“Sweethearts, I’ll make you a couple of nice lobster rolls and my famous potato soup!” She fills up the pot with water and starts peeling potatoes.
“Actually.” Uncle Pete pauses as he sucks thoughtfully on the empty pipe. “I just put a few traps in this morning. There are probably some lobsters in there right now.”
“Yes, Pete. Why don’t you get those? Let’s treat the kids to something fresh.”
Watching Uncle Pete drag his bad leg across the kitchen, I stop him right away. “Why don’t you stay and help Aunt Beattie? I can go.” Seeing a skeptical look on the old man’s face, I laugh. “I haven’t forgotten how to trap lobsters, Uncle Pete. The boat’s down back by the dock? Traps in the usual place?”
Uncle Pete nods thoughtfully and fishes the keys from his pocket. “Don’t forget to lock it up when you leave.” He carefully instructs me as if I am still a careless teenager.
“Can I come with you?” Amelia urges in a small voice.
I am still fuming about being called “Mr. Payne” but I can’t ignore the pleading in those big green eyes. It’s no surprise that Amelia doesn’t want to be left alone here. Aunt Beattie has already started grilling my female companion for every single biographical detail. This is hardly the experience she must have imagined for a first date. Amelia must wonder why I brought her here.
With keys in one hand, I extend my other hand out to her. “Sure, let’s go. I’ll show you around.”
Her emerald eyes widen for a moment and then without hesitation, she steadily places her small hand in mine.
“So, who are they? Are they your relatives?” Amelia asks as we walk down the steps behind the house, on a winding path down to the dock.
“They were my father’s friends. Uncle Pete was his business partner. My father’s name was ‘Walt.’ This was their shop.”
“Oh,” was all she says.
“Surprised? Were you not expecting such humble beginnings?” I joke, feeling a little nervous because of her silence. I have never taken anyone to meet Uncle Pete and Aunt Beattie before. Not even Rachel has ever met them. I keep them hidden, like some secret, precious part of myself that I don’t want the world to see.
She shakes her head but says nothing. After a moment, she questions me, “Why did you bring me here?”
“To treat you to lunch, of course. You can’t get better lobster rolls outside of Maine.” I try to answer convincingly, but still feel a little flustered. Why did I bring her here? There are a dozen excellent restaurants in town that I could have taken her. Why did I bring her to the one place that has a lot of history for me? Besides my parents, Uncle Pete and Aunt Beattie are the closest thing I have to family.
“Do you not like them?” I ask, trying to keep my voice cool. I know why she is concerned. We had one kiss this morning and I’m taking her to meet my family? After all, I am just “Mr. Payne.” Not even a friend and mostly just a professional acquaintance. Definitely not someone she sees herself kissing again.
She shakes her head again and hops a few steps ahead of me. The hem of her yellow dress flows up and down with each of her steps. I watch as the dress flares out from her slim waist, making her look like a big flower. Her dark lashes are lowered as she keeps her eyes on the uneven ground.
“Is that the boat?” She points ahead.
There she is, a little wooden rowboat sitting alone in the dock. It wiggles happily among the gentle waves and ready for adventure. My father made the boat by hand, piecing together each plank of the wood and sanding everything down with love. I bet Uncle Pete takes good care of it. Taking it out of the water once in a while to weatherize it. The fresh coat of paint makes her look almost brand new.
“Get in.” I gesture with a wave of my head, but my companion looks hesitant. She eyes the boat doubtfully. “What’s wrong? Don’t you know how to swim?” I tease.
“I know how to swim just fine.” She sharply contradicts me. Walking past me with her head held high, she hops into the boat in one elegant leap and sits down prettily. The skirt of her dress fans out around her like a giant daisy.
With a grin, I follow her into the boat as well and unlock it. She is looking into the distance now and the waves of her hair rise and fall with the sea breeze. She takes a deep breath as she enjoys the sights and smells of the ocean. Then I push us away from the shore with the oar and into the big wide ocean.
“Off we go.” Just as my father used to say as we’d go off on a new adventure.
Even though I haven’t forgotten how to do things, I am definitely out of practice. With some difficulty, I row us to the spot where I know Pete has thrown the traps. A few floating buoys mark the spot. I stop and pull in the oars, surprised that I am actually a little out of breath. Amelia’s eyes light up as she helps me pull each of the traps up, but we are both disappointed when the hoop nets come up empty.
“It’s probably still too early. They usually come out at night.” I stare at the noon sun and shield my eyes. I want to share with her all the fun things I used to do as a boy. Netting for lobsters, diving for crabs, even digging for clams. Unfortunately, sometimes luck just isn’t on my side.
A chilly breeze blows by and she shivers in
