A Star to Steer Her By

by Beth Anne Miller

  “He’s not sending you home. Beyond that, why does it matter?”

  “I broke the rules. Like you said before, I’m not usually a rule breaker. It doesn’t feel right. If it was someone else—”

  “But it wasn’t. Look at me.” I glanced up from the blanket edge and met her eyes. “Yeah, you broke the rules. But rules don’t exist in a vacuum. There are nearly always mitigating circumstances. And it’s not like you committed a crime, for God’s sake. In this case, the captain is choosing to give you a break. Because you saved his son? Maybe. Or maybe it’s because you’re a fantastic sailor who made one mistake and deserve another chance. At the end of the day, what difference does it make what his reasoning is? You get to stay.”

  “You’re right. I hadn’t thought of it that way.” I paused for a moment. “My parents wanted me to come home.”

  “You spoke to them?”

  “Yeah, yesterday evening. I know they’re worried about me. It’s been a tough year, between my injury and my strained relationship with my brother.”

  “You’re not going to, though, right?”

  I smiled at her. “I told them no. I’ve come too far to leave now, with only a couple of weeks left.”

  “I’m glad.” She was quiet for a moment. “Your family loves you so much. I hope you realize how lucky you are.”

  She’d said something similar the night I’d snapped at Kevin, which seemed like a lifetime ago. “Will you tell me about your family?”

  “There’s not much to tell, really. I’m an only child, and neither of them wanted kids, because it would cramp their lifestyle. They went through the motions, because it would ‘look bad’ if they didn’t, so they sent me away to boarding school and paid for me to go to whatever university I wanted, but they couldn’t be bothered with me otherwise. Imagine their surprise when I told them I was going off to do a semester at sea.” She laughed humorlessly. “Imagine my surprise when I showed up that first day and saw that it wasn’t a cruise, and my attempt to spite them had backfired.”

  “But it didn’t backfire. It may not have been what you expected, but you’ve flourished here. Not to mention you have the greatest guy ever—well, second greatest—totally into you.”

  “Thanks, Ari. For what it’s worth, I’m sorry for being a bitch at the beginning of the term.”

  “Like you said, we all have our shit to deal with. We’ve come a long way since boarding the Meg in San Juan.” Some of us farther than we could ever have imagined.

  “We have. It’ll be hard to say good-bye.”

  I couldn’t even go there. “I’d better start getting ready. I want to get to the hospital as soon as I can.”

  “Of course.” She extricated herself from the blanket and then gave me a hug. “Send our love to Tristan, okay? Everyone is worried about him.”

  “I will. Thanks.”

  I went down below to get dressed. When I returned to the deck, Davey was standing by the rail. “The captain’s waiting for you at the entrance to the marina.”

  “He is?”

  “Aye, he figured you’d want to ride with him to the hospital. You do, don’t you?”

  “Yes, thank you.” I climbed over the rail onto the dock.

  “Ari, wait.” He took off his sunglasses. “I love Tristan like he was my own son. Thank you for what you did for him. Now go on with you,” he said gruffly, saving me from having to reply.

  “You’re not coming?”

  “I have some things to do here. I’ll be by later.”

  I jogged up the dock to find the captain waiting by a taxi, as Davey had said. It was another quiet cab ride. I could only imagine what the captain was going through. His relationship with Tristan was so fraught, and the last words they’d exchanged were so bitter. Of course that would all have been set aside yesterday, but assuming Tristan was no longer loopy from the drugs, it was likely to come up now.

  A different receptionist was on duty when we arrived. She confirmed Tristan was in the same room, but she had no other information. We walked down the quiet corridor, our shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor.

  We reached Tristan’s room. A quick glance through the glass pane in the door told us that he was awake, sitting up in bed watching TV. The captain reached for the door handle, and then looked at me.

  “Oh, um, I’ll wait out here. You go ahead.” He nodded once and stepped into the room.

  The door didn’t latch behind him. I probably should have pulled it shut or stepped away to give them privacy. But I didn’t.

  I heard the squeak of metal as the chair was pulled up to the bed. “It’s good to see you sitting up, son. You had us really worried yesterday. How are you feeling?”

  “It’s pretty sore, but bearable.”

  “Do they know how long you’ll have to stay here?”

  “I was running a low-grade fever this morning, so they’re giving me IV antibiotics. But if all goes well, maybe two more days?”

  “Ah, that’s good.”

  “Justin can take out my stitches next week if it looks all right, but I’ll have to get it checked when we’re in the States. It’ll be a few weeks before I can do much on the ship.”

  “Don’t worry about the ship—we’ll all pitch in as needed.”

  It was awkwardly silent for a moment. Then, “Tristan, I… God, this is all my fault!”

  “What? How is it your fault, Dad?”

  “Because I let our argument get out of control. Because I hit you, Tristan. If I hadn’t done that, you would’ve had no reason to go to that part of the island to do your dive, and none of this would’ve happened. I almost got you killed!” he cried, his voice breaking.

  Tears streamed down my face, and I clapped my hand over my mouth to hold back the sob that threatened to burst forth. I had been prepared to witness another argument, but not this…

  I peered around the doorway. Captain MacDougall was slumped in a chair beside the bed on Tristan’s good side, his back to the door. His head was down and his shoulders were shaking. Tristan had tears in his eyes and looked distraught. He hesitantly laid his hand on his father’s head.

  “It’s all right, Dad, it’s not your fault.”

  “It’s not all right! How can you even look at me? What would your mother say?”

  I held my breath. He’d asked that question once before, and Tristan’s answer had earned him a backhand across the face. This time, to my surprise, Tristan smiled. “I know exactly what Mum would say. She’d call us ‘stubborn eedjits,’ throw up her hands in disgust, and walk away.”

  There was a muffled laugh, and the captain raised his head. “You may be right about that.”

  “I know I am. She said it often enough over the years. Dad, we are both stubborn. That wasn’t our first fight, and I’m pretty sure it won’t be our last. We’re too much alike. You can’t blame yourself for any of this.”

  “But you wouldn’t have been there—”

  “Frankly, Dad, I took Ari out there because we wanted to be alone.”

  There was a moment of silence, and then, “Ohhh.” I could almost hear the captain blushing. Tristan, there is such a thing as too much honesty…

  “We’d already planned to go to that part of the island. The fight had nothing to do with it. You can beat yourself up about a lot of things from the past eight months—we both can—but not this, okay?”

  “Okay. But I am sorry I hit you. That was uncalled-for.”

  “Actually, I’m pretty sure I asked for it. I didn’t think so at the time, but I called you a ‘heartless bastard.’ I would have hit me, too.”

  “It doesn’t matter what you called me. It’s never okay for a father to hit his son, no matter how old he is,” he said, gently touching the bruise on Tristan’s cheekbone. The chair scraped back as he stood. “I’ll see you later, son.”

  “You’re leaving?”

  “Aye. Your bonny lass is here, and I think she wants you to herself.”

  “And…you’re okay with that?�
��

  “If I learned anything over these past few days—this past year—it’s that you’re right, life is short. You never know when it’ll be your time to go, whether by a rogue wave, a thug with a gun, or…by your own body calling it quits. Ari? Come in here, lass.”

  I joined the captain at Tristan’s bedside. “Hi,” I said, relieved to see that even though he was pale, he looked ten times better than he had yesterday.

  Tristan’s eyes lit up, and that slow smile curved his lips. “Hi, yourself.” He reached out and took my hand.

  The captain pointedly cleared his throat, and we both looked at him. Was it my imagination, or were his cheeks a little pink?

  “I may be an old fool, but I’ve seen the way you two look at each other—have looked at each other since that first day. Hell, I’ve felt the way the air crackles when you stand together. It reminds me of when your mum and I first started dating,” he added quietly.

  “Tristan, I’ve seen the change in you over these past weeks. Ari’s been there for you when I…haven’t. And I know you’ve been there for her as well. The two of you have helped each other through a lot of shit on this voyage, and you make each other happy. Who am I to get in the way?”

  A wave of joy crashed over me. “Thank you, Captain.”

  “Ari, keep an eye on my son. Tristan, I’ll see you later.” He leaned down and kissed Tristan on the forehead, then tousled his hair. “I love you, son.”

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  The door latched behind the captain, and we were alone.

  “You’re so far away, Red. Come sit.” He shifted over, making room for me on the bed next to him.

  I sat down, suddenly feeling shy. I mean, the last thing he’d said to me yesterday was I love you. But he’d been heavily drugged and half-conscious. Did he actually remember saying it? And, he’d said it in a language he knew I didn’t speak, so he wouldn’t know that I knew he’d said it.

  “Don’t I get a kiss hello?” he asked quietly.

  “Of course.” I leaned in to kiss him. I meant it to be a quick kiss, conscious of the IV and where we were. But when I started to draw back, he reached up and pulled me close in a heart-pounding, breath-stealing, spine-tingling, body-melting kiss that put mine to shame.

  When he pulled back, we were both breathing hard. “We’d better stop before my blood pressure monitor starts going crazy and the nurses come running in.”

  “Crap, do you think that would really happen?” I was sprawled across him, one hand tangled in his hair. I eased away from him, just in case. He winced as my hand grazed his arm.

  “I’m so sorry!”

  He managed a smile. “It’s all right. You barely touched me.”

  I stared at the stark white bandage around his biceps, tears filling my eyes.

  “What’s wrong?”

  “I was so scared, Tristan. There was so much blood, and there were sharks everywhere. I kept remembering when the shark bit me, the agony of it, and all I could think of was that I couldn’t bear it if that happened to you. I didn’t think I’d be able to get you out of there.”

  “Come here.”

  He put his arm around me and I curled up against his right side, pulling my feet up onto the bed. I laid my hand on his chest so I could feel his heartbeat, strong and steady.

  “When I remembered that we were trailing that goddamn dive flag, I knew we were screwed. And then I felt this searing pain in my arm, and I knew I’d been shot. I figured a bullet to the arm wouldn’t kill me, but the way those assholes were firing…one of them could so easily have hit you, too. I was so relieved when I realized you were okay. And then you shoved me aside and went after that shark… God, Ari, I’ve never seen anything like that.”

  “I didn’t even think about it, I just reacted. It could have gone wrong in so many different ways—”

  “But it didn’t go wrong. You got us both the hell out of there, Red. You saved my life. I don’t even know what to say.”

  “I’m just so glad you’re going to be okay.” Leaning back so I could see his face, I laid my hand on his cheek and brushed my thumb over his lips.

  I stared into those blue topaz eyes. “Tha gaol agam ort,” I said, hoping I pronounced the words correctly. I love you.

  His eyes grew wide and he sucked in a breath, his lips parting slightly. I kissed him, showing him I meant the words—in Gaelic, in English, in any language.

  “That did happen,” he said when we parted.

  “It definitely did. I was there.”

  “No, I mean I had a vague memory of saying that to you yesterday, but I was so doped up—I didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. How did you know what it meant?”

  “I didn’t. But your dad was standing in the doorway when you said it, and he heard you. He was kind enough to tell me.”

  I had the satisfaction of watching Tristan’s face turn red.

  “I pictured several different scenarios in which I said those words to you for the first time. And none of them included me being doped up, incoherent, and drooling, or having my father standing there.”

  “You weren’t drooling,” I said helpfully.

  “Very funny,” he said. “Remind me when I get the hell out of this place to tell you in a properly romantic way, but for now, this will have to do.”

  He looked at me with eyes as blue and bottomless as the sea. “I love you, Ariana Goodman.”

  It was the most romantic moment of my life.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  Tristan spent the next two days in the hospital. I visited for a few hours each day, but it wasn’t the same as having him around all the time. The police had concluded that the guys on the boat had probably just fired into the water, hoping to scare away whoever was there, and hadn’t intended to hit anyone. It was unlikely they’d ever be caught.

  Jenny and Kevin barely let me out of their sight, taking it upon themselves to keep me distracted and smiling. Jenny was turning into a great friend. I was sorry that it had taken so long.

  In honor of Tristan’s return, we had a party. We wrapped streamers around the masts and strung up a hand-painted banner that read “Welcome Home, Tristan!” Peggy cooked a feast of epic proportions, including her to-die-for salted caramel brownies.

  Tristan arrived at the ship to a round of applause and an enthusiastic receiving line. He greeted crew and students the same way: the guys with those manly clasped-hand-chest-bump things, and the ladies with a one-armed hug, taking care not to jostle his sling. I was last in line to greet him. He gave me the same one-armed hug and started to draw back.

  “Really, Mac—uh, Tristan?” said Kevin. “After everything you guys have been through, is that the best you can do?”

  And so Tristan bent me over his good arm and kissed the hell out of me in full view of a cheering, catcalling, wolf-whistling crew, students, and captain.

  …

  I had mixed feelings about leaving Nassau the next morning. Though it had been a traumatic experience for me, it would always be the place where Tristan told me he loved me—even if it had been from his hospital bed. And our departure from Nassau meant that we were truly in the last days of our voyage, around ten days from our final port-of-call in New York City.

  With Nassau shrinking into the distance behind us, I had my first shift at the helm. I took up my usual stance on the starboard side of the wheel: left hand at twelve o’clock, right hand at three o’clock, the smooth wooden spokes fitting into my hands like they belonged there. I stood with my feet shoulder-width apart, knees slightly bent to absorb the movement of the ship.

  It felt so good to be at sea once more, to hear the wind whispering through the sails, to taste the salty air on my tongue. Even though we’d only been in Nassau a few days, I’d started to feel the walls closing in around me.

  Tristan made his way aft. I was worried about him—he’d laughed and celebrated with us the day before, but he didn’t look well. His face was pale, with dark circles under his e
yes and little lines of pain around his mouth.

  Standing beside me, he closed his eyes, tipped up his face, and inhaled deeply. I watched in awe as the color rose in his cheeks and the lines on his face seemed to fade away.

  He was home.

  “I could swear I just watched the ship heal you, Tristan.”

  He opened his eyes and turned to me, a serene smile on his face. “She did. I know you’ve felt it, too, the fresh sea air filling your lungs, the sun warming you to your bones. There’s nothing like it.”

  I knew exactly what he meant.

  …

  The journey to New York was way different than the rest of the trip had been. Before, there was always an undercurrent of excitement, since we never knew what the day would bring, whether it was some interesting wildlife, or a spectacular sunset, or a new island to explore.

  Now we were in the homestretch of our voyage, and everyone was quiet and subdued, almost as if talking too loudly would add wind to our sails and speed up our arrival in New York, where we’d be saying good-bye to the ship that had become our home and the new friends we’d made.

  Jenny and Kevin were lucky. He went to U of Miami like I did, and she was planning to transfer there in the fall.

  But that wasn’t the case for Tristan and me. He’d be heading home to Scotland, over three thousand miles and an ocean away, and then off on another ship. When would I see him? Thinking about our inevitable farewell made me want to crawl into my bunk and stay there, so I did my best not to think about it.

  I spent a lot of time standing at the rail, as if I could somehow absorb the wind, the sea, the ship herself, through my skin.

  Which wasn’t as easy as it had been before. The weather was completely different once we left the Caribbean. Shorts and tank tops were exchanged for jeans or track pants, fleeces and hoodies—sometimes all of the above. Bare feet were tucked away inside socks and sneakers. At night, gloves came out. In the Caribbean, the sea spray had felt refreshing, but now it generally resulted in a shriek when cold water hit cold skin.

  The winds and seas were rougher out here in the open ocean, in contrast to the relatively calm seas down south. If we weren’t slamming up and down on six-foot swells, we were heeled over to one side. More often than not, it was both. Safety lines were rigged up along the rails as extra protection against a tumble into the sea.