the middle of next week, give me a call.”

John nodded, and as he walked away, Liam stroked Tuck's soft ears, and murmured, “He's got more money than the queen and he's worried about how much it's going to cost.”

 

A
heavy mist was hanging over Nantucket Sound when Liam swung open the carriage doors and hooked them to the outside wall. He stood on the rail tracks, trying to decide if he should wait before pushing out his runabout. The dock—only thirty feet from where he stood—was barely visible, and even though the Cape's most popular radio station, Ocean 104, was assuring listeners the mist would burn off by nine, Liam didn't want the seats to be damp.

He walked to his truck to get the cooler he'd packed that morning with sandwiches, chips, cookies, Cokes . . . and since Cooper had still been asleep, he'd even managed to sneak two beers into the ice. He set the cooler in the back of the boat, threw two beach towels and a blanket on top of it, and began wiping down the glassy surface, whistling softly, and wondering when Cadie would get there. It suddenly dawned on him that his idea of early might be different from hers and he wished they'd settled on a time instead, but as he slipped the Yacht Ensign into the socket in the stern, he heard a soft voice say, “Hey,” and looked up. Cadie was straddling her bike with a canvas beach bag over her shoulder. She was wearing a wide-brimmed sun hat with a blue ribbon around it and underneath her snow white tank top he could see the strings of a matching blue bikini.

“Hey,” he said with a smile.

“I wasn't sure what you meant by early, so I hope I'm not
too
early.”

“Not at all.”

She leaned her bike against the wall. “I like to get going in the morning before anyone else is up so I don't have to answer too many questions.”

Liam chuckled. “I hear you.” He walked over to push the top button next to the boathouse doors and the winch clicked and groaned. “I just have to push her out,” he explained, trying not to appear as nervous as he felt. He slowly guided the boat outside and then stood by the door, waiting for the railcar to make its way to the water.

Cadie stood next to him. “It looks like the sun might break through,” she said, pointing to a ray of light shimmering through the mist.

“It's supposed to,” Liam said, stopping the winch. He walked down to the dock, dropped the fenders over the sides, and secured the boat's forward line around a dock cleat.

“Ready?” he asked.

Cadie nodded and Liam helped her in. “I just need to lock up,” he said, walking back up to the boathouse, but then he heard his uncle's truck pull in and wished they'd been able to push off before he'd gotten there so he wouldn't have to endure any more questions . . . or warnings.
Oh, well,
he thought, looking up at the boathouse, waiting for Coop to appear, but after several minutes and still no sign of him, he told Cadie he'd be right back. He peered into the boathouse and saw him, sitting at his desk, sipping a cup of coffee.

“Morning,” he said.

“Mornin', kid.”

“We're heading out.”

He looked up and smiled. “Have fun!”

Liam frowned. That's it? No dire warnings or entreaties to behave? No questions about where they were going or when they'd be back? He shrugged. “Okay, see you later.”

Coop waved and Liam, still shaking his head, walked back to the boat.

As he untied the lines and climbed in, Cadie searched his face. “Everything okay?”

He nodded and pushed the starter button. The motor rumbled throatily to life, spraying water from its tail pipe.

Liam was seven the first time Coop took him to Tuckernuck Island, and he'd fallen in love with it immediately. It was secluded and beautiful, and even as he'd grown older, he'd never tired of hiking its sandy vistas and bars, digging for quahogs in its shallows, fishing off its shoals, or diving into its clear, cold water. And even though Coop hadn't let him take the boat there alone until he was in his teens—warning him that the tide between the islands was swift and unpredictable—by the time he was sixteen, he'd made the trip so many times, he felt he could do it with his eyes closed.

Tuckernuck Island is a pristine stretch of land two miles west of Nantucket. Its scraggly, low vegetation is similar to that of Cape Cod—scrub oak, pitch pine, bayberry, beach plum, salt-spray roses, and long, swaying beach grass; its wildlife include flocks of terns, piping plover, harbor seals, and the long-tailed duck; it has two salt ponds, each named for their location—North and East ponds; and crisscrossing its pristine landscape are sandy trails and rutted roads that connect neighbor with neighbor and private dock with private beach. There are thirty or so houses—all powered by generators and lit with kerosene lanterns. Stepping onto Tuckernuck is like taking a step back in time . . . and anyone who has had the good fortune of spending an afternoon, a week, a month, a summer, or a lifetime there knows just how blessed they are.

“I still can't believe you own a Chris-Craft!” Cadie said loudly so he could hear her over the motor.

“You should've seen her when we first got her. Coop found her in an old barn on the other side of the island; he paid next to nothing for her. He said she was all mine if I paid for the material to restore her. The body was in really rough shape and the motor was frozen, but she was all there . . . all original. There are before and after pictures in the boathouse. I'll show you when we get back.”

Cadie watched Liam steer the boat, his long brown fingers holding the smooth white wheel and controlling the throttle at its center with his thumb. She found his hands mesmerizing and couldn't help but wonder how they'd feel touching her. Liam glanced over and smiled, and she blushed.

He engaged the clutch and pushed the throttle up, and as the runabout picked up speed, slicing through the surf, Cadie's hat soared into the air and landed in the foamy wake behind them. She put her hand on Liam's arm and pointed, and as soon as he saw it bobbing up and down, he swung around to retrieve it. As he slowed down and leaned over to pluck it from the water, his white shirt billowed up, exposing the smooth brown skin of his lower back and the light tan line along the top of his swim trunks. Cadie looked away, surprised at how quickly her mind slipped below that tan line.

By the time the island came into view, the mist was burning off and snowy clouds were floating in the endless blue sky. As they passed the first house, Liam slowed down and the children playing in the yard waved. Liam and Cadie waved back. “I didn't know people
lived
here,” Cadie said in surprise. “I thought there was no electricity. . . .”

“There isn't,” Liam said, “but just because you can't blow-dry your hair doesn't mean you can't survive.”

“That's debatable,” Cadie said with a laugh. “Do they live here year-round?”

“Some do.”

They circled the island and Liam pulled up to a small white skiff tied to a buoy anchored several yards offshore. He dropped the boat fenders over the side, cut the engine, and tied the Chris-Craft to the buoy too.

“Whose rowboat is this?” Cadie asked uncertainly.

“Ours,” Liam replied as he transferred the cooler, towels, and beach blanket to the smaller boat. “There's nowhere to dock, so we have to row to shore.”

Cadie stood up and Liam held both boats steady so she could climb from one to the other. Once she was settled, he stepped across too. Then he untied the skiff, pushed off, and sat on the middle seat, facing her. “Want to row?” he teased, holding out the oars.

Without missing a beat, she said, “Sure!”

Liam laughed. “I was only kidding.”

“I wasn't.”

Liam shook his head, smiling as he started to slip an oar into its lock, and Cadie raised her eyebrows. “Do you think I don't know how?”

“I didn't say th—”

“Switch with me,” she demanded, and he suddenly realized she meant business.

They switched seats and Cadie slipped the oars into their locks, plunged one oar straight into the water, and held it against the current. The boat spun around; then she dipped both oars in and pulled back hard. Liam shook his head in surprise as the worn, wooden oars clunked and creaked in their locks, and the waves, lapping against the sides, pushed the boat inland. “This is the easy part, you know. . . .”

“What do you mean?” Cadie asked, eyeing him.

“We have the tide
with
us, but coming back, we'll be fighting it.”

“I'm sure I can handle it,” Cadie assured him.

“If you say so,” he said, lying back casually on the wooden bench seat and putting his hands behind his head.

Cadie looked at his long body stretched out in front of her and sighed.

“What's the matter?” he asked, opening his eyes. “Are you tired?”

“No, it's . . . it's just so beautiful out here,” she said.

“It is indeed,” Liam agreed, closing his eyes again. “Someday, I'm going to live out here.”

“Without electricity?!”

“It's not completely without electricity—most houses have generators.”

“And how much energy does a generator . . . generate?”

“It depends on the size, but mine will be big enough to run a small refrigerator and a water pump.”

Cadie frowned. “How will you cook?”

“Gas.”

“Lights?”

“Kerosene.”

“Heat?”

“Wood . . . and a big, cozy quilt,” he added with a grin.

“It sounds kind of primitive.”

“Primitive?!” he said, opening his eyes. “It doesn't sound
fun?
”

“I don't know,” she answered skeptically.

“What if I let you plug your hair dryer into my generator?”

She laughed. “Well, then, I
might
consider it.”

“Just think how romantic it would be to have dinner by lantern light every night.”

She rolled her eyes. “What about TV?”

He shook his head and closed his eyes again. “Naw . . . just books.”

“Your eyes will go bad from the poor lighting.”

“I had no idea you were so negative,” he teased.

Cadie gave one last pull and the boat slid up onto the beach with a jolt that almost sent Liam into the water. “We're here!” she announced.

“Nice,” he said, hopping out to pull the boat higher, and at the same time, splashing her.

“Hey!” Cadie said, laughing good-naturedly. She pulled the oars back into the boat, stood up, handed him the cooler, towels, and blanket, slung her beach bag over her shoulder, and climbed out too.

“Wow,” she said, looking up and down the deserted beach. “This
is
beautiful.”

Liam grinned. “Welcome to Tuckernuck.”

“No wonder you named your boat after it,” she exclaimed, watching the only other beachgoers—a flock of piping plovers—chasing the waves.

Liam walked a few yards away, set the cooler down, spread the blanket across the warm sand, and dropped the towels on it.

“Look at these shells,” Cadie called, walking along the water's edge. “There are so many . . .
and
they're not broken!”

“That's because Tuckernuck is Nantucket's best-kept secret. Islanders rarely tell vacationers about it. You know the saying: ‘It's classified . . . ?'”

“Great!” Cadie said with a laugh as she looked around and realized how vulnerable she was. “And I didn't even tell anyone where I was going.”

“Are you nervous?” he teased in an eerie voice.

She searched his tan face and looked into his summer sky blue eyes. “No,” she said simply. “I think I could tell if you were crazy.”

“Maybe . . .” he said mischievously. Then added, “Would you like to go see an abandoned house with me?”

Cadie laughed. “Why not? Abandoned beach . . . abandoned house—it doesn't matter—either way, they won't find me.”

They walked along the water, Cadie picking up shells and Liam skipping smooth stones across the waves. “How come you want to live here?” Cadie asked.

“Wouldn't you?”

“I don't know . . . it's beautiful, but I think it's a little too far from civilization.”

“Who needs civilization? Since the beginning of time, civilizations have been nothing but corrupt—they're all about power and war. Man will never learn to get along with his brother—there's always someone who wants
more
power or
more
money.”

“That's awfully cynical.”

“Cynical, but true. I see it all the time—even living on an island. Nantucket is a microcosm of the world—and it has more than its share of
haves
and
have-nots;
and the ones who
have
only want more.”

Cadie nodded. “You don't need to tell
me
—my father is one of them, but there are other
haves
who give away a lot of what they have.”

“Not many.”

Cadie was quiet, not knowing what to say.

“Living out here would be so simple,” Liam continued. “No news, no politics, no rich, no poor, no . . .”

“What would you do all day?”

“Fish, cook, build boats, work on my house, play with my kids. . . .”

“You're going to have kids?”

“Mm-hmm.”

“And raise them here?”

“Is there a better place?”

“How many are you going to have?”

“A whole tribe!” he said with a smile. “Being an only child isn't fun.”