The Boatman's Wife(2)

Lily turned over in bed and placed her hand on the empty space where Connor slept. So many hours had passed since he’d got up, the sheet had gone cold. She pressed her hand on the pillow where his head had rested. She reached out and pulled her cell phone off the nightstand. Connor had left her a message. She smiled to herself as she listened to his lilting accent. The love she could feel in the spaces between his words. Lily closed her eyes and rewound the past four years, remembering the first time she’d seen him: the tall, skinny young Irishman working in Moll’s Bar down by the port. She had noticed him as soon as she had walked in with Ryan and some of the other fishermen. Felt an almost physical jolt as her eyes were drawn to his thick dark hair, and when he looked up, his big brown eyes. The gaze in them so slow and steady, as if nothing in the world could rush him. So unlike any man she’d met before in Maine.

As she’d perched up onto a stool, she’d felt herself blushing when he’d asked her what she wanted to drink.

She was the only woman in the bar. It was three in the afternoon. The time for the fishers to unwind before they went home to bed.

Lily had felt the new barman’s eyes on her as she sat in the group of men, conscious of the old check shirt of her dad’s she was wearing. She had no make-up on and her hair was pushed beneath a baseball cap. She took it off and pulled out her hair tie. Let it fall loose.

‘Wow, Lily,’ her cousin, Ryan, commented. ‘Your hair has got real long. I remember when you used to cut it short. Folk always thought you were a boy. And you never told them otherwise.’

‘It was easier that way,’ Lily said, taking a sip of her beer.

‘Lily, is it?’ the barman asked, leaning across his counter, bar cloth in hand. He wasn’t from America. She could hear he had an accent. ‘Do you dye it, or is it naturally that shade of black?’

Ryan let out a laugh. ‘Course she doesn’t dye it,’ he said. ‘Our Lily is one hundred per cent natural.’

Lily wished Ryan would keep his mouth shut.

‘It’s like crow’s feathers,’ the barman said holding her eyes. ‘Or ink.’

She took another sip of her beer. ‘Say, where you from?’

His eyelids fluttered, and she noticed the curl in his lashes.

‘My name’s Connor Fitzgerald,’ he said, putting the cloth down and reaching out his hand, all formal. ‘From Ireland, west coast.’

‘Better shake the man’s hand, Lily,’ Ryan joked.

She felt everyone’s eyes on her as she took Connor’s hand and gave it a shake. His skin was warm and soft. Embarrassed by her own rough hands, Lily found herself wishing she’d put lotion on them at night like her mom had told her to. She snatched her hand away.

‘Nice to meet you, Lily,’ Connor said, locking eyes with her. Again, she could feel colour creeping onto her cheeks. Why was she so damn awkward with men? She could captain a boat on the roughest seas, haul up lobster traps as fast as any man, and work like a dog for hours without stop, but when it came to relationships, no matter how casual, she was stuck.

‘What’re you doing here?’ Ryan butted in.

‘Travelling,’ Connor said, answering Ryan but still looking at Lily. ‘Got this job for the summer. They took me on to cook.’

‘So are you Irish any good at cooking lobster the Maine way?’ Ryan asked Connor.

‘I’m curious,’ Connor addressed Lily, ignoring Ryan’s last comment. ‘Are you a fisherman too?’

‘I prefer the word fisher.’

‘She’s the only girl fisher in this town,’ Ryan continued to interrupt, clapping Lily on the back. ‘But she’s one of the best.’

Connor looked at her with interest. ‘Do you like it?’ he asked. ‘It looks like heavy work.’

‘It’s what I’ve always done,’ Lily said. ‘Sure it’s hard work, but nothing beats being out on the ocean.’

‘I know what you mean.’ Connor smiled. ‘I grew up by the Atlantic back in Ireland. Can’t imagine living anywhere but by the sea.’

One of the other guys called Connor over for another beer. Lily watched him move behind the bar. He had long legs and looked strong.

She glanced at her phone. It was time to hit the road, and get some sleep. She finished her beer and stood up.

‘You’re only in for one?’ Connor had returned. He appeared very interested in her, but then she was the only girl in the bar.

‘Yeah, I have to be up before daybreak,’ she said.

‘Now, that is tough.’ Connor’s smile opened up even more. Ryan had moved off to talk with some of the others, and it was just her and Connor. She wanted to stay drinking on the stool, talking to him all afternoon, but at the same time, a part of her wanted to run away. It was a strange feeling.

‘Do you surf?’ Connor asked her.

She nodded, pushing her hair back into her baseball cap.

‘Want to show me the best places, when you have time off?’

‘You want to go surfing?’ she asked, a little unsure. ‘With me?’

‘Yes, Lily.’

When he said her name, it sent a thrill through her. She looked at him and they just clicked. Lily knew straight out, from the first afternoon she met Connor, he was for her. By the end of the year they were married.