must be some kind of record. But he’s right. No signal. Shit! I swing around wildly, trying to figure out what we can do. Surely there’s an emergency call box out here? A rowboat?
“What about the lighthouse? These lights weren’t on before?”
“Automatic, probably.”
That’s what I thought too, but probably isn’t good enough. What if the lighthouse keeper has returned? We run off toward the lighthouse to double-check, but it’s still locked up as tight as it was before. No side door, either. No call box, no nothing.
“Oh, fuck me,” Lucky moans over my shoulder as we slosh our way back to the dock house. “How is this happening? Why does everything I do turn to shit?”
I blow out a hard breath and try to think. Can’t use our phones. No landline. Lighthouse locked up. Lighthouse keeper nowhere to be found. Narwhal too far out to swim to.
Lucky’s thinking the same. I can see it in his long face. “Bound to be another boat that comes by here when the storm passes. Barring that, my parents will notice when we don’t show up for Sunday dinner. They know we’re on the boat.
“They’ll notify the Harbormaster,” he assures me. “My dad knows the harbor like the back of his hand. He’ll find us. And the Narwhal can’t float away that far. I think?” He shakes his head as if he’s not sure but trying to convince himself. “People around here aren’t going to steal a boat.”
“We pretty much did! What if your parents decide to press charges against us?”
He rolls his eyes. “They aren’t going to press charges.”
“Sorry, I’m just … freaking out.”
“Someone will find it floating at sea. It’s registered to us, and everyone knows my family. They’ll return it.”
I try not to let him know how panicked I feel as we enter the dock house. “You’re right. It’s going to be fine. The Narwhal will be fine, you’ll get it back, and our parents can’t be too mad about lightning. That wasn’t our fault.”
“Lots of things aren’t my fault, but it’s funny how I’m always stumbling my way into them,” he says, miserable. “Maybe you’re not the one who’s cursed. Maybe it’s me.”
“Hey,” I say after a quiet moment. “I’d rather be cursed with you than with anyone else right now. In case you care.”
He looks up from the floor and gives me a weary smile. “I care.”
“We’ll get through this. We’re outlaws, remember? A couple of desperados.”
Lucky snorts. “Oh, that’s us, all right. Hardened criminals.”
“I can’t even drink milk past the expiration date,” I admit.
“I take the blame for crimes that aren’t even my fault.”
I whimper and check my phone again, just to be sure there isn’t a signal. There’s really not. Technology: great until it’s useless. I pocket my phone and try not to cry.
“Josie?” he says in a low, unguarded voice.
“Yes?”
“Whatever happens, I regret nothing.”
I reach for his face and gently run my hand over his scars, pushing back his hair. Awash in emotion. “Whatever happens, I wouldn’t change a thing.”
DANGER FROM ROUGH SEAS DURING STRONG WINDS: Broken sign posted on a South Harbor public pier near Nick’s Boatyard. (Personal photo/Josephine Saint-Martin)
Chapter 20
By eight o’clock, the hellish rain is only a drizzle, and the island is swarming with five boats: the lighthouse keeper’s fishing boat, two harbor patrols, one coast guard, and Lucky’s parents, who brought my mom along in their tugboat.
We are rescued.
There’s no place for anyone to dock except for the returned lighthouse keeper—who was actually “gone fishin’,” spotted our boat adrift, and radioed the harbormaster. He’s tied up his small fishing vessel somewhere on the other side of the lighthouse, so all the responder boats are bobbing in the water, shining blinding lights onto the shore, talking to us on megaphones and rowing in on smaller rescue boats.
It’s a complete shitshow, to be honest.
After we’ve explained what’s happened with the lightning strike and the pier and the Narwhal to the lighthouse keeper, harbor patrol, and coast guard—can this get any worse?—and when we finally, finally make it onboard the Karrases’ tugboat, Lucky’s father is shouting instructions to Lucky about circling the island to go get the Narwhal, and Mom hugs me.
She hugs me way too hard for way too long, telling me that we scared her half to death, and joking that I’m never leaving the house again. She holds me by the shoulders and looks at me a little strangely. Then she reaches for my hair, trying to fuss it back into place.
“Stop,”