Page 2 of Their Reluctant Catch

It’s not a life most people are cut out for. Especially not women.

I don’t blame them, honestly. Life out here isn’t easy. It’s cold, hard, and unforgiving. You don’t get days off or time to breathe. You take what the earth and sea give you and hope it’s enough to get through another day. Most women want more than that—they want comfort, security, something the Cove can’t offer. That’s why the ratio is what it is. Three men for every woman. Many of the guys here have resigned themselves to bachelorhood, or they’ve left to find wives elsewhere. The ones who stay? They make it work however they can.

I’m turning thirty next month, the big three-O. Makes a man think about his future, about settling with a wife to raise some children. I make a decent living with my brother. I’m not rich, but I can support a woman. I can protect her and cherish her.

The boat dips and rises with the waves, the engine churning steadily beneath my feet. I reach for the thermos and hold it in the air. “Want more?”

“Nah, I’m good.”

I pour another mug for myself. Nothing much to do until we reach the traps.

But as I lean against the railing, staring out at the endless stretch of black water, I can’t help but hope something more awaits us out there—something bigger than fish and crab traps and the ghosts of what this town used to be.

* * *

Colton

TheSea Spiritrocks underfoot, but I’m used to it. The first time our grandfather took me with him, I was three. Puked my guts out, got a slap on the back that almost toppled me into the water, and still loved it. The net groans in protest while I haul it up. My shoulders burn, the strain shooting through my arms like fire, but it’s a good pain—a necessary one. The sea doesn’t give without taking something back. That’s simply the way it is.

Salty liquid spray coats my face, cold as ice, but I keep pulling until the weight shifts, and the net breaches the surface. The catch spills onto the deck in a writhing, flopping mess—a fair number of cod, a few haddock, and a handful of lion’s mane jelly fish. They always freak me out somewhat, but it’s part of the job.

“Not bad,” Todd calls from across the deck, grinning like a kid on Christmas morning. He’s already working on the next line, moving his hands quick and sure. That one always has too much energy for his own good.

I crouch by the pile and start sorting. The fish slap against my gloves, slick and cold, their gills flaring like they’re gasping for a second chance. I toss the small ones back without a second thought. No use keeping what isn’t big enough to feed anyone. That’s the rule: take only what you need. Nothing more.

I chuck another one overboard, and it vanishes with a splash, the water swallowing it whole.

Todd glances over. “You’re picky today.”

“We can’t feed the town with scraps.” I toss a cod into the crate.

He knows that. He doesn’t argue; he never does when it comes to this. We’ve been doing it this way for years, ever since Dad drilled it into us. If the ocean’s going to survive, we’ve got to give her the chance. Some of the other fishermen in town don’t get that. They take what they can, thinking they’ll be long gone before the sea’s riches dry up. But not us. Dad wouldn’t have it. And I won’t, either.

The wind shifts, carrying Todd’s voice across the deck. “So, have you thought about last night?”

I glance up, frowning. “Last night?”

He straightens and huffs out air. His breath curls into the cold air like smoke. “About what I said last night. You know. Getting married. Having a few kids.”

I snort and shake my head. “We’re working. Can’t this wait?”

“Nope.” He grins, starts pulling up one of the crab traps we left yesterday. “You’re stuck on this boat with me, Brother. Might as well talk while we’ve got the time.”

I don’t answer right away, simply focus on the buoy in front of me, and put my back into pulling up the other crab trap.

A wife. Kids. I don’t know how Todd still holds onto that dream. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t remember. He was just a baby when Grandpa died at sea, too young to understand what it did to our family. But I remember. I remember the way Grandma stood at the docks, the way her gnarly, work-reddened hands shaking, and her eyes empty . I remember the way Dad cried in the kitchen that night, thinking we couldn’t hear him. I remember the way the house felt colder after that, even with the fire burning.

Todd doesn’t know what it’s like to see a widow trying to keep it together for her kids and grandkids, doesn’t know what it’s like to lose someone to the sea and wonder if it’s going to happen again. I do, and I’d rather die alone than put someone through that.

Besides, who’s he thinking of marrying? There aren’t many women left in Northwick Cove, and the ones who stay aren’t my type. I’ve never met one I’d want to wake next to every day. Not here, not anywhere.

TheSea Spiritlurches, and I catch myself on the railing. Todd doesn’t notice, too busy with the trap. He’s still grinning, like the thought of a family is enough to keep him warm in this cold, unforgiving place.

“You really think this is the life for a wife and kids?” I ask. “What kind of future are you offering, Todd? Empty traps and a cold bed half the year?”

He pauses, his hands stilling over the net. “We make it work. People always make it work when it matters.”

I shake my head, turning back to the pile of fish. “Maybe, but not for me.”

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