The sky was different, too. During the midnight watch one night, somewhere off the Mid-Atlantic coast, I stood at the helm, squinting up through the rigging.
“What are you looking for, Ari?” Tristan spoke softly from his usual position leaning against the stanchion to my right.
“A star,” I replied, turning slightly to my right so he would hear me over the wind. “The lights from the towns along the coast are obscuring the sky. I can’t find a star to steer by.”
…
The next morning, the captain mustered us on deck after breakfast. “It’s too gloomy around here, but I know what we can do to lighten things up. As you know, all journeys must come to an end. And to commemorate our time together, I propose that we make a homeward bound sail.”
“What’s that?” asked Steve.
“The homeward bound sail is made up of clothing that you wore out on this voyage. Clothes that are salt-encrusted, stained, reeking, and tatty, and they’d be thrown in the rubbish pile anyway, so you might as well donate them to a good cause. Go through your clothes and see what you have that fits the bill. When we raise this sail, I want us all to be able to look at it and identify whose clothes they are.”
And so for the next two days, we all took shifts on the homeward bound sail, sprawled out on the deck with a pile of grungy clothes and heavy sail thread. We used thick needles and wore palm protectors—leather straps that slipped over the hand, and had a thimble in the middle that allowed us to shove the thick needles through the clothes. We weren’t concerned with making the stitches pretty. They just had to hold the clothes together for one run up the mast.
Working on the sail was a lot of fun, but it was another reminder that our time together on the Meg was nearing its end.
Chapter Thirty-Two
Eleven days after our departure from Nassau, we docked in Sandy Hook, New Jersey. The Manhattan skyline was visible across the bay to our north. We were just a few miles away from the end of our voyage.
It had been a long stretch at sea, made more so with a day and night of “combat sailing” through a storm we encountered while rounding the Diamond Shoals off Cape Hatteras, known as the “Graveyard of the Atlantic,” due to the hundreds of shipwrecks that had occurred there over the centuries. That storm had set us back by about a day.
We’d been given much more responsibility in the latter half of the voyage: plotting our course, ordering adjustments to the sails, navigation—all of which had been put to good use during the storm. Classes had continued on our journey north as well, and we’d just finished our finals, which had been pretty easy. I think they were really just a formality, to show our schools that we’d done some sort of work and had been evaluated on it.
We had the evening off in Sandy Hook, and then tomorrow would be spent cleaning the ship. Tomorrow night, we’d have one final ceilidh, and then the following morning, we’d depart for New York after breakfast.
Arms came around me from behind, and a warm puff of breath tickled the hair on the back of my neck. I tipped my head back, peering up at Tristan, who’d ditched his sling and had his stitches removed by Justin a few days before. “Hi.”
“Hi. I was hoping to take a bonny lass out to dinner tonight, and you were the first one I came across. What do you say?”
Our last date. A wave of pain washed over me, and I was glad my back was to him so he couldn’t see it. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I turned to face him and stepped back, pretending to size him up. “Yeah, you’ll do.”
He grinned. “Brilliant.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s 1600 now. Meet you here in an hour?”
“Okay.” I smiled brightly and gave him a quick kiss good-bye. He shouldered his bag and headed for the showers.
I watched him go, wondering how I was going to get through this.
A little while later, I stood in front of my bunk, tearing through my clothes, searching in vain for something to wear for my date with Tristan. My only nice outfit was the floral sundress I’d worn a few times already. I wanted to find something different, something special. Why hadn’t I thought to bring another sundress?
“Dammit,” I muttered, flinging yet another smelly tank top aside.
“What’s the matter?”
I turned to see Jenny standing behind me.
“Tristan’s taking me out to dinner and I have nothing decent to wear. I wanted to look nice for once. Is that so much to ask?”
“First of all, the man can’t keep his eyes off you as it is, so I don’t think you have to worry about it.”
“But—”
“Second of all, remember how I thought this was a cruise? I’m sure I have something you can borrow. I’ll be right back.”
A moment later, she returned. “I think this will fit you. Go ahead, try it on.”
She handed me a violet dress of some sort of swishy fabric. The color was pretty, but not one I usually wore. And it had a halter top.
“It’s beautiful, but I don’t have any bras that will fit under this dress.”
“You don’t need one.”
“I—what?” The girls never went braless in public unless I was in a swimsuit with an underwire.
“Trust me,” said Jenny. “Just put it on.”
I hurried into the head and closed the door. I held the dress before me. It really was pretty, but there was no way it would fit. Still, I didn’t want to offend Jenny, so I quickly stripped out of my shorts and T-shirt. And my bra.
I shimmied into the dress and fumbled with the halter straps, but I couldn’t seem to get them tight enough. I opened the door. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
Jenny motioned for me to turn around. She made some adjustments to the back of the dress and then took the straps from me. After a few minutes of pulling, tugging, and impersonal manhandling of my breasts, she tied the straps and stepped back.
“I feel like you should buy me dinner,” I grumbled after she finished “rearranging” me.
“Shut it. Step out into the light and let’s see how it looks.” I moved to the foot of the ladder, where the light was best.
“Ari, you look hot!”
“Seriously?” There was no full-length mirror on board, and the tiny locker mirror in the head was useless, so I had to take her word for it.
“Seriously,” Amanda chimed in, appearing behind Jenny. “That color is perfect on you.”
“I don’t know about my boobs, though. I think they’re too big for me to go without a bra.”
Jenny sighed and rolled her eyes. “Ari, your boobs look awesome in that dress. The fabric is lined, so you can’t see through it or anything, and the halter straps will keep them in the right place. As long as the straps don’t get shifted around too much,” she added with a pointed look.
It took me a minute, but then I realized what she meant, and I felt my face grow hot. “Oh. I don’t think—”
Jenny and Amanda exchanged knowing glances. “I mean, I’m not telling you what to do or anything, but if it were me going on a hot date with Tristan, on one of the last nights of our trip, I’d make damn sure there’d be some shifting of my dress before the end of the night.”
“She’s not wrong,” added Amanda.
“I think she agrees with us. Look how she’s blushing. I think she secretly wants some rumpling to occur.”
“Guys, please. I need to finish getting ready. You can speculate all you want after I’m gone.” In truth, I did want there to be some rumpling. This was my last night to make that happen. But the logistics of the ship made it nearly impossible to do anything that required privacy even after we were no longer hiding our relationship, and going to a restaurant for a few hours wasn’t likely to help me out, either.
“Trust me, we will,” said Jenny. “But let’s get your hair and makeup done first.”
“And she needs shoes,” said Amanda. “What size do you wear, Ari?”
“Nine.”
“Me, too. Let me see what I have.”
; While Amanda dug around in her cubby, Jenny brought over her makeup bag. She came at me with an eyeliner pencil. “Stand still and look up. This will enhance the green in your eyes.”
Then it was Amanda’s turn. She produced a pair of black Mary Janes that fit pretty well.
“What should we do with her hair?” asked Amanda.
“I’m just going to braid it,” I replied.
“No, you’re not,” said Jenny. “You wear it braided all day, every day.”
“We’re on a ship, Jenny. If I don’t keep it in a braid, it gets tangled in three seconds.”
“Well, you won’t be on the ship tonight, right? Your hair is gorgeous. Wear it down. Trust me.”
I reached up and loosened the bun I’d hastily twisted my damp hair into after my shower. It tumbled down my back.
Amanda ran her fingers through it, pulling the sides back in a barrette, but leaving the rest loose. “Perfect. It’s all wavy from the bun.”
Jenny spritzed my hair, neck, wrists, and cleavage with something that smelled delicious.
“Hey, Ari, you ready to go?” Tristan’s head appeared at the top of the companionway.
“Be right there!” I shouted.
I turned to my two fairy godmothers. “How do I look?” It was hell not having a mirror.
“Beautiful,” said Amanda.
“Sexy,” said Jenny. “Truly. I bet you’re glad now for my matched luggage, huh?” she added with a grin.
“Yes, I am definitely glad you brought enough clothes with you for a year. Are my boobs still okay?”
More eye rolls. “Yes!” they shouted together.
“Thanks, guys,” I said, hugging them both.
I slung my purse across my chest, grabbed my fleece, and carefully climbed up the ladder. The dress wasn’t long enough for me to trip on, but the last thing I needed was to tumble down the ladder at this particular moment.
I emerged from the companionway into the early evening sunshine, Jenny and Amanda on my heels. Tristan was sitting on a locker with Nick, Steve, and Kevin, and he leaped to his feet when he saw me. He just stared for a moment, his turquoise eyes slowly traveling down the length of my body, from the top of my head to my feet and then back up.
He smiled, that slow, sexy smile that crinkled his eyes and made my heart skip a beat. Now it was my turn to check him out.
His blue jeans were snug and faded in all the right places. He wore a gray, long-sleeved Henley that clung to his shoulders and chest. The three buttons at the top were open and the sleeves were pushed up to his elbows. The color complemented his tanned skin and made his eyes seem even more impossibly blue than usual. His hair was pulled back in a ponytail with some of the shorter bits framing his face. He held a jacket in one hand, and on his feet he wore black Converse.
He was insanely hot. And he was all mine…at least for now.
He took my right hand, pressing his lips to the top of it as if we were in the parlor of some lord’s manor house in a historical romance novel. I heard a sigh from behind me and glanced over to see Jenny standing there, a dreamy expression on her face.
He twirled me, letting out a whistle when my hair swung aside to reveal the low back of the dress. “You are stunning,” he murmured.
The harbormaster had recommended a lovely restaurant overlooking the water. “Is this okay?” asked Tristan when we arrived. “I didn’t think to ask if you were tired of looking at water.”
“I never get tired of looking at water. This is perfect. And it wouldn’t have mattered anyway. You could have taken me to McDonald’s and it would have been perfect.”
“Hey, I didn’t comb my hair just for us to go to McDonald’s,” Tristan quipped. His hot gaze ran over my body. “And you definitely deserve something nicer than fast food.”
The hostess brought us to our table, and I immediately excused myself to go to the ladies’ room. I wanted to see how I looked. Did that make me vain? Yup.
I stepped into the restroom and closed the door behind me. I saw my reflection in the full-length mirror and gasped out loud. Was that really me?
The girl staring back at me had big greenish eyes, enhanced ever-so-subtly with black eyeliner and mascara. Her hair was dark red with streaks of copper and gold from the sun. It fell in shiny waves down her back, complemented perfectly by the rich violet of her dress. I was truly amazed by the sight before me. Yes, Jenny and Amanda had said I looked beautiful, but I’d figured they were just doing their girlfriendly duty.
The dress hugged me in all the right places. My breasts seemed to be staying in place, though I could see pretty far down into my cleavage. I thought about trying to adjust it, but then I remembered what my grandmother always said: “if you’ve got it, flaunt it.” Well, Grandma, I’m taking your advice. Besides, I’d never get the straps tight enough if I started messing with it now.
I twisted around, pulling my hair to the side. The dress ended just below my shoulder blades, leaving most of my back bare. It was the most daring thing I’d ever worn. It fit tightly around the middle, though not uncomfortably so (healthy eating and hauling lines: highly recommended), and the skirt came to just below the knee. My legs had also gotten nicely toned since the beginning of the voyage—too bad I didn’t have high heels to really show them off.
I finally stopped ogling myself and returned to the table. Tristan rose and pulled out my chair, pushing it in for me once I’d sat down. I could get used to this.
We made it through our steak dinner without talking about anything of consequence, but once the waiter brought our coffee and dessert, I spoke up.
“Tristan, what happens to us when we get to New York?”
“I’ve been trying not to think about it,” he admitted.
“But there’s no time left not to think about it.” I looked down at the linen napkin I was mindlessly folding into a fan. “I don’t want to say good-bye to you.”
His hand covered mine. “It won’t be good-bye forever. You’ll have the whole summer off. I can come to Florida.”
“But won’t you have to work?”
“I can find a job near you, on a boat or something, and rent a flat for a few months until I have to leave.”
“What about your dad?”
“He’s going home to Scotland.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. After New York, we’re bringing the ship up to Maine, and then he’s flying home. He finally admitted that he’s been pushing himself since my mum…died, throwing himself full force into his work. And at first, it was what he needed. It kept him going when he would otherwise have probably crawled headfirst into a bottle of whisky and never come out again.
“But he told me he’s ready to head home, for a while, anyway. I’ll go back with him. We have to go through her stuff, which will be hard for both of us. And then he wants to be alone for a while. He hopes to be back at the helm of the Meg for the fall term, but if he’s not ready, he’ll push that back. Davey’s going to serve as captain of the Meg in the interim.”
“Do you think he should be alone?”
Tristan nodded. “I think he’s ready. He hasn’t been on his own since she died, really. I think he needs to finally grieve for her, and he won’t let himself do that if I’m there. I think it’s a good thing.”
I wished I could be there when they went through his mom’s things, to help him the way he helped me get through the beginning of this voyage, but this was something they had to do on their own.
Chapter Thirty-Three
After we finished dinner, we headed for the beach, kicking off our shoes as we stepped onto the cool sand. We walked hand in hand, just out of reach of the cold surf. It was mid-April, but the day had been unusually mild and there were people sitting on blankets and others walking. Warm days in early spring clearly brought out the dedicated beachgoers. I remembered that I’d thrown my little camera into my purse, and we snagged a passerby to take a picture of us.
The sand was white and soft, as though I walked
on the finest carpet. After a little while, we dropped our stuff on the sand. We were still an hour or so from sunset, and this was a perfect place to wait for it.
And I knew the perfect way to pass the time.
I hooked my hands around his neck and went up on my tiptoes to kiss him. He tightened his arms around me, crushing me against him, deepening the kiss. I felt his heart pounding, felt the heat of his body scorching me.
He dropped to the sand, pulling me down beside him. I had a fleeting worry about getting sand on Jenny’s dress, and then he kissed me again, touched his tongue to mine, and any thoughts I had flew right out of my head.
The loud barking of a dog nearby startled us both. Tristan tore his mouth from mine with a muffled curse and we both turned to see where it was. Twenty yards or so away, a man was tossing a ball to a golden retriever, who gleefully bounded into the surf after it.
Would we ever have privacy? A little farther down the beach was a cluster of cabanas. I got to my feet for a better look. They were shuttered for the season, but one of them had a broken door. Yes.
I scooped up our things. “Let’s go,” I said, taking Tristan’s hand and pulling him up.
“I’m sorry, Red. I didn’t intend for our evening to be cut short by a damn dog.” Tristan’s voice was heavy with regret.
“It’s not going to be,” I said. “Come on.” I led him down the beach.
I stopped in front of the cabana. He turned to me, his eyes searching mine. I kissed him, softly at first. Then his mouth opened under mine, and he took control of the kiss. His hands roved down my back, then he lifted me off my feet, guiding my legs around his waist. I loved how easily he was able to do that.
Without breaking the kiss, he shoved open the cabana door, its hinges creaking slightly from months of disuse. He stepped inside, and I heard them creak again as he pushed the door shut. He pressed me back against the wall, his lips leaving mine to kiss the hollow of my collarbone.
A Star to Steer Her By Page 26