The Salt House

“Not by me you weren’t,” I said.

He nodded, as though he’d known this all along. “Fair enough. I figured you hadn’t connected the dots with Peggy and me. But hey, no worries in case you’re wondering—man-to-man—I kept my mouth shut. Figured with the wives and all. I don’t need Peggy yammering at me about the past. And Hope seems like a firecracker, like if you set her off, well—”

“Don’t talk to me about my wife,” I interrupted, and he stopped talking, the smile slowly leaving his face.

In the distance, the foghorn at Breakwater Light let out a warning.

I didn’t speak. I knew if I did, I’d tell him Hope didn’t know anything about that time in my life. And he’d also hear that I didn’t want her to hear it now. Not after the year we’d had. Not after everything she’d been through.

Finn held my eyes before he gave a small shrug. “I was hoping we could do this on friendlier terms. Let bygones be bygones.” He paused. “You know, you’ve got quite a business going on, you and Boon. Fishing pretty much all the harbors from what I hear. No water left for folks not selling to you.”

“No water left? It’s the Atlantic.”

“You get what I’m saying.”

“Actually, I don’t. So spit it out.”

His face colored. “Now I remember why I kicked the shit out of you. Here’s the deal. I want to fish my waters again. The waters you moved in on after I left.”

I waited. Not sure I heard him right.

He’d worked as the stern man on his father’s boat for a couple of summers in high school, just like every other kid in these parts who was related to someone in the fishing business. I’d fished with Pop, my grandfather, ever since I’d turned ten.

But I’d kept fishing. I’d fished ever since.

“I’ve got a forty footer with twin diesels and a pot hauler. I’ve got a buddy who’s got a license. What he doesn’t have is territory that’s pulling anything but crabs. But you do. And you’ve also got strings where I used to haul.” He cleared his throat, bolder now.

It didn’t surprise me that he had a twin diesel boat, even though every working lobsterman around here fished with a single engine. Two engines were twice the worry, twice the maintenance, twice the cost.

Pop’s inshore territory had always been the western edge of Turner Point. Finn and his father had fished near us. But that was more than twenty years ago, before the older Finn died, and Ryland had disappeared off the face of the earth. And the territory had become mine.

There were no lines in the water. Nothing you could see. But there might as well have been. It was water, fluid and moving, but territories were made out of concrete. Mess with them and you might get your gear cut, your driveway full of nails, your tires slashed. And that was if whoever you messed with was in a good mood.

“You’ve got traps where I used to haul,” he said again. “I can see taking over since I was gone. Now that I’m back, I should have rights to fish it.” He said it in an offhand way. Like we weren’t talking about how I put food on my table.

“It’s my territory. Go near it and we’re going to have a problem.”

“It was my territory. Ask anyone who fished with us back then, and they’ll tell you it belongs to me. Your partner there. Boon. He knows.”

“Well, go ask him. Last time you guys saw each other, I heard he was pretty reasonable.”

His hands balled into fists when he heard this. “I don’t have a problem with Boon. He kicked my ass. I’ll give him that. But he was just looking out for you. Like I said, water under the bridge.”

“I had nothing to do with that. He went looking for you all on his own. I guess he figured you wouldn’t be so tough one-on-one. And he was right. Wasn’t he? Rumor was, you were a rag doll when he got done with you.”

Finn’s lips twitched. He looked like he might come at me, but he took a deep breath and stayed at the railing.

“Look. We can go back and forth about this forever. I have no interest in what happened back then. And I didn’t come here to be your buddy. I don’t like you. You don’t like me. That’s fine. But fair’s fair. You’ve got traps all over the place. Your buoys. All over the place. You’ve got your trawls out there, the shop, guys selling to you.” He ticked these off on his fingers. “We’re talking about your scraps here. All I’m asking for are your goddamn scraps while I get my business going. A strip of water. A strip of water that used to be mine.”

“Used to be. It used to be your water,” I said. “And it’s staying that way. You want to work these waters? Do what I do. And every other fisherman around here does. Find some open water and fish it. And when you come home with nothing, go out the next day and do it again. And that strip of water isn’t just a scrap. It’s how I make my living. That water feeds my kids, pays my mortgage. And it belongs to me.”

He watched me, his face blank. “Don’t lecture me about fishing. I’ve been doing it as long as you, just in different waters. And I’ve got kids to feed and a mortgage to pay as well. That water doesn’t belong to you. It was mine and you took it. And I think it’s time you stop taking things that don’t belong to you.”

From somewhere inside the house came the sound of glasses clinking together. I looked over and saw Hope standing in a small circle with two other women. Their silhouettes were dark shadows through the sliding glass door. They lifted their glasses and drank a toast to something. Hope turned, and the light across her face lit her smile.

The slider opened, and Jessie stepped through the opening. She didn’t pause when she saw the two of us. She walked right over, crossing the porch quickly until she stood next to me, so close that her chin brushed the side of my shoulder.

“Mom needs you,” she said.

“Go back inside. I’ll be there in a minute,” I said, and turned back to Finn.

But she slipped her fingers around my wrist, pulling me toward the door.

“Dad. It can’t wait. She said now.”

I looked over at her, and her eyes were wide. She said it in a strong voice. But I heard the shake in it. I took her hand off my wrist and gestured for her to walk.

I heard Finn say to the back of my head, “Thanks for the hospitality.”

“What’s going on?” I asked Jess when we were in the house.

I saw Hope in the living room, her back to me. I started to walk toward her when Jess grabbed my arm.

“Dad. Wait.”

“Jessica,” I said, exasperated.

She looked out the door at Finn. I looked past him to the window behind where he was standing. The window in Jess’s room.

“She doesn’t need you. Don’t be mad,” she said, watching me. “I heard voices and looked out my window, and you looked like you were going to hit him. What were you talking about?”

“Just business, Jess.”

She eyed me, not convinced.

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