Read Online The Sea is a Thief by David Parmelee - Free Book Online Page B

boat, but never one such as this.  She’s a delicate little thing compared to what I’m used to, but I believe we can make her seaworthy again.  What do you call her?”
    â€œShe doesn’t have a name.  None of the sneak skiffs do.” He stood upright.
    â€œSneak skiffs?”  
    â€œYes, Mr. Dreher. That’s how they are known. No two are the same.  Each hunter builds his own.”
    â€œYour father built her well and fair, Miss Daisey. There’s no damage here that can’t be undone.  I’m certain of it.”
    She was unsure of what to say.  Her fingers traced the worn grey cedar, stopping where the splintering began.  “Mother has spoken of selling it,” she explained, “but it has no value as it is, and we have no means to repair it.”  
    â€œI have the means.”  
    â€œPerhaps it can be repaired, then, Mr. Dreher.”
    He smiled a broad smile such as she had not seen from him before.
    â€œIt will be my pleasure.”
    He explained to her how he had promised to meet the rest of his crew at midday, and described the fence that they were building for Lovey Copes.  The sun was high.  They bid good-bye, and he asked her to offer his best to her mother.
    He set off down the dusty road, sea bag slung over his shoulder, turning one last time to wave at her.  She had not looked away.
    She stood by the crepe myrtle tree, smiling perhaps as broadly as he had.  In the branches high above her head, a warbler sang.    
    Â 
    Mother had made oyster stew.  When Anna opened the door, its aroma met her, and she realized how hungry she was.  Mother was at work at her sewing machine.  Normally, she took little time to eat.  Anna ladled stew into a bowl and dipped a biscuit in the warm, salty broth, seating herself next to Mary.  She was intent on her work, a patterned curtain with endless pleats.   
    â€œThe curtains are new,” Anna said.
    â€œYes, seven sets, for the second floor of the Atlantic Hotel.  A godsend.”  She sewed as silence as Anna ate.
    â€œYou were outside a long time.”
    Anna cringed.  It was a talk she had heard many times.  She knew that she should help her mother in her workroom, but she lacked Mary’s skill, and the task was so distasteful to her that she avoided it whenever she could.  Whether she helped or not, mother was always at her machine. There seemed to be little point in chaining herself to the sewing table to cut fabric and baste hems.  Mother would be there after she went to bed, and she would be there again in when she awoke in the morning.  Since her father’s death Mother took all the work that she could do, at whatever price she could get.  She once had time to walk the beach and keep a flower garden; now she did little but sew.  Anna did not ask Mary how she found the money to run their household.  
    â€œIs Beau gone?” she asked.  
    Her mother did not look up from the seam.  “He is.  He left while you were outside.”
    â€œFishing?”
    â€œI am hopeful that he is.  He did not say.”
    It would be good if her older brother were indeed fishing and would bring home a whole day’s wages.  Within a month the weather would turn, and the steady crews would be sufficient for the needs of the captains.  Beau would be turned away when he did choose to appear at the docks.  Instead he would sit in silence by the wood stove and carve decoys that brought very little money.
    â€œCan you help me, then?” Mary asked. Anna sighed. “Not grudgingly,” Mary scolded, her voice sharp.  Her fingers flew to the pincushion, setting up another perfect pleat in the curtain.
    â€œYes, of course, yes.” Anna searched the table for scissors and a measure.  The room was warm.  The October day would be fleeting.  Perhaps after an hour or two Mother would