It was confession.
Luke’s voice became quiet.
“You don't get to hide information because you think I’ll disagree.”
Noah looked down.
“I’m sorry.”
Walt shifted but remained silent.
Luke continued.
“You want adults to take you seriously?”
Noah nodded.
“Then act like a serious person.”
“Serious people disclose risk before other people sign their names.”
Noah’s throat tightened.
He looked toward the trucks.
The drivers were waiting.
Every minute cost them.
“I’m sorry.”
Luke stared at him.
Then exhaled.
“Are we within the written limits?”
“Yes.”
“Today?”
“Yes.”
“Exactly?”
“Yes.”
“You sure?”
Noah pulled the clipboard from beneath his jacket.
Of course.
Luke almost laughed despite himself.
He took it.
Page seventeen contained permitted volumes.
Page eighteen load plan.
Page nineteen carbon-material ratio.
Page twenty showed the unloading map Noah had drawn.
Luke read.
He looked at the trucks.
Then his son.
“Where does fish material go?”
“North pad.”
“Shell?”
“South gravel.”
“Cardboard?”
“Barn lean-to until shredded.”
“Temperature logs?”
“Dr. Morales said she’ll come tomorrow.”
“Tonight?”
“We only build one windrow.”
“Who operates loader?”
“Gus.”
“Not you.”
“I know.”
“Who handles sealed totes?”
“Adults.”
“I know.”
Noah’s frustration showed.
Luke softened slightly.
Good.
The boy was prepared.
Still a boy.
Luke looked at Walt.
“You staying?”
“Till everything’s unloaded.”
“Fine.”
Luke pointed toward Noah.
“You are on clipboard duty.”
Noah’s face changed.
“That means yes?”
“That means I’m not sending four trucks back to the harbor because my son has terrible communication skills.”
Noah grinned.
Luke lifted one finger.
“We are discussing this tonight.”
Grin disappeared.
“Yes, sir.”
The first driver sounded his horn.
Sophie ran back onto porch.
Luke shouted:
“I told you inside!”
“I’m inside-ish!”
Luke closed his eyes.
Walt laughed.
By seven that evening, Cedar Creek Farm smelled worse than it ever had in Noah’s lifetime.
Not because the process was wrong.
Because fish trimmings smell like fish trimmings even inside sealed handling systems.
Sawdust helped.
Wood chips helped.
So did covering the first windrow.
But the smell existed.
Sophie came outside wearing a clothespin on her nose.
Noah looked at her.
“That does nothing.”
“I feel better.”
“Psychological.”
“What does that mean?”