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The first of April dawned crisp and clear. Emily’s alarm went off at five, giving her plenty of time for a shower, but she decided she was too cold and tired for a shower, so opted for a pot of coffee instead. By the time James pulled into her short driveway, she was properly caffeinated, had put on a fresh coat of makeup and pulled her hair back from her face, and was wearing almost every item of clothing she owned.
When James saw her, he laughed. “It’s not going to be that cold out there.”
She was annoyed. “If I hadn’t worn enough clothes, you’d be making fun of that.”
James’s expression grew serious and made her feel guilty. “I’m not making fun of you, Emily. It was just cute.”
She raised an eyebrow. “Cute?”
He opened the truck door for her. “Yes, cute. You are the cutest sternman I’ve ever had.”
“Thank you.” She still felt a bit cranky but tried not to. She was grateful James was doing this for her; she just wasn’t much of a morning person. “I’m not complaining, but why do you have to start this early?”
James took a swig from a well-worn travel mug. “Actually, I’m usually already on the water by now. But to answer your question, we get an early start because they say that’s when the bugs are most active. To answer your other question, we’re getting an early start because I wanted to show you the sunrise.”
That squashed whatever crankiness remained. “Thank you, James. That’s sweet. I’ve never seen the sun rise over the ocean.”
“Most people haven’t.” He pointed to the floor by her feet. “You might want to put those on.”
She looked down to see a giant pair of muck boots.
“I know they’ll be too big,” he said, apparently reading her mind, “but my deck can get sloppy, even if we’re not fishing, and I don’t want your feet to get cold.”
She slid her double-stockinged feet into the spacious rubber boots. “Can we fish?”
He grinned broadly. “We can if you want. I’m not going to fish all day with you—you’d likely hate me, but we can pull up a string if you want to see what it’s like, or we can just go for a boat ride. Either way is fine with me. Whatever you want.”
My, you’re being awfully gallant. What are you up to?
James parked the truck and quickly came around to her side. She didn’t need any help to climb out of the truck, but he gave her a hand anyway, then held her hand all the way to the dock; he let go of her briefly as he jumped into the skiff, but then he grabbed her hand again to help her in, treating her like a fragile china doll.
She sat down on the cold wooden seat and tucked her gloved hands between her knees. James threw off the lines and then gracefully sat down and took up the oars. Dawn was breaking, and the sky had turned a gorgeous shade of grayish blue, making Emily feel as if she were sitting under a firmament of blue quartz.
As James began to row, Emily couldn’t help but admire him. She couldn’t see his muscles moving under his bulky Carhartt, but she knew they were there. The water was mostly calm except for a small swell, but their movement through the water blew the wisps that had escaped her ponytail back off her face. She suddenly felt inexplicably elated and took a deep breath of the sweet, salty air. The taste of it on her tongue only brought her more joy, and though she knew she was grinning like a fool, she couldn’t help it.
It soon became obvious which boat he was rowing toward, a clean white boat with “Piercehaven, Maine” stretched across the stern. Above that, large red letters spelled out “Sally.” Absurdly, a pang of jealousy stabbed Emily’s chest. “Who’s Sally?”
“My grandmother.”
“Oh.” Remorse prevented her from saying more.
But James didn’t seem to notice her question’s green tint. He just continued, “My father’s mother. Her husband, my grandfather, is the one who taught me to fish.”
“How old were you?”
“When I really started? I was thirteen when I started going out with him in the summer, but he took me out for fun long before that. I don’t even remember my first trips, I was so young. He was a good grandpa. A good man. A good fisherman.”
They reached the mooring, James tied off, and then helped Emily aboard Sally. The first thing she noticed was the smell. She was afraid she might actually gag, and that, she was sure, would offend the man of her dreams. “Do you have actual bait on here, or is that just a lingering after-smell?”
He laughed. “Sorry, I don’t even notice it. Yes, it’s actual bait. And it’s a day old, so it’s extra stinky, which, by the way, makes it extra effective.” James started the boat with a key that was already in the ignition.
“That’s gross.”
“Yes, it is. But if you think about it, bugs are pretty gross too.”
Emily knew that by “bugs,” James meant lobsters. She didn’t know why islanders called them bugs, and she didn’t ask. “Yes, but people think they’re delicious,” she said. “And will pay a pretty penny for them.”
“I wish they’d pay more.”
“So you’re not afraid of people stealing your boat?”
“What?”
“I noticed you left the keys in the ignition.”
“Oh, no, people have been shot for less.”
She didn’t say anything.
“I mean, I wouldn’t shoot anyone, but people don’t know that—for sure—and besides, who would want to steal Sally? They’d never get away with it. She’s one of a kind—they’d have to do so much work to her to change her, it would be easier just to buy a boat of their own. Now, people have occasionally stolen the lobsters, though they always get caught—”
“How?”
“This is a tight knit community. We have eyes and ears everywhere.” He winked at her. “And security cameras. And people have stolen boats in order to sink them, but never just to take them.”
“What?”
“Oh yeah, people get in territory disputes, and they do crazy things. Fishing can get violent.”
Emily looked skeptical.
“Not today, though,” James said with bravado. “I’ll protect you.” He turned on his radar and radio. Then he turned and grabbed a gaff, which he used to pull the mooring buoy closer so that he could unhook it. Then he gave her another big smile. “You ready?”
She nodded, her heart bursting with admiration. James seemed so proud to be sharing this part of his life with her, and she couldn’t believe how full her heart felt in that moment. She almost couldn’t smell the bait anymore. He pushed the throttle forward and they were off. She reached for a bulkhead to steady herself and noticed two pair of oil pants hanging on hooks. “Do we have to wear those?”
He grinned again, or maybe he hadn’t stopped grinning. “Only if you’re going to help me pull traps. Or fill bait bags.”
“I think I should.”
He raised a luscious eyebrow. “Oh yeah?”
“Yeah.” In that moment, Emily couldn’t believe how much she wanted to help him pull up a lobster trap.
