Chapter 3: Wreckage and Revelations

The storm had passed, leaving behind an eerie calm that was somehow more unsettling than the chaos that had preceded it. The ocean stretched endlessly in every direction, a mirror of blue-gray glass that reflected the pale morning sky. No land. No ships. Nothing but water until the world curved away into nothingness.

Lexi stood on the deck, Mae's small hand clasped firmly in hers, both of them staring at the vast emptiness surrounding their floating prison. Three days had passed since they'd awakened to find themselves adrift, and the reality of their situation was beginning to settle into her bones like a cold ache.

"Where are all the boats, Aunt Lexi?" Mae asked, her voice smaller than usual. The five-year-old had been remarkably resilient, but even she was beginning to understand that this wasn't just an adventure anymore.

"They're out there somewhere, sweetheart," Lexi replied, injecting false confidence into her voice. "We just can't see them yet."

Behind them, she could hear Zeke working on the radio again, his patient voice cutting through the morning stillness as he repeated their mayday call. He'd been at it for hours, methodically cycling through different frequencies, adjusting settings with the focused intensity of a man who refused to accept defeat.

The past three days had settled into a routine that felt surreal in its domesticity. Zeke rationed their supplies with military precision—small portions of canned food, carefully measured water, energy bars broken into precise thirds. Mae had adapted with the flexibility of childhood, turning their dire situation into an extended camping trip, complete with games and stories to pass the endless hours.

But Lexi could see the strain in Zeke's eyes, the way he stood a little straighter when Mae was watching, the careful way he moved to conserve energy. He was keeping them alive through sheer force of will and competence, but even he couldn't manufacture rescue from thin air.

"Nothing," he said, emerging from the cabin with that familiar expression of controlled frustration. "Still too far out, or the equipment's more damaged than I thought."

Mae immediately gravitated toward him, the way she'd been doing since the first day. Something about his calm presence seemed to soothe her in ways that even Lexi's fierce protectiveness couldn't match. It should have made her grateful—and part of her was—but it also stirred something uncomfortable in her chest.

"Want to help me check the water collectors?" Zeke asked Mae, who nodded eagerly.

They'd rigged a system to catch rainwater using tarps and containers, one of many practical solutions Zeke had implemented with the kind of easy competence that made Lexi wonder again about his mysterious past. Architects didn't typically know how to jury-rig survival equipment or read weather patterns in cloud formations.

As Mae busied herself with their makeshift water system, chattering about the different shapes she could see in the morning clouds, Lexi found herself studying Zeke's profile. The photograph from his wallet had made another appearance that morning—she'd glimpsed him looking at it during his dawn radio session, his expression soft with remembered pain.

"Tell me about her," she said quietly, settling onto one of the deck chairs. "Sarah."

He glanced at her, surprise flickering across his features. "Why?"

"Because we might die out here," she said with characteristic bluntness. "And I'd rather know something real about the man I'm dying with than spend our last days as polite strangers."

A ghost of a smile touched his lips. "Always so direct."

"Life's too short for small talk. Even when it's not about to end in the middle of the ocean."

Zeke was quiet for a long moment, watching Mae arrange containers with the serious concentration she brought to everything these days. When he spoke, his voice carried the weight of carefully guarded memories.

"We met in college. Architecture and art history—she was writing her thesis on the integration of classical elements in modern design." His hands moved restlessly, sketching shapes in the air. "She was... brilliant. Funny. She could find beauty in a strip mall if she looked hard enough."

"How long were you married?"

"Ten years. Three of them fighting the cancer." He pulled the photograph from his wallet, holding it so Lexi could see. A woman with kind eyes and an infectious smile, her arm around a younger version of Zeke. "She made me promise not to become a hermit after she was gone. Said I was too good at disappearing into my work."

Lexi studied the photo, seeing the easy intimacy between them, the way they seemed to fit together perfectly. It stirred an odd pang of something that might have been jealousy if she'd been willing to name it.

"She was right, wasn't she? About the hermit thing."

"Probably." He tucked the photo away carefully. "It's easier than..."

"Than risking it again?"

"Than failing someone else." The admission came out quietly, but with the weight of absolute conviction.

Before Lexi could respond, Mae came bounding back, her small face bright with discovery. "I found a crab! A tiny one! Can we keep him?"

"Crabs need to be in the water, sweetheart," Zeke explained gently. "But we can watch him for a while before we put him back."

As Mae settled cross-legged on the deck to examine her new friend, Lexi felt the familiar surge of fierce love that had defined her relationship with this child since the day she was born. Mae was her anchor, her purpose, the reason she got up every morning and fought against her own cynical nature.

"She's incredible," Zeke said, echoing her thoughts. "You and Chloe have done an amazing job with her."

"Chloe deserves all the credit. I'm just the backup parent." Lexi watched Mae gently coax the crab into a small container of seawater. "Single motherhood isn't easy, but Chloe makes it look effortless."

"What about Mae's father?"

The question was casual, but Lexi caught the subtle tension in his voice. She'd been expecting this conversation—three days in close quarters with nothing but time to fill had a way of breaking down normal social barriers.

"One night stand," she said matter-of-factly. "Chloe was at a design conference in the city. Met some guy at the hotel bar, thought she'd try being spontaneous for once." She shrugged. "Nine months later, Mae happened."

"She never tried to find him?"

"Why would she? He was probably married, or at least not looking for a lifetime commitment from a stranger he met in a bar." Lexi's voice carried the edge of old anger—not at Chloe, but at the unknown man who'd walked away from the best thing that could have happened to him. "Besides, Mae has everything she needs. Chloe, me, a whole community of people who love her."

Zeke was quiet, his gaze fixed on Mae with an intensity that made Lexi look at him more carefully. There was something in his expression she couldn't quite read—pain, maybe, or regret.

"What was he like?" he asked. "The father."

"Kind eyes, according to Chloe. That's about all she remembered clearly—she'd had a few drinks, and it was..." Lexi gestured vaguely. "You know how these things go. Not exactly a deep conversation situation."

"Kind eyes," Zeke repeated softly.

"And he was some kind of architect or engineer, I think. In town for the same conference. Chloe said he seemed sad, like he was carrying something heavy." She paused, remembering Chloe's dreamy recounting of that night. "His name was Zeke, actually. Funny coincidence, right?"

The words hung in the air between them like a physical presence. Lexi felt the moment shift, the casual conversation suddenly weighted with significance she didn't understand. Zeke had gone very still, his face carefully blank in a way that made her stomach tighten with inexplicable dread.

"Chloe," he said, and his voice sounded strange, distant. "What's her last name?"

"Morrison. Why?" But even as she asked, pieces were clicking together in her mind with horrible clarity. The conference. The city. The timing. The way he'd been looking at Mae with that indefinable expression she'd mistaken for general fondness.

Zeke was staring at Mae with the kind of focused intensity that made Lexi's protective instincts flare. The five-year-old looked up from her crab exploration, her face bright with innocent curiosity.

"What's wrong?" Mae asked, clearly sensing the sudden tension between the adults.

"Nothing, sweetheart," Lexi managed, but her voice sounded hollow even to her own ears. She was looking at Zeke's face, at the way his hands were shaking slightly as he stared at Mae, and the truth was crystallizing in her mind like ice forming on water.

The kind eyes. The profession. The name. The city, the conference, the timing that would put Mae's conception exactly five years and nine months ago.

"Oh my God," she whispered.

Zeke's face had gone white, his gaze moving between Mae and Lexi with the stunned expression of a man whose world had just shifted on its axis. When he spoke, his voice was barely audible over the gentle lapping of water against the hull.

"Five years ago. Design conference at the Marriott downtown." It wasn't a question. "Blonde woman. Beautiful. Sad smile."

Mae looked up at them with growing confusion, sensing the adults' distress but not understanding its source. "Are we going home soon?" she asked plaintively. "I miss Mama."

Lexi couldn't speak. Couldn't breathe. The impossible truth was roaring in her ears, drowning out everything else. The man she'd fallen into bed with three nights ago—the stranger who'd become their unlikely savior in the storm—was Mae's father.

On the horizon, a speck appeared that might have been a boat. But Lexi barely noticed, too busy staring at the family that had just formed itself around her in the most impossible way imaginable.