Page 35 of Anchor Point

And just like that, Rosie floored me. Because I wasn’t her dad in any sense other than the fact that we shared the same DNA.

The crosswind picked up, and the waves got larger. Then the rain started, and visibility dropped, so I slowed further.

“Do me a favor,” I yelled into the wind. “Reach in that compartment and grab a life jacket for you and one for Buster.”

Rosie pulled them out and got them each buckled in safely, and I relaxed a tiny bit.

“What about you?” she yelled.

“I’ll be fine, it just makes me feel better knowing you’re protected.” I’d be fine if we could make it to the other side of this torrential dump of rain; with any luck, we’d ride out the other side any minute.

A life jacket slapped my arm, flapping in the wind as Rosie held it out to me. “You gotta be covered too.”

I glanced over to see Buster tucked under her legs and Rosie huddling behind her half of the windshield, trying to get out of the stinging rain. I slipped on the life jacket and fastened it as best I could one-handed. That tight feeling in my chest returned. Part fear, part pissed off at myself that I’d put her in harm’s way. Part something else that she’d cared enough to make sure I was covered too.

We made it to our cove and pulled under the covered dock. The rain poured harder, and lightning flashed in the sky, thunder rumbling around us.

“Want me to get the ropes?” Rosie offered.

“Yeah, I’ll keep us steady until you can get the first tie-down secured.” I talked her through the loops to make, and together, we secured the boat. Buster jumped onto the dock and led our dash to the garage.

“Well, that was fun until the rain started,” Rosie quipped, shucking her lifejacket and hanging it on a peg. She ran her fingers through her long hair—soaked, but no worse for wear. I thanked our lucky stars that the lightning hadn’t started until we were docked.

“It got a little hairy there for a minute.”

“No shi—kidding.”

I cut my eyes to her. “Good catch.”

“Mom doesn’t like it when I cuss,” she said matter of fact, then tilted her head quizzically. “Which I don’t understand because she’ll let them fly when she doesn’t know I’m listening.”

I brushed the water from my hair with my hand, chuckling at this insight into Olivia. “She’s just trying to be her idea of a good mom. You can’t blame her. She’s done a good job with you.”

Rosie plucked at her wet clothes. “I guess I’m gonna go get out of these wet clothes. Thanks for the boat ride, Mac. I’ll keep the stormy part out when I talk to Mom.”

“Yeah, thanks,” I said to her retreating back.

A half hour later, I figured I’d given Rosie enough time to get herself settled and chat with her mom and was just closing the shop when my cell rang. Not many people called me when I was at the lake house. Not many people called me at all anymore. There’d been a time when I’d hang with some of the locals, but over the years, they’d sold out and moved away. And I kept to myself mostly anyway. Occasionally, the guys from the shift would have a cookout or get-together. Sometimes I went. But my phone ringing outside of work was unusual.

“Hello?”

“Hey there, it’s me. I was just calling to check in.”

Olivia. Something hot rose in my chest, and I rubbed a hand over the spot. Damn pizza was talking back. Or maybe it was lingering fear from the race back across the lake. Had to be what it was and not the sound of her voice. “Hey yourself. Things are good here. You talk to Rosie?”

Mild panic settled in next to the heartburn. I absolutely couldn’t tell her about having Rosie out in the storm. She’d lose her mind.

“Yeah, just got off the phone with her. She sounds like she’s having a blast.”

Relief was heady. Rosie had kept her word, and maybe it was wrong to keep Olivia in the dark, but I kind of liked having this shared secret with Rosie. No reason to worry her mom. “Things are going well so far.”

“She’s pulling her weight, right?”

Rosie helping me with the canoe felt a lot like the times I’d spent with my dad, making the dream of the lake house a reality. I’d done the work to the house after he died. But there were endless projects that I still wanted to do, always improvements to be made. Starting with finishing my sailboat. And now I could share that with my daughter.

The heartburn kicked up a notch.

“Absolutely. So far, she’s helped me on a project I’m working on. Who knew that giving a kid sandpaper would shut them up? But she’s a lot like me; she gets focused and gets in her head. We took a boat ride for some pizza, and she chattered about everything on the lake. Wants to know everything about driving the boat.”

---