Prologue

"She's my luck, Phil. I'm not shitting you. It's Ariel. She's my lucky girl. When she stays off the boat, my numbers are crap, but when she's on the boat, I'm home within three weeks. She's the daughter of the sea." My father boasted at the bar to Phil Harris, my second father, as they drank their beer and smoked their cigarettes.

"Huh, no kidding," Phil said calmly, "so then why aren't you fishing this year, Sim?" That's what he called my dad, Sim. Except he pronounced it Sim as in The Sims 3 and not Sim as in short for his full name, Simon. But dad didn't mind. He wasn't one to bitch about details. I was like my dad. I never bitched, even when I wanted him to shut up, like I did right now.

"Well, I'm not fishing this year because I want you to bring Ariel on the Cornelia this season. She really wants to get into crabbing and you're the guy who can teach her right. And besides, if she's on the Cornelia, you'll get nothing but stuffed pots all season." My father explained, pausing for a moment to take a drag.

He didn't ask me if I wanted to go. Of course I would though. He was telling the truth when he told Phil I wanted to get into the crabbing business. I wouldn't mind going with Phil to learn either. But he didn't ask. That was one of a handful of his flaws. He never asked me, he assumed. But he usually assumed right. I lifted and dipped my feet into the Dutch Harbor waters as I sat on the docks, listening in on my father's conversation.

"Did you ask Ariel?" Phil asked, looking at my father with knowing eyes.

"No, not yet. I never do." My eyes rolled, but I smiled. My annoying dad, my loveable annoying dad.

"Well you have to ask her, Sim," Phil said, finishing off his beer, "you can't just keep surprising her with new shit all the time. I know for a fact she doesn't like it."

My father sighed and pushed his stool back. "Yeah, I know."

"Honey bunny." Here we go. I thought as I twisted my body away from the water and towards my dad. My toes were turning a pale grey color. My plan was to see if, after awhile, if they would fall off from the cold. Guess not.

"What is it, dad?"

"Aren't your toes cold?" He asked, looking worriedly at my cloudy colored appendages.

"Obviously. Is that why you came out here? To inquire about the warmth of my feet?" I said, clearly being a smart ass.

"No. Actually, I came to ask you about something including you going somewhere, if you like that is." He asked, kind of. He unconsciously looked over his shoulder and found Phil standing behind him. My father jumped a little but quickly laughed it off.

"Has he asked you yet?" Phil asked me, "and Jesus lady, your toes are falling off!"

I looked down excited. "Really?" No. Phil lied. They were still there. I couldn't feel them, but I could see them still attached to my foot. I sighed in defeat. "He asked me if I wanted to go somewhere, but that's it."

Phil rolled his eyes. "Your father is asking you to come onto the Cornelia Marie for a season! Jesus Sim, get some balls!"

"Of course I'll go. It'll be cool being on a crabbing boat instead of a fishing boat and all my second family is on there!" I held out my hand. My dad hauled me from the dock and onto my feet. "I'm going to be the lucky girl, right?" I swiveled over to my shoes and slipped into them. My toes thanked me with painful tingling.

"If you don't mind. I could put you to work with the boys if you want."

"Eh, I'm fine being the luck. Let them do what they're good at and let me do what I'm good at."

"Sitting on your ass and eating?" Phil asked jokingly.

"Exactly, Poppy." I replied.

Phil laughed and pulled me into a breath consuming hug. Even I couldn't feel my arms; I definitely could felt the love.

"When do I start?" I asked.

"Tomorrow thanks to your dad's lack of communication."

"Dandy."

"See you bright and early tomorrow, little mama." Phil yelled over his humming engine. He honked his horn; said goodbye to his childhood friend standing beside me, then drove off. Once his truck was out of sight, my fist flew up and hit my father in the arm. I could feel my knuckles ramming into his humerus.

My dad let out a yell then slapped his hand onto the reddened spot on his arm.

"What was that for?" He yelled at me with an angered look. Even his mustache looked angry.

"Just ask me you fool! Stop assuming! Jesus! Now I have to pack quickly and get my shit together for tomorrow! I am totally sending you to the home now!" I yelled right back. A few years back when I was still a teenager, I wouldn't be caught dead hitting my dad. I was the kind girl who adored her dad and never said a bad thing about him. But I was 22 now and beating on the elderly like nobodies damn business. (Not like random old people, just my dad.)

His eyes went wide. Just the thought of me sending him to a nursing home made him scared shitless. That was my number one thing to win an argument. I crossed my arms and nodded.

"Yep, I think so."

"Ariel, stop it."

"You love it."

"No."

"Whatever."

"You're a mean girl."

"I get it from mom."

"At least your mother is nice some of the time."

I looked out to the quickly darkening Bering Sea. It looked like midnight colored satin being rippled by the wind. The waves gently crashed against the dock and on the side, sometimes reaching our feet and soaking our toes. They crashed against the setting sun too, scaring it away. Yeah, I was like my mom alright. I missed her a lot, even when she was close.

"I'm going home to pack, dad." I whispered.

I watched him. He smiled silently as he looked out at the sea just as I was. He missed mom too. He loved her for so long, and she just one day pushed him away.

"Okay, baby. I'll see you." He shoved his hands in his pockets and began to hum Song of The Sea. I never got what he liked in that Celtic music he loved so much. He started off in the opposite direction. I knew where he was going. He was going to the boat. The Queen. I guessed he would be there most of the night, watching her as she slept.

I smiled at her once more then made my way to the back parking lot of the bar.