A Star to Steer Her By

by Beth Anne Miller

  …

  The sea remained on the rougher side until nightfall the next day, and by the time my evening watch ended at midnight, I wanted nothing more than to crash for a full eight hours until breakfast.

  But my old nightmare stirred and came alive, as it had been doing with increasing frequency now that the second dive was approaching. I couldn’t bear it again. I went up on deck, let Justin, the mate on duty, know I was there, and lay on a locker just aft of the foremast, my head pillowed on my hoodie. Maybe out here, in the fresh air, I’d at least be able to rest, if not sleep.

  When I closed my eyes this time, I saw the image of Tristan’s face as he’d leaned toward me the night before, so close I could see the rain dripping from his eyelashes. There was clearly something between us, and it was getting harder to resist.

  I shivered in the cool breeze and sat up to pull on my hoodie. Someone stood by the rail, too far aft to be the bow watch. I saw the halo of hair, blowing in the wind. It was as if I’d conjured him. Though by now I shouldn’t be surprised, given how often we both ended up on deck, seeking solace in the quiet of the night. Not for the first time, I wondered what kept him from sleeping.

  We hadn’t spoken since that weird moment last night. He’d kept to himself all day, tending to some maintenance things in the engine room, eating his meals alone. I’d wanted to approach him, but he’d had an aura of “leave me alone” around him.

  “Tristan?” I whispered, not wanting to startle him.

  He turned around. “Red? Is that you?”

  “Yeah, it’s me. I’m sitting on the locker.”

  He sat beside me. “What are you doing out here? You’re not sick, are you?” Some of the others were still victims of the rougher seas. Thankfully, I wasn’t one of them. Guess it paid to be miserable for the first week or two.

  “No, I feel fine. I just couldn’t sleep and thought I’d come up and look at the stars.”

  “Same here.” We leaned back against the side of the hatch. My arm brushed his, but he didn’t move away. The heat from his body seeped into me.

  I looked up at the sky. There were probably millions of people who would take a view like this for granted, and wouldn’t even think to spend one moment looking at the stars. Not me. I would never get tired of this.

  “This is my favorite time to be on deck,” I said. “It’s like we’re completely alone in the world.”

  He didn’t reply, and I turned to look at him. “Are you all right, Tristan? You’re not yourself today.”

  “I…just have a lot on my mind right now,” he finally said.

  “Anything I can help with?”

  “You are helping,” he said. “It’s nice not to be alone.”

  Not ‘it’s nice to have company,’ but ‘it’s nice not to be alone.’ Those were two very different sentiments. He’d been alone all day, but it was by choice, right? It occurred to me that I’d never seen any father-son interactions between him and the captain, just captain-crewmember stuff, other than when they’d played the fiddle together. Maybe they preferred to keep things professional, but that was ridiculous, wasn’t it? I mean, they couldn’t be strictly professional for the entire voyage, could they? Was his father the source of Tristan’s sadness?

  He didn’t seem inclined to elaborate, and I didn’t want to pry. I leaned back again and stared at the sky. It was strange how the stars had always been grouped as they were now, and ages ago, people had looked up at them and decided that they resembled this hero or that mythical creature. Even if I didn’t know what a particular constellation was, I knew it was one by the arrangement of stars.

  “Tristan, do you know which constellation that is?”

  “Sit up a minute.” He slid his arm around my shoulders and took my hand. Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. I suddenly felt warm all over. “Show me which one you mean.” I pointed his hand in the right direction. “It’s Perseus. The stars on the bottom almost look like a foot. Do you see it?” he whispered in my ear.

  I cleared my throat. “Yeah, I see it.”

  “Do you know the story of Perseus?”

  “Something with Andromeda, right? I know a little bit of it, but I’d love to hear more if you’d like to tell me.” I could tell he needed a distraction, and I’d listen to anything he wanted to say.

  “Okay.” He withdrew his arm from around my shoulders and told me the story of the hero Perseus, and how he saved the maiden Andromeda from the monstrous Kraken. Then we moved from Greek mythology to Celtic legends and myths—the stories of his homeland. As night deepened, the air grew chilly, and I inched closer to him, my body seeking his warmth.

  Before I knew it, the first light of dawn was casting its silvery glow on the eastern horizon, and I was huddled against his side, barely keeping my eyes open.

  I yawned and sat up. “I can’t believe it’s almost morning.”

  “You know, once you got over your seasickness, I figured I wouldn’t see you up on deck in the wee hours anymore.” He sounded as if he’d spent some time thinking about that idea, and didn’t like it at all.

  “Lucky for you, my insomnia didn’t go away with the seasickness,” I quipped.

  “Aye, well, I’m sorry you have trouble sleeping, but it is lucky for me, especially tonight,” he said, squeezing my hand. “We’d better get to bed,” he added in a low voice that conjured up images of silk sheets and scented candlelight, rather than the close confines of our narrow bunks and the damp, musty smell below deck. He got to his feet and pulled me up, and we headed down below.

  We reached my bunk, and I felt him turn toward me in the dark. His thumb grazed my jaw, followed by the press of his lips on my cheek. “Thanks for the company and the distraction, Red,” he murmured, his breath stirring the wisps of hair near my ear and sending a shiver down my spine. “’Night.”

  “Good night,” I whispered. I watched him disappear into the darkness before climbing into my bunk. I thought about the sadness that had been in those bottomless blue eyes that very first night as we watched the sunset, that moment of vulnerability he let a complete stranger see. I felt that same sadness in him tonight. He let me see a side of him that he didn’t show to anyone else, and I wondered if he’d eventually trust me enough to tell me about it.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The morning sun revealed the island of Dominica dead ahead, a few hours away. It had been a very long week or so at sea since our last stop at Cabo Rojo, especially with the storm, which had blown us slightly off course, and I couldn’t wait to get off the ship that afternoon and really stretch my legs.

  But first, we had to dock the ship. In our previous ports, we’d simply anchored in the harbor, so docking was a new experience. The captain manned the engine controls and constantly shouted commands to the helmsman. Sails had to be nicely furled, requiring more attention than when we were way out in a harbor where no one would see them up close. Anyone not working with the sails was lined up on the starboard side of the ship, dangling air-filled fenders over the rail to prevent the ship from scraping the dock.

  While it would have been cool to be at the helm for docking, I was out on the bowsprit helping to furl the outer and inner jibs. It took a bit of adjustment to balance my feet on the webbing while folding sections of sail, but I got the hang of it.

  When the ship was finally secured to the dock with heavy dock lines, we all headed down below to get ready to go ashore. When I came back on deck, I crashed right into the captain, who was coming from the opposite direction. He grabbed my elbows to steady me.

  “Sorry, Captain, I didn’t see you!”

  “It’s all right, Ms. Goodman, I wasn’t watching where I was going.” He didn’t look well. His face was pale, and his eyes had heavy, dark circles beneath them.

  “Captain, are you all right?” I asked hesitantly.

  “I’m fine, Ms. Goodman. Thank you.” He attempted another smile, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Enjoy your afternoon.” I stared after him, hoping he wa
s okay.

  After a wonderful shower, with real shampoo and conditioner, I returned to the ship to get ready for our evening ashore. I decided to dress up a little, especially since we were docked and I didn’t have to worry about climbing into and out of the ship’s tender.

  I slipped into a low-cut, green floral sundress with a swishy skirt that came nearly to my ankles. My shoe choices were limited, but my black flip-flops didn’t look too bad with the dress.

  I braided a lock of hair on each side and secured them together at the back of my head, leaving the rest loose to hang in damp waves down my back. I felt girly for the first time in weeks, and couldn’t help but wonder if Tristan would notice. You didn’t dress up for him, you did it for you. Yeah, right. Even I didn’t believe myself.

  “Ari, you look fantastic! What’s the occasion?” asked Amanda.

  “I’m clean. I don’t think I need another reason, do you?”

  “Good point.”

  “Check you out!” exclaimed Kevin when I came up on deck, adding in a wolf whistle for good measure.

  “Why, thank you, sir.” I spun around so that my dress swirled around my calves. I faced him once more, smiling saucily—and froze when I saw Tristan standing a few feet behind Kevin. The look on his face…

  His eyes traveled down my body from head to toe and then back again. My skin burned in the wake of that gaze. We stared at each other for a long moment, and then he slipped on his mirrored sunglasses and abruptly turned away, heading up the gangplank to the dock.

  I stared after him, my pulse throbbing, my body on fire.

  “Holy shit, Ari.” Startled, I looked to my right. Kevin stood there, mouth agape, also staring after Tristan.

  “What?”

  “Holy shit, that guy wants you bad,” chimed in Jenny, who stood on Kevin’s other side.

  I didn’t argue—that look in his eyes had nearly melted me into a puddle on the deck. If he could make me feel that way with just a look, what could he do with a kiss? More than a kiss?

  The three of us walked through the marina. I didn’t want to get into a discussion about Tristan with Jenny there, but she and Kevin were—well, I didn’t know exactly what they were, but they came as a package deal now, so she and I were getting along, if not friends exactly. And given that she’d seen the way Tristan had looked at me just now, it wasn’t exactly a secret anymore.

  “What am I going to do? I like him so much, but…”

  “But what?” asked Kevin. “The next time you’re alone with him, make a move.”

  “Really? That’s your advice, ‘make a move’?” asked Jenny, giving me a “he’s such a guy” eye roll.

  “I can’t just throw myself at him! What if you’re wrong? I’d have to face him every day on watch for the next month and a half. I just can’t.”

  “Ari, did you see that look on his face? We’re not wrong.”

  “He’s right, Ari,” added Jenny. “That look could have melted steel.”

  “If MacDuff had looked at Jenny like that prior to a few days ago, she wouldn’t be holding my hand right now.”

  “Hate to break it to you, Kev, but if Tristan had given me that look two minutes ago, I wouldn’t be holding your hand right now,” she quipped.

  “Hey!”

  “I’m just kidding,” she said, kissing him quickly on the mouth. “Sort of.”

  “It doesn’t matter.” I sighed. “I can’t get involved with him. What if the captain finds out?”

  “Oh, come on,” Kevin scoffed. “People our age have been sneaking around since the dawn of time. I don’t think that’s something you need to worry about.”

  “Yeah, but they probably weren’t on a ship with no privacy, with twenty-something other people who have nothing better to do in their free time than gossip. And they weren’t risking a failing grade for the semester.”

  “But wouldn’t it suck if he is into you, but neither of you does anything about it?” said Jenny.

  Yeah, it really would. “Let’s just go. I’m starving.”

  I was quiet on the way to the restaurant, my mind racing. We found a place nearby and grabbed an outside table overlooking the water. It was a nice dinner, but I was distracted. I couldn’t stop thinking about the way Tristan had looked at me. Was Kevin right? Should I throw caution to the wind and make a move? Was it worth the risk of the captain finding out and/or Tristan rejecting me because it wasn’t permitted? If he turned me down, it would likely ruin the friendship we had, not to mention making the rest of the voyage unbearable. In addition to that, I had no idea what risks there might be for Tristan, though with his dad as captain, he was probably okay.

  After dinner, Jenny and Kevin decided to go see a local band, but I asked them to walk me back to the marina first. There was never really a time on the ship when no one else was around, and aside from whichever crew member had dock watch, the ship would probably be empty now, which was just what I needed.

  When I reached the Meg, I heard music playing, and followed the sound to the bowsprit. Tristan sat out there, facing the setting sun, his fiddle—no, violin this time—tucked under his chin. The music was a lament, so sad that it tore at my heart.

  He’d been acting strange for two days, and now he was sitting alone and playing sad songs. Something was definitely up, and I was pretty sure it had nothing to do with me, in spite of that look he gave me earlier. I didn’t want to intrude on his solitude, but like a siren’s song luring an unsuspecting sailor to his doom, the music called to me and I had no choice but to obey.

  I kicked off my flip-flops, hiked up the skirt of my dress, and swung my legs over the rail. Tristan’s eyes were closed, and I hesitated, afraid to startle him by stepping out onto the webbing of the bowsprit, but not wanting to disturb him by announcing my presence.

  The breeze picked up, wafting through my hair and across my face. Tristan turned his head toward me and opened his eyes, pinning me with that piercing blue stare for a moment, then closed them again and scooted down in silent but clear invitation, his hands never wavering in their playing.

  I carefully stepped out onto the bowsprit—even though we weren’t moving, I didn’t want to slip through the webbing and (a) hurt myself, (b) get my dress caught and flash him (although…), or—worst of all—(c) jostle him, causing him to drop the fiddle into the drink. I inched over until I was beside him.

  I watched him play, captivated by the slow, graceful motions of his fingers on the strings, and the ease with which he drew the bow back and forth—all without ever opening his eyes.

  The music made me feel such heartbreaking grief. I wanted to throw my arms around him, to comfort him, to ease his suffering. I ducked my head to hide my own tears.

  When I looked up, he was watching the sunset. His hair was pulled back at the sides and his face was lit up by the glow of the sun as it descended toward the sea. We watched as the sun slipped out of sight.

  The violin continued to sing its mournful song. When the final note melted into the twilight sky, Tristan laid the instrument in his lap, holding it as carefully as if it were a newborn kitten.

  “It was my mum’s birthday today,” he said, his voice low and rough. He didn’t look at me. “She loved it when I played that song, even though it always made her cry.”

  She loved it…past tense. Things finally clicked into place: his comment on that first night about always watching the sunset, the sadness in his eyes during those rare quiet moments on the ship, his insomnia last night. The distracted, haggard look on the captain’s face earlier.

  Oh no. Tristan’s mother was dead—and recently so—not just back home in Scotland somewhere, as I had always assumed.

  I thought of my own mother, back in Florida, and the fight we had last time I called home. Even the idea of losing her caused a wrenching pain in my stomach.

  I twisted around to face him. “Tristan, I—”

  I stopped myself. What could I say that wouldn’t sound trite, inadequate? He turned to me, his ey
es full of pain. I laid my hand on his cheek, hoping to offer some small comfort.

  He stared at me for a long moment, and then in the blink of an eye, his lips were on mine, his arm snaking around my back to pull me close.

  Gasping in surprise, my heart pounding, I clutched his shoulders for balance. Taking advantage of my open mouth, he kissed me as though my breath was the only thing that could keep him alive. I’d fantasized about kissing Tristan so many times, but the reality was better than anything my imagination could conjure. His tongue touched mine, and all thoughts flew right out of my head as heat suffused my body. I pressed closer, twining my arms around his neck to hold him to me.

  His hand slid over my waist and down my hip, tugging me even closer. But still not close enough…

  A shout from the dock broke the spell, and he pulled back. The look in his eyes was a mixture of desire, surprise, and confusion, as if he was just as stunned as I was that he’d kissed me.

  “Ari—”

  I laid my fingers over his mouth. “Please don’t say you’re sorry.”

  I felt his lips curve slightly and lowered my hand. “I wasn’t going to apologize. I don’t really know what I was going to say, but ‘sorry’ definitely wasn’t it.”

  He looked down, then swore under his breath. I followed his gaze and realized I was absently rubbing my thigh, which had started to cramp from my awkward position. “Come on, let’s get you back on deck. Davey’ll kick my ass if you’re not able to walk tomorrow.”

  He sidled around me, climbed over the rail and placed the violin on a locker. He held out his hand. I took it and let him pull me to my feet, wincing at the ache in my thigh as my feet wobbled on the web of ropes. He helped me onto the deck, his hands lingering on my waist to steady me.

  “Thanks, Tristan. I’m good now.”

  He’d scooped up a lock of my hair and was running it through his fingers, over and over again, as if the action was as soothing to him as the gentle tugging on my scalp was to me.

  More noise from the dock indicated that some of our shipmates were returning.