Page 21 of Last Wish Wedding

“Here.” Mac interrupted, passing back a small medical bag. “Ruth packed this. I assume you know what’s in there?”

Kelsey peeked inside, checking through the medications Ruth had packed for outings. “Perfect. Though I’m hoping we won’t need any of it.”

“The only medicine I need is good company and maybe a wee drop of whiskey,” Mr. Costigan declared as they pulled up to the dock.

“We’ll see about that.” Kelsey moved to help him from the car, but Mac was already there, supporting his grandfather with practiced care.

“Easy does it,” Mac murmured, matching his pace to the old man’s shuffling steps.

“I’m not made of glass,” Mr. Costigan grumbled, but he leaned heavily on Mac’s arm. “Though these legs aren’t what they used to be.”

The sailing yacht loomed before them, gleaming in the late afternoon sun. Mr. Costigan paused at the bottom of the gangway to catch his breath.

“The weatherman said we might see the aurora tonight,” he said, gazing northward. “Wouldn’t that be something? Haven’t seen the lights dance since I was a boy in Ireland.” His voice softened. “Would like to see them one more time.”

“Grandad—”

“Oh hush, boy. We all know where this is heading.” He patted Kelsey’s hand where it rested on his other arm. “But tonight’s for living, eh? And maybe if we’re lucky, the lights will give us a show.”

They helped him aboard, his jokes masking the effort it took. But his eyes sparkled with genuine joy as he settled into a cushioned seat on deck, the spring breeze ruffling his white hair.

“Now then,” he announced, “who’s going to fix an old man a drink while my grandson gets us underway?”

The auxiliary engine’s gentle rumble vibrated through the deck as Mac guided them out of the harbor. Kelsey sat with Mr. Costigan, watching the island’s familiar shoreline slip past from this new perspective.

“The old mansion looks different from here,” she mused. She spotted her cottage above the cove. “Less intimidating.”

“Everything looks different from the water, lass.” Mr. Costigan sipped his whiskey, neat. “Makes you see things fresh. Like that sunset starting up there.”

The sky was indeed beginning to paint itself in watercolors, streaks of pink and gold threading through the clouds. Mac stood confidently at the helm, occasionally adjusting their course, his profile strong against the darkening sky.

“He’s a natural sailor,” Mr. Costigan said softly. “Gets it from his grandmother. She could read the water like a book.”

The wind picked up as they cleared the harbor, and Kelsey pulled her down jacket from her pack. “Do you need another layer, Mr. Costigan?” she asked, noting how he tugged his sweater closer.

“Not yet. The whiskey keeps me warm.” He winked. “But I wouldn’t say no to that blanket there. And for heaven’s sake love, call me Truman.”

She tucked it around his legs just as Mac cut the engine. The sudden quiet was broken only by waves against the hull and distant seabirds.

“Perfect spot,” he called down from the helm. “We’ll have a great view of the northern sky from here, Grandad.”

The anchor chain rattled as it descended. Mac disappeared below deck, returning moments later with covered dishes that released wonderful aromas when he lifted their lids.

“Hope everyone’s hungry,” he said, setting out plates. “The chef at the club outdid himself.”

“Is that lobster stew?” Truman leaned forward eagerly.

“And fresh rolls from the bakery.” Mac served his grandfather first, then Kelsey. “Wine?”

The food was incredible, but Kelsey found herself watching the easy interaction between grandfather and grandson—the gentle teasing, the shared memories, the way Mac anticipated the old man’s needs before he could voice them. It was nice to see this tender side of Mac.

“Remember that storm we got caught in off Mount Desert?” Mr. Costigan was saying. “Your grandmother read those clouds an hour before the radio warning came through. Had us safely anchored while other boats were still scrambling.”

“She always knew.” Mac’s voice held a wealth of affection. “Though if I remember right, you were the one who forgot to secure the coffee pot.”

“Ach, we were finding grounds in strange places for weeks.” Mr. Costigan chuckled, then caught his breath slightly.

“Time for your evening dose,” Kelsey said, reaching for the medical bag. The old man didn’t protest as she administered his medication, and she saw Mac’s shoulders relax.