Afterward, Rowan walked to the harbor and stood before his father’s memorial plaque. The brass still gleamed beneath thin salt streaks. He rested his palm against it, feeling less like he was talking to a ghost and more like he was answering a message finally delivered after many years.
Back on his trawler, Rowan set the old compass beside the wheel and looked out over the water. Sunlight broke across the waves. His grandfather’s words settled differently now. The sea did keep its secrets, but sometimes, it also carried them back to the one person who needed them most.