Chapter 12: The Crossing

The radio woke us at six.

It was not Judith this time.

It was a young woman's voice, small and wrecked, calling Port Harlow over and over without any of the right words.

Ben was off the cot before I had my eyes open.

He turned the dial up. I pulled the blanket around me and found my jeans.

"Port Harlow, this is Brittany, Brittany Thornquist, on the island, please, please come in."

"Go ahead, Brittany," Ben said. "This is Ben Corbett."

"It's my daughter."

She was crying, and she was trying not to.

"She's burning up. She's been sick since last night and Mom says it's a cold, and I have the thermometer in my hand and it says a hundred and four."

I knew what it cost her to say that on a public channel.

"Is she breathing all right?" Ben asked.

"She's breathing fast. She won't wake up properly."

"Brittany, I'm leaving the dock now. I'm forty minutes out."

"Get her out of the blanket. Cool cloth on her neck. Put the dock lights on."

"My mother says..."

"Don't tell me what your mother says. Do it."

"Okay," she whispered. "Okay."

He turned off the radio.

Then he looked at me.

I had my coat on and my keys in one hand.

I saw the thought arrive in his face before he said it.

"The terms," he said. "No boat for a Thornquist unless you say so."

"I'm saying so."

"Fern."

I walked over and put both hands flat on his chest.

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