Read Online The Deepest Blue by Kim Williams Justesen - Free Book Online

what to do next, making whatever arrangements need to be made. I should be calling tourists who’ve chartered the boat. I should be figuring out their refunds. I should be contacting Jack Sutton to take on the extra charters for us. But right now, all I can do is lean on Maggie and let her love me.

chapter 7
    Sunlight streams in through the front door. I am lying on the sofa, wrapped in a blanket from Dad’s bed. My body is way too long for the ratty piece of furniture, and I have to stretch the kinks out of my legs and shoulders.
    Then it hits: the lack of sound, the overwhelming emptiness. I sit up straight and my head begins to throb. “Maggie?”
    I hear the kitchen chair scrape against the floor. “Right here, Mike.”
    I turn and look as Maggie rounds the corner from the kitchen. “Did you sleep?” I ask.
    She shakes her head, though I could have seen she hadn’t slept just by looking at the bags under her eyes. “Are you hungry? I could make you French toast or some eggs.”
    My stomach rolls and churns. “Thanks, but I don’t think I could keep it down.” I stand, but I wobble a little, so I sit back down until all my parts decide to work in harmony. “Any word from the sheriff?”
    â€œHe pulled up this morning about six thirty to let us know they’d arrived in Moorehead. I didn’t want to wake you, so I just went outside to talk to him.”
    â€œSo what now? Can we go see Dad?”
    Maggie purses her lips, and a nervous look flits across her face. “We need to talk about that.”
    I feel off balance again. “What’s wrong? Last night you said we could go.”
    â€œI know I did,” she answers, her voice getting softer. “But I’m worried, Mike. Today may not be the best day for this.”
    Anger bubbles up in my stomach. “Why not today?” I say, trying to keep my voice even. “He’s in Moorehead, waiting, and I want to see him today.”
    Maggie lets out a quiet sigh, clasps her hands in front of her, and looks at a spot on the floor. “I want you to really think about this,” she says. “Seeing Rich like this—it won’t be easy. It may even be the worst thing we could both do right now.”
    â€œI want to see him today,” I say, my voice firm and steady. I try not to let the anger boil over, because I know Maggie is just looking out for me.
    â€œYou’re old enough to make the choice,” Maggie says, “but it needs to be an informed choice. You don’t have to do this today.”
    I fold my arms across my chest. “I’ll ride my bike over there if I have to.”
    Maggie gives me a faltering smile. “You don’t have to ride your bike. We can go over anytime you’re ready.”
    The anger subsides, and my stomach settles. “I need ashower.” I move down the hall toward the bathroom, stopping in my room to grab fresh clothes.
    The hot water pounds against my head and neck, and I brace myself against the wall and let it pummel me. I hear Dad singing in the back of my mind, and I find myself crying again—softly at first, then growing more intense until I have to sit down in the shower with my head in my hands. After a few moments it passes, and I rinse the soap off my body, turn off the water, and grab a towel. I feel like I’m moving in slow motion, like walking in the waves and fighting against the current, my feet being sucked into the sand and making me fight for each step.
    I get dressed, throwing yesterday’s clothes in the hamper I share—shared—with Dad. Everywhere I look, he’s there. I hear his humming as he changed clothes before going to see Maggie. I smell the cheap aftershave I gave him last Christmas. Then I see his Mighty Mike hat hanging on the bedpost in his room. Without thinking, I grab the hat and put it on. It smells like him, like his sweat, but it calms me for some weird