Alliance

Chapter Two

The smell of sizzling bacon and half burnt toast greeted me when I entered the kitchen the next morning. The small area was cheery with the sunshine reflecting off the surfaces and a pleasant breeze cooled the room.

Dad stood beside the stove, his back to me. Last night I did not return to the house until it was past dark and Dad was in bed. After my anger settled I felt guilty for how I treated Dad. It was a rare for us to have an argument, even a small one.

The bacon Dad flipped onto a plate was a sign that guilt twisted his stomach all night too. Bacon was reserved for only special occasions. The price was of pork was outrageously high. The cheapest meat was chicken and thank god we had a small chicken coop to keep our supplies stable.

Scrambled eggs steamed in a pan on the table next to a plate of burnt toast.

"Morning," Dad said. He turned to the table when I slid into my seat. He placed the plate of bacon before me. "Why are you standing on ceremony? Dig in."

I smiled and reached for the crisped to perfection bacon. Dad sat in his chair across me. "Sorry about yesterday." Dad piled eggs onto his plate. "You know where I stand on this issue but you are an adult. You do what you want. It is not my decision to make."

"Thanks, Dad." Dad handed me the spoon for the eggs. "I know it would be easier to request for a profession, but I don't want to give them more than I have to."

Dad picked at his eggs. His face showed he wanted say more but whatever words on his lips were left unspoken when he took a bite of the eggs.

We ate quickly in silence. A full day stood before us. With me leaving soon, that would put Dad in a pinch. He already laid off the fishing crew since our fishery went almost belly up five years ago when the price of all meat, including fish, went way up. Most people around us could not afford the new price.

We could have lowered the price, but it was not worth it being caught by the government for selling fish below national price. But there were still some families that could still afford it. For the people who could not pay, we danced around the government and allowed them to fish off our dock. We never demanded payment, but people gave us whatever they could. Hence our stable chicken coop.

I ate my last piece of bacon, savoring the taste. "I'll do dishes," Dad said, he grabbed our empty plates. "Get everything ready to go out on the dock."

"Okay." I got up and walked to the front door. "What set of fishing nets do you want me to prepare?" I asked from the hallway while I pulled on my very worn, but sturdy shoes.

"The newer set. Let's give that a try," Dad called from the kitchen.

"Sounds good," I called back, my hand reached for the front door.

"Oh, hey Mel?" Dad called the kitchen when I hoped the door.

"Yeah?" I called back to Dad. I took a step to walk out the door. "Shit!" I sprung back. My heart jumped behind my spine. There, before the doorway stood Mr. Whitman. His hand raised like he was about to knock on the door.

A chuckle came from the kitchen. "Mr. Whitman is coming this morning," Dad finished.

"Melissa," Mr. Whitman's greeting was laced with dislike.

"Mr. Whitman," I answered with a tight jaw.

Mr. Whitman, my second least favorite person. The first being his son, Alec Whitman.

Down the hall, Dad made his way toward us. "Mr. Whitman," he greeted brightly.

Mr. Whitman's dark eyes flicked from mine to Dad's. "Dave."