Chapter 25
THE REEL OF MISFORTUNE
The world smells different after a storm.
We have no power or phones the next morning, and that has Grammy worrying she’ll miss the Game Show Network for days on end.
I am itchy to get out and find Ronan, but Grammy won’t let me go. She’s worried about power lines being down.
“But I have to go find Ronan and see if he’s okay.”
Grammy smiles big, and I am annoyed. Until she looks past me, waves her hand, and Ronan steps inside.
Before I think about it, I give him a quick hug. He doesn’t know it’s because I’m happy he is alive.
He straightens and looks at me like I just coughed up a quahog. “Hey, Delsie.” His face is red.
“Sorry. I’m just . . . I’m just so happy you’re okay.”
“Why would I not be okay?”
“I heard you were in the water during that storm and your father had to go in after you. Is that true?”
“Heck no. But my father did go in after some other kid who drifted out on his inner tube and couldn’t make it back in. I didn’t see it, but it was pretty hairy, I guess. The kid’s mother cried all over my dad, and now they’re calling him Gutsy Gale instead of Gusty. Which he hates. I mean, hates.”
I can see how Ronan feels about it. “That’s cool. You must be proud, huh?”
“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” He laughs. “But don’t tell him I told you. You’d think he robbed a bank the way he wants to keep it a secret.”
I laugh. “Okay. I won’t.”
“Man, but the storm was wild, huh? Freaky.”
“Wild, yes. I loved it!”
“Most people would take a sunny day, you know. You’re kind of alone on this.”
“I’ve always loved wild weather. When I was little, I used to like watching the wind out the window pushing things around the yard. It seemed like magic for things to just swirl around by themselves. And my papa loved weather, too. We put up our own weather station, and we’d go out every morning to check it. He got me lots of weather books, too, so I could read about what makes the wind and stuff.”
“Yeah,” he says. “So, what causes wind, then?”
“Air moving in and out of different pressures. But all the while, the earth rotates underneath. So the wind gets pushed around. I used to wonder if the wind would get annoyed by that.”
“Yeah, the wind gets mad. That’s when you get a hurricane.”
“Funny, Ronan, but no. You need really low barometric pressure for that.”
He rolls his eyes. “Of course you do.” Then he shakes his head. “But it’s pretty cool how smart you are, Delsie.”
“Thanks for noticing,” I say.
“So,” he says, “have you been down the other end of the beach? There’s something kind of cool. You want to see it?”
I nod.
After Ronan assures Grammy that there are no power lines down near us, we jog toward Seagull Beach. As we run through puddles, water splashes all around us like it’s raining up from the ground. Everything but the tops of our heads is soaked when we get there. There is a small crowd of people. And a boat.
“See?” Ronan says. “An abandoned boat. Since you’re into that kind of thing.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, don’t you take pictures all over the place of things left around? Towels and stuff?”
He’s noticed that? I’m embarrassed. That is, until I recognize the boat. It’s the only multicolored fishing boat that’s ever pulled up to Chatham Pier.
“Oh no!” I yell. “That’s Henry’s boat!”
“What?” Ronan looks at the boat again. And he looks worried.
“Henry?” I yell. “What’s happened to Henry?”
“Well, he can’t be on the boat with it on its side like that, right?”
We both look toward the ocean. He wasn’t answering his phone yesterday. And I haven’t seen him today.
I start to run. Not toward the boat but toward Henry’s house. And Ronan is right on my heels.
I jump up onto Henry’s porch and bang on the door several times, wait, and bang some more. Finally, I yell, “Henry! Are you home? HEN-ry?”
No answer. I lean my forehead against the door.
“We should call the police,” Ronan says. “Or the coast guard.”
“They would have done that on the beach already. But I have a place we can check.”
“Where?” Ronan asks, but I am already running.
“Saucepan Lynn’s,” I say. “It’s his favorite place to eat breakfast.”
With Ronan on my heels, I run through several backyards and down Old Wharf Road to a tiny café behind the post office where the locals eat.
The creaky door slams as we walk in, and the regulars at the counter all turn to look at us.
“Henry!” I yell. “You’re alive!”
He laughs. “Was I dead? The bacon hasn’t gotten me yet.”
“I couldn’t find you and I know Esme and Ruby aren’t home.”
“Well, Ruby and her mom are away for a couple of days. And I didn’t realize I’d been hiding anywhere.” He smiles as he takes another bite of scrambled eggs.
I want to hug him, but I guess I need to stop hugging people and telling them I’m glad they’re not dead.
“Sit down with me and have some breakfast.”
“Henry!” I say. “We can’t now. The Reel of Fortune has been beached!”
“What?”
“It’s down on Seagull Beach.”
He is wide-eyed and stops chewing to ask, “You sure?”
“Henry,” I say, “it was Papa Joseph’s boat. I know what it looks like!”
Henry stands and fumbles with his wallet and throws some money on the counter. “Let’s go,” he says, stepping over a dog and heading for the door.
Henry’s truck slides on the sand as he pulls into the parking space and slams on the brakes. He’s out and running before we are. When he sees the boat, he stands with both hands on top of his head.
“Captain Ahab!” he yells. “Here, Captain Ahab! C’mere, boy.”
Ronan leans closer. “You didn’t tell me he was nuts,” he says.
I knock Ronan with my shoulder and point at Henry, who’s scooping up a cat with three white legs and one black one.
Captain Ahab must be the only cat in the world who loves the water. He’s one of the reasons I’ve spent hours trying to talk Grammy into getting me a kitten. On long fishing days, Captain Ahab is someone to talk to. Henry took him home once, but he yowled the entire night. Henry figures that cat doesn’t know it should be terrified of the ocean and maybe just loves the smell of striped bass.
“Aye, matey.” Henry sounds like a pirate as he talks to the Captain. “Have you run our boat aground in search of yer favorite fish?” Then he puts the cat down on the sand, and while the cat does figure eights around his ankles, Henry lets out a sound like a giant with a toothache. He rakes his own hair with his fingers and looks to the sky. “Well, boats aren’t meant for beaches, so let’s work on getting her back in the water.”
Ronan steps forward. “We can wait until the tide comes in and push her back to sea.”
“Well, Ronan, that’s the right idea, but we’ll need a bunch of help. If we try to move it ourselves and get an unexpected surge, someone could end up a permanent part of my boat,” Henry says, chuckling. When times are toughest, he finds reasons to laugh. He takes out his phone and moves a few steps away while he talks.
“So,” Ronan begins, “that was your grandpa’s boat?”
“Yeah. The Reel of Fortune, for fishing and because Grammy loves game shows.”
“Huh. That’s funny. Why is it all different colors?”
“Papa Joseph painted it a different color every year, knowing that it would chip and reveal different colors underneath. He said it was a good reminder that everyone carries a lot of history with them. He thought chips and dents made a person more interesting.”
I expect Ronan to give me some wise guy answer, but instead he looks me in the eye and says, “I wish I’d met your papa.”
Henry returns. “So I’ve got some lads with boats coming. We’ll get the Reel back on the water.” Henry puts his hand on Ronan’s shoulder. “But as Ronan points out, we’ll have to wait until the tide comes in.”
Ronan stands taller.
“Yep,” Henry says. “We’ll just wait for nature. She put us in this predicament and will help get us out. No use shouting at the rain. No one was hurt.” He reaches over and rubs my back. “The Reel is tipped on the beach here, but I don’t see any damage. And Captain Ahab is here to live another day of the eight lives he’s got left.”