Mark’s words were compelling and tender and they moved her. Catherine realized that Mark wasn’t just another middle-class Beaufort youth with hidden issues. Like her, Mark was an outsider. There were emotions buried deeply within Mark’s subconscious mind that were disturbing. She assumed it was because of his mother’s death. She wouldn’t pry. When Mark wanted to open up to her, she’d be there.

“That sounds wonderful,” Catherine said. She looked out upon the medley of sailboats flanked against the panoramic backdrop of Beaufort Inlet. The harbor was teeming with small pleasure crafts; there were people fishing from small boats and tossing out trout lines, and further out to sea, the tall sail of a huge yacht bulged outward as it caught the northern breezes and turned into the heavier winds against the sunset. It resembled a Spanish frigate. “You know,” Catherine continued, “I’ve seen those boats sail in and out of this harbor almost every day, and I’ve often dreamed about going sailing. Or to be out on the water, fishing off a small boat would be marvelous, too. Wouldn’t you’d like to go sailing, or fishing with me sometime, Mark?”