A Star to Steer Her By

by Beth Anne Miller

  He sat down next to me and slid backward until his tank slipped into the holder, then shrugged out of his BCD and yanked off his mask, tossing it beside him on the bench. He tugged off the rubber band holding his ponytail and scrubbed his fingers through his wet hair, then stared at the deck, his hands clenched in his lap.

  “What were you thinking?” he finally asked in a low voice. He didn’t look at me.

  “I know. I completely screwed up. If you hadn’t been there…”

  He turned to me, his eyes blazing with anger. “If I hadn’t been there, you could be curled up on the deck in agony—or worse!” he hissed. “You’re an experienced diver. I can’t believe you would do something so—”

  He cut himself off before stupid, but I filled in the blank. He looked down, took a deep, shuddering breath. “You should get your gear put away,” he said to the green outdoor carpeting that lined the deck of the boat.

  Turning his back on me, he pulled his mesh dive bag from underneath the bench and broke down his gear, packing everything neatly away. He peeled off his wetsuit and draped it over his bag. Without a backward glance, he walked to the cooler and poured a cup of water, drinking it in one swig. He crushed the cup in his hand and tossed it in the trash, then swung over the rail, making his way to the bow of the boat, where some of the others were sitting, unaware of what had happened.

  I put my head in my hands, completely deflated. In just a few short weeks, I’d seen him really angry a few times. He’d snarled at those guys in Puerto Plata (and then at Kevin, Steve, and Amanda afterward), and he’d shouted at his dad last night. I’d spent my five-minute safety stop dreading the way he would surely yell at me.

  But his quiet rage was even worse.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Tristan didn’t look at me on the boat ride back to the dock. He didn’t look at me when we rinsed our gear, or returned to the Meg. He didn’t look at me when we laid out our gear to dry.

  I needed to talk to him, to apologize. But I had another, more important apology to make first, before I even showered off the salt water. I found a payphone in the marina and dialed in the series of numbers on the calling card.

  Josh answered before the end of the first ring. “Ari? Is that you?” I pictured him swinging his feet off the coffee table and sitting up straight.

  God, the caution in his voice, the hope. It was too much. “Josh, I’m sorry!” I blurted out, my voice breaking.

  “Ari? What’s wrong? Where are you?” Now I imagined him lunging to his feet, ready to spring into action.

  “I’m fine,” I said, trying to get myself under control. “I’m so sorry for the way I’ve treated you since the dive.”

  “You’re calling from another country on a calling card. This isn’t the time—”

  “It’s past time. I should have said this months ago. I’ve been so cold to you, and I’m so sorry. You didn’t deserve it.”

  “But I did deserve it! It was my fault you got bitten by that shark. If I’d just—”

  “Josh, it wasn’t your fault.”

  “I should have been by your side, not twenty feet away where I couldn’t see you.”

  “It doesn’t matter where you were. We never could have anticipated that someone would be spearfishing in the preserve, or that tiger sharks would show up when we’d never seen them there before. We were just in the wrong place at the wrong time.” I sniffed back tears. “I hope in time you can forgive me.”

  “Forgive you? For what?”

  “I’ve been blaming you because I needed to blame someone, and you were there. I knew you felt guilty, and I could have—should have—put an end to that with one word or one hug. But I didn’t, and we’ve both been miserable. I want my brother back, Josh. Please forgive me.” I was crying outright, unable to hold it in any longer.

  “Listen to me. There’s nothing to forgive. I’m just—it’s just so good to hear your voice.”

  He was sniffling, too, and that was even worse. “Stop crying, you big ginger wuss,” I said through my tears, smiling when I heard his surprised laugh.

  “You started it.”

  As much as I wanted to joke with him, I couldn’t yet. “There’s more,” I whispered. “More I need to ask you to forgive.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “We went diving today, and—”

  “You went diving? You did it?” I heard the utter joy in his voice, imagined his eyes lighting up with it. “Ari, that’s fantastic! Why didn’t you lead with that?”

  “Because making things right with you was more important to me.”

  “Thanks,” he muttered, and I knew he was getting emotional again. He cleared his throat. “So, come on, tell me about the dive. How did you do?”

  “It was actually my second dive.” I gave him a quick rundown of the first dive in Cabo Rojo, telling him only that I freaked out over a tarpon, had a minor panic attack, and had to abort the dive. He didn’t need to know all the details.

  “I’m sorry that happened, and glad this guy Tristan was there to help you. But even just getting in the water for a little while is such a huge step. So what happened today?”

  I rehashed the story, finishing with how we ended up at ninety feet instead of sixty because I chased after the manta.

  “God, Ari, are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. Tristan got us back to the wall in a controlled ascent, and then we did a long safety stop. I’ve been so high-and-mighty, yelling at you for going off to look at something cool, and then I did the same damn thing and put myself and my dive buddy in danger. If he hadn’t risked his own safety to come after me, I don’t know what would have happened.” I was crying again.

  “Ari, listen. We’re human, and sometimes we fuck up, and sometimes we keep fucking up until we get a wake-up call. For me, that wake-up call was my brilliant, adventurous sister getting maimed by a shark because I went off to look at something—I don’t even remember what. Because of that, we’ve both been terrified to go back in the water we loved so much, and we’ve both spent almost seven months alone and miserable. For you, that wake-up call was today. And I’ll bet any sum of money that neither of us makes those mistakes again. The important thing is that you’re both okay.”

  “I feel sick about it, Josh. He was so mad that he couldn’t even yell at me.”

  “Well, you scared the shit out of him. He just needs to cool off a little.”

  “How can you be sure? You don’t even know him.”

  “I don’t need to know him. He obviously cares about you. You did something that scared the hell out of him, and now he needs some time to dial back that fear and worry before he can talk to you without wanting to throttle you for scaring him. Dude Manual, Chapter Four—or maybe it’s Chapter Three…it’s been a while.”

  “I hope you’re right.”

  “I’m like ninety percent sure. That being said, if he treats you badly because of this, I’ll break his legs.”

  That made me smile. “I don’t think it will come to that, but thanks.”

  “Is it amazing to be on the ship?”

  “Yeah. I was a little seasick at the beginning—okay, a lot seasick—but I’m doing fine now. We had our first big storm a few nights ago. It was scary, but awesome at the same time. I steered through some of it—and totally kicked ass, and then we had to take in the mainsail at like oh-three-hundred, and…”

  “Whoa there, sailor, slow down!”

  It was so good to hear him laugh. “And check this out—we rescued a humpback whale that was caught in a net and had a baby with her that would have died if we didn’t get the mother free when we did.”

  “You were in the water with a humpback whale? Holy shit! I wish I could have been there.”

  “Me, too. I wish you were here with me now. Listen, I have to go in a sec, but can you do something for me?”

  “Anything—well, almost anything.”

  “Will you try to go diving? It’s going to be hard—harder than a
lmost anything you’ve ever done. I mean, I could barely look at my dive gear when I got here, let alone think of putting it on. And jumping in the water for the first time was terrifying. But it will be so worth it to feel like yourself again. And then when I get home, we can go to Pennekamp and dive together.”

  He was silent for so long, I thought we’d been disconnected. “Josh?”

  “I’m here,” he finally said.

  “Will you do it? Go back in the water?”

  “No.”

  My heart sank. “Josh, please—”

  “I won’t go without you. When you get home, we’ll go together, okay?”

  “Okay,” I said, sniffling back tears. “Hey, how’d you know it was me on the phone?”

  “I had a feeling all day that you’d call. I figured it was just wishful thinking, but when I saw the weird long distance number, I knew it was you.”

  “God, I miss you, Josh.”

  “I miss you, too.”

  “Listen, I gotta go, but I’ll call again soon. Can you call Mom and Dad and—well, give them the censored-for-parents version, basically ‘yay, Ari went diving!’?”

  “I will. Take care, and good luck with your man.”

  “My man? You mean Tristan? He’s not…we’re just—”

  “Don’t even bother, kiddo. You wouldn’t be this upset if he was just some crewmember you dove with. And he wouldn’t be that mad if he didn’t care about you. Just give him a few hours to chill out and then talk to him, okay? Eighty percent sure it will be fine.”

  “Eighty? You said ninety before.”

  “Did I? Weird. Love you, Ari.”

  “Love you, Josh.”

  I sank down on a nearby bench and let the tears fall. But for the first time in months, they weren’t tears of pain or anger or fear or despair. They were tears of relief, maybe even happiness. The awful, hollow feeling I’d had in the pit of my stomach was gone, and I felt lighter, like a great burden had been lifted from my shoulders. I had my brother back, and now both of us could begin to heal from the emotional trauma of that dive.

  I’d gotten in the water again, and while it would take time before I was back to the confident diver I was before the shark attack, after my (poorly executed) enthusiasm during today’s dive, that goal seemed achievable.

  Now I just had to make things right with Tristan.

  But by the time I showered and changed, he was gone, off for the evening with the other deckhands, returning long after I’d given up and gone to sleep.

  Kevin had told the others in A Watch about my injury and scar, which had gone better than I’d expected. Jenny and Amanda expressed sympathy and support, while Steve thought my scar was “badass” and suggested I wear shorter shorts to show it off.

  We’d spent the next day sightseeing around Dominica, taking a canoe ride down a mangrove-lined river and then hiking up to a waterfall. I went through the motions, even keeping up with the others on the hike, but my heart wasn’t in it.

  We had to have an early dinner so we could return to the ship and get underway at 1730. We found a takeaway restaurant, where we ordered burgers and fries and sat down at tables outside to eat. Kevin, Jenny, and I sat together, and I tuned out their chatter while I focused on my food and tried not to think about how Tristan wasn’t talking to me.

  “Ari, are you okay?” asked Amanda. “You’ve barely said a word all day.”

  I looked up at the concerned faces of my friends and blurted out the whole story. “Guys, I really fucked up, and now he’s furious with me. I don’t blame him—I put both of us in danger. And if I’d been with a different dive buddy, who may not have had the same reaction time or expertise, I could have gotten the bends—we both could have. I’m such an idiot.”

  Tears welled in my eyes.

  A warm hand covered mine, and I looked up into Kevin’s kind, melted-chocolate eyes. “Ari, it’s going to be fine. You scared the shit out of him, and he just needs time to cool off. I bet you that by the time we get back to the ship, he’ll be back to the charming MacDuff we all know and love, and all will be forgotten.”

  It was the same thing Josh had said. I didn’t believe Kevin, either.

  We returned to the ship and prepared to get underway. The dock lines were cast off and the ship was maneuvered away from the dock. Fenders were pulled up and stowed as we pulled into the middle of the harbor. A Watch mustered by the foresail’s peak halyard, and I watched Tristan pull back the sides of his hair as he always did when we had sail handling to do. He didn’t look at me.

  Kevin leaned close. “Just go talk to him once we’re underway. He’ll be a captive audience, so he’ll have no choice but to listen to what you have to say, right?” Right.

  Less than an hour later, we were gliding across the sea. The sails were full and the engine was off. The sun began to drop in the sky and everything was serene.

  As soon as all hands were relieved, leaving the deck to B Watch, I searched for Tristan. He might not want to talk to me, but like Kevin had said, he had no choice, because I was going to talk to him.

  Easier said than done, I quickly realized. He wasn’t on deck and he wasn’t in the salon. Kristy reported that he wasn’t in the crew cabin, either. Where the hell was he? There weren’t many places to hide on the Meg, even for someone who knew her inside and out.

  A gull squawked overhead and I instinctively looked up. And did a double take. Seriously? Tristan was climbing the rigging of the foremast, his long legs and nimble feet making short work of the ratlines. What the hell was he doing up there?

  Of course. It was the perfect place for him to avoid me. Uncertain whether my leg was up to it, I hadn’t yet gone aloft, and he knew it, damn him. I stared up—way up—to where he was still climbing. I looked out at the water, which was running around one to two feet—relatively calm.

  Well, there was only one way to find out if my leg was up to the task.

  I grabbed a harness, stuck my arms through the straps, and tightened it around my chest. I walked to the starboard rail and looked up once more. From this angle, I couldn’t even see him. It was really far up.

  Here goes. I grabbed on to the shrouds and stepped up onto the rail, swinging around to the outside of the ship so that I faced the ratlines. I took a deep breath. “It’s just like a ladder. One foot at a time.”

  I placed my left foot on the first rung of what was essentially a rope ladder reaching up into the sky. Okay, not too bad. I clutched the sides and pushed off with my right foot, planting it on the right ratline.

  The ratlines wobbled beneath my weight. I stifled a shriek and held on, not moving, until everything stopped swaying. Except my stomach.

  “Ari, what the hell are you doing?” Kevin stood by the rail, gaping at me.

  “I went looking for Tristan, like you said. Captive audience, and all that, right? But the wily bastard is up there,” I replied, with an upward jerk of my head.

  He craned his neck. “Oh, damn you, MacDuff,” he muttered, making me snort with laughter, which in turn made the ratlines shake beneath my feet.

  I clung to the shrouds until I was steady once more. “Shit. Don’t make me laugh.”

  “Sorry. You haven’t gone aloft before, have you?”

  “Nope.”

  “And now is when you decide to try it for the first time?”

  “Yep.”

  “You can’t wait for him to come down?”

  “Nope.”

  He sighed. “You might have at least told someone you were doing this. What if you fall?”

  “Well, hopefully I won’t. But thanks for putting the idea in my head. Look, I need to do this. If you want to watch, then watch, but please don’t talk to me.”

  “Fine. Be careful. I’ll let Justin know you’re up there, just in case we end up in a Man Overboard situation.”

  “Great, thanks.” As I climbed to the next ratline, I heard him mutter “Idiot.” I wasn’t sure whether he meant me or Tristan.

  Having some
one there to spot me (and call for help if I fell) boosted my confidence and I quickly ascended the next few rungs. My thigh was beginning to ache, but I ignored it.

  I gave myself little pep talks along the way. “Just watch what you’re doing and don’t look up.” Or down. Or to the right or left. “Just a little farther, you’re almost there.”

  I finally saw him. He was standing on the (really) narrow crosstree beam at the top of the shrouds, holding on to the topmast. “Tristan,” I called, loudly enough for him to hear me—hopefully not loudly enough to scare the hell out of him. At least he wore his harness.

  He looked down, his eyes wide. “Red? What the hell are you doing?”

  “Why does everyone keep asking me that?” I grumbled. At least he’d called me “Red.” Maybe that meant he wasn’t still mad?

  “You haven’t been aloft yet, have you?”

  I sighed. “Nope. But you knew that already, which is why you came up here—you knew I wasn’t likely to follow you. Surprise!”

  Silence, which confirmed my suspicions. Then, “Are you okay?”

  “Just great. Is there room for me to stand with you?”

  “Aye, you’re almost there. Two more steps, and up onto the crosstree. That’s it. Hold on and I’ll clip you in.” He unclipped the carabiner, looped the safety line around the topmast and clipped it back in. “Okay?”

  “I think so.”

  Holding tightly to the mast, I looked down. The deck was about seventy feet below. I waited for the wave of vertigo to pass, then looked around. We were up higher than all the sails but the topsail, which was currently furled, so I had an unobstructed view nearly all the way around.

  It was awesome, amazing, exhilarating. It felt as though I was flying, soaring over the sea. Why had it taken me so long to find the nerve to climb up here? I wanted to share my joy with Tristan, but that would have to wait.

  “I know I screwed up,” I began. “I was impulsive and careless and I put both of us in danger. I…I know you’re furious with me, and I’m so sorry.”