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take a coffee, if you have some.”
    “I have it. Go ahead and take a seat.”
    Henry nodded, but didn’t sit.  He picked up a photograph of his father, uncle, and himself as a five year old on the deck of the Lisa Marie , named after his late mother. Rainwater’s father had retired the boat following her death, and it had been in dry dock ever since. Setting the photograph back on the mantle, he walked to the kitchen.
    Valerie was leaning on the counter, dabbing the corners of her eyes with a tissue.
    “It’s hard isn’t it?” he said quietly, as his eyes slid to the vodka and pills on the work surface. Valerie saw them and scooped them up, shoving them into one of the overhead cupboards.
    “I’m not about to do anything stupid, if that’s what you think,” she snapped.
    “I didn’t say anything. Please, I didn’t come here to fight.”
    “I miss him, Henry. I mean, I’m used to him being away at sea for weeks at a time but this is different, I keep waiting even though I know he’s never going to open the door and come back home.”
    “I’m sorry, Val. I truly am. I miss them too.”
    “Not enough to keep the family name though.” He knew the bitterness in her voice was fuelled by grief, the words still cut deep.
    “Look, I have my reasons. Dad and I didn’t always get on. You have to understand how hard it is to live up to his name, to follow in his footsteps. I didn’t want that pressure.”
     
    “Why did they die, Henry? Why didn’t you make him get in the damn lifeboat?”
    “I’m sorry.”
    “Sorry doesn’t pay the bills, it doesn’t answer the kids when they are asking when daddy is coming home. Sorry doesn’t cut it.”
    “I don’t know what you want from me, Val. This wasn’t my fault.”
    “I don’t blame you for the accident, I blame you for not being there for us after. Turning up at my door now doesn’t make up for you missing the funeral and abandoning us when we needed you the most.”
    “I just needed some time…”
    “It’s not all about you. What about me? What about my kids?”
    Rainwater stared at the floor.
    “I’m sorry,” he repeated, hating himself for not being able to think of anything more constructive to say.
    “Look, I don’t mean to take it out on you,” she said as she wiped her eyes. “I’m sick of well-wishers and people asking me if I’m okay. I’m struggling here, Henry. I don’t know what to do.”
    Rainwater nodded, wondering how to best approach the subject that had been the reason for his visit.
    “I spoke to Mackay. He came to the funeral.” Henry ignored the bitter edge in her voice, deciding he didn’t want to upset the grieving woman.
    “He told me all about you and the crazy stuff you were babbling in the hospital.”
    “I was delirious with hypothermia. What did he say?”
    “He said you were babbling about something in the water, something big that smashed into the boat and caused the accident. He says you’re crazy.”
    “Mackay had no right to say that to you. If he has a problem he can ask me about it himself.”
    “How?” she shrugged. “Nobody could find you. Nobody knew where you were.”
    “I needed to clear my head, I needed to think.”
    “And leave us all to deal with the funeral arrangements in the process?”
    “I’m sorry, I really don’t know what else to say.”
    “So I see.” She snapped, setting the cup of coffee on the counter in front of him.
    “So,” she said, as she looked him in the eye, “was it?”
    “Was what?”
    “An accident.”
    “You know what happened.”
    “Why do I get the feeling you know more than you’re letting on?”
    “I don’t think this is the right time…”
    “What did you see out there, Henry? I know you saw something, I can see it in your eyes. You Harris’s are bad liars.”
    “Look, I didn’t come here to argue or to heap any more stress on you. I came here to clear the air and to ask a favour.”
    “Ahh, here we go. The real reason for the