Oyster River

"I'll get it, Pop," Michelle said.

"The hell you will. Sit down, the both of you."

They sat and he rolled over to the stove. He ladled three big bowls full of the steaming stew, then brought them to the table, one by one.

"Now this is a special thing, Laurie," he said, "These are fresh oysters from right here on Oyster River. Bob grows them right off his dock."

"Watch out for pieces of shell," Michelle warned. "Bub couldn't be bothered actually shucking them, he busts them open with a ball peen hammer."

They ate the stew, tearing off chunks of the sourdough bread to dunk in it. By the time they finished eating, Michelle was growing drowsy.

"I think I need to lay down," she said, "at least for a little while." She pushed her chair back. "Can you come up and give me a hand?" she asked Laurel.

"Of course," Laurel said. She looked at Pop. "You don't mind do you?"

He shook his head and stuffed another piece of stew soaked bread into his mouth.

Michelle stood up and kissed the top of her father's head. "I love you, Pop," she said.

"I love you too, sweetheart."

Laurel followed Michelle upstairs. She was surprised when they entered the bedroom. She expected Michelle's most private space would be spartan, austere, but it was warm and feminine. The walls were painted a blush pink. There was a Maxfield Parrish print on one wall, a Dixie Chicks poster on another. In one corner, a small armchair was crowded with stuffed animals. The scent of hydrangeas filled the room from a vase on the nightstand.

"This is not what I expected," Laurel said, smiling.

Michelle could only manage a slight chuckle. "Not as butch as you thought it would be?"

"I suppose not. We still have so much to learn about each other."

"I'm looking forward to it. Right now, I need to get these clothes off. My jeans are still damp."

Laurel helped her out of the jeans and her t-shirt. Michelle went down the hall to the bathroom.

While she waited for her to return, Laurel stepped over to a small desk next to the back window. There were a pair of bookshelves mounted on the wall above it. She cocked her head to read the titles on the spines of the books.

Michelle returned wearing a flannel bathrobe. "If you see anything you want to read, feel free," she said.

Laurel smiled. "I think I have read at least half of them."

"I guess that's a good sign."

Michelle flopped down on the bed and stretched out on her back.

"Oh god, this feels good," she moaned.

Laurel sat down on the edge of the mattress beside her. "Is this okay?" she asked, taking Michelle's right hand, "It doesn't hurt, does it?"

"No, as soon as they popped the bone back into my shoulder socket, most of the pain went away."

Laurel shuddered.

Michelle looked away for a minute, then turned her head back to Laurel.

"I owe you an apology," she said.

"For what?" Laurel said, frowning.

"I should have congratulated you about your new job."

Laurel chuckled. "Honey, you had other things on your mind. And I understand that you have mixed feelings about it."

Michelle shook her head. "No. I don't."

"No?"

Michelle started to speak, stopped, then began again. "When I went into the water, I didn't think I was coming out," she said.

Laurel shook her head. "You don't have to talk about it."

"Yes, I do. I need to tell you."

"Go ahead."

"When I thought I was going to die, all I could think about was that I would never get this second chance to be with you."

Laurel kissed her cheek. "Can you imagine how pissed off I would be if I quit my job to be near you and then you drown?"

"Do you think maybe somebody's trying to tell me something?"

"I've been trying to tell you something all along."

They kissed, then lay quietly side by side. When Laurel was sure Michelle had fallen asleep, she got up, moving slowly, careful to not disturb her. She tiptoed out of the room and went downstairs. The kitchen was empty, but she smelled cigarette smoke through the back screen door. She looked out and saw Pop in his wheelchair on the back porch.

"Come on out," he said, "And maybe bring a couple of beers."

She got the beers from the refrigerator, took them outside and handed him one. There were a pair of Adirondack chairs on the porch. She sat down next to him.

"Michelle don't like me smokin'," he said, "Just because the doctors say so." He took a drag on his cigarette, and in its glow, Laurel saw tears gleaming on his cheeks.

"Are you okay, Mister Roberts?"

His voice was barely above a whisper. "What would I do without her? If I lost her, I think I'd just roll this chair off the dock into the river and drown my own self."

"She's going to be fine, Mister Roberts."

"You can call me Pop, if you want."

"Thanks. I like that."

"You love her, don't you?"

"I do."

"Took you long enough to do something about it."

"Too long," Laurel said.

"Well, you got around to it, that's what counts. I'm thinking she loves you, too."

"I think she does."

They sat and drank their beer. There was a loud splash from the river.

"What was that?" Laurel asked.

"Probably just a bullfrog." He paused, then said, "Laurie, you ain't going to take her back to Boston with you, are you?"

"No Pop, I'm staying here. I got a job with Bob Enderly at Maine Coast Realty."

"That's good. Bob is a good sort. Where are you fixing to stay, though?"

"I don't know yet."

"Have you talked to Michelle about staying here?"

"No, I haven't."

"Makes sense, don't it?"

"Would you be okay with that?"

"Can you cook?"

"I'm a very good cook."

"Michelle does all right, but she ain't going to be invited on no TV cooking shows."

He snuffed out his cigarette in a beanbag ashtray he held in his lap. "Do you think you could help me with the door, Laurie? I can do it on my own, but I make a racket and I don't want to disturb Michelle."

She open the screen door and helped him get inside. As he rolled toward his bedroom, he asked her, "Are you spending the night?"

"I suppose so."

"All right," he said, "See you in the morning."

Laurel mounted the stairs and stepped quietly into Michelle's bedroom. Michelle was lying on her left side in the middle of the bed. From the steady rhythm of her breathing, Laurel could tell that that she was still asleep.

She kicked off her shoes and lowered herself to the bed behind her. Michelle stirred but did not awaken. Laurel cuddled closer and wrapped her arm around her waist. Michelle leaned back, tilted her head and looked at Laurel through sleepy, half open eyes. Her lips curled into a grin and she made a soft murmuring sound that fell just short of words.

Laurel kissed her cheek, laid her head on the pillow beside her and said, "I know you do. I love you, too."

Michelle, Summer 2021

Michelle watched Jacki and Kip pull the day's last trap. Kip was a big strapping kid, just out of high school. He could wrangle traps like they were made of cardboard. Jacki was small, but had sure, fast hands and a keen eye for judging the size of the bugs. They made a good team. They were boyfriend and girlfriend, but when they were on board, they were all business.

Pop has argued endlessly that two sternmen was a needless expense, but when Michelle proved that, with them, she could haul each trap every other day, rather than every third, he stopped voicing his objections, although she figured he still thought it was some sort of smoke and mirrors.

When Kip dropped the trap over the rail, Jacki fetched two cans of Red Bull from the cooler. They sat down together on the back bench, filling tomorrow's bait bags, while Michelle turned Carol Anne in the direction of Port Harmony.

"Hey, Michelle, can I ask you something?" Kip said.

"Sure."

"If we saved up and got our own boat some day, would that be cool?"

"If you stay out of my water."

"But, I mean, would you, like, vouch for us?"

Michelle shrugged. "Don't know that it would matter. Anybody thinks you are where you don't belong could just cut your trap lines. Next time you come looking for your buoys, they'd have floated halfway to Ireland."

"Well, we'd try to do things right," he said, looking disappointed.

"Kip, lots of people work a boat for a season. Most don't stick with it."

"So how do you get into the business?" Jacki asked.

"You don't. Your great great grandad got into the business. Then you learn the ropes when you're still a kid. And you do it every day. Ten below zero, you haul your traps. Nor'easter heading in, haul your traps before it hits."

"It takes a special kind of person, doesn't it?"

Michelle shook her head. "Ain't nothing special about me."

They came into the harbor and she swung the boat around, glided in and softly bumped up against the wharf at Dean's Lobster. With three of them working together, the unloading went quickly.

When they had weighed out, Jacki untied the ropes and shoved the rail with her foot. Carol Anne drifted away from the wharf and Michelle hit the throttle. She steered away from the wharf and turned upriver.

The sun was low in the west and its light was golden on the water and edged the trees along the shore with a shimmering outline. She passed the town where she had spent her life, where she expected to spend the rest of it. She moved on, under the bridge and up the river. As the banks drew closer together, the water darkened.

A loon skittered away from the boat as she turned the last bend and the house came into view.

The back light was on, and as she maneuvered toward the dock, she saw her father, sitting on the porch in his wheelchair. Laurel sat on the step by his feet. As she came closer, Michelle could hear him laughing, and peering closer, saw Sadie squirming to climb out of his lap.

The little girl flopped on to the porch, landing on her butt. She jumped right up though, and looked like she was about to make a break for the dock, but Laurel scooped her into her arms and stood up.

Michelle slid Carol Anne against the dock and cut the engine. By the time she tied off, Laurel and Sadie were standing on the dock, looking down at her.

She stepped from the boat to the dock. Sadie was holding her arms out, shouting, "Mama, Mama." Laurel handed her to Michelle.

Michelle took their daughter and kissed her. She waved to her father, then took Laurel's hand and kissed her. Maybe I'm at least a little bit special, she thought.

They walked up the dock toward their home, their hands joined, as the day's last light sparkled like diamonds on the Oyster River.