For The Love Of Seward

Roland fell into step beside her. They had walked together since grade school, through snowbanks and rain, past the same closed storefronts and the same mountains that rose behind Seward like walls. At twenty-something, they still sometimes ate dinner together at the Seward Inn when both of them were too tired to cook.

She had never thought of his hand on her sleeve as anything but Roland being Roland.

Now she was aware of it.

“Do you know who’s aboard?” he asked.

“Not yet.”

“Then we find out.”

The words should have steadied her. Instead, they made the fear more solid. Roland had always been good at stepping toward trouble. In grade school, he had climbed through a broken fence to retrieve her mitten. At seventeen, he had stayed outside the clinic while she waited for news about her mother. He never offered speeches. He simply remained where she could see him.

The harbor office door slammed in the wind. Inside, people crowded around a radio and a map of Resurrection Bay. A woman behind the counter was writing names on a clipboard, her pencil moving so quickly it tore the paper.

“Kim,” she said, recognizing her. “We need help confirming passengers.”

Kim crossed the room. “I’ll do what I can.”

Roland took a position beside her without being asked.

The woman pushed the clipboard over. “The charter left before sunrise. The radio report says there were six aboard, but another call says seven. One survivor is being brought toward the east dock. Search crews are launching now.”

“Who made the second call?” Kim asked.

The woman glanced toward the radio. “We don’t know. The transmission broke up.”

A burst of static filled the room, followed by a voice so distorted it sounded underwater.

“ - current pulling south - visibility - ”

Then silence.

Kim gripped the clipboard. The names blurred. She read them again, forcing herself to separate letters from dread. Roland leaned close enough that his shoulder warmed hers through their coats.

“Start with the families,” he said quietly. “Ask who expected to be aboard.”

“You sound very certain.”

“I’m not.”

The honesty struck deeper than confidence would have.

They went outside again. A cluster of people had gathered near the east dock, faces turned toward the water. The wind pressed tears from Kim’s eyes before she could decide whether they belonged there. Ice glazed the boards, and every step demanded attention. The harbor was not a place for panic. It was a place where panic could put someone over the edge.

Roland moved ahead, testing the slick boards with his boot. When he reached the narrowest section, he turned and held out his hand.

“I can walk,” Kim said.

“I know.”

His hand remained between them.

She took it.

His glove was rough and damp. Their fingers closed together only long enough for him to guide her past a ridge of ice, but the contact left a strange warmth behind. Kim pulled away first and tucked her hand into her pocket.

A rescue boat appeared beyond the breakwater, rising and dropping in the rough water. Its engine growled against the wind. Someone on the dock shouted, and the gathered crowd shifted forward.

“Back,” Roland said.

The command was aimed at everyone, but his eyes stayed on Kim.

“I’m not going over.”

“You’re standing on ice.”

“So are you.”

“I’m heavier.”

Despite everything, a breath of laughter escaped her. It vanished in the wind.

Then the rescue boat struck hard against the dock.

Two crew members hauled a passenger up. The survivor wore an orange flotation suit, but one sleeve hung empty and their face was gray with cold. Kim and Roland moved at once. Roland grabbed the emergency blanket someone threw toward them. Kim reached for the survivor’s arm.

“Easy,” she said. “We’ve got you.”

The passenger stumbled. Roland caught their weight against his chest while Kim wrapped the blanket around their shoulders. The survivor’s teeth chattered so violently they could barely speak.

“Boat - turned - ”

“Where are the others?” Kim asked.

Roland looked at her sharply, but she needed the answer.

The survivor’s eyes fixed on the water behind them. “Three in the raft. Captain - went back.”

“And the rest?”

The survivor swallowed. Their lips had gone blue.

“One passenger was still inside.”

The words seemed to pass through Kim without landing. Then the wind shifted, and she smelled fuel on the survivor’s suit.

“Who?” she asked.

The survivor shook their head. “I don’t know. I don’t know.”

Roland’s hand came around Kim’s elbow. “Let them breathe.”

She wanted to pull free. She wanted to demand a name, a number, anything that would turn the bay into a problem with edges. Instead, she watched Roland kneel in the slush so the survivor could lean against him.

“Look at me,” he said. His voice was low and steady. “You’re on shore now. Stay with us.”

Kim had heard him speak that way before - to frightened children, injured dogs, a deckhand with a crushed finger. But never to her. Never with that careful attention, as though the world had narrowed to the person in front of him.

The survivor clutched Roland’s coat.

“Don’t let them go back,” they whispered.

Roland glanced toward the rescue crew. “They’re searching.”

“The water - ”

“We know.”

“No,” the survivor said, and their face broke. “You don’t.”

Kim crouched beside them. The cold seeped through her knees. “Tell me what happened.”

Roland’s gaze flicked to hers. A warning, or a question.

She softened her voice. “Only if you can.”

The survivor stared at her for a long moment. “A wave came over the stern. The boat rolled. Someone was below.”

“Did you see them?”

A pause.

“No.”

The answer was small, but it carried the weight of the bay.

Behind them, the radio crackled again. A search coordinator called out a new position, farther south than the first report. The current had carried debris beyond the breakwater. A coil of rope drifted past, followed by a red cooler turning slowly in the chop.

Kim stood. Her legs trembled, though she refused to blame the cold.

“Six names,” she said to the harbor official, who had come running down the dock. “The survivor says there were at least six. One passenger is missing.”

“We’re working from the manifest.”

“The manifest is wrong.”

“We’ll confirm it.”

“Confirm it now.”

The official’s expression tightened. “Kim, we’re doing everything possible.”

“That isn’t the same as knowing who’s out there.”

Roland rose behind her. “She’s right.”

The official looked between them, then handed Kim the clipboard. “Find the families. Keep them away from the dock until we know more.”

The request was reasonable. It still felt like being asked to stand still while someone disappeared.

Kim turned toward the parking lot, where two cars had arrived too fast and stopped crookedly. People were getting out, calling names. Roland reached for her again, but this time he stopped before touching her.

“What?” she asked.

“I was going to say you shouldn’t do this alone.”

“I’m not alone.”

“No.” His eyes held hers. “You’re not.”

The words settled between them with an unfamiliar weight. They had shared meals, errands, old jokes, and long silences. They had known each other through braces and bad haircuts, first jobs and family troubles. But this was different. Fear had stripped away the ordinary distance between them and left something exposed beneath it.

Kim looked toward the bay. Rescue crews moved along the dock, bright against the snow. The survivor sat wrapped in blankets, staring at the water. Somewhere beyond the breakwater, one passenger was still missing.

“I need to get the names straight,” she said.

Roland nodded. “Then I’ll stay with you.”

“You might be needed out there.”

“So might you.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the one I have.”

The wind rose, driving a spray of ice across the dock. Kim reached for the clipboard, but her fingers had begun to shake. Roland noticed. Of course he did.

He took off one glove and closed his bare hand over hers.

His skin was warm. The contact was simple, practical, and devastatingly intimate.

Kim looked down at their hands. “Roland.”

“I know.”

“You don’t know what I’m going to say.”

“I know you’re scared.”

She wanted to deny it. Instead, the truth came out before she could protect it.

“I’m scared that if I look away, someone else will vanish.”

His thumb moved once over her knuckles. “Then don’t look away alone.”

For a moment, the harbor noise receded - the engines, the radios, the shouting, the restless slap of Resurrection Bay against the pilings. Kim let herself lean into the steadiness of him, just slightly. Not enough to call it an embrace. Enough to admit she needed one.

Then the radio snapped alive.

“Search team reports debris south of the channel. No visual on the missing passenger.”

Kim straightened. The comfort remained, but it no longer softened the danger. It gave her somewhere to stand.

She turned toward the harbor office, Roland beside her, their hands still joined.

The survivor had reached shore. The rescue had begun.

But one passenger remained out there, and neither of them could leave the water until they knew who.

End of chapter one. 32 more chapters in the full book.