Charlie St. Cloud Page 0,11
woman said from the wharf. She was in her late fifties, with fluffs of gray hair poking over a sun visor. “Got a good-bye kiss for an old lady?”
Grace Carroll was every inch as tall as her daughter, and despite hip-replacement surgery a few years ago, she moved up the gangway with forceful steps. “I was in the kitchen looking out the window and I saw you on the mast,” she said. “Thought I’d come down to say hi.”
“Awww, Mom,” Tess said, “I’m sorry I didn’t call. I’ve been so busy—”
“Don’t worry about me,” Grace said, stepping aboard. “I’ve been running around like crazy getting the fund-raiser ready for next week.” For years, Grace had been on the board of the Female Humane Society, the town’s oldest charity, which was founded after a gale turned seventy-five Marblehead women into widows in the early 1800s. “Just be careful out there,” she was saying. “I’m counting on you to entertain all the old ladies.”
“I’ll be there,” Tess said. “Don’t worry.”
“Don’t forget WBZ is coming Wednesday to interview me about your race. Better tell me what to say or I may embarrass you.” She chuckled, looked up and down Querencia, then said, “Dad would be so proud, and darn jealous too.”
It was true. He would be proud and jealous. He had taught her to tack in a little tub with a broomstick mast. He had cheered when at age five she won her first race week series in a Turnabout. Above all, he had encouraged her to live boldly and see how far she could go in the world. “Dive for dreams,” he used to say, quoting the e. e. cummings poem. “And live by love.”
When the heart attack hit him two years ago—no doubt from too many lobster rolls at Kelly’s in Revere—a gaping hole opened up in Tess’s universe. She had tried everything to fill the void, but it was futile. So she decided to do what he told her—push the limits and see how far she could go. Her race around the world was in honor of him.
“When will you be back?” Grace said.
“Sunday for dinner, or maybe sooner. Depends on the wind.”
“Want me to make chowder?”
“More than anything in the world.”
Grace ran her hand through her hair, then said, “Tell me something. Who on earth am I going to feed every Sunday night when you’re gone?”
“That’s easy,” Tess said. “Tink and Bobo.”
“Bobo? That old hound. He’ll eat me out of house and home! You sure you can’t bring him around the world?”
“Wish I could, but it’s against the regs. No companions allowed.”
“Silly rules. What’s the point without a companion?” Grace’s pale eyes managed somehow to ask questions without words, and Tess knew exactly what her mother was wondering: Why haven’t you found one yet? Why haven’t you settled down? Why haven’t you said yes to either of those two marriage proposals? Then, Grace’s expression changed, and she was back in the moment. “Love you,” she said. “Have a good sail. And don’t forget you need to go see Nana when you get back. She could use a hug from her granddaughter.” She turned to go back down the gangway, but Tess stopped her with a hand on the shoulder.
“Come here, Mom,” she said, opening her arms. She pulled her tight, the way Dad always did, and thought for a moment her mother might break in her arms. It was as if Grace’s body had shrunk from the lack of physical contact and the absence of her life companion. Tess could feel her mom’s arms around her, too, squeezing, as if she didn’t want to let go.
After a few moments, they released each other. Grace pinched Tess’s cheek, kissed her, and walked down to the dock.
Tess leaned forward on the throttle. The boat glided away from the slip, moved into the channel, and passed a thousand vessels moored in the harbor. She inspected the clipboard with the weather map and the course Tink had charted. A thick black line zigzagged southeast past Halfway Rock, then west through the Cape Cod Canal into Buzzard’s Bay, then angled back. It was the easy route, away from the low pressure bearing down from the north.
But Tess wanted action. She wanted to tense the sails and feel the speed. She could hear the boat creaking, anxious to get going. The sheets flapped against the mast. On the horizon, she could see a vast expanse of gray altocumulus clouds with small ridges underneath like fish