A Star to Steer Her By

by Beth Anne Miller

  The blush that stained Jenny’s face, and the stunned silence that followed it, was worth every minute of that miserable hike.

  The van driver made us sit together on a tarp so we wouldn’t “ruin” his (nasty cracked vinyl) seats. When we returned to the dock, I immediately climbed into the waiting boat. Kevin and his flirty smile convinced Jenny to wait with him for the second boat run, which was shocking, since even I couldn’t wait to wash off the mud. Justin, who was manning the boat, wisely didn’t comment on my appearance other than to politely suggest that I sit on a plastic bag he found in his backpack.

  Tristan was doing something with a needle, thread, and a rope when I climbed up the ladder. He did a double-take when he saw me, his mouth dropping open.

  “Not a word,” I said, stripping off my filthy sneakers and socks.

  “O-okay,” he sputtered, unable to hold back a laugh.

  “Laugh it up, MacDougall. I got my revenge on the last person who laughed at me, and it wasn’t pretty.”

  He held up his hands as if to say “who, me?” and ducked his head, focusing so intently on the rope in his lap that I knew he was still laughing.

  Everyone else had headed below to get their shower stuff. I started to do the same, but then stopped and stared at the inviting aquamarine water. God, I wanted to just jump in. The old me wouldn’t have thought twice about it. I looked out over the water. Nothing but the occasional small boat as far as I could see. The water was crystal clear, the sandy bottom visible maybe fifteen feet below.

  “Why don’t you just jump in?”

  I didn’t have to turn my head to know that Tristan had joined me at the rail. “This is a pretty clean harbor. Or at least, it used to be,” he added, a smile evident in his voice.

  I tried to smile back but couldn’t. He touched my hand, and I looked down to see that my fingers gripped the rail so tightly the knuckles were white.

  “Have you been back in the water since your diving accident?” he asked quietly, pushing his sunglasses down his nose to study me.

  “No,” I replied, just as quietly. “I tried a few times, but— What are you doing?”

  He’d set his sunglasses on top of a locker and was stripping off his shirt.

  I had a glimpse of muscles and ink before he stepped up onto the rail and reached for my hand. “Let’s do this.”

  He was going to jump in with me? “Tristan, I—”

  “Come on, Red. The water doesn’t get any nicer than this.”

  I wanted to, so badly. I wanted to show him—and myself—that I could be brave. Going in alone was daunting, but if he was with me, maybe I’d be all right.

  I took his hand and climbed up, holding on to the shrouds. The water was still clear, the bottom still visible.

  Come on, Ari, the water seemed to say. You want to do this. You can do this. Just one step, and I’ll catch you.

  “You can do this, Red,” Tristan said, echoing the voice in my head.

  I can do this. “Okay.” I let go of the shrouds. His hand tightened around mine, and we jumped together.

  The warm water embraced me like a long-lost friend, pulling me down and then caressing me as I popped up to break the surface. See? I told you I’d catch you.

  Tristan emerged beside me and shook his head to clear the water from his eyes. “All right, Red?” he asked, his hand still holding mine.

  “I—” A wave of emotion swept over me, and no words would come out. I threw my arms around him, the only thing I could think of to show him how I felt. He tensed in surprise as the movement of the water brought my body right up against his. I started to let go, but then his arms came around me and he held me tightly.

  Our wet bodies were plastered against each other so closely that it was going to get awkward, so I quickly drew back. “Thanks for jumping in with me. It…really helped.”

  He took my hand, halting my backward motion, and I looked up into those luminous eyes, which crinkled at the corners as he smiled. “You’re welcome, Red,” he said. “Now, go wash off the mud, or the captain won’t let you back on board, aye?” He dropped my hand and swam to the Meg to wait for me.

  I pushed aside all thoughts of Tristan’s sparkling blue eyes, killer smile (with those goddamn dimples that drove me crazy), and the way his body had felt against mine, and reveled in the joy of being in the sea after so many months away. The warm, salty water felt amazing on my skin, scrubbing away the mud and chill from the rainy hike.

  I felt like a small part of me had healed.

  Chapter Nine

  I loved the sun. Other people who lived in Florida year-round might take it for granted, but not me. I loved the warmth of it on my skin and the way it glittered on the water. I loved watching refugees from cold northern winters close their eyes and smile when the sun touched their pale skin, as if they’d been brought back to life.

  The day after the Hike from Hell, as Puerto Plata disappeared in our wake, I found something else I loved about the sun: the way its warm glow caressed Tristan, who sat on the salon roof, patching one of our extra sails. He was shirtless, as he often was—thank you, Caribbean—and a bandanna held back his hair. A sheen of sweat glistened on his tanned skin. The sunlight glinted on the golden hairs on his arms, drawing my attention to them as he forced the thick needle through heavy canvas.

  “—Ari?”

  “Hmm?” I turned to see Professor Sully peering at me over the tops of his Ray-Bans. He’d picked a bad time to hold marine bio class.

  “I’m sorry, I didn’t hear the question.”

  He flicked his eyes to Tristan and then back at me, arching an eyebrow knowingly. “I asked if you could tell me what an upwelling is.”

  “It’s what happens in Ari’s stomach whenever we’re at sea,” cracked Steve.

  Mentally begging my stomach not to prove him right, I flipped him off and returned my attention to Sully, who was not even trying to hide a smile. “Upwelling is when cold water is driven to the surface by wind or currents, replacing the warm surface water.”

  “Good. And why is this important?”

  “Because cold water from the deep has more nutrients in it than surface water. Plankton feed on it, and they get eaten by filter-feeders, which are fed upon by fish, and they get eaten by bigger fish, and so on.”

  “Well done, Ari,” said Sully. “At least you’re doing your reading, even if you’re not paying attention in class.” There were a few snickers at that. “We’re passing over a seamount, so there will be upwellings on either side of it.” He picked up a plankton net, which resembled a long white bag with a ring at the top, the openings in the mesh virtually invisible. “We’re going to do some plankton trawls in today’s class.”

  We spent an hour dragging the net through the water, sticking it in a bucket, and examining some of the tiny organisms with a microscope. It was incredible to think that photosynthetic phytoplankton—microscopic marine plants—provided more than half the oxygen for the entire planet, and were the basis for the aquatic food web, but could also be responsible for killing off parts of that food web when too many of them formed a toxic algal bloom. And their animal counterparts, zooplankton, most of which were barely an inch or two in length, were the primary food source for the largest whale species. I’d always been more interested in the larger marine creatures, but studying the plankton was fascinating, and I was a little bummed when Sully told us class was over.

  “If anyone wants to stick around after class, I’ll be setting up some fishing lines to see if we can catch our dinner and give Peggy a break.” Everyone chuckled at that. “And when you’re standing around with nothing to do, or daydreaming during your classes,” he said, looking pointedly at me, “watch the water. It’s entirely possible we’ll see some charismatic megafauna.”

  “Charismatic megawhat?” asked Steve.

  “Large animals that humans want to hug, like whales and dolphins. And, we’re smack in the middle of the annual breeding and calving ground for the humpback
whale, so keep your eyes peeled for any spouts. That’s it for now. Go forth and stare at the water.”

  I stood at the helm later that day, the wooden spokes smooth under my hands, the wind caressing my face and teasing strands of hair from my braid. We were on a southern course for now, and at some point we’d turn southeast, passing south of Puerto Rico, on a diagonal toward Dominica, more than five hundred nautical miles away. It would be a long haul—nearly a week at sea.

  Which I was dreading, given that I still felt pretty awful most of the time. Not five minutes after Sully had dismissed class a few hours earlier, I was at my preferred spot along the leeward rail. I mean, there was barely a ripple on the surface of the sea—it made no sense why I was sick. After an exciting lunch of bread and water—at least it was Peggy’s freshly baked bread—I felt slightly better, but from past experience, I knew that meant nothing.

  “Dolphins off the bow!” The call made its way back to me from the front of the ship.

  Damn. I loved being at the helm, but it would have been cool to see the dolphins up close. I saw them frequently back home in the Keys, but I never got tired of watching them leap and play.

  A shadow loomed over me. “What’s your ordered course?” asked Captain MacDougall.

  “Course ordered is one-eight-zero,” I quickly replied. I hadn’t interacted much with the captain outside of class, and he remained this mysterious, intimidating figure, someone I needed to impress so he could give me a good recommendation at the end of the semester. Hopefully I hadn’t veered off course just in time for the captain to check.

  He glanced at the compass and smiled. “Perfectly on course, Ms. Goodman. As usual. Now get out of here and go see the dolphins.”

  “What?” I asked, still reeling from both the “on course, as usual” comment (which meant he’d been keeping tabs on me, and was happy with how I was doing) and the smile (which (a) I’d rarely seen, and (b) looked so much like Tristan’s).

  “I’m relieving you. Go on, now. I’m not normally this nice. And try not to puke on the wee beasts,” he added with a wink.

  I grinned. “I’ll do my best. Thank you, Captain!” He took my place at the wheel and I hurried along the starboard rail.

  When I reached the bow, Tristan was there. “Hey, Red—wow, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile like that before.”

  I knew I was beaming like a kid at a candy store. “The captain just complimented me on my steering before taking over the helm so I could come up here. Plus, you know, dolphins. I’m pretty excited right now.”

  “I can see that.” He held out a harness. “Here, put this on so you can go out on the bowsprit.”

  I reached for the harness, but then hesitated. Due to my frequent vomiting, I hadn’t yet braved the bowsprit. And my leg tended to cramp with no warning. What if it didn’t cooperate?

  He tipped down his shades and peered up at me with those sea-blue eyes. “Come on, Red, you know you want to,” he said in a low, husky voice that had me imagining a dimly lit room and his hands on my body as he murmured in my ear. “Red?” He jangled the harness, snapping me out of my R-rated stupor. Dolphins. Bowsprit.

  I looked at the sleek gray bodies darting back and forth under our bow, kicking up splashes of water as they dove. I’d seen bow-riding dolphins before, but there was no way on a dive boat to get this close, to be right above them. It would be amazing.

  I put on the harness, which went over my shoulders and around my chest. There was a length of nylon rope attached, with a carabiner at one end. Okay, let’s do this. I turned toward the bowsprit.

  “Hang on, Red.” I felt his hands at my back, and then his fingers grazed my neck. I inhaled sharply, a shudder running through me at the light touch. He cleared his throat. “Okay, you’re good to go. Your hair was caught.”

  I turned to look at him, but he was walking away. I followed him to the bowsprit, which was comprised of the jibboom, a wood spar which protruded about twenty feet from the bow of the ship, and the web of knotted ropes beneath. My watchmates were already out there.

  I carefully climbed onto the first section of knotted rope, which shifted ominously. I held on tightly as the webbing wobbled beneath my feet, kind of like those rope webs I climbed on when I was a little kid. My stomach rolled. I will not puke on the dolphins. I will not puke on the dolphins…

  “Take it slowly,” Tristan said from behind me. “Clip in your safety line.”

  I looped the nylon rope around the safety line and clipped it to the ring on the harness, eyeing it dubiously. It didn’t look very strong. “This will hold me if I fall?”

  “Yeah, it’s stronger than it looks.”

  I inched my way out as far as I could go with Kevin in front of me and gingerly turned so that my back rested against the jibboom. I held on and looked down.

  Pfft! A shiny gray head broke the surface of the water a few feet below my bare toes. Oh my God, it was right there! The blowhole snapped shut, the body arched, the dorsal fin broke the surface, and the dolphin was gone, all within seconds. Then another one took its place. And another. I could even hear the clicks and whistles as they communicated with each other.

  I looked a little farther out from the boat and realized it was the same ten or so dolphins. They darted under the bow and then looped around and came back again.

  Just for fun. They were surfing the Meg’s bow waves simply because it was fun. They were so fast, so carefree, so alive.

  I closed my eyes. The wind swept over me, wet from the spray, cool and invigorating on my skin. The sound of the waves hitting the hull a few feet below roared in my ears.

  It felt like we were flying over the water. A whoop of joy escaped me, as if I were on a fast (and wet) roller coaster. I was grinning like an idiot from the giddy excitement of seeing the dolphins—which seemed to be just as fascinated to people-watch as we were to dolphin-watch.

  “Fantastic, aren’t they?” I looked behind me to see Tristan, sans harness, straddling the jibboom like it was a horse, his board shorts riding up on his thighs.

  Yup, pretty fantastic… I shook my head to clear it. “If I stretched out my toes, I could touch them.”

  “Maybe you could, but as it’s your first time out here, I’d rather you kept all your parts on this side of that net, okay?”

  “I will.”

  I stayed out there for another few minutes, totally captivated by the dolphins. I didn’t want to return to the deck, especially since I didn’t feel seasick out here, but there were others waiting their turn, so I carefully made my way back along the bowsprit.

  I turned back just as Tristan stood up on the jibboom and nimbly made his way toward me like a gymnast on a balance beam, stepped onto the rail, and hopped down to the deck. He saw me gaping at him and grinned.

  Charismatic megafauna, indeed.

  Chapter Ten

  The reef was a flurry of activity, with tropical fish in a wide array of colors, shapes, and sizes bustling about in their daily activities.

  A school of curious yellowtail snapper hovered around me, inching ever closer before abruptly backpedaling out of reach.

  Thunk. What was that? I looked around for the source of the strange noise. The visibility wasn’t the greatest, and the water did amplify sounds, but this seemed really close.

  I could barely see two feet in front of me in the suddenly murky sea. Something wasn’t right. Every nerve in my body was humming, every instinct I had told me to get the hell out of there.

  Where was Josh? He’d been by my side just moments before. I pivoted in a slow circle, searching for his bubbles in the gloom. I swiveled around and stopped short. The water was blood red.

  We needed to get out of there, now! I tried to kick, but something held my legs. Oh God, it was pulling me down! I needed to get free, needed to warn Josh! I thrashed and kicked, but I couldn’t get free…

  “Ari?” I opened my eyes to see Maria from C Watch peeking through the curtain. “Breakfast in fifteen minutes.” />
  I stared at her, completely disoriented. I tried to sit up, but something was holding me down… No, wait, it was just the top sheet, tangled around my legs.

  “Are you okay, Ari?”

  “I… Yes. Just a dream. I’m fine.” She nodded uncertainly and let the curtain fall into place, shrouding me in darkness once more.

  I stared at the beam over my head, taking slow, deep breaths as the terror faded. After a few minutes, I sat up and took a sip from my water bottle. I could face other people now.

  I got dressed and went up on deck, tipping my face to the sun and taking a deep breath of the fresh sea air. I felt better already.

  Wait a minute. Something was different. I opened my eyes and looked around. The students on watch went about their business, others emerged from the cabin below, blinking like owls in the sunlight. Nothing new there… No, wait.

  My stomach wasn’t rolling over and over on itself, and there wasn’t any of that wobbly, clammy, oh-god-which-way-is-the-wind-coming-from feeling. No aura of impending doom. The sea was no calmer than it had been on any other day (which is not to say that it was ever particularly rough to begin with). Nothing had changed.

  Except me.

  “Hey, Ari, you about to hurl? Better go to the other side!” warned Kevin, who stood nearby with Jenny. “Kevin!” Jenny hissed, smacking his arm. Wow, was she defending me? She’d definitely been nicer since our mud bath on the mountain, but this was new.

  “It’s okay, Jenny, this is our usual routine,” I assured her. I turned to Kevin. “Actually, I’m not gonna hurl.” I grinned. “I feel great!”

  Kevin had been a frequent witness to my suffering, often bringing me crackers or water or making stupid jokes to try to cheer me up. (“Again, Ari? Seriously?” I usually couldn’t respond verbally, so I settled for flipping him off.) So he knew what a huge deal this was.

  He let out a cheer and wrapped his arms around me in an exuberant hug, lifting me off my feet and whirling me around.

  I closed my eyes and clutched his shoulders, feeling slightly dizzy. “Whoa! Let’s not push it, okay?”