Page 23 of Every Beautiful Mile

He points a crooked finger at Finn, who in turn, looks at me.

Stunned, I just shrug my shoulders. Because—what?

Travis would have volunteered to join, no doubt. The thought makes me blurt, “We’ll all help.”

Finn’s eyes go wide, Marin’s fingernails dig into my skin, and amusement fills the man’s face.

“Okay den, all y’all need to be here, dressed and ready in de mornin’.” He peeks over the counter at our flip-flop-covered feet. “And no toes. If ya don’t have no boots, ya better wear somethin’ over de toes for when ya have to shuffle round wit de gig.” He lets out a chuckle. “Name’s Dickey, by de way. A jubilee comes when we least ‘spect it, tonight seems good as any. Ya boy’s right with de signs, but we gotta check de tide.” He flips through some papers. “Yep, comin’ in right on time.” He looks up, a twinkle in his old eyes. “Course, I guess de tide’s always on time.”

He pauses—as if he’s just been very wise—then we all stand in the shack in an awkward silence until he continues.

“Anyway, here’s all de information for de campsite. You gonna wanna loop round de back side der.” He points to a map with all the campsites laid out. “And just back on in den. Y’all got wada, sewah, and ‘lectric all right at de site. Just come’n get me if y’all have any trouble.”

I take the papers and start toward the door, pausing.

“Dickey? I don’t think you said, what time in the morning should we meet you to go…” my eyes flick to Finn before I ask, “Jubilee?”

“Two sounds good.”

He leans back on his stool.

“Oh, I’m sorry, I thought it was morning. So, two o’clock tomorrow afternoon?”

“Uh-uh. In de mornin’. A jubilee happens early. Dem fish come in lookin’ for a breath.”

What the hell?

Finn lets out a little snort, reading my confusion, and tugs my arm.

“C’mon, Mom. I’ll explain it while we set up.”

He lifts a hand and waves at Dickey and calls over his shoulder, “Hey, thanks a lot, sir. See ya tonight.”

“Don’t forget de shoes!” Dickey’s yell floats through the tattered screen door.

Marin shoots a look at me once she gets in the passenger seat. “What the hell, Penelope?”

“Marin! Language!” I say, opening the back door.

“You signed us up to go do some sort of creepy fishing party with a man in the middle of the night! Language feels appropriate!” she shrieks.

“He was nice once I realized he wasn’t dead,” I argue, sitting on the floor behind their seats.

“I think it’s going to be fun. Plus, what are you scared of, Marin? He’s old. If things go south, the three of us could take him. A jubilee is really rare, it only happens here and allegedly one other place in the world. If we are lucky enough to see it, it’s going to be awesome,” Finn says from the driver’s seat, clearly pleased with how everything turned out.

Marin mutters under her breath while we circle around the gravel road to our site. Finn easily backs us in.

We make quick work of setting up and eating dinner—grilled cheese—before settling around a fire.

“Okay, Finn, explain what we are getting ourselves into here. If there is a jubilee, how freaked out are Marin and I going to be about it?”

He pokes a stick at the logs.

“Well, it’s definitely different from fishing off a boat. Basically, a very specific set of conditions creates a situation where fish and shellfish—usually mullet, blue crabs, and shrimp—move to the shallowest water in the middle of the night, making it easy to catch them. Obviously, I’ve never done it, but from what I’ve read, most people will wade out a bit with a tub tied to their waist and gig for mullet or just use nets to scoop the crabs and shrimp. It’s a big party sometimes, drawing in a crowd if enough people find out about it.”

Marin opens a bag of marshmallows and looks at him.

“Gig?”

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