Riptide (4 page)

“Wait’ll Rae gets a load of this. They got
Murder, She Wrote
over on the Netflix now, you know. She’s been watchin’ the daylights out of it. She’ll be tickled to death.”

“Yeah, well, I’m glad she’ll be happy,” Maggie said, trying to smile.

Mel looked a bit more subdued and nodded his head. “Yeah, it’s not exactly good for the tourist trade, I suppose.”

“Not the tourists
we
want,” Maggie said. “Well, listen, I’m gonna go down the dock, see if anybody’s aboard.”

“Well, you just missed your daddy, and Fred Carlton and his crew was here til about twenty minutes ago, but I don’t think anyone else is around. Oystermen came in early today. Wicked hot. Shrimpers aren’t here yet. Oh, wait! ‘Cept David, he’s down there with his new trawler.”

“David got a new shrimp boat?” Maggie asked. She hadn’t seen him since Grace’s funeral, but he had her told a few weeks back that he almost had the money for a new boat.

“Yeah, he’s right down there,” Mel said, waving his arm down toward the other docks, closer to Boudreaux’s business and the dock where the Sheriff’s Office boat was moored. “Got himself a nice old Jefferson.”

“Okay, Mel, thanks.” Maggie gave him a half-hearted wave, then went back to her Jeep. She drove the city block to a small public parking area next to Sea-Fair, and headed down toward the last docks, where most of the shrimp boats moored.
 

Halfway there, she spotted David’s new boat, and David on the deck winding a new rope onto the winch. He was wearing old jeans and a stained white tee shirt, and his onyx-black hair shone in the sunlight as he bent over the winch.

Maggie stopped on the dock, on his starboard side, and took a look at the boat. The royal blue paint on the hull was chipped and peeling, but the nets looked new, and so did the doors, the rectangular pieces of wood attached to the nets to keep them just above, but not dragging on, the bottom of the sea floor.

Maggie watched him winding the stiff, white rope onto the winch and felt a moment of pride and gratitude. Just before the BP spill, David had taken a loan on a new shrimp boat. He’d lost it a few months after the spill and had spent the next several month doing odd jobs, crewing for the few shrimpers who could still afford a paid crew, and beginning a new drinking career.
 

A year after the spill, he was transporting pot for a cousin of his that grew it in Tate’s Hell Forest and Maggie had asked him to leave. It was now five years since their divorce, but they’d been together since they were ten years old, and he would always be the best friend she’d ever had.

Maggie swallowed hard at the memory of all the years she had watched him get ready to head out to the bay, then cleared her throat.

“Hey,” she said.

He looked up and smiled, his green eyes startling in between his black bangs and close-cut beard.

“Hey, baby! What do you think?”

“It’s beautiful,” she said. They’d both always had a thing for the older boats.

David hitched up his jeans and stuffed his hands into his front pockets. “Well, I had to replace the nets and chains and doors, and it needs paint and a lot of topside work, but I think it’s gonna be a fine boat eventually,” he said.

“When did you get it?”

“Just got back from Mobile this morning. That guy I rebuilt the motor for, he gave me a good deal. Cash.”

“This is great, David. I’m really happy for you.”

“Me, too, babe.” He shrugged self-consciously. “I’m gonna get my life back. Not all of it, maybe, but the ‘me’ part.”

Maggie nodded. “What about the other thing?”

“I’m out, Maggie. Done.”

“The kids are going to be really proud of you, David,” Maggie said, blinking away tears. “I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. I’ve gotta get a crew, but Axel’s gonna go out with me tonight and I talked to Mike last week. Things are tight and he said he’ll crew for me again. He says he knows a couple of good guys who might come out a few nights.”

Maggie nodded again and smiled. “You’ll get there.”

“Yeah.” They looked at each other a moment, both with different memories of a different time. “So, what are you doing over here?”

Maggie shook her head and looked around the docks. “I was hoping to catch some more people down here. Did Axel tell you what happened this morning?”

“No, I figured he was asleep when I got back, so I haven’t called him today. Is he okay?”

“Yeah, but he got a human foot in his net. A leg, really.”

“Are you serious?”

“Yeah, and no, it wasn’t a shark.”

David ran a hand through his hair, which had grown out quite a bit and was damp where it touched the base of his neck. “Geez, I leave town for a week and all of a sudden we’re living in Twin Peaks.”

“Yeah, well. I guess it’ll keep me employed.”

David wiped at his forehead, then hopped up on the gangway and to the dock.

“I’ve gotta walk over to the soda machine. Want to walk with me?”

“Sure.”

“How are the kids?” David asked as they walked toward the Sea-Fair office.

“They’re good. You should call them.”

“I will. I’ll call them before I go out. So what do you think is up with this leg or foot or whatever?”

“No clue.”

“Well, if I drag any parts up tonight, I’m chucking ’em back,” he said.

Maggie smiled at him. “Just weight them down first and mark them with a buoy for me, okay?”

“Will do.” They walked in silence for a moment, just the crunching of oyster shells below and the rasping of palm fronds above to break the quiet. “So, how’s Wyatt?”

David had known Maggie was getting involved with Wyatt before she’d known it for sure herself. He’d taken it well, though she knew he’d been hurt.

“He’s okay,” she said, uncomfortable. “We haven’t…we haven’t gone on a date or anything yet.”

David nodded without looking at her.

They reached the main building, and stopped at the old RC Cola machine. David dug into his pocket for change. He looked at her and smiled. “How about an RC, baby?”

“Sure,” Maggie said with half a smile.

He started loading change into the machine. “You remember when we used to sneak down here, grab some RCs and go make out on your Dad’s skiff?”

Maggie smiled. “Yeah. I also remember the night those Donnelly boys tried to steal Vern Burwell’s trawler, and we ended up surrounded by PD.”

David grinned. “Aw, man, that sucked. I thought Gray was gonna kill me. I spent an hour listening to him tell me about your virtue. It took me another hour to convince him I hadn’t taken it.”

He got two sodas, popped hers open and handed it to her.

“Thanks,” she said, and took a sip. She watched him open his soda and dip his head back for a long swallow, saw the spot near his Adam’s apple that she had always loved to kiss, and her chest hurt, but it was a mild ache.

“You should find someone, David,” she said softly.

He took another drink, then looked at her for a moment. “I will one of these days, Maggie. I’m still letting go of us.”

Maggie looked down at her brown hiking boots, the frayed bottoms of her jeans.

“Hey,” David said, and she looked up at him. “It’s okay. I know it’s too little too late.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Me, too. “ He took a deep breath and let it out with a smile. “But things are looking up.”

“Yes.” Maggie nodded and smiled. “I’ve got to go. I’m glad you’re home.”

David opened his arms, and Maggie leaned in and wrapped her arms around his waist, her head coming to rest where it always had, just beneath his neck.

“I love you, David.”

“I love you too, babe.”

Maggie stepped back and gave him a half wave.

“Take care,” he said to her.

“You too,” she answered, then turned and headed for her car. When she got into the Jeep and looked, David was walking back to his new boat. She almost jumped back out of the Jeep to yell, “Break the nets,” like she used to back when they were married and she would see him off with his dinner and his Thermos.
 

 
It was her version of “break a leg” and he’d always laughed about it. But somehow, it just seemed like it would almost be unkind to say it now.

M
aggie lived about five miles northwest of town, in a cypress stilt house built by her father’s father back in the 1950s. The house was half a mile down a gravel road, and sat on a spit of land that curved out into the river, so that there was river on two sides of the house. She had no near neighbors. The house was surrounded by woods and her gravel road was at the dead end of the road that led out of town.

She stopped at the mailbox on Bluff Road, then turned onto the gravel, thankful for the instant shade from the trees on either side. Eventually, she pulled into the wide front yard area, more gravel and dirt than grass, and parked. Maggie’s Catahoula Parish Leopard Hound, Coco, was halfway down the stairs from the wraparound deck by the time Maggie turned off the Jeep.

Coco came at Maggie from the stairs and Maggie’s one Americana Rooster, Stoopid, flailed across the parking area from the other side. Dog and bird converged a few feet in front of Maggie as she shut the door, then Stoopid veered off and did one of his figure-eight maneuvers before running back toward the chicken yard. Coco commenced a full-on emotional arrest and threw herself at Maggie’s legs.

“Hey, baby,” Maggie said, and knelt down to kiss Coco’s face and rub her neck. “How’s my girl?”

Coco was too overjoyed to answer, but danced alongside Maggie as she made her way to the house. Coco’s tags jingled behind Maggie as she climbed the stairs, pulled her boots off with her feet, and walked into the house.

The front door opened immediately onto their dining area, and Maggie dropped her purse and keys on the old table just a few feet from the door. Her ten-year old son, Kyle, the spitting image of his father, was on the couch playing Minecraft.

“Hey, Buddy,” Maggie said.

Kyle looked up at her and smiled wide, looked at her with David’s green eyes and thick, dark lashes. “Hey, Mom! You gotta see this new mod I got.”

Maggie leaned down to kiss his forehead. “Show me in a little bit, okay? I’ve got to start dinner. Did your sister take the chicken out?”

“I don’t know,” he answered, already focusing back on the TV. “We just got back a little while ago.”

Maggie walked into the kitchen, an ell open to the dining area and living room. She walked to the old cast iron farm sink, rescued from the house where her grandma had grown up, and looked in. There were a few cups, but no chicken. Maggie sighed and walked to the hallway off of the living room.

“Sky!” she called, then walked back to the kitchen and opened the fridge. She heard Sky’s bedroom door open, and Sky appeared beside her a moment later, earbuds in and phone in hand.

“Hey,” she said.

Maggie looked up and pointed at her own ear. Sky took one of the earbuds out. Maggie could hear music she hated, tinny and small.

“You forgot to take the chicken out to thaw.”

“Oh. Sorry.”

Sky was beautiful when she wasn’t sullen. She looked more like her mom than her dad. Although her green eyes could have belonged to either parent, she had Maggie’s long, dark brown hair, full lips and strong chin.

Maggie sighed. “Sky, I just asked you to do one thing, hon.”

“I’m sorry,” Sky said defensively. “We were running late for Kyle’s friend’s dumb birthday party and I forgot.”

Maggie threw a hand on her hip as she looked back into the fridge. She needed to go shopping, on someone else’s schedule.

“Well, I guess it’s grilled cheese and tomato soup,” she said, and grabbed the cheese before closing the fridge.

“Sounds okay to me,” Sky said. “I’ve lost my appetite after spending the whole day eating cupcakes and listening to ten year old nerds talk about Minecraft and Mario.”

Maggie got a skillet out of the drawer beneath the oven and set it on the stove. “I just need you to help me out a little more while you guys are out of school, okay?”

“Yeah. Okay.” She put her earbud in and headed out of the kitchen. “Call me when it’s ready.”

Maggie sliced some butter and dropped it into the pan, then turned on the gas burner. Then she walked out toward the living area.

“Has she been like this all day?” Maggie asked.

“I guess so,” Kyle said to the TV.
 

“What’s up with her?”

“Her-mones,” he answered with a shrug.

“Awesome.” Maggie walked back into the kitchen, thanking God she had some wine in the house.