When I was eleven, my mother taught first May and then me how to use her boat—a gas-guzzling bathtub of a motorboat, but it was safe and held all of our supplies when we made the trip over to the island. She often sent us into town on our own to pick up milk or bread, cigarettes for her, sometimes even a bottle of wine or two.

May usually drove. She was cautious, slowing right down when other boats approached or waves rolled across the usually calm lake. You’re safer with your older sister than me, my mother used to say. It was both a compliment of my sister’s abilities and an insult of her restraint. My mother would push the throttle to full speed, bouncing over waves, racing against all other boats in the vicinity. I never needed my mother to tell me I was safest with May. I’d known it deep in my bones from a very young age.

Parental supervision was lax when we came up to the lake. My father made the drive up from Boston only every other week to spend a three-day weekend, at the most, with us. My mother’s attitude when he was away was We’re all responsible people; you do your thing and don’t cause trouble, and I’ll do mine.

Jim Junior steps out of the office with my suitcase. “She’s all ready for ya.” He stares down at the boat as though he built it himself.

“It looks just like it did the last time I saw it. I mean, it’s amazing. You’ve taken such good care of it.”

The twisted reality of it all hits me for the umpteenth time this morning. Jim and his dad have spent all these years taking care of this boat for us as though it mattered. As though we might be back at any moment, and we had no idea at all. My mother had to die for us to finally learn the truth and find our way back here. My way back here, I mentally correct myself.

Jim helps me load my suitcase and the groceries into the boat and then gives me a quick tutorial on how to operate it. I haven’t driven a boat for years. The few times we rented them on family vacations, Leo always took charge and I just let him. Even when he flooded the engine or nicked the prop on the shallow bottom, I just sat back and let him believe he was the expert.

Jim holds out a card to me. “Here’s my number, if you have any problems. I filled up the gas tank and just put it on your account like always.” I nod and take the card, tucking it into my back pocket. “Take her easy at first till you get used to her throttle.”