Chapters (75)
- Cover
- Back Cover Text
- Praise
- Booklist
- About the Author
- Dedication
- Quote
- Prologue
- Part One
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- Part Two
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- Part Three
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- Part Four
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- Part Five
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- Part Six
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- Part Seven
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- Part Eight
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- Part Nine
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- THIRTY-FOUR
- Part Ten
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- Part Eleven
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- Part Twelve
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- Part Thirteen
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
- AUTHOR NOTE
- Reader’s Guide
- Questions for Discussion
- The Heirloom Garden
- Abby
My dad said you could always figure life out on a boat ride. A wise man once said, “The goal is not to sail the boat, but rather to help the boat sail herself,” my dad told me long ago when I was trying to figure things out. He took me out on the Adie Lou, and we floated and talked.
Dad, you were a wise man, I think, studying my son’s silhouette, the shape of his face, the bridge of his nose, the strong chin.
He looks so much like you, Dad, I think.
Evan has always been a sensitive child, an observer. He assesses the people and situations around him before stepping in. But once he’s in, he’s all in.
“How are you doing?” I ask. “I know school is fine, but life.” I hesitate. “You know. With your father and me?”
Evan takes a chip and flings it into the water. A fish surfaces almost immediately, along with a turtle, and the two nibble on it together.
“It was hard,” he says, his voice soft, calm and deep, like the water thumping on the side of the boat. “You know, a kid wants his parents to stay together. It’s selfish, I know, but you want to feel safe and protected. When that ends, the world is different than it once was. You grow up. You realize you’re not a kid anymore, and that life is going to be hard sometimes.”
“I’m so sorry,” I say.
“You don’t need to be sorry,” he says. “And you don’t need to apologize all the time.”
“I’m sorry,” I say.
“Mom,” Evan says with a chuckle. He stops, looks out over the boat and continues. “I’ve also realized that I wasn’t happy because you two weren’t happy. You’re different now, Mom. So is Dad. So am I. Things change, and that’s okay. What’s the old phrase? The only constant in life is change. That’s true.”
“I hope I’m allowing you to figure things out on your own,” I say. “I hope your father and I aren’t pressuring you to be someone or do something you don’t want. That’s my greatest fear.”
Evan smiles. “You and Dad may not have been good together, but you’ve been great parents,” he says. “I’m figuring it out. I’m still young.”
“Yes, you are,” I say.
“But I’m realizing Saugatuck, this place, this lake, our cottage, this boat...” Evan stops and looks around. “All of this is in my blood. What if I want to be part of this someday, part of what our family started and you’ve created?”
“I would be so proud,” I say, “if that’s what would make you happy.”