We Accidentally Adopted the Wedding Band

How it begins

Nina's ferry manifest listed twelve passengers, four bicycles and no brass section.

The brass section arrived at seven with a wet double bass and a bride who had changed her mind.

“Not about him,” the bride explained. “About the island.”

Behind her, five musicians watched the ferry's loading ramp with the expression of people assessing whether their instruments could float.

Nina checked the weather.

The next service would be canceled. After that, the crossing belonged to the storm.

“Wedding party?”

“Formerly.”

A man in a blue work jacket stepped forward. He carried a sound case and a loaf of bread wrapped around something electrical.

“Omar Quinn. I can help load.”

“What's in the bread?”

“An adapter. Long story.”

Nina had thirty years of coastal living behind her and no objection to a useful stranger. She gave him a rope.

By departure, the bride had gone home, the musicians had boarded and the double bass occupied a space usually reserved for an elderly spaniel.

Halfway across, the guitarist began to cry.

Nina asked Omar whether this was customary.

“They haven't been paid.”

“Can they play anything besides weddings?”

He looked toward the harbor.

“Anything people will listen to.”

The mainland pub had lost its evening entertainment. Nina knew because its owner had called to ask whether she could bring over a karaoke machine.

At the quay, she offered a different solution.

The owner looked from her to Omar, who was carrying Nina's spare coat over one arm.

“Anniversary trip?”

“No,” Nina began.

“Newlyweds, then. Excellent. We can advertise a romantic rescue.”

Omar glanced at her. He did not answer for them.

Behind him, the band waited in the rain.

Nina had spent years steering other people toward places they wanted to reach.

“For one evening,” she said.

Omar smiled carefully.

The guitarist stopped crying and began choosing a song neither of them was ready to hear.