Nathaniel woke on the settee in the living room to the sound of Bea calling his name. His head swam as if with fog, and he struggled to pull himself upright.
“Nathaniel,” Elizabeth said. She’d woven her dark braid with a navy-blue ribbon.
“What are you doing here?”
“Ezra wanted to come, but he was too shy. He made you this.” She held out a sailor’s-knot rope bracelet in a Turk’s head design. “He made one for himself, too. I helped him a little, but it was his idea.”
Nathaniel looked at the bracelet, feeling the twine in his fingers, the tight knot, then he pulled it on over his calloused hand.
Elizabeth spun the bracelet on his wrist to see the different colors. “It looks good,” she said, then she gathered her skirts and stood to go. Still, she hesitated, watching Nathaniel for a moment for some sign—of what? “I’ll bring Ezra next time,” she said as if that would solve something, but when Nathaniel didn’t get up from the couch to see her out, she said, “You know, Nathaniel, I was married to your brother. I lost him, even before he disappeared, even before his despicable acts. What he did makes me feel dirty, as if I’m somehow complicit by association. Everyone in town looks at me with pity or disgust, and I can’t go to the harbor for the shame of it. Can you imagine what it’s like for me?”
She had Nathaniel’s attention now.
“He was a monster, but he was a man, too, and the father of my children. They don’t understand. I’m afraid to send Ezra to school, because I’m afraid of what the other children will say. I’m considering keeping him at home longer.”
Nathaniel sat up and brushed his hair from his face with his long fingers. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
“He could use a friend right now.”
She left through the kitchen, and Nathaniel tuned out the sound of Bea and Elizabeth talking.
As he sat on the couch, Rascal came running through the door to the kitchen, his tail wagging as if he was the happiest thing in the world. He ran over to Nathaniel and stuck his nose under Nathaniel’s hand to get him to scratch his head. Nathaniel leaned over and rubbed the dog’s head, then along his back to feel his thick body. Someone had been feeding him; that much was clear. He grabbed Rascal around his body and hugged him.
With the dog hovering around him, he dragged himself up from the couch, stretched his arms out to the sides, and took a few deep breaths. He knew that he needed to take responsibility for his affairs, but he wondered about his ability to do this. Standing over his father’s desk, he decided that first he would address the papers spread and stacked in seemingly no order whatsoever. He scanned each page to see whether it pertained to land or fishing interests or other businesses, and he filed each paper accordingly. Slowly, he got a sense of the expanse of his father’s enterprise. He worked his way through layers of papers, filling file folders and desk drawers.
When he found what looked like a letter in a folder marked Boyd Estate, he sat back in his father’s chair and opened the envelope. The letter was dated only a week before his father died. He must’ve known his heart was failing.
I, Nathaniel Boyd, Sr., a resident of Barnstable County in the Commonwealth of Massachusetts, being of sound mind and body, hereby declare this amendment to my last will and testament.
To my son Nathaniel Boyd, I leave forty percent of my land holdings and forty percent of my cash holdings.
To my son Phinneas Boyd, I leave sixty percent of my land holdings, sixty percent of my cash holdings, and one hundred percent of my business interests.
Nathaniel didn’t know what to make of the letter. His father meant to leave the larger share of his estate to Finn. Finn would’ve gotten what he wanted: his father’s approval as well as the means to build his fleet. Nathaniel began to realize that Meredith might have been spared. She might still be his if they had discovered the codicil to the will sooner. Finn’s rage might’ve been eased. Nathaniel tried to back up and review the facts as if knowing the facts could provide him with answers to questions. How did this happen? Why didn’t Father discuss this with me? Why did we not find this?
His mind raced. He thought of Rachel pressed beneath Finn’s weight, of Meredith on the ground with no breath. He began to shake violently with the piece of paper in his hands, and then he slammed it onto the desk. He swiped everything on the desktop to the floor, then turned around and shoved the chair out of his way. How could this be true? He leaned against the wall and slid down into a crouching position. He couldn’t catch his breath. The sobs took hold of him and shook him hard.
Rascal thought that Nathaniel was on the floor to play, and he leaned into Nathaniel’s legs, wiggling his body and tossing his head. “Not now, Rascal. Not now.” But he patted the dog and pulled himself up from the floor as if he could shake himself loose from grief. At the desk, he stared into the pile of his father’s papers, but he couldn’t bring himself to read any more. Finn had left him alone with this mess, alone without Meredith. He’d wanted to ruin Nathaniel, but Nathaniel would not be ruined. He wouldn’t let Finn win.