While Eve and Judith finished their tacos and chatted, Sam went upstairs. The studio apartment above the antique shop was cramped and a little drafty, but wraparound windows and a sunny deck gave it a panoramic view. Here, Sam had everything he needed: an armchair, a table, a tiny kitchen, and a tinier bathroom. After years spent on a boat, he was used to small spaces. The only thing he didn’t skimp on was his sleep: a king-sized bed took up most of his floor space.
Sam took off his T-shirt. He stepped out onto the deck and started on his daily workout: crunches, pushups, and curls with a set of rusty barbells he kept on a rack underneath a tarp.
As soon as he’d finished his last set, the phone rang. He answered it.
“Hey, dumbass.”
Hearing his kid brother talk still took Sam by surprise. About a year ago, Jack’s voice had morphed into a deep baritone at the same time he freakishly shot up a foot.
“What’s going on?” asked Sam. He sat down on the ancient lounger on the deck.
“Just thought I’d bother my favorite wayward brother.”
Sam looked across the marina at a chevron of pelicans flying fast and low over the surface of the water. “How’s everyone doing? How was Christmas?”
“Fine. Aunt Sarah was with us, but Adam couldn’t come down until Christmas Eve. He’s working on some big case.”
“I heard about that.” Sam rubbed his aching triceps. “Did Santa get you what you wanted?”
“I wanted an M16. I would’ve settled for a car. But I got a sweater.”
“Damn Santa.”
“Damn Santa. Also known as Dad.” Jack was quiet for a moment. “He’s been asking about you lately, you know. I told him your business was going well and you were able to fix your boat.”
Sam rubbed the bridge of his nose. “How is he?” “Still working, but slowing down a little. Maybe
you could…you know, call him up…and ask him yourself?”
Sam took a deep breath and let it out. “Dad doesn’t want anything to do with me. Why would he want me to call him up?”
“I know he misses you. Just call him.” Sam shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe.” “Think about it, will you?”
“Why won’t you let this go? Seven years is a long ass time.”
“It’s shorter than eight years.” Jack’s voice cracked a little.
Sam tried to change the subject. “Come on. Let’s talk about something else. How’s school? How’s Riley?” Riley was Jack’s friend and longtime crush. Jack could go on and on about her.
But Jack wasn’t biting today. “She’s fine. Everything’s fine.” He was quiet again. “Listen, I’ve got to go. Will you at least consider calling Dad?”
“I’ll think about it.” Sam leaned back on the lounger and looked out at the boats in the harbor. “This thing between Dad and me…it goes pretty deep.”
Sam could almost hear the teenager rolling his eyes over the phone. “Yeah. Whatever.”
****
After reluctantly giving Eve a key to his apartment and spending a quiet evening with Charlie at the Compass Rose, Sam came home and crept through the antiques shop. He changed into a pair of pajama pants and went to bed, bone tired.
He had been asleep for a few minutes when he heard a strange murmuring sound coming from downstairs.
At the bottom of the stairs, he turned on one of Judith’s brass lamps. On the enormous leather couch behind the bookcase, Eve was sprawled on her back. She had kicked the covers away. She wore a tight white t-shirt and purple panties.
The sight would’ve been unadulterated pleasure to Sam if Eve weren’t also caught in the throes of a terrible nightmare. Her eyes fluttered behind her eyelids. Her hands were squeezed into fists. She was muttering and groaning.
Sam put his hand on her shoulder and gave her a squeeze.
“Eve, wake up.”
Her eyes opened. She looked at him blankly at first.
“You were having a nightmare,” he said.
She blinked and rubbed away the tears on her cheeks.
“Oh.” She looked around for a few seconds, then dragged the covers back over her bare legs. “Oh, no. I woke you up,” she said breathlessly. “I’m so sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry. Are you all right?”
She placed a hand over her heart as though she were trying to get it to slow down. “It’s okay. I…I have a lot of nightmares.”
“Would you like something? A glass of water?” “No. Thank you.” She lay back down and took a
deep breath.
“Do you remember what you were dreaming?” he asked, sitting down on the edge of the sofa. Her green eyes were so full of ghosts that he didn’t want to leave her just yet.
“Not…exactly, not everything,” she said. “How do you feel?”
“Afraid. Guilty.”
Sam understood those emotions more than he cared to say. “About what?”
Eve was silent.
“Is there anything I can do?” he asked.
“Can I…” she began quietly. “Can I just…hold your hand for a little while?”