by Hope Ramsay
Her already racing heart revved up when his head disappeared below the water. She forced herself to take several deep, calming breaths in a vain attempt to slow it down. It wasn’t until his head popped back above the surface that she truly exhaled all the way.
He laughed. “Relax, Jenna. It’s okay. This happens all the time. And besides, help is on the way.” He nodded toward the shore.
Jenna turned in the water just as a small powerboat left the dock and sped in their direction.
“When they get here, I want you to get into the boat,” Jude said in a commanding voice. “You’re no help to me in getting Bonney Rose righted. And, for the record, I’m going to refund your money. The last thing I need is a negative review on Yelp.”
“But I—”
“Just do as I ask, please.”
She shut her mouth and decided to write the best review should could for him. He had made it clear that he wasn’t a sailing instructor and yet, until this disaster, he’d been terrific.
Still, it irked her to be floating alongside the boat unable to help. One day she wanted to be useful in a sailboat. She wondered how her father might regard this situation. Would he be pleased with her or disgusted?
The powerboat arrived with the bearded guy she’d seen with Jude yesterday. He was standing in the front of the boat wearing a shirt featuring a skull, crossed sabers, and the words SURRENDER YER BOOTY. He had a gigantic grin on his face, as if he found their mishap amusing.
The powerboat’s driver, a woman with short brown hair, swung around so that Jenna could reach a ladder built into its stern. Jenna did as she’d been told and climbed out of the bay, almost losing her waterlogged camp pants in the process. She needed to get some new clothes. She’d lost a lot of weight on the vegetarian diet she’d adopted in India. Nothing fit anymore.
“Hi. I’m Jenna,” she said to the people in the boat. “I’ve never been on a sailboat before, and Jude was giving me a sailing lesson until he fell out of the boat, and I didn’t know what to do.” There. She’d confronted the truth and admitted her shortcomings. Self-assessment and truth were one of the life lessons she’d learned at the ashram in Mumbai. Too bad that self-assessment didn’t make her feel any better about herself.
The bearded guy’s grin widened. “Yeah, we saw it happen from Rafferty’s patio. Name’s Tim.” He extended a big hand. “I’m Jude’s regular crew, and don’t worry about it. Sometimes we capsize Bonney Rose for the fun of getting her righted again. We’ll have her mast up in a New York minute.”
“I’m Kyra,” the woman at the wheel said. “Sit, watch, and learn. You should see these guys when they’re racing. They can capsize a boat and still beat everyone else to the finish line.” She grinned and gave Tim a starry-eyed glance that suggested a bad case of hero worship. Then Kyra showed off a few skills of her own, maneuvering the powerboat alongside Bonney Rose’s upside-down hull.
Tim climbed over the powerboat’s side and jumped onto the sailboat’s upside-down hull. A moment later, Jude tossed him a rope that came from the boat’s rigging, which was all down in the water.
“That’s the jib sheet,” Kyra explained. “Now, watch. Jude’s going to dive under the boat and push up the centerboard.”
She watched as the four-foot piece of wood, like a shark’s fin, suddenly appeared. Tim grabbed it, and Jude resurfaced. At that point, Tim began to rock the boat, throwing his impressive body mass around to encourage the mast to rotate up toward the surface while Jude tugged on rigging hidden by the water. As the boat began to roll over, Tim jumped onto the centerboard and continued to throw his weight around. Wonder of wonders, Bonney Rose’s mast lifted out of the water.
As the boat rolled, Tim walked down the centerboard and right into the waterlogged cockpit. To Jenna’s surprise, Jude ended up in cockpit too, although she had no idea how that had happened.
Of course, the boat was filled with bay water and the sails flapped noisily in the wind, all the ropes in disarray. It didn’t look as if the sailboat would do any more sailing today. So when Kyra said, “Last one back buys the beer,” and turned the powerboat away, Jenna was surprised.
“Aren’t you going to give them a tow?” Jenna asked.
“What for? I left a perfectly good order of loaded potato skins to rescue you guys. I’m sure the gang will have eaten them by the time I get back, and I’ll have to get the boys to buy me another order.”
Jenna craned her neck as the powerboat sped away. To her astonishment, Tim and Jude actually had Bonney Rose underway as if nothing untoward had happened. “How did they get the water out of it?” she asked.
“Oh, the Bucc has self-bailers,” Kyra said, as if that explained everything.
Jenna decided not to ask any more questions that would display her complete ignorance of sailing. This incident hadn’t quelled her desire to learn how to sail. Quite the contrary.
In fact, the partnership between Jude and Tim impressed the hell out of her. As did the fact that Kyra had left happy hour to come to Jude’s rescue. Jude St. Pierre had a group of committed friends who cared about him. She had friends, of course. Back in Boston. But they were mostly work friends. Not the kind who would drop everything to come to her rescue.
“So, I guess you’ve had enough sailing to last you a lifetime, huh?” Kyra asked, pulling Jenna away from her thoughts.
Jenna turned around. “Why would you say that? Until the boat tipped over, I was having the time of my life. I only wish I knew enough to have stopped the disaster when Jude fell overboard.”
Kyra grinned. “Atta girl. In a racing dinghy like a Bucc, capsizing is a way of life.”
By the time Jude and Tim got Bonney Rose out of the water and squared away on her trailer, it was nearly seven o’clock. Jude’s board shorts were almost dry, and his stomach was growling.
“I heard that,” Tim said. “Come on, let’s go eat. Everyone’s up at Rafferty’s tonight. It’s Jimmy’s birthday.”
“It is? Why didn’t I know that?”
“Because you have your head up your butt and probably missed the e-mail. Either that or you were distracted by the cutie you said you weren’t interested in last night.”
“She’s a client, Tim. She hired me to give her lessons.”
“At what, getting wet?” Tim gave him a playful punch to the shoulder.
“No, sailing.”
“Good one, Jude. I’m sure she’s up there waiting on you.”
“You think?”
“She’s into you, bro. Come on.” Tim took him by the arm and steered him toward Rafferty’s.
Half the members of the Buccaneer Class Association were sitting at a long table on Rafferty’s patio. But Jenna wasn’t among them. “Where’s Jenna?” he asked as he dragged a chair over to the table.
“She left,” Kyra said.
“Oh.” He sank into the chair, his bones suddenly heavy. “Why’d she leave?” he asked, doing a piss-poor job of masking his disappointment. He’d been thinking about asking her to join him for a bite when the hiking strap snapped. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe the Lord was telling him to cool it.
“I think she was a little embarrassed. Not to mention wet as a drowned rat,” Kyra said. “You know how we women are when our hair gets wet. I wouldn’t be surprised if she goes home tonight and googles sailing terms. She seemed annoyed with herself that she didn’t have the vocabulary to understand what was happening.”
“You think?”
“I know. She said so.”
Was he happy about that? Maybe. Would she want another lesson? Damn. He really needed to return her money before she nailed him on Yelp, but he didn’t know where she was staying. Maybe he shouldn’t have made her pay cash for the lesson. The money, still zipped in the pocket of his sailing shorts, seemed to burn against the skin of his thigh.
“Wanna explain how you managed to turtle a boat in eight-knot winds?” Jimmy, the birthday boy, asked, pulling Jude’s thoughts away from Jenna Fairchild.
“The hiking strap broke,” Jude said.
“A likely story,” Tim said with a laugh, right before he went on to explain how he’d seen Jenna ogling Jude last night after they got back from practice racing. “Guess you figured out a way to send her packing, huh? I know you hate tourists, Jude, but capsizing a boat on purpose…?”
“And it’s not going to work,” Kyra countered with one of her devilish grins.
“No?” Tim asked, eyebrows raised. “She was terrified when we pulled up.”
“I told you. She was dripping wet, and those clothes were going to fall off at any moment. She told me to tell you that she’s sorry she didn’t know what to do when the boat broached. I’ll bet she’s back tomorrow wanting another lesson.”
“No way that happens,” Tim said.
“You want to bet twenty-five on that?” Kyra asked.
“Wow, that’s kind of steep.”
“That’s because I have the confidence of my convictions.”
“Done. But she has to contact Jude tomorrow.” Tim turned toward Jude. “And you’re not allowed to call her.”
“I wouldn’t anyway,” Jude said, leaning back in his chair as Abby Cuthbert came by. He was just about to order one of Rafferty’s beef burgers when his older brother Colton came up the steps from the boardwalk wearing his burgundy St. Pierre Construction Company shirt and a hard expression on his face. Colton stood there for a long moment scanning the patio until his gaze landed on Jude like a stinger missile.
Something wasn’t right.
“Hold that thought,” he said to Abby, right before he got up from the table and headed in his brother’s direction.
“Is Daddy okay?”
“As far as I know. Where the hell have you been? I’ve been calling you all afternoon.”
“I was out on the water in the sailboat.” He didn’t feel the need to explain that he’d been paid for the time out in the boat. Colton seemed to believe that any activities out on the water classified as goofing off. Colton also thought it was time for Jude to stop working for Daddy’s charter business and use his college degree from Howard University for something more profitable. But Jude loved being on the water. It was all he ever wanted to do. And he’d only gone to college because Aunt Daisy had insisted. Those winters up in DC had made him nothing but homesick.
Of course, his older brother had only two years of college. But even that was a miracle. Once upon a time, right after Momma took off, Colton had been a juvenile delinquent. But a year in juvie had straightened him out. He’d pulled his act together, gone to junior college, and turned a handyman service into a full-fledged contracting business. This rags-to-riches story made him slightly holier-than-thou.
“If it isn’t Daddy, then what?” Jude asked.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“I was—”
“We need to talk.”
The urgency in Colton’s words stopped Jude cold. “What is it?”
Colton grabbed Jude by the arm and pulled him down the boardwalk, away from Rafferty’s patio. “Micah’s coming home,” he hissed.
The two brothers stood on the boardwalk as dusk settled, looking at each other, neither able to say a word for a moment. Micah was a sore point. He’d left home at eighteen and had never come back.
“After all these years he wants to visit? Screw him,” Jude said.
“It’s not a visit. He’s moving back.”
“What does he want here?” Jude asked. “He made it plain he didn’t want anything to do with us when he left.”
“He probably still doesn’t. But I just wanted you to know before you heard it around town. He’s left the Navy Chaplain Service, and apparently the Episcopalian diocese, in its infinite wisdom, has decided to send him here to replace Reverend Ball at the Church at Heavenly Rest. The Episcopalians will be buzzing with the news by tomorrow. Micah said he’d be back on the island in a day or two and wanted to see us.”
“Well, I don’t really want to see him,” Jude said in a hard voice.
“That might be difficult with him leading the Episcopalians.”
“Yeah, well, how long you figure that will last?”
Colton shook his head. “Someone’s got to tell Daddy.”
“You mean me, of course.”
“I’m sorry. I just can’t be in the same room with him. He makes me crazy.” That was true. Colton and Daddy struck sparks off each other and always had. Jude was forever running between them.
“I’ll let Daddy know,” Jude said, turning away from his brother and heading back toward Rafferty’s and his friends.
“Jude,” Colton called from behind him.
“What?” Jude turned and backpedaled, in a hurry to get away. Colton could be such an SOB.
“I’m worried about you. You gonna be okay when he comes back?”
“Why wouldn’t I be? He’s been gone for half my life.”
“Yeah. I know. But before that, he was your hero.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not twelve anymore. I’m able to take care of myself.”
Chapter Four
Early Thursday morning Jenna spread her yoga mat on the front porch and settled in for her morning meditation. But today she felt unequal to the task. Her mind was filled with the vivid details of a dream she’d had about sailing a boat with several tall masts. Jude St. Pierre, dressed like a cast member from Pirates of the Caribbean, had been prominently featured, warning her against sailing too close to the jetty and about the ship being too heavy to pass in shallow water.
Yeah. Desire was tripping her up big-time today. She tried to clear her mind, but it was impossible. So, when a small, piping voice said, “Do you have a buried treasure?” she was glad for the interruption.
She cracked an eye to find little Jackie Scott, dressed in a school uniform of blue pants and a white golf shirt, sitting on the porch railing studying her out of his sharp blue eyes.
“So, do you?” he asked.
“Do I what?”
“Have a treasure?”
“What makes you think I do?”
“Cap’n Bill says he likes the cut of your jib. He says I should treat you like a lady on account of the fact that you have a treasure.”
“What?” Shock coiled in her belly.
“He’s my friend. He knows a lot about sailing ’n’ stuff ’cuz he used to be a pirate. He says you be a prize worth taking.”
She leaned back, wondering what to do about the misogynist comment that had just come out of that innocent mouth. Who was this captain guy? Ashley Scott’s boyfriend? A member of the Buccaneer fleet, who talked like pirates? And what did he know about her inheritance? That was kind of creepy. Ugh. Whoever the captain was, he sure wasn’t a good role model for Jackie, teaching him to talk about women that way. “You tell your friend to mind his own business. And I do not like being called—”
“I gotta go.” The boy dropped down from the railing a second before his mother appeared at the back door of her mini-mansion. It was a little eerie, as if Jackie knew he was about to be summoned before it happened.
He thumped down the porch steps and hit the footpath at a run. He got halfway across the rose garden before he skidded to a stop and turned. “Oh, I forgot. The cap’n says there’s a book in the library that might help you.” He spun on his sneaker and continued toward Howland House’s back door.
A book that might help her do what? Figure out what she was going to do with the rest of her life? Find the answers about what happened to her father? Unlikely.
She smiled in spite of herself. How hilarious would it be to find a book that would provide all the answers when her year-long sabbatical from life had not.
She pushed that thought out of her brain and went back to deep breathing. Eventually she managed to find a kind of peace and meditated for almost an hour. But when she finished, the thoughts came back, along with her curiosity.
She didn’t have much to do today. She wanted to swing by the Georgetown County Library
and look at old newspapers. The town council hearing wasn’t until five o’clock. Her plans, such as they were, included seeking out Jude St. Pierre and asking for another lesson. But beyond that, she had time on her hands. So why not satisfy her curiosity?
After a shower and breakfast, she crossed the rose garden and entered Howland House’s back door, which opened into a butler’s pantry right off the kitchen with access to the center hall.
There was a plate of oatmeal raisin cookies on the kitchen counter with a handwritten sign that said “Enjoy!” She scooped up a cookie and headed down the hallway.
Antique luxury abounded here, with high ceilings, hand-carved chair and picture rails, and ceiling moldings made of plaster. It was almost as if the house had been pressed into the pages of a book, stuck in time and unable to move forward.
Ashley Scott’s house was a gem. And maybe it was a good thing that it hadn’t been overly modernized. It still retained many of the original features. But those features needed restoring in one way or another. The house was like an average woman who didn’t know how beautiful she was on the inside.
The library stood to the left at the end of the hallway. It was a square room with floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, a heavily curtained window with a view of the portico, and several overstuffed chairs. A round, claw-foot table stood in the middle of the room, on which stood a vase filled with roses. The commingled scent of roses and lemon-oil furniture polish hung in the air.
Jenna stopped in the middle of the room, uncertain of what precisely she was searching for. There were hundreds of books in the room, most of them hardbacked and fabric bound, although there was a section, down low, filled with paperback bestsellers, mysteries, and romances, all of them with cracked spines, suggesting they’d been read more than once.
She was an idiot for listening to a six-year-old. She was about to leave when she spied the paperback sitting on the table behind the vase: Royce’s Sailing Illustrated: The Sailor’s Bible Since ’56.