Page 52 of Holding On

“The first thing is to calm your mind, take a few quick breaths, exhale hard, and then take in as much air as you can. Slowly release it.”

“Oh really?”

“Really.”

Reaching up, I fold my arms around her back and hold her close. Her hands press on either side of my face while I take a deep breath, then we kiss for a very long time.

***

I’m exhausted. The wind has started up, and the boat is bobbing hard enough to leave me a little queasy.

After raising anchor, I start to steer the barge back to the harbor where the water is calmer. I’m like Claire. I don’t tolerate boats well. Laurel and Devon are the sailors in the family. I’m not sure about Chloe.

We are both starving as well and need to grab some dinner.

Maya’s up by the wheel, and I tell her to hold The Winnow steady.

“Where did you learn to steer boats? Summer jobs?”

“George. I said I wanted to learn and he taught me. He hooked me up with Cappy, this old fisherman with a heart of gold, and I went lobstering with him at first. I was his sternman at the beginning. Well, sort of. What?” I’m glancing at her and she’s gripping the wheel. I come up behind her and slip an arm around her waist. “What is it about George that gets you so pissed?”

She shifts in my arm. “I’m not pissed. Just sad. Hurt probably.”

“Look. The guy looks like a friggin’ rock, but he’s a gemstone.”

“That’s what irritates me.”

I let her go. “Oh, come on. What did he ever do to you?”

“He never came home.”

I hear the hurt in her voice. My stomach turns, either from the choppy water or how awful this conversation may go.

“But this is his home.”

There’s color in her cheeks. “Not really. He grew up in West LA with my dad.”

“I know that, but he’s been an East Coast boy since coming here for vet school.”

“So. The plan was that he would move back.”

“You weren’t even born yet.”

“Do you know George acts like everything’s okay between them? Between him and my dad. But it’s not. They haven’t really spoken in almost ten years, ever since my mom got sick and died. It’s pretty rough. You know, my mother was an alcoholic. I’m sure my dad had a drinking problem too, but he doesn’t drink at all now. I give him credit for that.” She pauses. “There’s a little bit of sand across your forehead.”

I brush it with my hand while trying to hear what she’s saying. “So your mother died, and you’re angry George never came back to help your family?”

She nods and swallows. “He was supposed to come out. He promised my mother on her deathbed that he would come back and help. And he didn’t. I suffered for it. My sister suffered for it. He made a choice not to come back that summer.”

Slowly, like a veil lifting, I can see where she’s headed with this. I swallow. “He chose us over you.”

“Yeah, he did. And as much as I love and admire Uncle George, I’m pissed off at him too, because it affected my sister. Karina’s kinda a mess. It affected my dad. I think our lives would have been different had he come home. I know they would have.”

I sigh and try to pick my words very carefully, though my stomach is revolting. “I’m sorry that you feel this way.” This is something I’ve learned from Laurel, watching her with Cory. You validate what the person says. “George honored a legal obligation. My parents made him our guardian before they died. They didn’t expect to die. And he suddenly became our father and our mother.”

“I know that. But he didn’t have to say yes.”

“Okay, but look.” I take the wheel from her, mostly to steady the boat and give her a chance to pace. “How many people in their late twenties or early thirties really think they’re gonna have to cash in that card?”