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and nephew, he thought I was pushing my work ethic onto Heidi every time I called to discuss business or ask her to travel to one of our properties away from home. Eventually, she left the business. She still has the three apartment buildings our grandpa left her, and I bought out her percentage of ownership of the business. Now we only talk on holidays.”
    “That seems extreme.” Growing up an only child, I can’t imagine how great it would be to have a brother or sister. Nothing would keep me from having a relationship with them.
    You watch your foot slide back and forth in a puddle of water in the bottom of the boat. “My brother-in-law told me I was hurting her, that my expectations were too high and she felt like she was always letting me down. He said I didn’t have any obligations, like a wife and kids, so I didn’t understand what I was putting her through.”
    Your eyes meet mine, and there’s so much pain in them, they make my chest ache.
    “He said,” you continue, “I keep taking and taking from her, but never give back. She needed me to give her understanding and patience. I didn’t know how. I lost her.”
    “You didn’t lose her,” I say without thinking. There’s no way for me to know if you have or not.
    Sitting up and taking a deep breath, you take the fishing rod and reel the line in a little. “What other questions do you have for me?”
    I’m almost afraid to ask, but if you’re inviting transparency, then I’m not backing off. “You’ve never mentioned your mom.”
    “She died when I was seven. Cancer.” You reel the line in a little more.
    After my dad’s year-long battle with cancer, I know all about losing someone you love to that evil monster. “I’m sorry. You were so young to lose her.”
    Your shoulders quirk, not quite a shrug. I can’t let you bottle up again.
    “What was she like?”
    Your throat contracts again as you swallow. My questions aren’t getting easier for you to answer. “She was fun. She laughed a lot. She always smelled like the lilacs that grew outside my bedroom window.” You blink a few times, and your eyes are misty. “She always said I gave the best hugs.”
    I have the sudden urge to know all about those hugs—to comfort you. “She sounds like a great mom.”
    “Yeah,” you sigh and tug the line. “What else?”
    “Is your father still alive?” Might as well keep diving straight into the deep water.
    “Oh, he’s alive all right. He’s suing me for what he claims is his right to a percentage of the business he was too busy to take over from my grandpa.”
      I can’t believe my ears. “Your father is suing you?” It’s incredible—unimaginable.
    “Has been for years. I refuse to settle, and he refuses to give up.”
    “That’s insane.”
    “I’m glad someone sees my side.” You jerk the line and start reeling fast. “Got another one. You truly are lucky.”
    Watching your arms flex as you land the fish, I can’t help but wonder what your relationships with your family have done to you. Are you simply misunderstood? Lonely? Hurting? “Have you tried to make things better with your dad or Heidi?”
    You gesture to the net, and I pick it up to help. “I don’t know how to make things better, Rachael.”
    “Maybe I can…” What am I offering? To be your friend? Why? I don’t owe you anything but animosity. “Maybe I can help you figure it out.” It’s too late to turn back. I can’t help how I feel, even if my brain is telling me I’m stupid for feeling this way.
You freeze with the fish in your hand and study my face. You’re as surprised by my offer as I am. “I’d like that.”
    For a moment my heart speeds with the strong pull between us, but I nudge your hand with the net and your attention finds its way back to the fish on your line.
    I’m treading in emotional quicksand with you—up to my knees with no way out.

    Paddling back to the boathouse, the sky grows dark and sheets of rain race toward us