Archive

Quiet — walk to the bedroom doorway and stand there a moment, listening

Quiet — walk into the bedroom and crouch beside the bed, pulling back the blanket to examine Jenny's ankle and leg in the daylight

Don't stay too long.

Be careful with the swell. Don't stay out long if the wind picks up.

Quiet — lift the headlamp and medical kit, move quiet to the bedside, and cut the wrappings off her ankle

Quiet — walk to the cottage porch, pick up the tar tin and brush, then head down to the dock south wall

Heat from rain doesn't make a person wince like that.

Fuel's done. Three-quarters, clean. I checked at dawn. You're not walking that dock tomorrow if this turns septic. Sit. Let me see it.

Checked the dipstick — clean, no water. Tank's three-quarters full. That's plenty for the boat approach and getting her back to the mooring.

I'll leave it on the bench once I've cleared the white stuff.

Aye. Overflow channel held last storm. But if this keeps up, we'll want eyes on it.

Aye. Lowest we've seen it since the equinox.

(a sharp intake of breath) way it.

Quiet — fill seed trays with soil and plant heirloom tomato and basil seeds, label rows

And?

Quiet — hands flat on the table edge, watching.

A quiet turn — nothing said.

Don't scrub them too hard, you'll lose the meat.

Coffee's fresh. Mug on the shelf.

Quiet — limp slowly back toward the cottage to find something to eat.

Good. I'll start with the lettuce.

A quiet turn — nothing said.

Quiet — step to the porch door, feel the draft with my hand along the jamb, then drive the cedar wedge deeper into the hinge mortise with the mallet until the whistling stops.

Barometer's holding. Wind'll stay west.

(Quiet)

I'm eating.

Be careful with the drill. The wood is soft there.

Aye. I'll take a look at first light. You want me to rig something for that overflow? Tank's spilling while we sit.

Cleat's holding, but the piling's taking a beating. I'll check the mooring ring next—it's the weak link.

Anytime.

Edges first. I'll weight them down with the sandbags from the dock.

Check the shackle pin too. The salt might have gotten right through the core.

All bolts are tight. The ring's locked. Just keep the line steady.

Don't be dramatic. Just get the lines right before the wind picks up.

Coming in now.

A quiet turn — nothing said.

(To the empty room) Check the salt.

Antibiotics first. The dressing is go-sticky and smells like rot.

Don't stay out too long. The wind is shifting to the north.

Barometer’s at 981 and dropping. Tide’s coming in. I’ll check the dock ring after first light — low tide’s in about three hours.

Almost… there. Just need to seat it tight.

(low, gruff) Right. Let me know if the shutters hold when the rain starts to pound.

Almost done. Then I’m in.

I'm too tired to cook the shells. way down, Kevin.

A quiet turn — nothing said.

Be careful, the mud is turning to soup.

(nothing — breath steady, presence firm)

Already moving.

Alright. I’ll sit with you then. No cooking. Just… here.

Don't stay too long, the tide comes back faster than the chart says.