Page 63 of The Wild Beneath

In the chorus of wind and waves, in the spray of the whale’s breathing, she shakes her head to break the spell. “You have to get dressed,” she says. “You must be cold.”

The whale puffs aroundGalene. She releases spouts of air then dives between stone-coloured waves. She seems to want to stay, and Walker is transfixed by her.

“I want to stay with her awhile,” is all he says.

“I’ll get the crab pots ready.” Henry is already business-as-usual. “We’ll set them out later this morning.”

Evan and Annie head back in the dinghy. Evan yanks the oars like he’s mad at them. He’s tight-lipped until they’re nearly ashore.

“I should have gone in,” he says.

“No, you shouldn’t have.”

“He could have drowned.”

“No one should have gone in,” she says, stepping onto the sand. “I wouldn’t have let you.”

“You let him.”

“He’s not you.”

Evan vise-grips the hull and drags it on shore before Annie can help. Low clouds run in the wind between short bursts of sun. In the light, Evan has deep hollows under his eyes.

“You’re exhausted,” she says. “And you’re really towing more booms?”

“Please leave it.” He pulls the dinghy further up and stows the oars under the benches.

She waits.

Evan walks to a log of driftwood and sits down. The shaft of sun disappears, gone behind a shroud of clouds. Annie sits next to him. She wants to take his hand, but she does not.

He crosses his arms. “I have to fix the steering gears first on the tug, anyway.”

“The steering’s out?”

“It needs adjusting. I wanted to repair them before I left the first time, but there was no time.”

“Your dad let you go with faulty steering?”

“I didn’t tell him.” Evan pinches the bridge of his nose. “He’s been drinking more.”

Annie feels an undertow that has Evan around the torso. He’s swimming against it but can’t escape.

“I’ll get it fixed... the steering.”

“I’ve never seen you like this—­”

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t seem fine.”

“Give it a rest. I’m not some injured animal.” He looks away. “I’m going back to town.”

Back at the cabin, Ruth is still asleep, curled on her side, the blankets undisturbed. It’s unusual for her to sleep so muchso soon after her last transfusion. It’s only been four weeks. Annie watches the quick rise and fall of Ruth’s breathing, only to realize that she’s hyperventilating herself. Back in the living room, she’s pacing in a circle as Walker comes through the screen door.

“I thought you were staying out there?” Annie says.

“Are you okay?”