The Misty Morningwas making her wide turn,heading back to port with the day’s catch. Within minutes ofreaching the fishing grounds that morning, Chase’s sea legs hadquickly remembered the rhythmic oscillations as he trolled hisline. Adorned with white and marine blue paint, she was a beautifulboat. Kept in pristine condition by her captain.
Hands gooey with fish scales, Chase shook offthe slime and laughed, surprised at how much he was enjoying thedisgusting mess. He lifted his tattered ballcap to wipe the saltysweat from his brow. Not that cod put up much of a fight. A loteasier hauling in a cod than welding oil-machinery underwater inocean currents. Not to mention a hell of a lot more satisfying.
Damn, it felt great to be back out on theboat. Most of the other McAllister boats were out catching lobsterand trawling groundfish. But, Chase had chosen to go out on hisfavorite boat. Focused on rod-and-reel fishing, a small team wentout to catch fish the old-fashioned way. More sustainably, albeitmore expensively, catching fresh seafood like cod and haddock tosell to local restaurants for tonight’s dinners. The localrestaurants made a fortune marketing today’s fresh, sustainablewhite fish. Known for its fresh catch, the marketing ploy alsohelped out the Seaview tourism industry and gained support forlocal fisheries.
Adding the heavy cod to the holding tank, hetook a quick break to clean up a bit. He silently enjoyed thecomments from the crew about his huge catch. Ha. A few crude crotchgrabs as he passed, guys comparing their mighty cods caught bytheir powerful rods. Shaking his head with a laugh, he scrubbed hishands in the utility sink, the icy water and orange-scented grittysoap stirring more memories than he was ready to dwell on.
Shaking the frigid water off of his hands, hedashed up the ladder to the flybridge to join Steve at the helm.Deep in thought himself, Steve didn’t respond as Chase stood at hisside, legs braced wide to keep steady as the boat cut through thewaves at a good clip.
Chase inhaled the salty air mixed with dieselfrom the rumbling engine. He basked in the crisp breeze, arefreshing contrast to the warm summer sun. His gaze was drawn tothe view of town as they moved slowly back toward shore. Seaview,his hometown, was now dominating the horizon as theyapproached.
The long stretch of ocean-front shops andrestaurants would be quite busy at this time of day. On the farnorth end of the beach he could see their docks and processingplant. The building had seen better days, but it was clean andfunctional. His eyes were drawn past the row of the tourist-nirvanashops along Beachside to the south end of the avenue, where aclustered neighborhood of old beach cabins dominated the coastline.Some of the houses were small, weathered cedar cabins that had beenin families for generations.
Behind those and further to the south, werebolder, and notably less charming, larger houses built in the1960's when the town had experienced in influx of residents astourists started to invest in beach-front getaways of their own,rather than vacationing at large resorts. Further inland, the restof town covered most of the hillside, densely clustered aroundBeachside, but increasingly sparse as it sprawled over the hillsideas the population grew.
"Hey, Chase, get your head out of your ass.We're docking soon." Chase glanced up, momentarily blinded by thesun just coming overhead behind the man hollering at him. Steve,his favorite captain and an old friend brought him back to thepresent.
Like the creaky old boat, Steve was crustybut sturdy. The old man had been fishing longer than Chase had beenalive and had no intention of retiring. Ever. Always said his wifewould hang him if she had to put up with him every day; early tobed and early to rise and couldn't sit still for anything.
Chase gave him a rough pat on the back. "Hellof a day to be on the water."
"Yeah, it was a good day. Made a good haul,and in good weather. Just wait until we get another damn 'polarvortex' like last winter. Damn boat was too frozen to even leavethe dock," the old man gestured with air quotes as he described theweather phenomenon. The two shook their heads in unison, equallyastonished at such inconceivable weather. "Course, you likelydidn't run into anything like that the past decade. You prob'lylaid out and sun-bathed out on that oil rig. Where were at,Texas?"
"Something like that. Gulf of Mexico for thelast few years, but I spent some time up in the North Sea. Nowthat’s a damn polar vortex year-round. Can’t stay in a heated divesuit all day. I gotta say though, hurricanes… a little bit of snowis nothing like securing an offshore rig in a hurricane, especiallyif you have to do an emergency dive in the middle of it to makerepairs."
"You always did like to look death in the eyeand laugh," the older man shook his head with a warm chuckle. "Itis good to have you back Chase. Frank's counting on you to find away to keep us running until my grandbabies retire." Chase lookedthrough the salt-crusted windshield to the docks they were nowrapidly approaching. He hoped he didn't mess this up.
Town certainly was hopping as the boat dockedand the crew packed up for the day. Each one fatigued from theearly morning and long day of physically demanding work. Nonecomplained though, as this was routine. Every muscle in Chase'sbody ached, having used muscles he forgot existed… and he was indamn good shape. Different set of muscles, he supposed. Differenthours. Guys hollered to their drinking buddies, promising to meetthem at Winter's Tavern later tonight, others off for a quietevening with families.
"Chase, you in? We made a hell of a catchtoday. Think we'll go rub it in at Winter's. We owe a few bruisesto Parker’s crew after last week." Chase appreciated the invitationfrom Sean, a now-seasoned fisherman who had been a few years aheadof him in school. Sean had been one of those guys everyone gotalong with. Short, muscled, always sober but always with a jovialattitude, and downright kind. Chase was glad to see he hadn’tchanged.
There were several new faces as well. Mostwere curious about Chase. He'd only worked on the boats for abouttwo years as a teenager, and now had returned a decade later,rumored to be taking over when Frank decided to retire. Chase wouldbe irked at that thought too, seeing an inexperienced outsider setto be the new boss. He’d have to work hard to earn theirrespect.
Braden, a new face and a few years youngerthan Chase, responded before he could, "Hell no. Chase is gonna bethe new boss-man, needs to keep his pretty nose clean. He can't becaught drinkin’ with we lowly grunt fishermen." Braden sneeredhatefully at Chase.
Braden was huge. He must have a good 3 or 4inches over Chase's own six-foot-one and had at least 100 pounds onhim. His shoulders were twice as wide as his own broad shoulders.Some of his bulk appeared to be due to a rock-hard beer belly, butmost looked to be muscle. Steve seemed to like him, so he must notbe a complete asshole. Chase wished he hadn't already had planstonight; he might enjoy showing Braden a thing or two. Guys gotreal restless living on a drilling rig.
Chase looked at the larger man and smirkedplayfully, "Another time, guys. I have plans tonight." Tossing hispack of gear over his shoulder, Chase picked up the pace to catchup to Steve. The pair stepped off the dock together and walkedacross the processing plant to the parking lot. "You coming toLaura’s party tonight, or did you con your way out of it?"
"As if Frank would let me off the hook.Frank's about as comfortable in that company as you or me." Steve,Frank's long-time partner and head captain, gestured toward theother fishermen, "Don't let 'em get to ya. You oughtta have a fewbeers with them at Winter's next time and let 'em know who's boss."He grinned at Chase, his crinkled eyes somehow crinkling further.Chase was surprised the leathery skin didn't crack under thestrain.
Chase had always been fond of Steve. LikeFrank, Steve had put him right to work and hadn't taken any shitfrom the smart-ass teenager. He may have been a smart ass, but evenback then, in the heart of his rebellious days, he knew how to workhard. Maybe too hard; he didn’t have much self-control in thosedays. For better or worse.
Chase knew that was a big part of why he hadalways found an ally in Steve. He had always brought an extrasandwich. Knowing Chase wouldn't accept the charity, Steve hadalways blamed his wife for packing him too much food. Chase hadbeen too hungry to argue.
He casually saluted his friend as he hoppedinto his gleaming new black truck, relieved he'd have a few friendsat the party. His first purchase after finishing his last rotationon the oil rig had been a shiny truck with all the bells andwhistles. He’d packed his few favorite belongings, donating therest of it, and drove the long trek across the country. Home.
It had been a dumb idea, giving him way toomuch time to think about his return. If the fishermen and the townwould accept him. Ideas for McAllister Fisheries. If he could liveup to Frank’s expectations. What Seaview would feel like withouthis father around. What he’d need to build a home, a life, prettymuch starting from scratch. If Maddy still made his heart stammerwhen she smiled mischievously at him.
Chase was already enjoying getting back outwith the fisherman. The oil rig crew was great, especially hisfellow divers. He supposed there weren’t too many differences. Bothwere full of roughnecks, but tight knit. The divers were a bitdifferent, especially when he’d go on the month-long saturateddives. Those guys had to have an amazingly calm temperament, mixedwith top-notch brains, work ethic, and a fuck-load of stamina. TheMcAllister fishermen always had a camaraderie he enjoyed, even whenthey were throwing punches at each other.
Chase was ready to move forward and put hiseducation to work. He'd already started brainstorming some ideas tomodernize the company. As much as he loved being out on the water,he did not picture himself a crusty sea captain like Steve. Herelaxed into the buttery soft black leather seats, taking in thenew car smell that hadn’t disappeared yet. He turned the key in theignition, enjoying the deep purr of the powerful engine.
There was a bite of Spring still in the air.Not caring how un-manly it may be, Chase turned on the seat-heaterto soothe his aching muscles. He had no intention of squanderinghis nest egg on frivolity. But, he deserved some fun new toys afterliving as a hermit the past decade. His first order of business hadbeen to buy the heavy-duty pick-up he'd always wanted. He also hadplans to buy a big home overlooking the ocean, but he wanted towait until just the right plot became available and design thehouse himself.
He drove through town rather than taking theless crowded backroads on his way back to his rental house. Thetown was even busier than when he'd left. Tourism certainly wasbooming. Kids were playing in the waves while their parents relaxedon their beach chairs. Couples held hands and weaved in and out ofthe shops with classically weathered cedar-siding and brightlycolored trim. He spotted a cluster of teenagers prowling thestreet, pushing each other and laughing, completely carefree. HadChase ever been that carefree?
Leaving the hustle and bustle, Chase headedup the hill. As he pulled into the driveway of his rental, hecaught Lynn Hanson giving him the evil eye from her poorly shadedwindows next door. Most of the fishing crew had remembered him andwelcomed him back with friendly pats on the back. Those who hadn'taccepted yet would come around. His years of work on the oil righad gained some respect from the fisherman that appreciated similarsouls that didn't shy away from hard work.
