Cape Grace Read online

  This book and parts thereof may not be reproduced in any form, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means—electronic, mechanical, photocopying, or otherwise—without prior written permission of the publisher, except as provided by the United States of America copyright law.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any similarity to actual persons, organizations, and/or events is purely coincidental.

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  Copyright © 2020 by Nathan Lowell

  Cover Art Jessie David Young

  First Printing: January, 2020

  For everyone who knows this story too well.

  You're seen.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Cape Grace: May 12, 2329

  OTTO KRUGG STARED AT the autodoc. The line of red lights across the front burned into his eyes, occasionally blurring out of focus, but even his tears couldn’t wash the color away. His legs gave out as his mind tried to wrap itself around the reality. Only the medic’s support kept him standing long enough to get a chair under him. He sat heavily, unable to pull his gaze from the hateful machine.

  “Otto, look at me,” the medic said.

  Otto turned his head but his eyes stayed fixed, as if by staring he’d see the lights flicker over to amber and then green and Carla wouldn’t be ... wouldn’t be ...

  “She’s gone, Otto. Carla’s gone. The toxin was too fast.”

  He looked at her then. The tag on her tunic read “Edith” and some part of his mind recognized her as Edith Something. He knew her. Morales. Edith Morales.

  She crouched beside him and peered into his face. “We have the baby.” Her lips offered the tiniest of smiles, her head nodding the slightest encouragements. He looked down to see her hand resting on his forearm. He didn’t feel it.

  “You have the baby,” he said.

  “We got her before the tox did. I don’t know how.”

  Otto forced his eyes closed. Perhaps he might wake up and it would all be gone. A horrid nightmare where his Carla died, stung by a boxfish, and he could wake up beside her and laugh at his foolish fears.

  Once closed he wondered if he could open them again. Perhaps it had all been a dream. Their life at Maggie’s Landing. The new opportunity at Cape Grace. The joyful stanyers living in the cottage. Otto walking the beach and Carla taking her boat and crew out to fish every day. Coming home windblown and so alive.

  He opened his eyes. “You have the baby?”

  Edith nodded, her head making tiny bobbing motions and her eyes fixed on his. “A little girl.”

  “It’s too soon.”

  Edith shrugged. “It’s not uncommon. We can help her. The autodoc will give her the time she needs. A couple more weeks.”

  “A couple more weeks. That’s what Carla said.”

  Edith cocked her head.

  “A couple more weeks, she said, and she’d take leave.”

  Edith nodded. “It was an accident, Otto. They happen.”

  He turned his head to look up at the autodoc again, but Edith shifted to stand in front of him, her hand on his shoulder. “You have a daughter who needs you, Otto.” Her quiet words drew him back.

  “Sarah.”

  “Sarah?”

  “That’s her name. We agreed. Sarah.”

  “It’s a lovely name. I’ll add it to her file. Would you like to see her?”

  Otto felt his head jerk down and up once. “Yeah. In a minute.”

  Edith straightened, keeping her body between Otto and the silent autodoc. Somebody nearby typed on a keyboard, the tappity-tappity sounds cutting through the shoosh of air conditioning and the slow bipping of a monitor down the hall. He counted the bips silently. At ten, Edith nodded. “In a minute.”

  Otto pushed himself up, his legs shaky, feeling more like ninety-eight than thirty-eight stanyers. He placed his right palm on the curved plastic shell that held the ashes of his dreams. It felt cold. The mechanisms that normally pulsed and pumped, stilled. The scent of plastic and disinfectant caught at the back of his nose. After a moment, he withdrew his hand. “We’ll have to make arrangements. A funeral.” The word nearly stuck in his throat.

  “Yes,” Edith said. “There’ll be time for that. Her family, your family. They’ll need to be notified.”

  The tappity-tapping stopped.

  “Sarah?” Otto asked. “Can I see her?”

  Edith’s lips curled to the right in a smile. “Of course.”

  * * *

  Her size surprised him. Tiny, tiny. He peered through the lexan cover at her. “I’ve seen bigger chickens.”

  Edith gave a shallow laugh. “I suspect we all have.”

  “Looks like she’d fit in one hand.”

  “Well, probably, but don’t try. She’d flip out and you’d feel terrible if you dropped her.”

  Otto straightened and stared at the medic. “I’d never ...” His voice trailed off when he saw the gentle look in her eyes.

  “I know, Otto.”

  Her soft words hit him hard. His eyes burned again as he struggled against the ice pick in his chest. He escaped her tender gaze by looking back at his daughter. Sarah. Their daughter. “A couple of weeks?”

  “Yep. That’ll give you a chance to get ready.”

  He glanced at her. “Get ready?”

  “Your first?”

  “Yes.”

  “You have any sibs?”

  Otto shook his head.

  Edith’s lips did curve up then. “Yeah. We’ll need to get you set up with some parenting stuff. You don’t have any family here in Cape Grace, do you?”

  Otto shook his head again.

  “We can find you some help.”

  “Help?”

  “Help.” She nodded once. “For the next few weeks, she’s going to need a lot of attention. You’re not going to get much sleep.”

  Otto gazed back at the tiny person in the incubator. He saw just the barest of hints in the shape of her ears and the strength of her nose. He felt sure she’d grow into them. Something about the shape of her eyes made him see Carla once more. That day she’d stood on the promenade in Maggie’s Landing, the sun shining from behind turning her hair into a flaming crown. She’d taken his breath away for the first time then.

  Baby Sarah opened her eyes and peered upwards into his face through the lexan. One fist flailed and she kicked her feet, never taking her eyes off his.

  He would have said something, but couldn’t find the breath.

  CHAPTER TWO

  Cape Grace: May 14, 2329

  OTTO OPENED THE DOOR and blinked into the bright sunrise. “Mother?”

  She didn’t say a word, just opened her arms and folded him in.

  He held her for a long moment, letting the world take care of itself for a time. The shampoo smell in her hair took him back to being seven and anxious to be a fisherman.

  After a time, her hug relaxed and she let him step back, following him into the trim cottage at the edge of the beach. She said. “I came as soon as I could get transport.”

  The gray numbness returned, but not before he saw her red eyes, the graying of her hair. “You shouldn’t have.”

  Rachel stared at him like he’d sprouted another head. “Is that any way to talk?”

  Otto collapsed into a chair and held his face in his hands. “Not what I mean, Mother. Sorry.”

  She slipped her jacket off and hung it on a hook by the door. “Never mind. Have you had breakfast?” She tilted her face down and got in front of Otto.

  “Not today.”

  “Yesterday?”

  “I don’t really remember.”

  “Have you eaten at all?”


  Otto shook his head. “People from town. They brought food. I think it’s in the cooler.”

  She sniffed. “I see. You’ve been moping like this for two days?”

  Otto bristled. “Look, Mother. Carla died. I’m not exactly handling it very well.” His voice caught in his throat but he took some small comfort that he hadn’t broken into tears again.

  Rachel sighed and sat down across from him. “Yes, I know. That’s why I’m here.”

  Otto looked up at her hard and saw the steel in her backbone, the iron in her eyes. Inexplicably, he felt a bit less battered seeing her. He scrubbed his cheeks with his palms. “Of course, Mother. Thank you for coming.”

  “What did you mean, I shouldn’t have come?”

  “You have your own problems, Mother. Your job, taking care of Father.” He shook his head. “You didn’t need to come a quarter of the way around the planet to hold my hand.” He shook his head as if to clear it of something in his hair.

  She sat back in her chair and crossed her arms over her chest. “I didn’t come to hold your hand, I’ll have you know.”

  Otto cocked his head to the side and examined her again, looking for some deeper meaning on her face.

  “I came to see my granddaughter, of course.” Her bright words belied the sadness in her eyes.

  Her words surprised a short laugh out of him. “Of course. I should have realized.” He felt grateful for her simple excuse.

  “When can we go see her?”

  “They told me I could come visit around midmorning today. She’s in an incubator and can’t come out for a while yet.”

  She nodded and pulled a tablet out of her bag. “You’ve notified Frank and Georgina?”

  He nodded. A lump in his throat, thinking about the call to Carla’s parents. “Right after you.”

  “Will you have a service?” Her voice sounded only slightly more stable than his felt.

  “Company has arranged all that. Ed Comstock’s office. There’s something on for tomorrow at 1400. The boats will be in so the fleet can pay their respects.”

  “I see.” She sat there for a few moments.

  Otto felt her eyes on him but couldn’t meet her gaze. He stared at his fingertips, his nails torn and ragged from working with the driftwood. Tanned hands, if not the roughened hands of a fisherman. They lacked the scars and calluses from stanyers of working the saltwater and twine. He saw them as if they were some strange creatures taken up residence on the ends of his arms.

  Rachel patted the table with both palms, breaking the moment. “Well, I need a cuppa. Are you going to make your aged mother fend for herself or what?”

  He looked up at her across the table. She sat in Carla’s chair and for a heartbeat he saw Carla’s smirking smile. He blinked and the smile remaining was pure Rachel Krugg—a hint of mischief and a dollop of challenge in her raised eyebrows. “My ‘aged mother?’” The words almost made Otto laugh.

  She sat back in her chair, a hand pressed to her breast. “Well, I am. And a guest to boot.”

  He grinned and pushed himself to his feet, his palms pressed to the smooth wood of the table. “Of course. Let me just put the kettle on.”

  “That’s my boy.”

  He filled the kettle and set it on the burner, adjusting the flame to just kiss the metal. He looked over his shoulder at his mother, catching the change of expression as she adjusted her too-bright smile. “Some breakfast? You must have traveled all night.”

  “Thank you. That would be lovely.”

  He rummaged through the pantry and assembled some dried fruit and oatmeal in a pot. Simple fare. Comfort food. It joined the tea kettle on the stove. He stepped back and admired his handiwork before turning to his mother again. “I just realized. You didn’t come to hold my hand.”

  She shook her head. “No.”

  “You came to kick my butt.”

  “Of all my children, you always were the smart one.”

  “I’m an only child, mother.”

  “See?”

  The old, familiar joke made him grin at her. “And you’re the best mother I ever had.”

  Rachel grinned back but Otto saw the glistening in her eyes and the way she bit the inside of her lip. He turned to give the oatmeal an unnecessary stir and twist the kettle on the burner. He barely heard her quiet sniff behind him. The kettle started a whispery whistle, giving him a few moments to focus on the normal, the mundane, as he rinsed the teapot with hot water and tossed a few pinches of tea into the infuser basket. By the time he finished, the kettle’s whistle had grown to a shriek. Taking the pot to the stove, he topped it with boiling water and punched the tea timer.

  “Five minutes,” he said turning to find his mother’s gaze on his face. “Would you like toast?”

  She shook her head. “Oatmeal will be fine.”

  Otto took his seat again and found once more he didn’t know what to do with his hands.

  “Tell me about Sarah,” Rachel said.

  “I don’t know much. She’s almost a month early. Just a bit of a thing. I’m almost afraid to hold her, she’s so small.”

  “You haven’t held her yet?”

  He shook his head. “Incubator. She needs the oxygen. Edith said maybe today.”

  “Well, I’m not leaving until I’ve held my granddaughter.” Rachel’s fierce glare made him smile again.

  “Maybe today,” he said again. “If she’s strong enough.”

  They sat in silence until the tea timer dinged. Otto filled two heavy mugs and stirred the oatmeal again. “Almost ready.”

  When they’d settled and sipped, Rachel glanced over at Otto. “Will she have problems?”

  “Sarah?”

  “Yeah. The toxin? It’s not a good thing. For anybody.”

  Otto took a deep breath and blew it out before taking a shallow sip of the hot tea. “They said they don’t think so, but until she’s out of the incubator nobody seems to know. Right now they’re just concerned with making sure she can breathe.” He glanced over at his mother. “Yesterday, they said her lungs looked fine. They’re just being careful.”

  “How will you manage, Otto?” Rachel gazed into her mug.

  “Manage?” He shrugged. “Lots of single parents around. I’ll just have to learn.”

  She looked up at him with a broad smile. “That’s what I wanted to hear.”

  “What? Is there a choice?”

  “Not really.”

  “But ...?”

  “But if you thought you weren’t up to it, your father and I could take care of her for you.”

  The thought sent a chill down Otto’s back. “What? No. She’s your granddaughter, but she’s my daughter.”

  Rachel’s smile grew wider. “Good.”

  He rose and fussed with the oatmeal. He split the contents between two heavy china bowls, drizzled a bit of milk on each and forced himself to place the bowls on the table. The growl of anger in his gut surprised him.

  “Why’s everybody so concerned that I won’t be able to handle one small girl?” He settled back in his chair and folded the milk into the cereal with stabbing twists of his spoon.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You’re the second person to ask me how I’m going to manage.” He shoveled a spoonful of oatmeal into his mouth, burning his tongue in the process. He sucked air through his lips to try to cool it.

  His mother’s lips twitched but she looked down at her bowl, casting only small glances across the table at him. “Who else asked?”

  “One of the med techs. Edith Morales.”

  “What did you tell her?”

  Otto thought about it for a moment then shook his head. “I don’t remember.” He took a deep breath and blew it out again. “It was a lot to take in all at once like that.”

  “Mmm. I bet.” His mother took a small spoonful of the oatmeal and blew on it. “You’ll be fine. Just take things slow and call if you need help. It’s a grandmother’s job to spoil her grandkids.”
/>   He paused, his anger burned out as quickly as it flashed up. “I’m sure things will be different now.”

  Rachel’s eyebrows wagged as she chuckled. After a moment she repeated, “You’ll be fine.”

  He thought about that, his eyes focused somewhere near the tabletop between them. “I’m not worried about me.”

  “Welcome to parenthood.”

  Otto lifted his gaze to meet his mother’s smile. “I just wish ...” He couldn’t finish. His eyes stung and the last spoonful of oatmeal felt lodged in his throat.

  Rachel sighed. “We all do, Otto. We all do.”

  * * *

  Otto led Rachel into the med station where Edith waited for him with a broad grin. “Mother, this is Edith Morales. She’s been taking care of Sarah. Edith, this is my mother, Rachel.”

  The tech offered her hand. “Nice to meet you, Ms. Krugg.”

  “Rachel, please.”

  “Edith. You’ve come to show your shaman here how to change a nappy?”

  Rachel laughed and shook her head. “That wasn’t my plan. I suspect he’ll have to learn the same way we all did. Trial and error.”

  Otto shook his head. “I know how. I think.”

  “You think?” Edith looked at him with a wide-eyed gaze of incredulity.

  “I’ve changed a few.” He looked at the floor and struggled to keep breathing.

  “Oh,” Rachel said, her voice a whisper. “Nieces?”

  “When we found out ... When we first learned ... Tony and Nancy let us babysit for their little ones. It was ...” Otto stopped and took a breath. “I’ve changed a few diapers already. I know the theory.”

  Rachel gave him a one-armed hug and a kiss on the cheek. “Of course.”

  “Shall we see how the li’l peanut is doin’?” Edith asked. “She’s due for an excursion today. I waited until you could be here.”

  “Oh, yes, please,” Rachel said. “I’ve come all the way from Callum’s Cove for this.”

  Edith smiled and led the way to the nursery, stopping beside a lexan-topped crib.

  Rachel leaned down to peer through the cover at the tiny pink baby. “Oh, my,” she said, her voice a bare breath. “She’s so tiny.” She glanced at Otto over her shoulder. “You weren’t exactly a linebacker, but this is amazing.”