Safe from the Sea Read Online Free PDF Page B

father, and grandfather—in the knowledge of a lesson well learned. Even after his father had washed up on the rocks the morning after the wreck there had sometimes been a sort of reprieve from Olaf’s drunken vitriol in that isolated week between Christmas and New Year’s. Now the landing hill had grown trees again, and the bramble and deadfall made it almost indistinguishable from the rest of the hillside. Even so, at the top of the hill he could still see the scaffold and the deck standing at the side of the takeoff where his father or grandfather had stood for hours at a time, coaching and encouraging him.
    “You remember this thing?” his father asked, out of breath.
    Noah turned, startled, “Of course I do.”
    “You can hardly see it up there.”
    “I can see it.”
    They were both looking at the landing hill with their hands intheir pockets. The temperature was dropping, but the sky was clearing. “I used to wonder about you when it came to this thing.” Olaf gestured up at the jump. “You were a pretty good jumper, but that attention span.”
    Noah smiled. “I was easily distracted.” He thought, Whatever happened to those days?
    As if intercepting Noah’s thoughts, Olaf said, “Chrissakes those were fine, fine mornings.”
    “They sure were.”
    “You should have stuck with it.”
    “I often think that. Guess I wanted to get away, out of Duluth.”
    “Duluth was so bad?”
    Noah shrugged.
    Olaf nodded. “Maybe it wasn’t Duluth you wanted to get away from.”
    “Maybe not.”
    Olaf looked at him charily. “Come with me, I want to show you something.”
    T HE TRUCK SMELLED of cigars, and the inside of the windows dripped with condensation. The plastic upholstery covering the enormous front seat was split and cracked from corner to corner, and mustard-colored foam padding burst through the tear. A speedometer, fuel gauge, and heater control sat derelict on the dashboard, and beneath it, where a radio should have been, three wires dangled, clipped, with copper frizz flowering from each.
    Noah felt like he was in an airplane, seated so high, and he marked the contrast his father’s truck cut against his own Toyota back in Boston. His car got fifty miles to the gallon. He’d have bet that the truckgot less than ten. Still, he derived a definite satisfaction from sitting there in the passenger seat. He thought he’d like to drive it.
    Olaf put the key in the ignition, pumped the gas pedal four or five times, and turned the key. The truck shook and grumbled but did not start. He tapped the gas pedal a couple more times and tried again. This time it groaned but finally started. He revved the accelerator, and white smoke blossomed from the tailpipe. Inside, the cab filled with the smell of old gasoline.
    “Carburetor,” Olaf said, grinning. He reached under the seat and pulled out two cigars wrapped in plastic, gave one to Noah, unwrapped and bit the end off his own, and finally lit it with a kitchen match. Noah rolled his between his thumb and forefinger.
    “We can take the rental car,” Noah said.
    “Don’t worry about the truck.”
    “I can’t believe you still drive it.”
    “It’s got almost four hundred thousand miles on it.”
    “That’s amazing. I lease a new car every couple years so I never have to worry about repairs. I haven’t had a car in the shop since I started leasing.”
    “This thing’s never been in the shop, either.”
    Olaf pulled a stiff rag from beneath his seat and wiped the condensation from his side of the windshield. He rolled his window down, too. “Crack your window, would you? Let’s get some air in here.”
    Noah cranked his window down. “Where are we headed?”
    “Thought it would be nice to get down to the big water.”
    Olaf navigated the truck up under the low-hanging trees and onto the county road. Cool air streamed through the open windows.
    “It’s getting colder,” Noah said.
    “But the pressure’s rising, which means it’ll be