by Dawson, Cam
“You would never know it, lady.”
“I think I’m going to have to ask you to put clothes on. There’s a lot we have to do this morning, and quite honestly I don’t know if I can keep my mind on the tasks with you running around half naked all day.”
That was exactly what she wanted to do. The thought of clothes was too confining after the night she had spent with Drew. Although the hour was early clothing was scant, her entire body was warm. “What are we going to do about the dinghy and the outboard?”
“I think we deep-six them both. After being in salt water for so long, I don’t think the engine’s salvageable. As for the dinghy, instead of trying to patch three holes, I think it goes down with the engine. We’ll motor out to deep water and cut the lines.”
Sam wanted to ask if they could make the rest of the trip across through the Bahamas, across the Atlantic, past Cuba and into the Caribbean, without a dinghy, but stopped short, realizing she didn’t know what was next for them. After all, she still had the ticket to Miami tucked away in her purse. True, she had missed the flight, but they could swap it for another. Drew read her hesitation and beat her to the punch.
“No way I can make the trip without a dinghy, not and be in open water so much, until I get to the British Virgin Islands.” He took a sip of his coffee. “We have to go back to Andros Town. No use for me to try to continue the journey without the urn. I have to track Bynum down and get that urn back. I could care less about the diamond. But without the urn, there won’t be a payoff in the BVI. Besides, I guess you’ll be anxious to change your ticket and get out of here.”
“Do you think there’s any chance of finding him?” Sam ignored the comment about the ticket. She wasn’t ready to think about leaving yet.
“I don’t know, but I have to try. It’s only been about twelve hours. Maybe the trail is still fresh enough to get to him before he moves on. Can’t see him being in any hurry, given he thinks we’re . . . he thinks we’re gone. Besides, I’m sure I can pick up a dinghy in Andros Town for a couple of grand. Even if I don’t find the urn, I’ll need a new dinghy to get back to Fairhope.”
Sam hadn’t thought the situation through. She hadn’t thought about Drew going back to Fairhope. He had even said he couldn’t go back. And now he was considering it? The idea sank deeply into her heart and for a moment she wanted to cry. That scenario quickly put a damper on the events of the night before.
It was obvious she couldn’t go back to Fairhope, although she had hoped she could stay with Drew. So much for crazy notions. She suddenly felt foolish. How could she think there could be any future with this man? But he was right, what choice did he have but to go home and then back to school if he couldn’t deliver the urn? Time to face reality. Back to earth.
The situation was rapidly putting a limit to her choices, narrowing them to only one option. And that was to go ahead with the original plan of starting a new life somewhere else–without Drew. Try as she may, she couldn’t hide the hurt the situation had dealt her.
“Are you all right?”
“Me? Yeah, of course.” She was suddenly uncomfortable in the T-shirt. “So, do you think I’ll have any problems changing the reservation?”
Drew looked down, and for a moment Sam was confident that perhaps he wasn’t feeling good about them parting ways in Andros Town any more than she was. But he soon looked up and smiled. “Nah, I don’t think you’ll have any problems. And if you do, I can help you get another ticket.”
Sam willed the tears away. After the night they had spent, how could he be so obtuse? Then it occurred to her and she suddenly saw him as before. This was Drew Richey–the one with the reputation. He was following his reputation of loving ‘em and leaving ‘em to the T, and she apparently had fallen into the trap and become his next victim. She wanted to be anywhere other than where she was at the moment.
He stood and moved close to her. “That is what you wanted, isn’t it?”
She couldn’t read his face. He was aloof, distance, defensive. “Yeah, of course that’s what I want. I can’t go back to Fairhope, no way. Definitely time to get on with my life. And I’m sure they’ll let me exchange my ticket, and then you’ll be rid of me and on your way–wherever that ends up being.”
“It’s not like that, Sam . . . Sam?” he whispered, and his expression softened. She stood before him, waiting.
Say it, Drew. Tell me you don’t want me to leave.
He opened his mouth to speak, then frowned. “Guess we better get ready to shove off.”
“Yeah, I guess so.” She turned away from him, willing away the tears. She gently placed the dishrag on the galley sink and returned to the guest stateroom. She closed the hatch behind her, leaned against it, and slid slowly to the floor of the cabin.
With her face in her hands and her hands on her knees, sitting silently on the cabin floor, she began to cry.
As Sam stood close by, Drew cut the line securing the dinghy and engine and watched them sink out of sight into the blue abyss of the deep water off the out island. The scene had the flavor of a memorial service and for a moment he had to choke a lump from his throat. Not for the damn dinghy, but for the way the morning had gone downhill.
He had wanted so much to tell her that he wanted her to stay with him, but after his comment about having to possibly go back to Fairhope and then Auburn, he saw the hopelessness of the situation. He realized he had little to offer her, especially with the urn gone. Money wasn’t important to her, but she seemed the type who wanted a house, and stability–the last thing on his priority list. But was that list changing? Until he could figure it all out, he wasn’t going to toy with her future. So he was forced into playing along with the excitement of her leaving for a new life. Yet all he could think about was the night they had spent together. All he wanted was a chance to be with her, to see if the feelings he was having could keep building into something long term.
“Well, that’s that.” He moved to the wheel, after hoisting the sails. The winds had picked up. With any luck at all, with the strong eastern breeze, they would sail into Andros Town before dark.
She sat on the port settee, nursing a cup of coffee, as he turned about and caught the wind. After trimming the sails he sat in the captain’s seat and his mind flashed back to the night before, when Sam had been naked, sitting where he now sat. He shook the image away and took a deep breath. The sun was nearly directly overhead.
“Would you like something to eat?” she asked.
“No, thanks.” Even thinking about her and the night before made him uncomfortable. He thought about telling her how he felt, glancing off the port bow toward a long hilly island to gather his thoughts, when the sun reflected off an object in the distance.
“What is it?” She followed the direction of his gaze.
“I thought I saw something.” He squinted his eyes against the sun’s glare. “Over there, toward the island.” He reached under the pedestal and pulled out a chart. “Can you take the wheel a minute?”
Sam stood, reached over and took the wheel while he sat on the starboard settee. He quickly found the island on the chart and shook his head. “That’s just a spit of an island. Not inhabited, according to the chart. And we’re too far out for anyone to be day tripping there.”
“What do we do?”
“It’s only a little out of the way, let’s check it out.”
Within a half hour, they were within a mile of the island. His binoculars gave little indication of what was reflecting in the sun. It appeared as if it was floating inside a narrow cove in docile waters. Drew dropped sails and motored to within a hundred yards of the floating objects, until the water became too shallow. Dropping anchor, he turned to Sam as he stripped off his shirt and stepped out of boat shoes. He made his way below and returned with his handgun in a plastic bag, which he stuffed into the oversized pocket
of his swim trunks.
“Stay with the boat, I’m going to check it out. Looks like a partially submerged dinghy.” He made his way to the stern.
“What?” She frowned and folded her arms, glancing toward the cove.
“Okay, would you like to go with me?”
“Well, if my guess is right, and you just stuffed a gun in your pocket, yes, I would like to go with you. You don’t think I want to stay here by myself, do you?”
He smiled. Apparently the pirate attack was not totally forgotten. She quickly stripped to her two-piece and joined him on the stern. They jumped in and began the short swim to the dinghy. Upon arriving, she stopped and treaded water while he swam around the small boat. One of the air compartments had been compromised. The motor and other compartments were fully inflated.
“What do you think?” she asked, winded.
“Definitely Bynum’s dinghy.”
“What?”
“One of the fabric walls has been slashed. Doesn’t look like an accident.” He looked toward the shore. “Somebody wanted to slow him down, probably as he made a run for it?”
Sam followed his gaze to the beach. Terror showed on her face. “Do you think that they’re still around?”
“Doubt it.” He moved toward the beach, pulling the boat’s line behind him.
“What are you doing?”
“I see footprints.” When they reached the beach, he took the anchor from the dinghy and chopped it into the sand, securing the line. “Stay here with the boat and I’ll check it out.”
He made his way up the beach, following the prints. When he glanced behind him, Sam was following. “Or you can come along, if you want,” he muttered, not bothering to hide his sarcasm.
There were several sets of tracks in the sand, as well as a linear imprint, as if something or someone had been dragged. He hoped she wouldn’t put two and two together and realize they were probably looking at the remnants of another pirate attack, this one against Chester Bynum.
“Is this what I think it is, Drew?” she whispered.
“Could be, looks like the tracks lead over that dune.” He tipped his head to the right. “Are you sure you want to come with me?”
She nodded and they crouched down and slowly made their way to the top of the dune. The stench hit even before he could focus on the scene. He turned to stop her from getting any closer, but it was too late. She grabbed her mouth, turned and vomited in the sand.
A few feet in front of them the torso of Chester Bynum protruded from a shallow sandy grave. Several sea gulls were feasting on his face.
The urn lay half buried just out of the reach of one of his bloody arms.
The pirates had found the diamond. The false bottom of the urn had been compromised and the sealing removed. Amazingly, the top of the urn was not opened and the ashes were undisturbed. Sam reasoned that the pirates had used whatever tactic they could to make Bynum sing. He would have held out as long as he could before possibly using the diamond as a bargaining chip to save his own skin.
Whatever the scenario had been, it hadn’t worked. He had lost the diamond and his life. The pirates must have been happy with their booty and left the ashes intact. Perhaps superstitious? Whatever their reaction, it had caused them to be careless. They had literally dropped everything after killing Bynum and left without burying him or finishing off the dinghy.
“You take the urn and wait for me on the beach,” Drew said, then ran his hand over his mouth. “I’m going to bury this guy.”
Sam sat on the beach while he completed his task, feeling very nervous. The urn sat in the sand next to her as she continually scanned the distance for any signs of approaching boats. Sail Out listed peacefully in the breeze out from the beach its strong lines portraying anything but the stress and weakness Sam felt.
The azure skies and aqua water held less appeal to her now, tainted by the ugliness of death. The trip so far had been anything but restful or peaceful, even considering the one night of passion with Drew. Those few hours with him had been like a dream in a nightmare. She tried hard not to think about that time with him, mainly because she found it hard to describe what she was feeling. The physical part had been beyond her wildest dreams. But had that been what it was all about? She found it hard to describe how she felt about him. It was so much more than a physical act, and yet doubts crept in to suggest that was all it was. Other than to say he was crazy about her, there had been no words of love spoken by either of them—only silent hunger, bordering on lust. During one moment it was if she’d known him all her life, then the next moment he was a stranger. Had the reality of their near-death experiences sparked the passion? Had the acts been more of a celebration of life than expression of love?
The confusion continued to spin around in her mind as a noise from behind startled her. She whirled defensively and looked up at him. For a moment she didn’t recognize him, until she realized he had his hand over his nose and mouth, still holding the shell he’d used to dig with. His normally rich, tanned face looked sick and pallid.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yeah, I guess so. Just a little jumpy.” She stood and picked up the urn. “What about you? You don’t look so good.”
He took it from her hands but didn’t answer. “Let’s get back to the boat.”
Drew waded out to the damaged boat and placed the urn inside. Uprooting the anchor, he set it in the boat. Standing in waist deep water he motioned for her to jump in, then followed. Their weight tested the buoyancy of the dinghy, but the outboard motor was still above water. Drew pulled on the start chord, and after several attempts the engine sputtered to life. He steered the dinghy toward the sailboat and pulled the stern plug, ridding the boat of water. With three sections of the vessel unharmed, it provided plenty of buoyancy to keep the inside dry.
After arriving at Sail Out, Drew hoisted the engine from the transom and placed it gently on a tarp inside the cockpit. She helped him drag the dinghy on deck.
“I’ve got a patch kit below. Are you up to doing some mending?”
She nodded. “Can we get out of here?”
“My thoughts exactly.” He hesitated for a moment.
“What?”
“I know you had your heart set on flying out to Miami. But I don’t think it’s a good idea now to go back to Andros. I don’t have any idea where Bynum got this dinghy, there’re no markings on it. But sooner or later, somebody’s going to realize it’s missing. I think we ought to be as far gone from here as possible by the time they come looking.”
“That’s fine.” She realized she had no idea how that made her feel. Part of her wanted to run as far from Drew Richey as she could, and the rest of her wanted to stay.
“Are you sure?” He searched her face. “Three days tops and we’ll be at Georgetown, Great Exuma. Nice airport there, but not one anyone might think you’d use.”
Do you want me to stay? She studied him and wondered what he was thinking. He wasn’t giving any hints of an opinion of any sort.
“Doesn’t look like there’s much of a choice,” she said coldly. He hesitated, turned, and made his way down the ladder into the cabin.
Silence prevailed over the next couple of hours as Sam went about patching the dinghy. Drew set sail on a southeastern reach, stopping by periodically to guide her in the task. By mid-afternoon he declared the glue on the patch dry and Sam began filling the repaired section with air, using a foot pump. A short time later Drew looked over from the wheel and nodded.
“Looks good. Great job. Looks as good as new.” He motioned to the bow of the boat. “That’s Waderwich Wells Cay coming up. The charts show a few nice secluded looking coves. We’ll see if we can find a good place to drop anchor before dark.”
Between thinking about pirates and thoughts of her time with
Drew, Sam wondered if she would ever sleep again.
“How about a drink?” she asked, wiping the sweat from her brow. Patchwork was harder than she had imagined.
“Scotch sounds good,” he said, again flashing that sexy smile.
The sun chased across the sky as Sam brought dinner up to the deck. Drew appeared on the transom with fins and snorkel after securing the boat anchors for the night. She handed him a fresh drink.
“Thanks,” he said, winded. “Something smells good.”
“Tuna, ala tuna. It’s a good thing you like tuna.”
“Don’t know how you find ways to make it so good.” He took a sip of the Scotch.
The rum drinks she had made for herself were doing the trick in relaxing her. Another by-product of life with Drew Richey? After her experience with Brad’s drinking, she would have never thought she would be taking up the habit herself. One thing she had learned though, some men could hold their liquor without losing their cool. Drew dried off and put on a fresh shirt, taking a seat at the table across from her. She figured now was as good a time as any to clear the air.
“We need to talk.” She took another sip of courage.
“Okay.” He looked uncomfortable, and put his fork down, placing his hands on the table.
“What are we doing?” she asked.
“What do you mean? We’re on our way to Great Exuma to get you on a flight to start your new life.”
“Is that what you want, Drew?”
“Does it matter what I want? This isn’t about me, is it?”
“I think you know where I’m going, so don’t toy with me.”