“You’d better go.” His hand squeezed mine for barely a second, and then he let go and snagged the violin before climbing back out onto the bowsprit, clearly wanting to be alone. I turned to walk away.
“Ari.” I turned back, barely able to make out his features in the gray dusk. “Thank you for making me forget for a moment,” he whispered, and then he turned to stare at the shadowy sea once more.
Chapter Eighteen
An hour later, barefoot and dressed in the tank top and yoga pants I wore to bed, I went down to the salon to grab a snack, but stopped at the bottom of the stairs when I heard raised Scottish voices coming from the partially-open door of the captain’s cabin. I quickly ducked into the galley.
“You don’t understand what it’s like for me!” said the captain, his voice slightly slurred.
“How can you say that? She was my mother!” shouted Tristan.
“Oh, aye? Then why weren’t you there when she needed you? You cared more about your friends than your family.”
Oh, shit. This was not something I should be overhearing. But I couldn’t make myself walk away.
It was silent for a long, awful moment. “That’s not fair.”
“Aye, well neither is your mother dying.”
“For the rest of my life, I’ll regret that I wasn’t there for her—for both of you,” Tristan said, his voice so low, so broken, I could barely hear him. “I took the deckhand job on the Meg instead of a first mate position on that other ship because I thought we needed each other. But you barely speak to me, barely look at me. It’s like I lost you, too,” he continued, his voice full of anguish.
“That’s not—”
“Not what? Not true? It is true. We should have been together tonight, remembering her on her birthday. But instead you shut yourself in here with your scotch, leaving me alone, until—”
He broke off mid-sentence. What was he going to say? Until I found him on the bowsprit?
“You know what? Never mind,” he continued. “You can stay in here by yourself, drinking until you forget that she’s gone and forget that you have a son. I’m sure she would have loved that. And when the Meg docks in New York, I’m done. I’ll go find another ship to work on. I can’t be here with you anymore.”
Footsteps approached. I stepped back into the darkness of the galley. Tristan passed by without noticing me and stomped up the steps. I heard the faint click as the captain closed his door. I’d almost been hoping for an angry slam, as that would have shown some emotion—there was something so despondent about that quiet click.
I ran to my bunk to get my shoes, then left the ship and hurried up the dock, hoping to find Tristan somewhere nearby. I didn’t see him in the marina. Where could he have gone? Then I saw a sign pointing to the beach. That’s where I would go to be alone. I stepped onto the sand and saw a solitary figure standing a short distance away, right where the surf lapped against the sand. I kicked off my flip-flops and joined him.
“Tristan.”
He glanced at me, then turned back to face the water. “Red. What are you doing out here?”
“I came to see if you were okay. I…I overheard you and the captain. I didn’t mean to… I was down in the salon to grab a snack.”
He was quiet for so long. I didn’t know what to do, but he didn’t seem to mind my presence, so I watched the moon’s reflection shimmer on the sea, hoping he would talk to me.
“I’m sorry you heard that, Red,” he finally said. “My mum…she…passed away recently, and Dad and I…” The corner of his mouth turned up in a humorless smile. “Well, let’s just say I disagree with how he’s handling her death.”
From what I heard, there was more to it than that, but that was for another time. “People handle their grief in different ways. Some bury it deep down inside and pretend to be okay, some prefer to face it alone, others want their loved ones by their side, to share the grief and the memories. And others lash out at the ones closest to them. Maybe your father is dealing with it the best he can right now.”
“But he isn’t dealing with it!” He took a deep breath and let it out slowly before continuing. “He shut himself in his cabin, with a bottle of scotch—no glass—and a photo album. He shouldn’t have been alone.” He closed his eyes for a moment. “And I shouldn’t have told you that the captain of the ship has been drinking all evening while in charge of a boatful of students.”
“I won’t say anything, I promise. Besides, we’re docked, and he’s off duty.”
“It’s just that it’s her first birthday since…” He swallowed hard. “I know it’s terrible for him. But it’s terrible for me, too, you know?” He closed his eyes, but not before I saw the glimmer of unshed tears. He looked like a lost little boy.
“I know,” I whispered. “Would you tell me something about her?”
He was quiet for a long moment, and then he smiled slightly. “My mates back home were all a little bit in love with her. She was beautiful, but she was also fun and warm, and she loved them all. They called her ‘Mum,’ and whenever they’d come over—which was often, because they only wanted to hang out at my place—the first thing they’d do when they came through the door was greet her, practically fighting over who would be first to kiss her cheek or pull her into a bear hug. Sometimes it was to distract her so they could steal the cookies or brownies she’d just taken out of the oven, but usually there was no ulterior motive. They all told her everything—how their grades were, what girls they liked, whatever. If any of them had trouble at home, they crashed at our house, no questions asked, and if any of them got out of line at school, there was no greater threat than my mother being told about it.” The smile left his face. “The lads were all gutted when she died.”
And so was he. “She sounds wonderful, Tristan.”
“Aye, she was the best.”
The night breeze tossed a lock of hair into his face, and I watched my fingers push it back, my hand brushing his cheek. He opened his eyes and reached up, his hand covering mine. He lowered his head and kissed me, for one heartbeat, two—
—and then he pulled back. My hand fell empty at my side as he spun away.
Not again. I grabbed his shoulder, turned him to face me once more. “I’m not letting you run away from me.”
His eyes were wide with surprise. “Ari, I—”
“What’s happening between us? The way you stared at me before dinner tonight, the kiss out on the bowsprit, that kiss just now. And that was just today. You remember everything about me, down to the last detail. You start to say things and don’t finish them. It’s like…like you want to be with me, and then you turn it off and pull away. Until the next time. And then we go through this all over again.”
“I can’t turn it off. It’s never off,” he said to his feet, his voice so low I almost didn’t catch his words.
“What did you say?” I whispered.
He looked up, his eyes bright with emotion. “I’ve wanted to touch you from that first day, when you let your hair loose and the setting sun lit up your face. I’ve seen you stand up to your fears and get back in the water. I watch you at the helm, with your head tipped back, inhaling the wind, staring at the stars like they hold the answers to everything, and I wish you and I could sail away together.
“Tonight, when you came on deck in that dress, your hair all around you like a flame—I had to walk away so I wouldn’t kiss you in front of everyone. And then out on the bowsprit, that look in your eyes—like you wished you could heal me with your touch on my face…I just couldn’t fight it anymore. But—”
I pulled his head down to mine and kissed him. For a moment, he didn’t respond, but then his arms came around me and he kissed me back with all the passion of the words he’d just spoken. Finally.
Seconds, minutes, hours, days passed as we kissed in the moonlight. His mouth left mine to kiss my throat, then he tipped me back, supporting me against his arm as his lips moved down my chest toward the neckline of my tank top.
<
br /> I held him to me with one hand buried in his hair while the other trailed down his back and dipped under his shirt to touch his warm, bare skin. A shudder ran through him, and he hauled me up against him as his lips returned to mine. I could feel how much he wanted me in the caress of his hand on my skin, the urgency of his kiss, the feel of his body against mine. It was staggering.
And then it was over. He broke the kiss and took a deliberate step back. His hands cupped the sides of my face as he rested his forehead against mine. We were both breathing as if we’d just sprinted down the beach.
“Tristan?”
“I’m sorry, Red. We can’t do this.” He gazed down at me, his mouth tight with regret. “I’m a crewmember of the Meg, and you’re a student. We can’t be together, even though I want to, more than anything. If my father were to find out, he’d send you home, no matter how great a sailor you are. And I have no doubt that in his current state he’d fire me as deckhand, which would fuck up my chance of getting a job as a captain.”
“Why is it forbidden? I mean, I get that it’s not looked upon favorably, but it’s not like the students on this voyage are underage. Why is it such a big deal?”
“It’s Marine Classroom’s blanket policy for all their ships and programs. Some of the programs have high school students who are underage, plus with all the rampant sexual harassment and assault on college campuses, the universities are cracking down. And it’s my father’s rule, too—I mean, sure, he could choose to ignore it, because how would Marine Classroom find out? But he’s strict about his rules, and as a crewmember on his ship, I have to obey his orders.”
What could I say to that? “I don’t want either of us to get in trouble, and I certainly don’t want to cause any more strife between you and your dad. But I know how I feel when you look at me, when you kiss me, and I can’t help but wonder how it would be between us.”
His lips curved in a sweet, sad smile. “I don’t have to wonder what it would be like between us, Red. I know it would be amazing. But we can’t risk it,” he continued. “Too much is at stake for you—and for me as well.” He took my hand. “Anyway, in a few weeks you’ll be back in Florida, and I’ll be off on another ship, and then what?” He sighed. “I’ve tried to keep my distance, but I’ve been doing a shit job of it.”
“Yeah, you really have.” I pulled my hand free and turned away. Moments ago, my heart had been filled with joy. Now it crumbled into a thousand pieces.
Tristan turned me around, folding me in his arms. I pressed my face into his shirt, inhaling the scent of him: a mixture of citrus, coffee, and that underlying tang of the sea that could never be scrubbed away.
“I’m so sorry, Ari,” he murmured, his breath stirring my hair. “I never meant to hurt you. I tried not to let you see how I felt, but I just couldn’t fight it anymore.”
Oh, he really wasn’t making this easy. I blinked away tears and pulled back, looking into his eyes. “So what now?”
He cupped my face, brushing away my tears with his thumbs. “Can we have a go at being friends?”
I started to tell him no, there was no way I could just be friends with him, knowing that we both wanted more and couldn’t have it. But wouldn’t I rather have him as a friend than have nothing at all? So I summoned up a smile, though it took almost every ounce of strength I had left in me. “Of course.”
His smile was as strained as mine. “Good.” He glanced up at the sky. “It’s getting late. We should go back.”
“I guess.”
He offered me his arm, and after a moment’s hesitation (did ‘friends’ really do that?), I took it, slipping my hand into the crook of his elbow. We walked back to the ship in silence. He helped me over the rail and then stepped back onto the dock.
“You’re not coming?”
“I need to walk for a while. Good night, Red. And thanks again for sitting with me before. Just having you there…it really helped.” He kissed my cheek and walked away, leaving me to stare after him.
I went down below to get ready for bed and then returned to the deck, setting up my sleeping bag near the bow. It was narrow out there, and no one else was likely to set up next to me. I climbed into my sleeping bag and looked at the stars, which were less visible here in port. We’d become spoiled out at sea, where there were no lights to diminish their radiance.
My lips still tingled from Tristan’s kisses. I pictured the broken look in his eyes, felt the answering pang in my heart. It would have been less cruel for him to have never told me how he felt. No, that wasn’t true. Maybe there was still hope.
But he’d said that his father could fire him if we got caught, which would likely affect his chances of getting a job on another ship.
I’d seen him walk the deck of the Meg, caressing the wood railing or tending a line, or patching sails and lines with the care of a parent mending a child’s clothing. I’d watched him grin at the dolphins, laugh like a madman during the storm, and stand quietly at the rail, his eyes closed as the wind caressed his face like a lover. He belonged on the deck of a ship.
As much as I couldn’t risk my college career, neither could Tristan risk his job. There really wasn’t any hope for us.
Chapter Nineteen
I could barely see two feet in front of me in the 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.
But where was Josh? He was by my side just a moment ago. I pivoted in a slow circle, searching for his bubbles in the gloom. I swiveled around and stopped short.
The water was blood red.
Oh God! We needed to get out of there, now!
A shape came toward me out of the red. Was it Josh? The figure resolved into the conical snout of a shark, just inches away. I couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t escape. Its bloody mouth gaped open, its black eyes vanished behind the white nictitating membrane. I could see every razor-sharp tooth as it drew closer…
I kicked hard, trying to get away, knowing that the motion would only attract more of them. Josh, where are you?
A hand reached out of the gloom and closed over mine, drawing me away from danger. My terror slowly ebbed away. I was safe.
The cry of a gull nudged me awake. I was reluctant to give in to it. For the first time in days—no, months—I felt rested. My sleeping bag felt damp. It must have drizzled during the night, but I’d slept so deeply I hadn’t noticed.
I finally opened my eyes—and froze. Tristan slept beside me in that narrow space, curled on his side facing me. His head was pillowed on his left arm, and his right hand was flat on the deck, his fingertips inches from my own outstretched hand.
What the—? Then it came back to me. I’d had my usual nightmare, only it had ended differently, with a hand reaching out to pull me to safety. Had that really happened?
A flutter of movement caught my eye. Captain MacDougall sat on the nearby rail, hunched over, his head in his hands. My heart jumped. What must he think, seeing Tristan sleeping beside me, practically holding my hand? He raised his head—
—and stared at Tristan with such grief, such anguish in his reddened eyes. I quickly snapped my eyes shut. The fact that Tristan was sleeping next to me was clearly the last thing on his mind.
I ached for them both. They were so much alike: physically strong, capable, stubborn men, and both were hurting so badly. I wished I could help them, but this was something they needed to deal with together.
I cracked my eyes open. The captain was gone. Relaxing slightly, I looked over at Tristan, taking the opportunity to study him without him knowing.
He had bold features: high cheekbones and a strong jaw, which, as usual, was dusted with stubble. His hair was tousled around his face in multicolored waves: golden and white-blond highlights on the top and sides, where the sun had the most access to it, blended in with sections of the medium brown that was obviously his natural hair color. His hair was thick and shaggy, the back of it grazing the t
ops of his shoulders. It was as low-maintenance as it could be, and when he needed it out of his way, he just pulled it back. I reached out and smoothed back a stray lock. Even after a night of sleeping on deck, it was just as soft as it looked.
Without his hair in his eyes, I could see a faint scar running from the corner of his right eye around the eye socket to the top of his cheekbone. It was clearly an old scar, barely visible unless you were very close and the light hit it the right way, but it must have been a scary injury when it happened, given how close it was to his eye.
It was so strange to see him asleep. He was always in motion. When we were on watch, he constantly prowled the deck, re-coiling a line here, putting a little slack in a line there, tending a sheet. Or he sat on a locker, his canvas bag of tools and bits open beside him, splicing together pieces of line, tinkering with a part, or braiding sailing twine to keep himself occupied. A Watch all had bracelets he’d made.
The only time I’d seen him truly still was in those few minutes every evening when he watched the sun set. It was as if that brief moment somehow took him out of time and place, gave him some relief from demons that would catch him if he sat still for too long. Now I knew what those demons were: the death of his mother and the loss of his father to grief and despair. And maybe even his feelings for me.
But even in sleep, he wasn’t at peace. His eyes moved around under his eyelids as though he was dreaming, and the skin below his eyes looked bruised, another sign that he hadn’t been sleeping well. His fingers twitched against the wood of the deck. I touched the tips of my fingers to his.
The sun broke through the clouds, its bright rays gilding his sleep-tousled hair, turning his skin golden, highlighting the fine blond hairs on his forearms. With his arm outstretched and the sleeping bag around his waist, I could finally get a good look at the tattoo on his side.
It was a beautifully-detailed rendering of a schooner under full sail atop a stormy sea, a little smaller than my hand. Below the swirl of waves was a banner. In small, elegant calligraphy, it read:
A Star to Steer Her By Page 15