Nantucket (11 page)

L
iam was stirring blueberries into the pancake batter when Cadie appeared in the doorway. He looked up. “Morning.”

“Mornin',” she replied sleepily.

“Coffee?”

“Mmm.”

“How'd you sleep?”

“Good,” she said, pulling her robe around her thin frame and settling into one of the kitchen chairs. Tuck got up off the old gray mat in front of the door and moseyed over to say hello. “Hello, honey,” she said softly, gazing into his eyes and making his whole hind end wiggle. “You should be a therapy dog, you know that?” she added, and Tuck's tail swished in agreement.

“He
would
be a good therapy dog,” Liam said. “He can always tell when someone's feeling blue or under the weather.” He set two steaming cups of black coffee on the table. “Cream and sugar?”

“No, thanks.”

Liam sat down across from her and smiled. “I always
knew
you were my kind of girl.”

Cadie cradled the cup in her hands, peered at him over the rim, and saw sadness in his eyes. “Levi told you, didn't he?”

Liam nodded.

“I thought he would.”

“He's taking it pretty hard. He needed to tell someone.”

“I know,” Cadie said softly. “He tries so hard to stay positive. . . and strong for me. He's always saying, ‘We're gonna beat this, Mom,' but I know, deep down, his heart is breaking.”

“Well, you're his mom and he's worried he's going to lose you.”

“That's why I came here, Li—because he's going to need his dad. He's going to need
you.
”

Liam took a deep breath and let it out slowly. He could almost hear Coop's voice:
Be careful what you wish for!
Two days earlier his life had been simple. He'd gotten up, gone to work, played with his dog, weeded his garden, had a beer and something to eat, and gone to bed . . . and he'd fully expected the remainder of his days to be much the same—give or take the order of events—until finally, his days ended and his ashes were scattered across Nantucket Sound. And that would be the proverbial that.

At least, that had been the plan.

“It's amazing how your life can change in a heartbeat,” Cadie mused as if she could read his mind. “I'd just moved to Boston when all this began. I'd finally broken free from my parents and had a job for the first time in my life . . . and then, all of a sudden, I started to lose weight—which, initially, was a good thing because I hadn't lost the weight I'd gained with Aidan, but then I started having these intense pains in my stomach and back.” She paused, seeing the look on Liam's face. “I know—hard to believe, right? The two times you've known me—years ago and now—I was either girlishly slender or sickly thin. You never saw me when I was tipping the scale at a hundred and sixty!

“Anyway, one day, I'm starting a new life and a new job—
with
health insurance, thank goodness—enjoying my boys . . . and the next day, my doctor is telling me I have cancer. I was stunned. I kept thinking,
This can't be happening . . . this
cannot
be happening . . . someone must've mixed up the test results.
But then they were giving me prescriptions and a schedule for chemo and I felt like I was being whisked off into a nightmare where I was a spectator watching my life unravel.

“I began to watch other people—total strangers—walking down the street, shopping at the store, running through the park, and my heart ached because all I wanted was for my life to be like theirs—it didn't matter what problems they had. All I wanted was to go back to the day before I found out. I wanted to be able to enjoy the simple things again—like going for a hike with my boys, watching the sun set, reading a good book—all without the dark specter of cancer hanging over me.

“I prayed constantly, begging God to make it go away and promising to never ask for anything else again.” She searched Liam's face and then smiled sadly. “But that wasn't His plan, because my cancer didn't just miraculously disappear . . . and I fully expected it to!

“Finally, I decided I wasn't going down without a fight. I went from denial to envy to resolve. And I
did
fight—I did everything they asked—I had chemo and radiation; I lost my hair; I was sick all the time until I just couldn't take it anymore and I wondered if it would be better to die; I tried tofu and miso soup, Chinese remedies, Reiki—you name it!”

Liam suddenly realized the chasm between the life changes they were each facing. “Levi told me you have a strong faith,” he said, “but how can you
not
be angry at God? How can you not blame Him?”

“I
am
angry . . . and I
do
blame Him . . . but that doesn't mean I've stopped believing. I wouldn't have made it this far without Him, and I've come to learn that I have to wake up each day with a new resolve . . . ready to take on what that day will bring, knowing that, no matter what happens, He's by my side.” She searched Liam's eyes. “Cancer changes people, Liam . . . it's changed
me.
I don't look at life the same way. Being sick makes you realize just how precious each moment is . . . and it makes you want to live each day as if it's your last . . . because it very well might be.”

Just then, Aidan shuffled sleepily into the kitchen. “I'm hungry.”

“You are?” Liam asked, tousling his hair.

“Mm-hmm. What's for breakfast?”

“Pancakes,” Liam said.

“Blueberry?” he asked, leaning against Cadie and putting his hands on Tuck's head.

“Yup,” Liam said, standing up. Then he looked at Cadie. “What time is your ferry?”

“Ten thirty-five.”

“We're leaving?” Aidan moaned. “But we just got here.”

“I'm sorry, hon,” Cadie said, putting her arms around him, “but I have an appointment.”

“You
always
have an appointment,” Aidan said gloomily.

Liam looked up from ladling batter onto the griddle and saw the disappointment on Aidan's face. Then he pictured John Alden's boat waiting for his attention . . . and he suddenly found himself weighing the two options. “Hey, pal,” he began, “if it's okay with your mom,” he continued, “maybe you can stay with me while she goes to her appointment.”

Aidan's face lit up. “Can I, Mom?” he asked excitedly.

“I don't know, hon,” she said, looking up at Liam in surprise. “Don't you have work to do?”

“This is more important. Plus, he can come with me to work.”

“Please, Mom!” Aidan pleaded. “Then you can come back tomorrow.”

“That's just it, hon. I don't know if I
can
come back tomorrow—it's a long trip and you know how tired I get.”

“You can do it—it's not hard.”

Cadie smiled, brushing back his hair. Then she looked at Liam again. “Are you sure?”

He nodded as he flipped the pancakes. “I'm sure,” he said, although he really wasn't sure at all.

“Do you want Levi to stay too?”

Liam shook his head. “No, I think he should go with you.”

“Well, if you're absolutely sure . . .”

“I'm absolutely sure,” Liam said, hiding his uncertainty with a smile. He smoothed melting butter over the steaming pancakes, oozing with juicy blueberries, and set them on the table.

Cadie put two on a plate for Aidan and one on a plate for herself and then drizzled maple syrup over them. She cut a small piece with her fork and put it in her mouth. “Mmm, I thought you didn't know how to cook.”

“I
don't
know how to cook . . . but I
do
know how to make pancakes—a man can't survive without pancakes.”

“That's right,” Aidan agreed with his mouth full of the buttery, syrupy cakes. “A man can't survive!”

Just then, Levi came in, wearing boxers and a T-shirt. “Barely surviving here,” he said, sitting down at the table.

A
idan leaned against Liam and watched as Cadie and Levi became specks of bright color. Then Liam put his hands on his shoulders. “Ready?”

He nodded. “C'mon, Tuck,” he called, and the big golden trotted along beside him. “What are we doing today?” Aidan asked as he scooted over to the middle so Tuck could sit next to the window.

“Well, I thought we'd pick up something for lunch and then head over to the boathouse.”

Aidan nodded. “What are we going to do there?”

“We're going to work on a sailboat that has a hole in it.”

“How did it get a hole?”

“A boy ran it up on the rocks.”

“Why?”

“Because he wasn't being careful.”

“My mom always tells me to be careful.”

Liam smiled. “That's because she doesn't want anything to happen to you.”

Aidan nodded and then grew quiet. “I don't want anything to happen to her either.”

Liam looked over and watched Aidan rest his head on Tuck's back. He felt tears sting his eyes, but he didn't say anything—he didn't know what
to
say.

Twenty minutes later, after introducing his new helper to a very surprised Sally, they left Cuppa Jo to Go with one chicken salad wrap, one peanut butter and jelly sandwich, and two Cokes, and when they got to the boathouse, Aidan hopped out into the sunny August morning and looked around while Liam unlocked the big carriage doors.

“Wow,” Aidan whispered softly when he saw the hole in the side of the sailboat. “That's awful . . . it looks so sad.”

Liam looked up from putting their lunch in the fridge. “It
does
look sad,” he agreed.

“What are the train tracks for?” Aidan asked, sliding his sneaker along one of the worn metal rails.

“That's the marine railway—it's how we pull boats out of the water.”

Aidan nodded thoughtfully, studying the rail car cradling the sailboat. “And what's that?” he asked, pointing to a second track running perpendicular to the first.

“That's the transverse track—it's used to move the boats over to the shop.”

Aidan wandered over to the workbench. “You sure have a lot of old tools!”

Liam nodded. “They're old, but they still work. This was my uncle's first chisel.” He held up the sharp tool and traced his finger along the smooth, wooden handle. “And this was his first hand plane,” he added, pointing to the plane.

“What's this?” Aiden asked, twirling the handle of the clamp that was bolted to the bench.

“That's a vice,” Liam said, showing Aidan how to crank it tightly against a piece of wood. “It acts like a second set of hands.”

Aidan nodded and followed Liam over to the shop. “And these are the big tools,” Liam said, gesturing to the machinery around the workshop. “This is a table saw, and this is band saw—they're used to cut boards; and this is a jointer—it's used to make the face of a warped or bowed board flat, and then, after the board is flat, it can be used to straighten and square the edges too; and this is a planer—it's used to make a board that's been jointed a flat, equal thickness from end to end; and this is a lathe—it's used to make masts and booms, like those,” he explained, pointing to the back wall lined with long, cylindrical pieces of wood. “And
this
is the steam box—this is where planks are steamed so they can be bent to fit the frame.”

“You can bend wood?!”

“Yup . . . after it's been steamed.”

“And what are those?” Aidan asked, pointing to a pile of white nylon cloth neatly folded and piled on the floor.

“Old sails.”

“And that?”

“A wood stove.”

“Do you use it?”

“In the winter.”

“And what's that?” Aidan asked with a mischievous grin, pointing to a tired silver box with two round speakers.

“That's my radio, silly,” Liam said, tousling his hair. Then he looked back at the sailboat and Aidan followed his gaze.

“Can I help?” he asked brightly.

Liam hesitated, remembering all the times he'd asked Coop the same question . . . and Cooper had always found something for him to do. “The first thing we need to do is move the boat to the shop, so I need you to push that button,” he said, pointing to the metal button next to the workbench. Aidan stood on his tiptoes and pushed, and the ancient winch creaked to life and the rail car began to move. Liam guided it, and when the boat was in place, he told Aidan to push the lower button. Liam turned on the lights in the shop and ran his hand lightly over the sailboat. Then, he removed the broken centerboard pieces and, with a small pry bar, began to gingerly pry off the damaged planks, mentally noting the thickness of the wood he'd need. “Try to lay them on the floor in order,” he said, showing Aidan exactly what he meant.

Aidan took his job seriously, carefully laying each piece of broken wood on the concrete floor in the order they were handed to him, and by lunchtime, all of the damaged planks and frames, lying side by side, looked like the pieces of a giant jigsaw puzzle.

Aidan scratched his head. “What's next?”

Liam stood beside him, surveying the wood. “Next, we use the broken pieces for templates . . . to make new ones. We'll use white oak for the frame,” he added, thinking out loud, “and then we'll turn her upside down and fit new mahogany planks to the frame and screw them into place. Then the entire bottom will be sanded and repainted. Finally, we'll turn her back over and sand and varnish her deck so she looks like new.”

“That's a lot of work,” Aidan said with a groan.

“It is,” Liam agreed, “but we're not doing it all today. It'll take weeks.”

“Then can we take it for a ride?”

“Yes, then we can take
her
for a ride,” Liam corrected.

“Her?”

“Yes, boats are always referred to in the feminine.”

“Why?”

“Because in the old languages, like Latin, objects were assigned gender—boy and girl—and the gender of boats has always been feminine.”

“Oh,” Aidan said, looking confused.

“And, on top of that, it's believed that sailors loved their boats almost as much as their moms and girlfriends. Sometimes, they even named them after them.”

“I don't know if I could love anything more than mine!” Aidan said.

“I know what you mean,” Liam agreed. And then paused. “Ready for lunch?”

“Yes, I'm starving!”

Tuck suddenly appeared at their side, his copper fur warm from the sun. “You heard one of your favorite words, didn't you?” Liam teased.

“What word is that?” Aidan asked, stroking Tuck's smooth head.

“Lunch!” Liam whispered, and Tuck wagged his tail.