Page 5 of Ebbing Tides
“You can do it tomorrow,” he grumbled, then took a bite. He chewed slowly, thoughtfully. “This is good.”
“Wow. Bet that hurt.”
“What?”
“Complimenting me,” I said, and when he met my eye, I lifted the side of my mouth in a half smile.
He turned away. “Don’t let it go to your head.”
I huffed a humorless laugh. “Wouldn’t think of it.”
As he ate, I put together his cocktail of medications in a little paper cup, then put it on the tray beside his plate. When he was finished, I cleaned up as he took his pills, changed the adult diaper he wore and the sheets he lay on, and filled his cup with ice water. All the while, he scowled, never allowing his eyes to pass mine again. It was par for the course, and I empathized with it. How humiliating it must be to have your child see you in such a weak and vulnerable state—especially the child you spent most of your life despising.
After the routine was done and it was almost time to leave, I grabbed my coat from the couch beside Lido and began to put it on as I said, “Okay, Lucy should be stopping by to check up on you in a couple of hours. I have to get to work—”
“Why do you even bother with that bullshit?”
I snorted. “Because it’s my job and I have to make money.”
“Money.” He snickered. “You call that money? What do you make? Sixty, seventy grand?”
I ignored the jab at my chosen occupation and patted my thigh. “Let’s go, boy. See you in the morning, Dad.”
I didn’t bother to listen to his reply as I left the room, closed the door—as per his request—and hurried to get out of the house. Only to unburden myself from my father.
Only to breathe again.
CHAPTER TWO
It was just after sunset when the truck barreled through the open cemetery gate. The caretaker, Chuck Corbin, was as punctual as they came, and he’d be around in about an hour to close the old place up. But I was equally punctual, and our ships rarely passed in the night.
It was how I preferred things.
Some people relied on social interactions to fill their cup, but I relied on the quiet to fill mine.
Lido whined from the passenger seat. I remembered a time before he was in my life, when I’d go to work and permit the silence of the office and cemetery to join the weight of my grief. I’d welcome the awful ache in my chest, allowing it to become too much to bear. I’d welcome the punishment, the torture my loneliness brought with it. But now, I didn’t want to spend the night in my office alone, surrounded by ghosts and the dead who didn’t bother to haunt me. Lido brought with him a calm I could never repay him for, but I tried with my constant companionship. He seemed content enough with that alone, but at this moment, he was anything but.
“What’s up, huh?” I asked, reaching over to scratch behind his ears. “What do you see out there?”
He answered with a low moan and a restless wriggle of his back end as he tried to wag his tail in the confines of the truck’s cab. The sun was setting quickly—Laura’s sunsets—and out here, on the road parting the hallowed ground beneath the canopy of naked trees, the night came faster than it did in the city. Trying to see anything was difficult, and normally, I’d brush his behavior off as him spotting a rabbit or a squirrelor something like that. But before I could drive off toward the office, a person emerged from the trees, and I gasped, clutching a hand to my chest.
“Shit,” I pushed out on a breath as the person—a woman—waved me down. “Not a ghost.”
For the record, ghosts didn’t scare me. I just didn’t appreciate being scared, period.
I opened my car door and told Lido to calm down as I climbed out of the truck to greet the woman. Her teeth were chattering, her cheeks red and bitten by the harsh cold.
“Hey, can I help you with something?” I asked, closing the door behind me as Lido tried to clamber out. Then, for good measure, I added, “The cemetery will be closing soon.”
“Um … yeah, you can probably help me. Well, I hope so anyway. I’ve been lost out here for … longer than I’d like to admit.” She laughed uneasily and dug into her pocket, producing a pack of cigarettes. “Came out to sneak a smoke, started to walk a little bit, and the next thing I knew, I didn’t know how to get back to the house.”
“House?” I narrowed my eyes before realization rushed in. “Oh, wait, you’re Chuck’s sister-in-law, right?”
She tipped her head with confusion, as if trying to recall something. Then she replied, “Oh, um … yeah, that would be me.”
I extended a gloved hand to her as I offered a kind smile. “I’m Max. I work over in the … security … office …”
My voice tapered off as she accepted my hand, and we shook quickly before she pulled back to wrap her arms around herself. A quick assessment of her clothing, and I noticed shewasn’t at all dressed for the weather. A baggy sweatshirt, equally baggy sweatpants, and a pair of fuzzy slippers on her feet. I tried not to laugh—she was clearly freezing—but she must’ve been pretty desperate for that cigarette to come out dressed like that.
