That first night in the boatyard I woke just after midnight and went outside in my slippers, fingering the gray canvas straps still holding us aloft. I thought of the weeks ahead, zipping off through-hulls, charring the planks, spinning oakum, using a beetle and horsing iron to re-cork. I thought about being alone in my hut in the woods, at the age of 19, with nothing to fear. And now, this boat, keeping me up into the early hours. My life had been braided into the Adak ’s, just as it had been braided into Rachel’s life, and then Haley’s, and now someone else’s, ripening in Rachel’s belly.