Page 6 of What You Never Knew

“Hello,” I call out, and he turns, shielding his eyes with one hand against the sun. “I need to rent a boat.” I pull my suitcase up onto the dock and stumble. He steps forward to help, but I manage to right myself before he makes contact.

“What kind of boat you looking for?” he asks.

I survey the boats in the water around me and on land. I hadn’t really given it any thought. I shrug. “I guess I just need one to get me and my suitcase out to the island.”

He nods. “What island would that be?” I’m taken aback by his blatant nosiness, and he must see it in my expression. He sighs. “So’s I know what kind of boat you need. Is it far from here? Shallow water? That kinda thing.”

I feel like a true “citidiot.” My time away has erased all sense of cottage consciousness. “Right, sorry.” The apology sloppily tumbles out. “I’m headed to Avril Island. Do you know it?”

His round, sun-damaged face contorts in surprise. “Do I know it?” He huffs. “You some reporter or something? Come to dig up that old mystery? You’ll need permission, you know, to get on that island.”

I shake my head and hold up a hand. “No, no. I’m June Fin—I mean Bennett. June Bennett. My family owns Avril Island.” A quivering starts under my skin—dehydration, fatigue, hunger, fear that I’ll have to convince him of my right to the place. I’ve believed it gone for so long that it no longer really feels like mine.

He pulls his hat off and gives me an apologetic smile. He has his own mop of hair, not yet white, but one day it will be. “Aw, so sorry, miss. It’s been so long since a Bennett’s been up this way.”

“Oh no, please, it’s not a problem,” I gush. Relief that he believes me without proof, without asking for a driver’s license or the deed, inspires actual affection for the man. “I understand the confusion. It has certainly been a long time. My family moved across the country, and we just never got back here to enjoy it again.” I work quickly to make the whole situation seem light and innocent, just as my mother would have wanted me to.

Don’t let the public know your business. They’ll use it against you, she always used to say. I was never sure why we weren’t also considered the public but was afraid to ask. I think what she really meant was don’t let the poor people see that we have problems too, that money doesn’t mean we don’t get dirt under our fingernails just like them.

He holds out a hand for me to shake. “It’s a real pleasure to meet you, Ms. Bennett. I’m Jim.”

I haven’t been Ms. Bennett for years, but it makes sense up here, so I’ll go with it. “It’s good to meet you too.” I shake his hand. “Was the original owner, the other Jim, your father?”

He slides his cap back on. “Sure was. Jim Senior. I’m Jim Junior, but I dropped the Junior when my dad died five years ago. Since there wouldn’t be no confusion anymore. And I’m in my fifties, for goodness’ sake.” He laughs at the thought, placing a hand on his round stomach.

“I’m sorry to hear that your dad has passed.” It comes out like some superficial sentiment from a summer person, but the feeling behind it actually threatens to choke me with emotion. “He always gave me and my sister mints when we came into town. And he’d never call us by the right name. He’d say, ‘How’s it going, September and October?’ or ‘December and January?’ ” I force a laugh at the memory.

Jim nods. “Yeah, that sounds like Dad. He was sure fond of your family. Especially your mother. Said she was the friendliest of all the summer people.”

I’m not surprised by this. My mother was skilled at charming people, especially the ones who had abilities that she relied on. She didn’t come from money, she just married it, so she had a way with “blue-collar folk,” as she called them.

“He was pretty upset when your father went missing,” Jim continues.

“Went missing?” I huff. “That’s a polite way of putting it. My mother always just referred to it as abandoning his family.”

“Never heard that version,” he says with an awkward laugh. “It was always said around here that he went missing. My dad actually helped with the search.”

I use the long handle of my suitcase to steady myself against this boulder of information. I didn’t know there was a search. It dawns on me that I actually don’t know much about when my father left. My mother’s explanation was that he’d run off. He was at the cottage one night, and then when I woke up the next morning he was gone, and my mother whisked me and May back home and we rarely spoke about it again.

“So how about that boat, Jim?” I move the conversation to safer ground, not able to admit that I know nothing about a search for my father or what might have actually happened back then.

“No need to rent a boat, Ms. Bennett,” he says, seeming relieved at the topic change as well.

“June. Please.”

“All right, June. No need for a rental. We’ve kept your mother’s boat in storage, maintained it, taken it out each year for a spin around the lake. It’s dated but should run just fine.”

I’m momentarily speechless. Nothing has even changed here; our boat is still our boat, but my mother just walked away from it all and never came back. “Have you been paid for the storage and maintenance?” I ask.

Jim waves his hand as though I’m offering him the cash right then and there. “Your mother told Jim Senior that he was free to sell the boat and keep the proceeds for his trouble. So no fees to worry about.”

“Then why didn’t he? Sell it, I mean?”

“My dad said he wanted to keep it just in case any of you ever came back. He said he just didn’t feel right selling it.”

I look out across the lake, waiting for the emotion of Jim Senior’s gesture to pass. I literally feel like a mosquito bite would set me to bawling right now. It’s not a normal state for me and certainly not one I’m comfortable with, so I have to work hard to keep it at bay.

My eyes finally make their way back to Jim Junior’s face. “Well, that’s incredibly kind and generous of your dad.” I shrug. “And I guess he was right, ’cause here I am now, needing a boat.”