didn't respond, so I went upstairs to get him. I called
him again from the bottom of the attic ladder and still
he didn't answer me. When I looked in the attic room,
I found him sitting and staring at a model of a lobster
boat.
"Cary, dinner's ready," I said. "Your mother
wants you to come down. She needs you, Cary." "I made this when I was only seven years old,"
he said, staring down at the model. "Dad was really
surprised at how well it came out. For a while we kept
it downstairs on the mantle so Dad could show it to
his friends. He wasn't always the way he is now.
When I first started to go out on the boat with him, we
were more like brothers than father and son. He taught
me everything about the boat and the business and
said I was his good luck charm. We had much better
catches in those days.
"After Laura's death everything changed.
Sometimes I think we all died with her," he said, "in
different ways, I guess. Dad kept too much of it inside
him, eating away. Then . . I became a disappointment
to him."
"You're not a disappointment to anyone, Cary.
Anyone who says that just doesn't know. You've been
a better son than any boy I ever met, but you are your
own person and it's not a sin for you to want things
that are different from your father's desires. Deep
inside himself, your father knows that. You had
nothing to do with this. I'm sure," I said.
He raised his shoulders slowly and turned. "But after last night . . . He hasn't struck me for
years," he said.