CHAPTER ONE
The sea raged or calmed, terrifying or peaceful, no different than a single teenager’s many moods. Saltwater rained down on my body, stinging my eyes. My breath became a billowing vapor as it hit the cold air, the biting wind making me rub my gloved hands together. Shivers beat at my body as I stood in place while beady eyes stared out from the net above me. Mouths opened and closed, as the squirming sea life was unable to live outside its safe home—safe no longer. The fish were unaware they were going to die. Surprise still had their tiny gazes darting back forth.
It wasn’t until my boss released the net, from the miniature crane attached to our boat, that the fish understood that life was no longer as it should be.
Their slippery bodies flopped all along the wooden decking, spreading out like blood from a fatal wound.
I whipped my right hand into the air at my coworkers for today, and barked, “Let’s round them up!”
Jacob and Randy rushed forward.
They were new. It was obvious by their stumbling steps, the harsh waves having left them hanging over the side of the boat, chucking up their morning meals. But they were quick, their hands purposeful, and their builds strong with youth.
I used an oversized broom to push the wiggling beasts toward the hatch in the center of the deck. I peeked to my boss, stepping around the crane, and gifted a barely noticeable nod in his direction. The two newbies would do if he ever wanted to try them again. They merely needed to earn their sea legs—and not eat so much for breakfast.
Butch’s lips twitched. He nodded in return, trusting in my judgment. The burly man and I had been working together since I was fifteen, now almost twenty-five. After ten years of being side-by-side every damn day of the year, we had faith in one another, the man the closest thing to a father I would ever know.
Grabbing Randy’s shoulders with a firm grip, Butch yanked him back three steps and pointed with his free hand to open the hatch. He shook his head. “Boy, you don’t want to fall where the fishes go to die. ‘Cause I don’t give a shit if you break your leg down there. I won’t be climbing down to help you. Got me?”
Randy’s blond head bobbed under his yellow hat. He would need a new one from the employment office. That one was too large on him, flopping down into his eyes. With a throat hoarse from puking for the last three hours, he rumbled, “Yes, sir.”
Butch slapped his shoulder once. “Good.” He kicked a stray fish down into the hole while we continued to work. “And bring some damn gum with you next time. If you puke tomorrow, I don’t want to smell it on your breath again.”
My shoulders shook under my thick, yellow rain jacket, humor bubbling up inside my gut, and I stared down at my work. My boss couldn’t smell a damn thing out here other than fish. Even when we were on dry land, he and I couldn’t smell anything other than ourselves.
And we smelled like…fish.
A hazard of the job.
But it paid well enough. So much so, I wouldn’t give up my spot on Butch’s boat. I had a decent savings account now thanks to befriending the robust man many years ago. That and my living expenses paid for by the tax dollars of New City residents while I lived in the New City Orphanage.
It was free to live there, so I stayed.
It wasn’t a bad place to lay my head.
There was no reason to blow money when I didn’t have to, and I liked seeing my savings account flourish. It just kept rising and rising. Like the damn waves coming in from the west…
I hollered, “Butch, it’s about that time.” I jerked my head to the incoming storm as I shoved the last of the fish down into the open hole.
Butch peered off into the distance and whistled low. “Winter is brewing.”
I snorted. “I know. I need to get a new damn jacket.” I tossed the broom to Jacob, watching his long-legged form to make sure he put it in the correct compartment. “I gave my old one to one of the new girls. She was as tiny as a damn doe. And she’s close to my age!”
“That was nice of you, Faith.” He whacked my back with his large hand, and a grin spread across his features when I didn’t move, my thin frame solid and strong from hard labor. “I’m going to miss you.”
I narrowed my eyes. “I still have tomorrow with you. Don’t say good-bye yet.”
Instead of listening to me, the big man pulled me into a rough hug. Butch held me for a long moment, long enough that my eyes burned with unshed tears. I wrapped my arms around him and gripped tight.
With my face plastered to his jacket, my voice muffled, I said, “I’m going to miss you too. More than you’ll ever know.”
“Aw, kid.” He rubbed my back, comforting me. “It might not be that bad. You may end up liking the man you marry.”
I sniffled. Once. “I hope so.”
But I was scared. God, I was so frightened.
I’d never tell anyone that. But I was.