but whenever I saw him going out on his own, if I was free, I’d just invite myself along. He never seemed to mind.”
Megan studied Garret closely. “Dad must’ve really liked you.” And this was no exaggeration. Dad had been picky about fishing buddies. Stubborn and picky and opinionated. Still, how she would miss him!
Megan could feel herself slipping into an emotional tailspin again. She knew it was time to lighten the subject. If that was even possible. “So you and my dad were fishing friends... For some reason I can’t quite see it.” Just then she remembered something Dad had said about his “young fishing buddy.” “Hey, you’re not Tangler, are you?”
Garret chuckled. “That’d be me.”
“Tangler? How’d you get that name?”
“That’s what your dad called me when we first met. He saw me taking out a bunch of inexperienced fishermen—not my favorite thing to do, by the way, but these city boys booked a trip and I had to take them.”
“Naturally.”
“Well, these dudes didn’t know a rod from a reel or a salmon from a halibut. Your dad was working on his boat while I was trying to get them loaded into mine and we must’ve looked like a floating circus.” He laughed.
“But what does that have to do with your nickname?”
“Tangler is what a good fisherman calls an inexperienced angler. Because he’s always getting his line tangled up. Tangled plus angler equals Tangler. Get it? Anyway, it stuck.”
She almost smiled to remember how her dad could be such a tease at times. She would miss that, too. The lump in her throat was back, getting bigger as Garret turned down the unpaved road to her dad’s house—the same house she’d grown up in. It was like she expected to see Dad there, standing on the front porch, cheerfully waving them inside, telling them he had tuna on the grill and a pitcher of homemade lemonade in the fridge.
“I admired Rory a lot,” Garret said solemnly as they bumped along the rutted sandy road shared by a handful of neighbors. “I looked up to him like a father figure.”
“Your parents were divorced, weren’t they?” As soon as she said this, she regretted it. “I’m sorry,” she said quickly. “It’s none of my business. But you know how nosy reporters can be.”
“It’s okay. And it’s true, my parents did divorce. A messy divorce, too. Fortunately, I had my grandparents and the marina to fill the void after my parents went their separate ways.”
“It still must’ve been hard.” She sighed. “My mom and dad divorced, too.”
“According to Rory, they handled theirs in a fairly civilized way.”
“Right.” She wasn’t so sure about that.
“Anyway, your dad was a good friend to me.” Garret’s voice was laced in sadness.
Megan looked out the window, seeing the dark glistening strip of ocean out past the few houses that lined this portion of the bluff. “I wish I’d taken more time off work—to come down here to visit more. I’m afraid I’ve let my career take over my life.”
“Your dad was proud of you, Megan. He loved that you were working for a big Seattle paper. I know he missed you, but he did understand.”
“I know.” She sighed. “He always encouraged me to chase my dreams.”
“And did you find them?”
She shrugged. “I thought so at first. To be honest, I’m not so sure now. It gets to feeling like a rat race out there. Not like life here in Cape Perpetua.” Talk about an understatement.
Garret was turning into the sandy driveway now. It was hard to see the house in the darkness, but something about this scene didn’t feel quite right. Probably the fact that her dad was missing from the picture. It was strange to see the house so dark. No glowing windows, no porch light, nothing. The house looked sad and lonely, as if it knew its owner was not coming home.
“Thanks for the ride,” she told Garret as he stopped the SUV. She suddenly felt glum about parting ways with him. He’d been such a comfort tonight and it felt like they’d actually started to get acquainted. But now it was over.
“You’re welcome. But don’t think you’re getting rid of me that easily.” He was already getting out of the SUV. He hurried around, removing her baggage from the back, then joining her as she got out. “Let’s make sure everything is okay here first.”
“It, uh, looks okay to me.” She tried to sound more confident than she felt. “No sign of any vehicles around.” As they walked up to the house, she could hear the comforting rumble of the ocean. Everything about this scene felt so familiar—and yet it wasn’t. Despite spending most of her childhood and adolescence here, she had been down only a few times over the past ten years. “I’m sure everything’s just fine here.” Why wouldn’t it be?
“Well, I want to be sure.” Still carrying her bags, he accompanied her up the path of old bricks. She’d helped Dad put these bricks into place when she was twelve. “I don’t really like the idea of leaving you out here by yourself without a car, Megan.”
“Dad has good neighbors.” She pointed north. “I can probably get Mrs. Martin to give me a ride into town in the morning. Then I’ll get my tires replaced.” As they came up to the little house, she felt a chill run through her. Maybe it was the sea air or the damp fog that she knew was rolling in since she could hear the foghorn blowing over by the jetty. Or maybe it was something else. Like her frazzled nerves.
She had her house key ready. Just like the newspaper office key, she had held on to this one, too. Not so much as a memento, but because her dad always wanted her to feel like she could show up at any time. Even if he was gone on a week-long fishing trip in Mexico. It was similar to a security blanket. A reminder that this was home. Except with Dad gone, she wasn’t so sure. Would she be able to feel at home anymore?
“I’ll get some lights on.” She stepped into the house. “And I need to give you back your jacket, too.” As she reached for the entryway light switch, she paused to listen. “Did you hear something?” she whispered to Garret.
He set her bags down in the entryway, holding his forefinger to his lips. They both froze in place, listening intently. But now she heard nothing but the swooshing sound of the waves and the ticking of the clock on the mantel.
“Must’ve been my imagination,” she said quietly as she turned on the entryway light. She looked around the living room, feeling relieved that everything was peacefully in place, from the corny nautical decor that Dad had always loved, to the stone fireplace that probably still smoked on a windy day. She looked wistfully at his worn leather recliner. A new military novel lay on the side table with Dad’s reading glasses next to it. Everything was so much the same that she almost expected Dad to come strolling out of the kitchen with a mug of coffee in his hand and a warm grin on his face.
“All’s well,” she told Garret as she hung her purse on the hall tree next to the still-open front door.
“Seems to be.” He looked around in satisfaction. “So I’ll bid you good—”
Just then
