“Most of the fishing boats are named for women,” he explained. “Wives, daughters, mothers, sweethearts. It’s an old tradition, meant to bring good luck to the men while they are away at sea.”
“Do you have a boat?”
“Nothing big like these. Mine’s about eighteen feet and just for fun.”
“And do you have a name for it?” she asked, shamelessly prying.
“The Wanderlust.” He cast her a slanted glance.
“Suits you,” she replied.
Her attention was diverted by the sixty-two-foot Miss Peggy as it slipped into its watery square of real estate along the dock, growling and churning the waters. With the hanging nets on each side of the boat, she thought they looked like folded butterfly wings. The Miss Peggy was an old girl. White paint peeled from the wood and up close Toy could see the dread rust on metal. But she was still a graceful swimmer and slipped into her space as easily as a younger, smaller fishing boat.
Two men in jeans and white rubber boots climbed out off the high boat to the dock far below as nimbly as ship rats. On board, a wiry, weathered woman with dark gray hair pulled back in a ponytail waved them off, calling out something in a heavy drawl that Toy couldn’t make out. While one of the men bent to tie the ropes, the other, a short, bald, barrel-chested man, came straight for Ethan and sucker punched him in the belly.
Toy gasped as Ethan doubled over. Until she realized that he wasn’t grimacing in pain but laughter. The two men clung to each other, delivering velvet gloved punches like boxers in the ninth round while around them, the other men chortled, enjoying their antics.
“Don’t mind them,” Stuart said to Toy with a good natured grin. “They been fools since they were boys.”
Ethan slapped the other man’s back and turning, caught Toy gaping.
“Toy, come over and meet Bigger. He’s the most conceited, ornery saltwater cowboy on the coast. He’s also my cousin. We went to school together when we were kids, or at least whenever Bigger showed up. Bigger, this is my colleague, Toy Sooner.”
“Colleague is it?” he said with a thick drawl. Bigger lifted expensive black sunglasses to the top of his slightly sunburned bald head and gave her the once-over with eyes as bright a blue as a torch. She felt scalded and knew his mind was up to no good. What he saw seemed to please him, however, because he stuck out his meaty arm emblazoned with a tattoo and took her hand, squeezing tight.
“What kind of a name is Toy?”
“What kind of a name is Bigger?”
Bigger turned toward Ethan, a smile pinching his lips. “She’ll do.”
“Daddy!”
A coltish young girl came running up the dock, all long legs and long black hair flying behind her like a mane. She leaped up to hurl herself upon Bigger, who grabbed her tight and gave her a whirl around the dock.
In a more leisurely manner, a tiny woman with black hair and almond eyes strolled up the dock to join them. On her hip was a little boy, no more than a year, with hair as black as his mother’s. Bigger released his daughter and all bravado fled as, with something akin to reverence, he stepped forward to place a chaste kiss on his wife’s cheek. Their eyes met, his passionate, hers knowing. Toy read more love in that greeting than if Bigger’s wife had run like her daughter and hurled her tiny self into his powerful arms.
Bigger took his son in his arms, pride beaming on his face, and turned to Toy.
“This here’s my wife, Lao. This wild thing is my daughter Lily and this hunk o’ meat is my son, Bill Jr.” He looked at Ethan with bluster. “What’s the matter with you, anyway? Shootin’ blanks… Look at me. I’ve got the Miss Peggy, a beautiful wife, two of the best children to roam God’s earth. When are you going to stop wandering and get you some of these?”
“I don’t know, Bigger. There’s nothing like your family or the Miss Peggy, that’s for damn sure,” Ethan told him.
“You bet your ass.”
“Bill…” Lao said softly, frowning at his language.
“Sorry.”
“You’ve got a fine business sitting here just waiting for you,” Aunt Martha said to Ethan.
Ethan cast a wary glance at his father. Stuart’s face remained taciturn.
“We could use the help,” Uncle Will added. “Bigger likes the sea too much to stay in an office and my Jim, he wants no part of the business. Moved off to Atlanta to be some banker.” He said the last word like it tasted bitter in his mouth. “At least you didn’t do nothin’ like that.”
“Ethan has a three-hundred-thousand-gallon fish tank to take care of right now,” Toy said, jumping into the fray. “One of the largest in the country. And hundreds of fish. I’d say that’s something.”
All talk ceased and everyone looked at her like she’d spoken gibberish. All except Ethan. His eyes warmed as he looked at her.
“You and me,” Bigger added, wrapping an arm around Ethan’s shoulder. “We’ve got saltwater in our veins. At least you came back. I knew the tides would call you home.”
“Daddy, where’s the turtle?” the girl asked, impatient with all this adult talk.
Bigger hoisted his son and bent to face his daughter. “So that’s what you come for? The turtle? Not to see your daddy?”
“But I gotta do a report for school,” she whined with pleading eyes.
Lao laughed lightly and cupped her husband’s cheek. “You’re no match for a sea turtle. So where is it?”
Bigger snorted and waved her over. “Come on, sweet cheeks. Let’s go get it. It’s not looking so good, though.” He looked back at Toy. “The faster you get her off our boat, the faster we can unload this shrimp.”
“Yes, sir, captain.” Toy climbed up the wall of the shrimp boat, surprised by how high off the dock it rose. The deck of the Miss Peggy stretched long before her. At first, it was confusing, there was so much going on. There were winches, chains, cables and ropes. Nets hung full from the riggers.
The wiry man she’d seen before stood at the nets and was busy cleaning out the small fish and crabs. He turned his head when she passed and asked in a gravely voice, “You here for the turtle?”
“I am. Or,” she nodded toward Ethan, “we are.”
“Come and git her, then. She ain’t lookin’ so good. Don’t wanna be blamed for killin’ no endangered turtle.”
“Where is she?”
He pointed a heavily tattooed arm toward the rear of the deck. Bigger led them there and lifted a canvas tarp. Under it, a juvenile loggerhead lay motionless.
Toy hitched her breath, stunned at the serious crack that ran across the length of its shell. All business now, she swung her backpack off her shoulders and knelt beside it. The good news was the turtle was alive. The bad news was the gorgeous reddish brown shell was split near in two.
“That’s a nasty crack,” she said in a flat tone.
“Propeller slash?” Ethan asked.
Toy measured the shell at three feet, noted it and a few other observations, then rose. “That’s no propeller slash.” She turned to Bigger. “What happened?”
Bigger cast a wary glance at his daughter. “We were pulling in the big nets, same as we always do. Damned if this turtle didn’t fall right out of the net.”
“You dropped the turtle?”