“Yes, I’ll hire you,” Nick said, his voice much calmer.
“Good,” Paul told him. “This is Brandon, my assistant. He’s going to take notes. We need to start with the entire shift you worked. I hope you have time.”
“I’ll make the time,” Nick told him.
Nick had no idea where Chloe had slipped off to, and he should be worried about her overhearing what was going on, but though there were still questions he had about her, his gut told him to trust her. He relied heavily on his gut in his line of work, so he was choosing to listen to it now.
After getting more coffee, Nick sat at the table and let out a sigh. He didn’t want to relive this memory again. It was too painful. Paul looked at him and gave him a reassuring smile.
“I know this is hard, but the smallest of details really do matter,” Paul said.
Nick began. “It was a call like any other, but visibility was low. We had to speak as a team and decide if we were going out. Of course, we agreed and headed to sea.”
Paul took notes as Nick spoke, and though Nick knew he needed to do this, he still somehow felt violated by the act. It was ridiculous, but he was sharing one of the worst moments in his life, and every word he spoke was being analyzed. It was an invasion he resented.
“The sea was really pitching a fit as we reached the boat―”
“Start sooner,” Paul told him. “From when you got the call.”
Nick was growing more frustrated, but it wasn’t Paul’s fault, and he tried desperately not to take it out on the man.
“We were out on the cutter for routine ops. Gail, Pat, John, and I were sitting down having a cup of coffee and giving each other bullshit like normal. It was a typical evening. The sun was just beginning to set. Everything was calm, but we knew there was a storm in the distance.”
“Good. I know this sucks, Nick, but the smallest details matter,” Paul assured him.
“Sitting on our asses drinking coffee matters?” Nick snapped. He wasn’t bothering to apologize this time.
“Yes, it matters,” Paul said, not taking offense.
“Fine,” Nick said. “I got a bit restless, so I got up and went outside to look at the sea and think for a minute. I saw lightning in the distance, but it had to be at least forty miles out. I knew there would be someone caught in the storm, though. I could feel it.”
“Yeah, you seem to have a knack for that,” Paul said.
“Gail joined me, then dragged me over to help her with some gear. We talked about nothing important,” he said.
“What did you talk about?”
“Who the hell knows?” Nick snapped.
“Detail, Nick,” Paul said again, speaking to Nick as if he were a child.
Nick thought back. “We talked about the storm, about the power of Mother Nature. Crap like that.”
“Good, okay.”
“I finished helping her and walked over to the landing pad. The feeling in my gut was intensifying so I moved to the bridge to listen for any activity coming over the wire. I wasn’t there long when a call came in.”
“What was the call?” Paul asked.
“It was a Mayday. The Southern Belle was in trouble, taking on water. The seas were churning, and the boat was rapidly going down.”
“Good, Nick,” Paul told him. “You have an excellent memory.”
“It was the single worst moment of my life. I remember it like it was yesterday,” Nick told him. His anger had drained, and now, he was filled with sorrow.
“I know. I wish I could say this was the last time you’ll have to recount the story, but it most likely isn’t,” Paul told him.
“Seaman Harper was just a kid, barely out of boot camp, but he kept it together well. He jumped into action, and though his voice was shaking, he replied and took down notes. The Belle crew was growing more and more panicked as they relayed their location and the number of people on board,” Nick continued.
“What came next?” Paul asked.
“The captain was there. He was calm as usual. He told me to get the crew and save the ship’s people,” Nick said. “Then he slapped the alarm to get the crew into motion.”
Nick took a drink of coffee as he tried to take the emotion out of his voice. He needed to quit allowing the story to affect him and simply explain it.
“I made my way down to the changing room and finished suiting up. My adrenaline was pumping as it always does before a flight. My crew was already good to go, and we immediately got situated in the Jayhawk.”
“So there were four of you?” Paul asked.
“Yes, Gail, my copilot; John, our paramedic and mechanic; and Pat, our rescue swimmer. We were a great team,” Nick said, unable to keep the hitch from his voice this time.
“You had a lot of successful rescues before the crash,” Paul agreed.
“Yeah, it doesn’t matter how many rescues when all I can think about is the loss,” Nick admitted.
“Okay, keep going,” Paul told him.
Nick was wrecked. He didn’t want to get into the next part. This was what he desperately wanted to forget. But he wasn’t allowed that luxury.
“We did our preflight check, woke up the Jayhawk, and I checked in with the ship’s crew before we lifted off.”
“Everyone was fine?” Paul said.
“Yes, we wouldn’t have lifted off if we weren’t,” he said. “Gail called in for departure, and once we had clearance, we lifted off.”