The piece of land was along the water on flat ground west of his father’s house. It bordered an estuary where mussels stuck to the barnacled rocks in awkward clumps, and the tide ran through the river in a rush of water that poured beneath a narrow bridge. When they were boys, they played in the cool air under the bridge, their voices echoing against the rocks, their small feet gripping the rocks as they stepped across the water, hands out to either side. It was a game, and only once in a while did someone fall in.
“It’s a shame to cut down all the trees,” Meredith said.
“We’ll use the lumber to build the house.” Nathaniel pointed toward the less wooded area in the center of the property. “Over there,” he said, “in view of the water.”
“Yes, and a nice barn for horses and chickens, a big garden.”
“I’ll need an office. I never would’ve thought—”
“And you’ll have one.” Meredith leaned against him and tilted her head back for a kiss, and they both felt themselves on the edge of something new and beyond what they had dreamed of as children. They were older now. They could draw their life around them with each action they took. Every choice and purchase and plan was theirs. All they had to do was reach toward it.
As they stood on the edge of their property, a line of men approached from the road. They were the farmers on Nathaniel’s land, which would one day be their land. They carried crosscut saws and axes. As they got closer, Nathaniel could make out the friendly, open expressions on their faces. A tall, bearded man with an ax approached Nathaniel. “We’re here to help with the trees,” he said.
“There’s no need,” Nathaniel said, but the men persisted.
“Mr. Boyd, we’re here to work.”
For weeks, Nathaniel visited the land to watch the men work. They were grateful for his generosity, and it showed in every swing of an ax, every cut across an oak trunk with the long, bandy saw.
After the trees were cleared and the stumps removed, the men hewed long trunks of wood into solid boards. Nathaniel laid out the outline of their home with string fastened to sticks in the ground and stretched along what would be their walls. Rascal jumped back and forth over the strings as Nathaniel threw sticks for him. When Nathaniel was done laying out the house, he stood back to survey his work. He saw the stone foundation and the walls of their home that would form shelter against the heat of the sun and the weather as it rolled in off the bay. He would make it sturdy, just as he’d built the shack. A barn out back would house their animals, and there’d be a plot of land for his garden. And there would be a post by the shore to tie up a skiff for Ezra. His hope was for more than Meredith’s love. It ran deeper to encompass the breadth of his life and the people he loved, including the small boy who would grow into a man, Ezra Jacob Boyd.
Nathaniel walked through the wet seagrass, flattened now as the tide receded, and in an open spot along the edge of the river, he stopped and wiggled the post he’d placed in the ground, a post where he could tie up his skiff. He imagined Ezra growing up rowing the small boat, then craving larger adventures. Until then, he would fish with the boy, take him farther and farther into the bay until he could row out there himself. He rolled up his pants and stepped into the water. It was colder than the harbor and shocking to his skin.
Without thinking about it, he pulled his shirt over his head and tossed it onto the seagrass. Then he dove into the icy chill and swam out from the shore, Rascal following him with his head held high above the water. From there, Nathaniel saw the sweep of his land and the place where he would build his house. He saw the Boyd house, his house, atop the hill on the other side of the marsh. He didn’t feel the sense of ownership he imagined his father had felt but rather a sense of belonging to the place, as if he was responsible for the stewardship of this land.
He swam along the shore and then back to where he’d planted his post in the ground, as if to say, Here. Here is where I’ll be. He pulled himself onto the land, shook the water from his hair. It happened in a moment. He saw the sweep of his life, from his early years with his brothers, losing Jacob, then his existence on the island, and now his future unfolding before him, as if his life were all one moment that he could hold inside him. He was at peace with it all. He pulled his shirt on and followed the dog toward the house where Meredith and Rachel were preparing Ezra’s catch for their dinner. He thought, We can go home now.