Collin rubs his head and looks at me cautiously, as if considering whether to make a revelation or to keep it to himself. “There’s something else you should know.”
I think of the client who’d commissioned Collin to build the boat. “Collin, he’s not still expecting the boat is he? You don’t owe him—”
“I don’t owe him anything,” he says. “I get my payment when I deliver the boat. That was our arrangement.”
“Oh,” I say, relieved. But the troubled expression lingers on Collin’s face.
“Penny, the client, the man who commissioned this boat, is someone whose name may be familiar.”
I shake my head in disbelief. “Who?”
“Robert Wentworth.”
“But that’s . . .”
“Your father-in-law.”
“Does Dexter know?”
Collin rubs his brow. “No.”
“Because Dex hasn’t spoken to his father in years.” The revelation is making my head spin. Dex has refused to accept financial assistance from his wealthy family during our marriage. And yet, I’ve always wondered. I think about the checks sent to our home from an anonymous patron—well, Dex’s biggest patron. The checks are from a corporation I don’t recognize, but the handwriting . . . all I know is that I’ve seen it before. There’s something unique about the way the sender loops his p’s and elongates his y’s. But I stop thinking of Dexter’s art then, and instead I think of Collin’s lie.
“Why did you keep this from me?” I ask.
“I, I . . . listen,” he continues. “I swore I wouldn’t say anything. For all I knew, he just wanted to buy a boat.”
I cast him a skeptical look. “From a boat maker who lives across the dock from his son?”
Collin nods. “Listen, it’s natural for a father to want to know about a son who has cut off all contact.”
I smirk, suddenly feeling protective of Dex. “And I suppose he paid you a pretty penny for all of your convenient updates.”
“Penny,” Collin pleads, “don’t be angry. Don’t let this change things between us.” He climbs into the sailboat and waits for me to follow. His expression is urgent, pleading. “Come away with me. This sailboat is ours, yours and mine. We’ll start a new life together, just as we talked about.”
I walk closer to the sailboat, then turn back to the dock, before returning my gaze to Collin. “I need more time,” I say. “I—”
Collin holds up his hand, as if to say, “Don’t tell me. I can’t bear it.”
The truth is, I don’t know what words are about to cross my lips. I love Collin; it’s true. But I can’t deny that the revelations of the investigators have clouded my decision making now. Dex. I close my eyes and rub my brow. I made a vow, and at this moment, I am not ready to break it. My past indiscretions are only temporary. I look at Collin, so strong, so sure standing aboard the sailboat. Yes, he has my heart, and I’m having his baby, but if I left tonight, it would mean forever. It would mean the end to everything I have with Dexter, and I’m not sure if I’m ready for that. It doesn’t feel fair to Dexter, to the vow I’ve made.
I run my hand along the smooth, varnished railing. In blue letters on the rear of the boat is the newly painted word Catalina. I smile through my tears, and he catches my eye.
“I named her for you,” he says. “You said you always wanted to go to Catalina.”
“Yes,” I say, wiping a tear from my cheek. “I didn’t think you remembered.”
“I thought it could be the first place we sail to,” he says.
I shake my head. “I just need more time.” My voice sounds agitated, frantic.
He unties the rope from the cleat and my heart begins to race.
“Collin,” I cry. “Collin, no, please don’t go. Not yet. Not like this.”
My heart is in my throat as he pushes off. I stand on the dock, straddling two lives—the life I live with Dexter on Boat Street and another with Collin on the sea. But Collin is slipping away now.
I reach my hands out to him, pleadingly. I haven’t meant to hurt him. “Come back for me,” I cry, this time louder. I don’t care if anyone hears me; I want him to hear me. “I love you, Collin. I will always love you.”
I watch him drift off into the darkness of the lake, and I collapse onto the dock, burying my face in my hands.
Collin will return. He has to return. I feel desperate as I pace the floors of the houseboat. I reach for a suitcase and throw it on the floor. I could pack and get into the canoe. I could go after him. I shake my head. I’d never match his speed.