Chapter 4

My refusal to see reason finally used up whatever patience the old men in this harbor had left.

Thomas called an open hearing outside the old Sutton boathouse and told everyone to be there.

The yard in front of it was packed shoulder to shoulder.

Ray Cole stood up on the loading platform with a sheet of paper in his hand.

"Jack Sutton. Do you admit what you've done?"

I stood in the middle of the crowd and said nothing.

"Your wife saved your father's life. Instead of thanking her, you filed for divorce.

"You're walking that old man straight into his grave."

Linda knelt down near the platform, wiping at her face.

"We've been married six years, Jack. Have you forgotten all of it?

"Have you forgotten our first winter? You came in off the water burning up with fever, and I sat by the stove all night making you tea and broth. I stayed awake until my eyes were red.

"Have you forgotten last year, when that line tore your hand open? I warmed the ointment between my palms before I put it on because I was afraid the cold would hurt you."

Her voice broke on every one of them. The older women around her were dabbing their eyes.

When they turned to look at me, the contempt had hardened into something closer to hate.

"That poor girl picked the wrong husband."

"Why doesn't lightning just take him?"

My father beat his fists against his chest and sobbed.

"This is my fault. I failed to teach my son how to be a human being.

"I wrecked my back earning the money for his house and his wedding.

"Now he's grown and he's decided his old father is dead weight."

The insults came at me from every direction.

"Rotten little bastard!"

"Ungrateful trash!"

"He's not even human!"

Thomas leveled his cane at me.

"Today you're going to stand in front of your father and your wife and apologize, and you're going to mean it."

Several young men rushed me before he'd finished the sentence. They locked their hands around my shoulders.

I turned my head and saw Ben among them.

The tired concern he'd shown me on my front steps was gone. All that was left was the blank certainty of a man doing justice.

He drew his leg back and kicked in the hollow behind my knee.

"Down!"

My leg buckled. I threw both hands out and caught myself before I hit the dirt.

Somebody kicked me again.

Thomas raised his cane.

"You won't do it, I'll teach you manners in your dead mother's place!"

I was inches off the ground.

With everything I had left, I tore free of them and shouted it out over the whole crowd.

"That man is not my father!"