Page 55 of Here & There

Nate pauses, then fishes around in the bag, hard. He’s upset.

But I see the change on his face. The hurtIjust caused him with that word.

Nate doesn’t consider himself cool. He’s struggling. I remember that feeling with a clarity so sudden and sharp that any little hurt I feel vanishes in compassion for this boy.

The chopsticks I think he’s looking for are already on the counter. I tuck them farther behind the unopened cartons of food to buy me a minute. “Okay, well, maybe we could all makefood together,” I say. “I know your dad wants to spend more time with you.”

Nate makes a scoffing sound. “Right.”

He spots the chopsticks, and I’m forced to hand a pair to him. He immediately turns and makes a beeline for the stairs.

What happened between those two? I can’t imagine Mac being anything but a doting father. But the way they are now…it doesn’t make sense.

“Good night!” I call after him.

After he’s gone, I settle down on a stool and stick a pair of chopsticks into a box of chow mein.

Then I grin. Maybe a normal person would be disappointed or upset with this interaction, but getting blown off by a hurt kid only locks in my motivation. I’m struck with a new sense of purpose, because I’ve finally found a way to thank Mac.

Chapter 14

Shelby

As it happens, I get my opportunity to launch my plan the very next day. When I wake up, there’s a note from Mac saying Chris is back, so he’ll be back in time for dinner tonight.

The minute Nate slams the door to catch the school bus, I get in the truck and drive in the opposite direction, down to Swan River. There’s a sporting goods store in the larger town south of Redbeard Cove, and there, I buy a brand-new set of workout clothes as well as a pair of runners. Being brand new, these look suspiciously squeaky clean, but hopefully Nate won’t notice.

Since I have a few hours before I need to be back, I do a little recon while I’m in town.

But from the moment I arrived, I didn’t get the same sense of Shelby that I do in Redbeard Cove. Maybe because Swan River isn’t the kind of placeI’dever want to live in. As the main ferry port for boats heading up this section of coast, it’s more functional than pretty. There’s a pulp mill at the far end of town that casts an unpleasant smell in the wrong wind, and the layout of the town wastes what could be an idyllic seaside location. Still, I poke around a bit, looking for any landmarks I may have seen in photos. Then I chat up a few older folks I spot while havinglunch, though none of the three I speak to are as friendly as the seniors back in Redbeard.

I’m relieved to get back into the truck, and my shoulders soften as I arrive in Redbeard Cove. I can’t explain how—and I still haven’t checked out a few of the smaller communities up the coast—but somehow IknowRedbeard was where Mom and Grandma lived. It has to be. I feel a sense of belonging here that’s almost cellular.

Even if I miss some of my creature comforts back in Vancouver.

Fred waves as I pass her cruiser on the way back to the beach. So does Lana as I pass her car, giving me a double honk.

Then I check the time and curse under my breath. My plan hinges on perfect timing.

The moment I get back to Mac’s, I change into the workout gear and put Tink on the leash. She’s so excited her tongue lolls out the side of her mouth.

“This plan’s gonna work, right, Tink?” I say. “Right, girl?” I waste another precious couple of minutes scratching her on the ruff and reminding her of what a good girl she is.

Then I remember my rush. I head out the door at a clip, making my way up the side road to where the school bus stops. I have to run to get there before the bus, which works out in my favor, because by the time the bus crests the hill, I’m all pink-faced and sweaty, as if I’m a person who runs on purpose.

The bus pulls to a stop with a lurch of brakes.

“Oh, hey!” I say to Nate, who’s tromping down the steps, like I’m just casually jogging by.

I’m not casually jogging by, of course, but the ten-minute walk from the bus stop to the front door means Nate will be forced to listen to my pitch. Or at least be forced to be in my presence while I make it. I also don’t want it to look like I waswaiting for him at the bus stop, since I was sure that would be detrimental to his social standing.

Hence the fake jogging. Except I didn’t really mean to be exactly where the bus dropped him off. I also didn’t mean to startle him as he lands on the road.

Which I do.

Tink bounds up to Nate before the bus driver even closes the door.

Nate bends down and scratches her behind the ears. “Hey, girl.” The way he says it, it sounds like she’s his refuge. My heart squeezes.

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