Page 45 of Marlin's Faith

“I get it, Baby Girl, you’ve got a lot going on in there. We ain’t never been the best at communicating and I aim to fix that, but first some dinner. Go on up top, I’ll meet you up there and get the grill fired up.”

I nodded mutely and slipped out and around to the side with stairs, taking them in my bare feet to the platform at the top. There was a gas grill bolted to the ground in one corner and the raised platform was all wood. It was beautifully put together but sadly marred with people carving their initials into the wood. In some places, it looked as if girls had painted designs, crudely done, with nail polish. Other things were drawn and written in black permanent marker.

“It happens,” Marlin said with a shrug of one shoulder. “We got lucky this time. All the locks are in place and checking things out, everything is in order. Just some partiers came across it. We’ve had to chase a few off from time to time. It isn’t a big deal.”

“It looks like you all put a lot of effort into this place,” I murmured.

“Yeah, a couple of summers back, one of the boys came across this video on YouTube. This place called the Manta Resort out in Africa somewhere. We built this. It’s a replication structurally and was expensive as hell to build, but the whole club did it.”

“Why do you call it the ‘Locker’ though?”

“Davey Jones’ Locker, its code. Law enforcement, hell even the Coast Guard would be hard pressed to find this place, and if they did? We would probably just build another one or tow it to another location.” He explained all of this while hooking a propane tank to the grill. Rising in a surprisingly fluid motion and looking back over his shoulder at me as he got the grill started.

“Fish okay? It’s the only thing not frozen.”

I nodded, and he nodded back carefully. He made several trips back and forth from the little kitchenette up to here and I helped where I could, which wasn’t much. Marlin had a thing about people in his kitchen or invading his space when he cooked. Eventually he sent me back down to sit on the couches they had graced with cushions from some storage locker or other.

I sat on the bright orange, canvas wrapped foam in the shade and had a cold drink pressed into my hand as I stared sightlessly out over the water. Soon, Marlin set two plates of grilled fish and vegetables down on the table and eyed me with a grave expression.

“Eat,” he said softly.

I did, and it was good, but in some ways it almost felt like a last meal.

Why and how did I always get myself into these awful situations without meaning to?

23

Marlin…

She looked both somber and deathly afraid and I could tell it was eating her up inside. The fact that she was so distressed made me wonder. I don’t think Hope had it right; it was Hope’s opinion that when Faith was growing up, when she was caught doing something wrong or whatever, Faith was more upset about being caught than any of the actual damage she did. That wasn’t what I was seeing here. Every time I caught her looking at me she would turn those jewel bright eyes away, made brighter by her fight to suppress the tears. I think Hope was projecting more than a few of her own issues onto her younger sister, and that Faith was climbing the walls on the inside with anxiety over what she’d done. Not because she’d done it, but because it’d hurt, and damn did it ever. I was surprised to find how much.

The worst part was, that hurt was more over the fact that she didn’t trust me yet. Not enough to be plain with me, at any rate. That blew, but could it really be considered unexpected? I mean shit, look what she’d gone through.

We finished our meal and I rinsed the plates over the side for now, before setting them in the kitchen. I refreshed her glass of iced tea and mine out of the pitcher I’d brought out of my fridge on theScarlett Annand held out my hand to her. She looked up at me, blinking from behind a curtain of her long blonde hair, and tentatively took my hand. I took her up top where we could watch the sunset and the rainclouds roll in.

“Will it be bad?” she asked looking at the clouds in the distance, the flicker of occasional lighting forking through them.

“Nah, a lot of rain, some thunder and lightning, but wind shouldn’t be too bad. Just another thunderstorm in Florida.”

She turned and looked at me and her expression was fuckin’ heartbroken. I sighed and took her into my arms which felt fuckin’ good with how long I’d been fighting it.

“I owe you an apology, Baby Girl,” I held her close and she looked up at me sharply.

“I don’t understand…”

“Oh, don’t get me wrong, you owe me one too, but we’ll get there in a minute.”

She looked so confused that it was hard for me not to laugh; I managed though, “I’m sorry I ever made you feel like I didn’t want to touch you.” I murmured, and she searched my face in silence for several long moments.

I smiled but it was a sad thing and told her, “This is the part where you apologize for puttin’ words in my mouth rather ‘n just talking with me straight.”

She closed her eyes and sagged in my arms, resting her forehead on my chest she said, “I’m so sorry for everything, for that, but mostly for hurting you… I don’t mean to hurt anybody, I’m… I’m like a poison. It’s just; it’s just what I do, no matter how hard I try. I can’t help it.”

I held her tighter against me and sighed out, “Breaks my fuckin’ heart to hear you talkin’ about yourself that way,” I told her, but the only answer I got was her breaking down into wracking sobs.

I didn’t know what to say, so I just didn’t say anything. Instead, I just held her, rubbing uselessly along her back over her soft jersey dress while she sobbed brokenly into my bare chest under my cut.

There was taking care of someone, then there was being responsible for them. I switched off that urge I had to tell her ‘shh’ or ‘don’t cry’ and just let her have this. I didn’t even lie to her and tell her it was okay, because it wasn’t, but she didn’t need any of that. Right now she needed to cry and let all the negative out.

---