Undertow (27 page)

Unable to stop myself one night, I found myself walking into a tiny dive bar, only a block or so from the harbor in the tiny fishing community. I thought nothing of it when I walked in until all eyes were on me. How quickly I'd forgotten that I wasn't at Jimmy's. No one there knew who my father was.

“You lost, sweetheart?” a man called to me from the back of the bar with an outrageously thick Boston accent.

“Sorry,” I said quietly in response. “This place reminded me of somewhere . . . ” When none of the men responded, I felt the need to explain further, the quiet in the room making me horribly uncomfortable. “I grew up in a fishing town—crab fishing, actually. My dad was a captain on the Bering Sea. His best friend owned a little tavern just off the docks,” I explained, looking at the rugged fishermen drinking their beers. “Sorry to interrupt you.” I turned to leave just as the barkeep spoke up, he too with a thick Boston accent that I found almost difficult to understand.

“Your father's a captain?” he asked.

I turned to find a man appearing to be in his late sixties, wiping down the wooden bar surface while he watched me intently.

“Was,” I corrected, my voice tightening ever so slightly. “He was a captain. He died during king crab season this year.”

His face softened in recognition of what I'd told him.

“He went down with the ship?” His voice held a hint of respect, clearly expecting my answer to be just what it was.

“Yes.”

“Fellas,” he called out to everyone in the bar. “This here is—” He looked at me expectantly until I gave him what he wanted.

“Aesa. Aesa Fredriksen.”

“This here is Aesa Fredriksen, daughter to a captain clearly worthy of that title. She's welcome in my bar any time.”

“You said he died during king crab season,” one of the men said from one of the tables off to my right.

“Yes.”

“But that was only a few weeks ago?”

“Yes. It was. I was working in the emergency room that the three survivors were brought into. I learned straight away that he had not made it. It's a reality of life on the Bering Sea for those that risk it, and an even bigger reality for the ones they love that are left behind.”

My tone had taken on a harshness to cover up the surge of emotion I felt when discussing my father with people who didn't know him. He was a damn fine captain.

“Viggy,” the man shouted at the barkeep. “Buy her a beer. It's on me.”

“Can't do that, Earl. If she wants to drink, it's on the house,” Viggy replied, giving me a friendly wink while he reached across the bar and tapped one of the barstools in front of it. Feeling drawn to him in the same way I was to Jimmy, I assumed my place at the bar, making myself comfortable for hours while he told me all about fishing on the East Coast, including the challenges and dangers. They sounded minimal compared to those of a crab fishing enterprise, but learning about them was fascinating nonetheless and a welcome change. The familiarity of being in a place like that was undeniable and comforting, but what it offered was different enough to not remind me of all the things I'd left behind. I soon found myself becoming a staple at
The Wharf
. It was a happy medium between the life I'd known and the one I was creating for myself.

My fresh start.

Decker

Opilio season finished early for our crew, Robbie leading us through one of the easiest trips I'd ever encountered. Even the veterans on board said they'd never seen anything like it. Each haul, our pots were stuffed full with seven-hundred-plus counts; it took only a couple of weeks to meet our quota for the year. And not a moment too soon for me. I had pressing issues waiting for me at home to deal with.

The second I was off the ship and on dry land, I was on a mission. While at sea, I had ascertained that Aesa was no longer working in Anchorage. She hadn't been working there when I left. She'd lied to me outright, and, though I had my suspicions, I wanted to know why. I also wanted to know where the lying stopped and the truth began. I wasn't going to stop until she at least gave me that much. She owed it to me.

She owed it to herself too.

“Decker,” Robbie called after me as I stormed down the dock like a man possessed—and I was. “You gonna meet us for beers?”

“I've got something I need to do.”

“You'll never find her if she doesn't want to be found,” he told me, a sound of pity in his voice that only fueled my quest.

“We'll see about that.” The words were harsh and bitter sounding, even to my own ears. My anger was plain and warranted, but it wouldn't help me to show up on her doorstep, fuming. I needed to get control of myself before I confronted her, but still be ready to wage emotional warfare until she saw reason. The outcome was far less my concern than making her face her own fears was. If she truly didn't want to be with me, I would accept it. But I would never believe it.

While I made my way off the docks, I dialed the local charter company, needing to make some travel plans. That certified letter she had played off so casually made perfect sense now. It wasn't insignificant at all; it was a contract. I was willing to bet my life and a couple thousand dollars worth of airfare on it. I may not have known where she was staying, but I knew where I could find her if I waited long enough. Boston's Mass General had a massive Emergency Medicine department, and that was what she lived for.

Robbie had been wrong; she couldn't hide from me so easily. I understood her too well for that. I was headed for Boston.

The perfect place to start over.

33

Aesa

I was finishing up a double shift that night, a colleague needing me to stay to cover for her so that she could go home and tend to her sick infant. I was exhausted but content as I made my way to the main lounge to retrieve my things. Nothing was going to stop me from heading home to a long bath in my clawfoot tub and a good night's sleep.

When I exited the room, I turned to make my way back to the front desk to say goodnight to the nursing staff before I made my way home. Instead, I made it about five feet before stopping dead in my tracks. My past had found me.

My disbelief read loud and clear across my face. Employees walked by, staring at me, but I couldn't see them. All I saw was Decker at the far end of the hallway, duffel bag slung across his shoulder, glaring at me. He looked every bit as amazing as I'd remembered, even in his current state of anger. His feelings were warranted, but I didn't care. I had walked away from that chapter of my life and closed the door. Reopening it was not an option. Not for me, not anymore.

I felt myself take a step back away from him. I just wanted it all to end, to cease, to leave me alone. My choice had been made, and, though it was plain that he resented having any say in the matter taken away from him, I still selfishly wanted him to accept that reality and go on with his life like I was trying to go on with mine. When he started toward me, I realized that my wish was not going to come true. I had to get away.

“No,” I said softly, shaking my head at him before I turned and ran for the exit to the parking structure outside. I knew I wasn't likely to make it to my car, but I had to try—the alternative was just too unbearable. Some wounds healed cleanly while others festered. Having contact with Decker was only going to open the cut that I had cauterized the day I left Alaska for the last time.

“Aesa!” he shouted after me as I rounded the long line of cars, headed straight for mine. When I got to it, I jumped in and turned it on, throwing it into reverse quickly. I peeled out, burning the tires before I made any progress. When I did, I watched him stop running, standing in the middle of the row, staring me down.

I felt the tears roll down my face before I knew they were coming. The shame I felt was immense, but not enough to make me go back to explain. He was better off without me, even if he didn't realize it yet.

Maybe I had slowly become that which I hated most in life. When I had left my father, I thought I was making a point. But, after walking away from Decker, not once but twice, I was forced to ask myself if I had truly become the abandoning type, the sort of person that was little more than a liability for everyone close to her?

With a sharp inhale, I shook my head, straightening up and wiping my face as I drove through Boston, headed to the one place that I could go to just sit and think. I was doing him a favor, I thought to myself over and over again, hoping that the more I reinforced the concept, the truer it would be. By the time I arrived at
The Wharf
, I started to believe it.

* * *

Decker

I could hardly believe what had happened. She drove away like I was nothing to her, just like she had walked away from me the last time I saw her, knowing already what she was going to do. As my fury rose, I did my best to remind myself that I knew this was who she was. That her issues were still too unresolved to make her stable in a relationship. Choosing to go back to sea was too much for her too soon. I had pressed her, and she cracked, far too fragile for that amount of pressure. I should have known it would happen, but I didn't want to see it at the time. I wanted her, but I also longed for the sea, and it blinded me fully.

But now my eyes were wide open.

I went back into the hospital, hoping to get some scrap of information from one of the nurses at the desk as to where she lived or where I could find her, but I wasn't hopeful. They weren't likely to hand out that kind of information to a person they knew nothing about. A person whose name they would never have even heard uttered before. That was how she worked. She had severed her ties, and that was that. Unfortunately for her, I wasn't so willing to swim away once freed. I had something to tell her, whether she liked it or not, and she was going to hear it.

My efforts inside were as fruitless as I expected, most of the nurses not even knowing who she was. It was a huge hospital; I shouldn't have been surprised. We weren't in her hometown anymore, or even Anchorage. When I walked outside, I was reminded just how big of a city I was in. Towering buildings surrounded me, and I wondered how I could possibly, in all of that population, find her.

I hailed a cab, knowing I needed to at least find a hotel for the night. In my obsessed state, I had gone straight from Logan Airport to the hospital, my luggage in tow. I hadn't bothered to sort out accommodations. I had hoped to be staying with her.

When he asked where I was headed, I hesitated, my gut trying to relay a message that I just couldn't quite catch.

“Is there a lot of fishing down around this area?”

“Not here, but there's some just outside of town. They won't be operating now, though. Too late for that.”

“They have any bars around that area? Something small? Local? A place where only the fishermen would want to go?” He looked at me curiously in the rearview mirror before muttering something about a massive fare and my ability to pay it. “Don't worry about what kind of money I have,” I snapped at him. “Just take me there.”

“There are a couple of places like that down there. My brother-in-law fishes lobster. He's always talking about a place called
The Wharf
where he and his boys hang out.”

“Great. Take me there. Now.”

“
The Wharf
it is,” he sighed, sounding resigned to the fact that I wasn't going to cave and he wasn't likely to get paid.

As we drove, I thought about what I would do on the miniscule chance that she happened to be there, rehearsing different scenarios over and over in my head. She needed to know that I was angry and hurt, but still, even after all that had happened, completely in love with her. There was no escaping that fact, no matter how far she fled.

She had a weakness for running.

I had a weakness for her.

And I wasn't ready to let her go.

34

Aesa

The door slammed open before me, the cold winter wind pushing me through it with a gust. All eyes shot up from their drinks to stare while I uncomfortably made my way to the bar. I wanted to drown my sorrow in a pint or ten. Viggy was going to have to stay on his toes if he wanted to keep up with me.

“Aesa,” he shot over his shoulder at me while he filled a pitcher for someone else. “That was quite an entrance ya just made. Rough day at work?” When I didn't answer him right away, he turned to look at me before making his way over to where I sat. “When women don't want to share their problem within five seconds of being asked about it, it's never a good sign.” He leaned over to pat my clenched hands, looking me in my eyes. “Let me take care of da boys. I'll be right back.”

I zoned out completely, staring at my pale reflection in the mirror directly across from me. I looked terrible. Nervously, I undid the sidebraid my hair was in, running my hands through the tangled mess to try and make it less disheveled. When it fell over my shoulders, I hid behind it like a shield, protecting me from my own guilt and the judgment I felt from everyone in the room around me. It was ridiculous, given that nobody there had known anything about what I'd just done, but that's what shame does. It coats you with a vile aura that you can’t help but assume everyone around you can see. I felt exposed in the most uncomfortable way, and I wanted to escape that feeling entirely.