Children of the Sea 02 - Sea Fever

water streaming from his shorts and squishing in his shoes.
     
    “You could have rowed a dinghy,” Nick said. “From your boat.”
     
    “I could.”
     
    Nick couldn’t tell from the man’s voice if he was agreeing or asking a question.
     
    He sat on a rock to take off his shoes. Ordinary boat shoes, curled at the seams from repeated wettings. He emptied the water from one and wriggled his toes back inside.
     
    Nick frowned. Something about the man’s toes . . .
     
    He jammed his other foot into wet leather.
     
    45
    “Or you could have tied up in the harbor,” Nick said.
     
    The man grunted and stood. He was very tall and not very old, for a grown-up. “I am looking for someone.”
     
    Nick’s heart jumped and slammed into his ribs, because it was the sort of thing he used to imagine his father might say if his father ever showed up looking for him. It was a dumb dream; Nick knew it would never happen. His father didn’t care about him.
     
    Besides, Nick knew what his father, his real father, looked like. He was on TV, for cripe’s sake. Nick used to tell people that, but then they asked him stuff, and Nick didn’t know anything about his father, not really. But he knew what he looked like. He didn’t look anything like this guy.
     
    Still, Nick’s mouth was dry as he asked, “Who?”
     
    “A woman.”
     
    Nick swallowed. Okay. He hadn’t really figured— He hadn’t actually hoped— “What’s her name?”
     
    The man’s dark eyes went blank. “Her name.” Some of Nick’s disappointment escaped in exasperation. “She has to have a name.”
     
    “She cooks,” the man said. “She cooked for a wedding.”
     
    His mom. Nick stuck out his chin. This guy was looking for his mother. “Were you at the wedding?”
     
    “Yes.” The man looked him over and then offered, “I am Caleb’s brother.”
     
    Nick’s shoulders relaxed. That was okay, then. Chief Hunter was totally cool. He came into the restaurant all the time. Sometimes he let Nick play with his handcuffs.
     
    “That’s my mom,” he said. “She cooks.”
     
    The man’s eyes narrowed. “Your mother.”
     
    Jeez. Did he have to repeat everything?
     
    46
     
    “Yeah. Regina Barone.”
     
    “Where is your father?”
     
    Nick sighed. Sometimes he wished his father was dead. No, that wasn’t right. Sometimes he wished his parents were divorced, like normal kids’ parents, so he didn’t have to explain them.
     
    “In Boston.” His father’s restaurant was in Boston.
     
    “We left him.” Years and years ago, when Nick was a baby.
     
    “Ah.” The man’s eyes were real dark, pupil and iris together, like a dog’s.
     
    “I am Dylan,” the man said, using his first name like an islander would, not “Mr.,” like most grown-ups from Away.
     
    “Nick.” He stuck out his hand, the way his mom said you should.
     
    The guy looked at his hand a moment, and then he shook. His hand was dry and warm.
     
    “Will you take me to your mother?” Dylan asked.
     
    *
     
    “Nick’s not here,” Brenda Trujillo said over the phone. “He called, but Manuel took Danny out on the boat today.”
     
    Regina took a deep breath, trying not to panic. “When?”
     
    “I don’t know. Early this morning, five or—”
     
    “No, I meant, when did Nick call?”
     
    “Oh.” A long pause. “Is everything all right? You sound—”
     
    “Everything’s fine,” Regina said through her teeth. “What time did you talk to Nick?”
     
    47
    “An hour ago?” Brenda guessed. “Two? It’s not like I was looking at my watch, I—”
     
    “Okay, thanks. If you see him, will you let me know? Or if he calls again—”
     
    “I told him not to call until after five.”
     
    Regina was silent.
     
    “It’s not my job to keep track of everybody else’s children,” Brenda said defensively.
     
    Regina gripped the receiver as if she could throttle Brenda through the phone. “I’m not asking you to watch him. Just to call me.”
     
    “Well, of course I will, but—”
     
    “Thanks,” Regina said and hung up the kitchen phone.
     
    She rubbed the cross around her neck, threading it back and forth along the chain, struggling to focus. Nick had the same freedom she did at his age. Living on an island, you knew which houses were safe and which ones to stay away from. Even the summer people— most of them— were known quantities, returning year after year.
     
    Of course, it was only a month ago that