off his stomach to sit on the edge of the bed. He tapped the alarm off and pushed his fingers through his hair.
Four a.m., and it was opening day of shrimping season. They were going to get an extra-early start.
Running through his morning ritual, Nathan put on a T-shirt and shorts, then pulled his hair back. Quickly washing his face and brushing his teeth, he then jogged downstairs, the smell of bacon and coffee wafting up the stairwell.
“’Bout damn time you dragged yourself out of bed,” his grandpa, Jep, grumbled from the stove. “You goin’ for a haircut later?”
Nathan’s dad, Owen, was sitting at the table, and he threw his son a grin.
“Jep, enough about the hair,” Nathan said, pouring coffee into an insulated thermos. “It’s getting old.”
“Well, I’m old, dammit, and I’m tired of lookin’ at my eldest grandson with long, girlie hair.” He swore under his breath. “Ponytail and such. Like a pirate or some such nonsense. Or a hippie! Godalmighty damn.”
Nathan chuckled. “Chicks dig it.”
Jep snorted. “Sure they do, boy. I can tell by how they’re lining the drive each weekend. Now quit arguing and eat up.”
Nathan gave his grandpa a quick peck on the cheek then jumped out of the way before the old guy one-twoed him. Grabbing a bacon-and-egg biscuit from the pan on the stove, he joined his dad at the table. Jep sat with them, sipping on a coffee mug surely older than Nathan himself. Tradition, Jep always said. It’s a good thing to have. Just then, a quick knock sounded at the back door, before it opened. Nathan’s middle brother, Matt, stepped over the threshold.
“’Bout time you got your sorry backside outta bed,” Jep grumbled.
Matt ruffled Jep’s thick white hair, grabbed a biscuit then sat with them.
“Good to have your help on opening day,” Owen said.
Matt gave a lopsided grin. “You almost had two helpers. I had to convince Em that she really shouldn’t be on a trawler in the Atlantic in her condition.”
“Did she smack you for that?” Nathan asked.
“Yep.” Matt shoved the rest of his biscuit into his mouth.
Nathan figured his sister-in-law, now six months pregnant with his first-ever niece or nephew, had a head of concrete. It wouldn’t surprise him at all to find she’d stowed away on the Tiger Lily.
They quickly finished breakfast, grabbed their gear and set out. The early-morning Carolina air was still and warm and humid as they walked down to the dock. The night birds still called, and cicadas and frogs rivaled their choruses. A typical low-country morning. Tradition. Home. Family.
Living the dream.
Almost, anyway.
Living on the Back River, the water was deep enough to berth their thirty-foot trawler, so while Owen took the wheel and began to ease along, Nathan and Matt both perched at the bow in silence, studying the water ahead as the Tiger Lily sliced through the calm darkness. Nathan inhaled, holding the briny air in his lungs before letting his breath out slowly. It was going to be a damn good day. The weather conditions were perfect. Warm air, warmer waters. Nathan knew, though, that the calm blue-gray of the Atlantic could churn and cough and consume any and everything in its path, all in the blink of an eye. The sea? She was never, ever to be trusted. But for now, he’d gladly accept the bounty she’d offered up.
As they cleared the river and entered the sound, Nathan and Matt dropped the trawler’s outriggers and they headed out to sea. As morning broke, other trawlers dotted the horizon, but the Tiger Lily was in an optimal spot, where the waters were moving in the same direction. They rode the shifting tides, avoided slack-water time. After baiting the nets, Nathan and Matt dropped the doors, and after just one drag they raised both nets filled with Atlantic brown shrimp. Nathan let out a holler, and Matt threw his head back and laughed. Owen simply shook his head, a grin on his weathered face.
The nets dropped load after load, and they filled the coolers to the gills with shrimp. It’d been a good haul for opening day—more than an average haul. By the time they’d dropped the load at the docks and the Tiger Lily began chugging home, the sun had peaked. Three o’clock on a June day. Hot as all holy hell.
“Hope that sets the pace for the season,” Owen said from the wheel.
“It’d be nice,” Nathan called back. Since they shrimped almost year-round, even a slow season wasn’t terrible. Last year had been a big improvement from the year before. Same with crabs, which they tended to run commercial traps for in the summer months leading into early fall, just to make the extra money. Even the infamous Carolina blue crabs were heading farther out, away from the riverbeds and into deeper waters. Hell, the entire ecosystem had gone squirrely. They even had a few great whites show up from time to time. One local white that showed up three years running, Lucy, had found herself on the news more than once. Way different from when he and his brothers were growing up, when they could drop lines off the floating dock and pull in an easy half bushel of crabs in no time flat. Still, things had been good for the Malone family.
They were blessed, to say the very least. Nathan glanced skyward once more, noticed the cerulean sky, felt the sun’s warmth on his face. Yeah, this year would be good for shrimping.
Owen slowed the motors and eased the Tiger Lily into the river leading home. The sun beat down on Nathan’s bare back, and he was half tempted to jump in.
“You got new neighbors?” Matt asked.
Nathan glanced at his brother, and Matt inclined his head. Nathan followed his brother’s gaze. He lifted the shades from his eyes. At the end of Morgan’s old dock sat a girl. A woman, rather. A little girl sat next to her, and their feet were dangling over the floating dock and into the water. The little girl had on a neon pink bathing suit that could probably be seen for miles around. Both had short dark hair, and that was about all Nathan could tell from where he stood. What were they doing there? The little girl leaped to her feet as they passed, waving her skinny little arms. Nathan lifted his hand and waved back.
“No one’s lived at old Morgan’s place for nearly ten years,” Owen called from the wheel. “Far as I know, the old man didn’t have kin except his cousin, Bartholomew.”
“That doesn’t look much like Cousin Bartholomew,” Matt muttered.
“Nope,” Nathan agreed as he slipped his shades over his eyes and watched as the young woman—no doubt the girl’s mother—grasped her daughter’s hand and they hurried along the rickety old dock, toward the house. The whole time, the little girl was hopping from foot to foot, looking over her shoulder as the trawler eased up the river. By the time the Tiger Lily hit the bend, the pair had disappeared into the swath of live oaks that all but consumed Morgan’s place.
“Maybe they’ve bought the house,” Owen remarked. “Shame to see that place just sit. It’d be nice to have new neighbors.” He cleared his throat. “Maybe you should run over later and introduce yourself.”
“Dad, you are such a social butterfly,” Nathan accused, and Matt laughed. “Why don’t you go introduce yourself? Anyway, you just like having a bunch of kids around.”
“I am, I might and I do,” Owen readily agreed to all accusations.
Nathan glanced once more at the now-empty dock. Again, he shaded his eyes.
Probably just some summer renters. That was a regular occurrence on Cassabaw. Renters came. Renters left. End of story. Owen was simply too damned nosy for his own good.
As his father eased the trawler toward the Malones’ dock, Nathan and Matt jumped out and tied up. Emily, Matt’s wife, hurried toward them. She wore a kerchief on her head to keep her hair back, and a pair of big, white-rimmed sunglasses. Her baby belly was just starting to show beneath the white tank and pair of knee-length cutoff jeans she wore. Em preferred the days of old. As they all had grown up on Ella