The First Step, page 14
“Why do people on boats wave at each other?”
“No clue.” She shook her head. “We just do. Maybe we’re sayin’ we’re all in this together. Maybe we’re just bein’ polite. Maybe we’re sayin’ ‘I’ve got your back.’ I don’t really care. I like it. That’s all that matters, isn’t it?”
“Yep.”
“Good Lord, you’re starting to sound just like him.”
“Like Justin?” Reed laughed.
“Man of few words. Though I think it’s more outta necessity, if you know what I mean,” she said.
“I think I do.”
She eyed him as if she knew exactly what he was thinking, then seemed to consider how—or even whether—to respond. Finally she said, “Print any of this and I’ll haul your sorry ass overboard.”
“Yes, ma’am.” He smiled and nodded. “Seems like I’m in the hot seat today. Justin basically said as much this morning.”
“Justin’s got more reasons to keep to ’imself than the average man,” she continued. “More than I know of, that’s for sure.”
“So the pilot who was injured. What was his relationship to Justin?”
She sighed. “Justin apprenticed with Scott. Worshipped the ground he walked on.”
“He blames himself for what happened,” Reed put in.
“You know Justin better than I thought.” She smiled. If Trent hadn’t been sitting behind them, Reed had the impression she would have taken that line of thinking to the next step.
He shrugged. “Mostly I guessed. Connected the dots based on what I’ve read in the papers.”
“Marty was the one who convinced Justin he needed to settle down somewhere. If it wasn’t for him, Justin’d probably still be on a ship.” She turned the boat slightly to port as they entered the channel toward Southport. “Scott was the one who recognized the boy had talent and took him under ’is wing. He was like a father to Justin. He spent holidays at their place. I don’t know much about Justin’s family’s home, but I don’t think it was a good place for ’im. The Carsons gave him a home.”
“Where’s Scott Carson now?” Reed asked.
“Last I heard, they bought a condo near Tampa. His wife has a brother down there, and they figured it’d be easier for him to do his rehab someplace where she’d have help.”
“So he’s definitely not coming back.”
She shrugged. “He never said as much, but I doubt he will even if he can manage it physically. On the bright side, this business may be tough, but the pay’s real good. He’d been talkin’ about retirin’ in a few years anyhow. Scott loves to golf and fish. Can’t do much better for both of those now, can you?”
“No, ma’am.”
“You’re gonna ask me if Justin’s gone to visit,” Kerry said.
“I was.” Reed nodded.
“Nope. I’ve gotten on his case more times than I remember, but he won’t go see ’em. Maybe he feels guilty. Maybe he’s just being a stubborn ass. Who knows? It’s not like they haven’t invited ’im, either.”
“You said Justin blames himself. Was he to blame for the accident?” Reed asked.
“Hell no. Scott was the most experienced pilot here. He knew what he was doin’. Things just happen on this job,” she said wistfully. “You think it’s a good time to reach for that ladder and a wave you weren’t expectin’ comes and knocks you off the boat. We’re lucky. We haven’t had a fatality that I can recall. But they happen to the best of ’em. When I think about pilots dyin’ when a pilot boat runs ’em over, it’s like a gut punch. We all look out for each other. Losin’ someone, even having someone get hurt, you never really get over that.”
“Last week wasn’t your fault,” Reed said. “Justin told me as much. He told me he’d probably have fallen overboard if it hadn’t been for some fancy moves you made with the boat.”
“Don’t matter if it wasn’t my fault. It’s my job to keep ’em safe, and it happened on my watch.” She sighed and pressed her lips together, then steered the boat out of the channel and toward the docks. A few quick maneuvers and they were a foot or so away. “Wanna help Trent with the lines?”
“Sure.”
“I’ll put you right up against the dock so you can jump off. Take that bowline and cleat it off for me?”
“You sure you trust me to do that?”
Trent laughed. “She wouldn’t ask if she didn’t. Besides, I’ll be here if you need any help.”
“What’re y’all waitin’ for?” Kerry shouted. “At this rate I’m gonna be late gettin’ home for dinner.”
“Yes, ma’am.” Reed inclined his head, then stepped out of the cabin and onto the port side of the boat. True to her word, Kerry gently placed the boat against the dock so he didn’t have to jump. He cleated the rope off, then hopped back onto the boat as Trent did the same at the stern.
She cut the engine, and Reed helped her gather the few things in the boat before accompanying her and Trent back to the pilot building. “If you get movin’ now,” she told him after they’d deposited the gear, “you can catch Justin pullin’ the Baltimore into port.”
“Thanks for the tip.” He’d been too busy taking in all she’d told him, and he hadn’t even considered there might be enough time to meet Justin on the other end. “I’ll do just that.”
Chapter Twenty-Four
JUSTIN SAT on his front porch drinking a coffee the next morning, having spent most of the night tossing and turning. He’d ignored Reed’s call the night before, and it was eating at him. All Reed had wanted was to meet him at the port after he’d sailed the Baltimore in and maybe grab dinner, but Justin hadn’t wanted company.
“So this isn’t about us and it isn’t about it being dangerous?” Reed had asked before they’d headed out on the pilot boat.
Justin had meant it when he’d said it was neither. He wasn’t angry with Reed. He just didn’t want to talk to him, and knowing Reed, he’d bring up how he’d overreacted. Reed would know he was lying if he said he’d been angry because the ride-along took him by surprise. He wasn’t ready to admit to Reed that his anger masked fear. If he’d panicked and not been able to do the transfer, what would Reed have thought of him?
There were no boats on the schedule that he’d need to handle for the next twenty-four hours or so, so he decided he’d check in with Marty and work on a few projects around the house in case the hurricane they’d been predicting really did make landfall near Wilmington.
Justin grabbed a plastic shopping bag from one of the drawers and filled it with some of the persimmons he’d picked the night before. It was around ten when he finally made it to Stately Pines, fruit in hand.
Marty peered into the plastic bag Justin handed him. “Mary used to tell me there was nothin’ to do with persimmons ’cept eat ’em. Don’t matter to me much, since that’s the best thing to do with ’em anyhow.”
Justin smiled to see the wistful look in Marty’s eyes. He got that way every time he mentioned his late wife. “She was a smart woman.”
“You on shift?” Marty asked after he’d inspected several persimmons and pronounced them “good enough to eat.”
“Yep. Nothing much happening right now, though. I figured I’d check the hurricane shutters on the house and maybe trim back a few of the trees, just in case Florence comes this way.”
“There’s a storm coming?” Marty’s eyes lit with excitement.
“There’s always a storm coming this time of year. It’ll pass like they usually do. And if it doesn’t, we’ll be ready.” He got to his feet. “Ready for your tour around the garden, Captain?”
“I am.”
“Good timing,” Caroline said as Justin wheeled Marty back to his room an hour later. “Lunch is served.” She smiled and leaned in toward Marty. “Definitely not as delicious as the oyster po’boy last week, though.”
“Last week?” Justin asked when Marty just appeared confused.
“Marty had a visitor. Nice young man. He brought Marty lunch,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.
“Better than this slop,” Marty put in.
Most of Marty’s visitors were older folks he’d known for years. “Who was this visitor?” Justin asked.
Marty shrugged and looked to Caroline. “Reed something,” she said. “He said he was a reporter from New York. Do you know him?”
Justin nodded and forced a smile. Why did this feel like such an intrusion? “I gotta go. Enjoy your lunch,” he told Marty. “I’ll see you again soon.”
JUSTIN WAS working on the hurricane shutters when Reed pulled into the driveway late that afternoon. He’d texted asking if he could come by, and Justin hadn’t told him no.
“Getting ready for the storm?” Reed’s smile didn’t reach his eyes.
“Yep.”
“Anything I can do to help?” Reed asked.
“Hand me the WD-40.”
Reed did as Justin asked, and Justin sprayed the hinges on the shutter he’d been working on, then moved it back and forth until it swung easily closed. He latched the shutter to be sure the locking mechanism still worked, then opened it again.
Reed frowned. “Everything okay with us?”
He should have expected the question. “Huh?”
“You never returned my call last night.”
Justin shrugged. Last night seemed a long time ago.
“You still angry about me riding along yesterday?” Reed pressed.
“I told you, I overreacted.” Justin moved to the next shutter and tested the hinges.
“Okay. Then why the cold shoulder?”
“I’m busy.” Justin didn’t want to talk about it. Reed had just been doing his job talking to Marty, hadn’t he? This wasn’t worth arguing about.
“Justin?”
“Yep?”
“Something’s obviously wrong.” Reed’s tone was kind where Justin had expected he’d be angry, which made Justin even more uncomfortable.
“Everything’s fine.” He put the WD-40 back in the toolbox and carried it inside. “You up for some dinner? I put up the grill a while ago. Should be hot by now.”
Reed stared at him. “You sure you want me to stay?”
“Why not?” He wanted Reed to stay. He just didn’t want to talk.
“Okay.”
Ten minutes later Justin picked up the steaks and the tongs and walked out the back door. He set them on the side tray and opened the grill. Plenty hot already.
“Hey.” Reed put a hand on Justin’s shoulder. The touch felt reassuring and good. “Talk to me?”
“Nothing to talk about.” He picked up one of the steaks and deposited it on the metal grate. “How do you like it?”
“Huh?”
“The steak,” Justin said. “How do you want it done?”
“Rare, please.”
Justin set the other steak alongside the first.
“Justin, did something happen at work?” Reed asked.
“Work?” He watched the steaks intently. He couldn’t bring himself to look at Reed. This was all so stupid. Not even worth mentioning.
“Work.” Again, Reed expressed no obvious anger or even frustration.
“No.”
“Justin, look at me?” Reed sounded genuinely worried now. Justin hadn’t expected that either. Anger, maybe. But patience? Concern?
Justin inhaled a long breath and turned around. He still found it hard to look Reed in the eye, as if Reed might see through him to all the bullshit.
“I’m going to guess here.” Reed focused his gaze on Justin. “It’s something I did.”
“No.”
“No?” Reed pressed gently.
“Yes. No. I don’t know.” Justin’s throat constricted.
“I want to know. Can you tell me? Please?” Reed seemed so honest, so genuine, that something in Justin melted just a little.
“You saw Marty.”
Instead of anger, Reed seemed downright relieved. “Yes, I did. You’re angry about that, aren’t you?”
Was he? “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“It’s okay to be angry.” Reed’s tender smile took Justin by surprise. “Or hurt.”
“I’m not hurt.” Then why did his chest ache so badly? “I was just surprised.”
“Fair enough. I should have told you I was going to see him.”
“It’s none of my business.” That sounded like a complete cop-out, even to him. Marty’d looked out for him enough that he owed it to Marty to take care of him.
“Of course it’s your business. He’s like a father to you. You want to protect him, don’t you?”
Justin nodded. That was all true. But there was something else he’d just realized. There was something simmering beneath all the other emotions. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but he felt it all the same. “I was angry,” he finally admitted. “I thought… I don’t know…. I wondered….”
Fuck, he hated this! He didn’t want to fight with Reed. He wanted it all to go away. He didn’t want to feel anything. Yesterday was bad enough. That antsy feeling seemed to chase him like a swarm of wasps angry that someone stepped on their nest.
The grill erupted into flames. “Shit!” He shut the lid, turned off the gas, and the flames died. He clenched his jaw and bit back the urge to punch something.
“Nothin’ good comes from anger.” His mother’s voiced echoed in his mind.
Reed stared at him. Justin waited for him to walk away. But instead, he did the last thing Justin expected him to do—he hugged Justin. A warm, loving embrace without words, without expectation, without condemnation.
Justin blinked back tears. What the hell was that all about?
“I’m sorry I hurt you,” Reed said softly.
“You didn’t do anything wrong,” he whispered.
“Maybe. Maybe not. But you don’t have to be right to feel something about it.” Reed kissed his cheek.
“Sounds so easy when you put it like that.” Justin sighed. Reed stepped back, but Justin took his hand. “Thanks.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know.” For not getting angry? For understanding? Justin wasn’t ready to speak the words aloud.
Chapter Twenty-Five
REED AND Justin sat on the beach an hour and a half later, looking out at the night sky. The moon hadn’t risen yet, so the Milky Way was visible over the water. The blinking lights of an airplane followed the coast northward, probably headed for DC or New York. Reed knew that soon he’d be the one boarding the flight to LaGuardia Airport. He closed his eyes and focused instead on the sound of the waves crashing on the sand. It wasn’t just Justin he’d miss when he headed home.
In the end, they’d tossed the steaks into the trash and eaten turkey and cheese sandwiches. They’d been delicious—proof that so long as you were with someone whose company you enjoyed, everything tasted good.
“I want to tell you what Marty and I talked about,” Reed said after a long silence.
“You don’t have to.”
“I want to.” He needed Justin to understand that he wouldn’t betray his trust. Because even though Justin hadn’t said it, Reed had sensed the hurt and fear underlying Justin’s words.
“Okay.”
“I went there because I wanted to know more why you became a pilot.” He paused and gathered his thoughts. He wanted Justin to understand, but he didn’t want to scare the shit out of him either. “But after a while, I realized I wanted to know about you. About your past.”
“Oh.”
“This isn’t about the story. No one will ever read about that unless you tell me that’s what you want.” Reed ran his fingers through the soft sand. “I wanted to know because I needed to understand.” For the first time in his life, he wanted to know about someone for something other than a story.
“Understand me?”
“Yes.” Reed felt like a kid again, awkward and unsure of himself. “Whatever this—whatever we are—I want to be a friend. Someone you can talk to.”
“Thanks.” In the darkness, Reed couldn’t quite see Justin’s expression, but his voice resonated with gratitude.
“He told me about—”
“Whatever he told you,” Justin said, “it’s probably true.”
“You don’t want to know?”
“Nope. It’s my past. I lived it.” Justin paused for a moment. “Unless there’s something you want to ask me.”
Had Justin just offered to answer his questions? Reed wasn’t sure what to say or even what to ask. “I…,” Reed began, trying to gather his thoughts. “If you’re willing to talk about it, I’d like to know about the accident.”
“With Scott?”
“If that’s okay with you.”
“It’s okay.” Justin stood and offered Reed his hand. “Walk with me?”
“Sure.”
Justin pulled Reed to his feet and they walked over to the water. They’d left their shoes by the access ramp, so Reed stuck his toes into the surf. The water was surprisingly warm.
Justin didn’t immediately speak. Reed sensed he was trying to gather his thoughts, so he didn’t press him. Finally he said, “It wasn’t anything, really.”
“Scott’s accident?”
“No, I didn’t mean his getting hurt was nothing,” Justin quickly put in. “Just that it didn’t change things.”
“Okay.” After having spoken with Kerry and Marty, Reed knew better. But whether as Justin’s friend or as a reporter, his job was to listen and try to understand, not to judge.
“I spent five years as Scott’s apprentice,” Justin continued. “My job was to shadow him, at least to begin with. Then once he felt I knew the ropes, I started to take over some of the responsibility for the jobs. With him watching me, of course.”
“Sure. There’s too much at stake to put a newbie in without someone to check after him,” Reed agreed.
“Right.” Justin kicked a wave as it receded from the beach. He ran a hand through his already tousled hair and stopped walking. “But every once in a while, I ride along as a deckhand on transfers. Usually when we’re short-staffed. I don’t need to, but part of me misses the time he and I spent together.”
