Destination Romance

by Barbara McMahon

  'Oh, yes, I'm a good cook,' she replied enthusiastically, on safe ground at last. 'I've sailed on a ketch and a seafarer-class sloop. I know a little about navigation and how to judge the currents and winds of the Caribbean. Not enough to do it on my own, though,' she added truthfully, 'where are you heading?'

  He smiled at this. 'Do you care?' he asked. 'As long as it's away from here?'

  She grinned impishly. She watched his eyes move to the small dimple showing in her right cheek. For a moment she remembered another man, another time. 'Got it in one. Anywhere is fine with me. I’m footloose and fancy free.'

  He glanced at his lager, his eyes hooded, unreadable. 'I'm a writer, Miss Kent. I've been doing research the last few months and am now getting down to writing the book. I want no distractions, no interference. I plan to sail out to sea, anchor and get on with it.' He paused, glancing up to gauge her reaction. She watched him steadily. Seemed extreme to her, but she’d always heard writers were quirky.

  'I need a crewman who can pull his own weight.' He smiled tightly at this, his glance going quickly over her slight frame. 'I would also like someone to cook, keep the ship tidy, but most of all someone who can entertain himself–or in your case herself–not disturb me while I write. It’ll be a rather lonely existence, I'm afraid—no town, no bright lights, no beauty parlors.' He stopped, quirked an eyebrow in silent question, waiting for her reply.

  Lexy nodded. 'Do I really look like I frequent a beauty parlor?' Her hair was tousled, cut short by the nearest barber and totally sun- streaked. She wore no make-up. Her eyelashes were dark, her skin was tanned dark brown by the sun. She preferred healthy to artifice.

  Abruptly he asked, 'Tell me, what do your parents think of your trying for such a job?'

  That question caught her by surprise. Just how old did he think she was?

  'My parents are both dead, Mr. Frazer. They have been for many years,' she replied quietly. “And if they were alive, they’d have little say on how I make a living.’ She was annoyed by his change of subject and the manner in which he asked his question as if she needed permission to do something. But she didn’t show it. She’d learned long ago to keep her reactions to herself.

  'Surely they’d be concerned with you going off for maybe months at a time?' He wouldn’t be put off.

  She was surprised at this. 'Just how old do you think I am? I haven’t answered to anyone for a long time.'

  'Nineteen, maybe twenty.' He replied to her question, assessing her trim figure, her clear eyes and smooth skin.

  She gave him a beautiful smile, her eyes warm and friendly, her dimple showing again. She took a quick sip of lemonade. 'You’ve made my day! I'm twenty-six. I sometimes feel a hundred and six, but never nineteen!'

  She saw his surprise and the look of disbelief growing on his face. Wryly she shook her head. 'The light, or lack of it in here, must flatter. I have my passport, and several letters of recommendation upstairs showing the years I’ve worked. I assure you I'm older than you think.'

  'My compliments, Miss Kent, you carry your years well. That solves one complication. I'll check your references that refer to your sailing experience. Then I have a proposition to make.'

  Lexy did not stiffen nor shy away from his suggestion as many women might have done with the particular word he used, but her eyes did narrow and she watched him warily. She saw with satisfaction that he noticed her change of manner, was aware of her slight withdrawal, though he made no comment on it.

  'We sail tomorrow for Bridgetown. I have a few things I want to pick up there before going . . . er. . . incommunicado. I'll try you out until we reach Barbados. You can see how you like it as well. If either of us doesn’t wish to continue the association beyond Barbados, we’ll agree to part, no bad feelings.'

  She considered it a moment, and nodded. 'A good plan, captain, I agree. I'll get my references. Do you need to see my passport as well, for the age and all? I really am twenty-six.' The fat would be in the fire if he said yes. She bit her lip waiting his reply, her mind whirling with excuses and explanations should he want to inspect her passport, too. She hoped he wouldn't.

  He leant back, tipping his chair. 'The letters will do.'

  Lexy gulped down the last of her drink in relief and left the bar. Once out of sight of Dominic Frazer she gave a hop and a jump. She had it; she just knew she had the job. She paused as a flicker of doubt assailed her. Well, maybe she had it and maybe it would be a good job. The only question—would Dominic Frazer be like so many of his brethren and expect more from his new crewman than only ship work? That thought quenched some of Lexy's enthusiasm, but she shrugged it off. It was less than a week's sail to Barbados, she could fend him off for a week if need arose. They’d do different stints at the wheel, easy enough to stay out of his way the rest of the time. She’d try it, anyway. If it didn't work out, she’d at least be in Barbados and in a much better position to seek new employment than in tiny, out of the way Santa Inez.

  Reaching her room she crossed quickly to the duffel to dig out the references. She took the treasured letter from Miles that would be the best, the one dealing with sailing experience. She hesitated over Mrs. Culver's; while not warm or inspiring, she had truthfully stated Lexy's talent in the culinary field. Yes, she would take that one down, too. The others—she shook her head, they wouldn't be any good. These two would have to do.

  She turned to leave, then turned back, checking herself in her mirror. Her hair was tossed about, a warm flush on her cheeks attested to the heat of the day. She grabbed her brush, dragging it through the unruly curls. When some order had been restored, she pulled a face at herself and left. She had no wish to look too glamorous for the job, she told herself. This was strictly business, nothing more.

  Lexy sat calmly at the table while Dominic perused the recommendations. The one from Miles Jackson was long and detailed, describing all her accomplishments and abilities. Dominic obviously recognized the signature, and he looked up at Lexy consideringly for a long moment. Laying that missive aside, he quickly read Mrs. Culver's much shorter letter. Folding them both along their original creases, he held them a moment, tapping them gently against the table's edge, lost in thought. Lexy wondered what he was thinking about, wondered what his decision would be.

  'You'll do after all,' he said gravely, handing her back the papers. 'We'll sail on the tide, about eight tonight. Can you be ready?'

  'Yes. And thank you, Mr. Frazer. I can come to the ship within an hour, if you like, or I can wait until later.'

  'Come after dinner, save yourself one meal to fix. But be sure to come early enough to help make way.'

  'I'll be there by seven.' She stood as he did, conscious once again of his height and size. A good man to have on your side if in difficulties. As she watched him leave she shivered. Probably a bad man to cross. She shook off her apprehension. Why should she even think about that? Gliding happily over to the bar, she smiled at the old barman as he wiped his glasses in solitary silence. The main customers of this bar were still earning their pay. After dark it filled up rapidly.

  'I've got a job, Dick, I got it just now with that man, Mr. Frazer.' She waved towards the door through which Dominic Frazer had departed.

  'Well that is good news, Lexy. Does it include a place to stay? Or will you be staying with us a little longer?'

  'No, I have a place to stay, it's on a ship and I'm off to Barbados.' She smiled at the thought. While Barbados did not hold good memories for her, quite the opposite, in fact, she looked on the voyage as a new beginning. She was leaving Santa Inez, and this time things would be different!

  'Well, sorry I will be to have you go, but it's best. You’re too much a lady to be in a place the likes of this one.'

  Lexy's face sobered as she glanced around, some of her joy dimmed. 'I haven't been a lady for a long time, Dick. This place’s fine, it suited me and everybody here has been quite . . .' she hunted for the right word, 'proper.'

  She shook off her mood,
'Anyway, I'm off tonight, so must pack and have a bite to eat. I'll say goodbye now, Dick, so that I don't have to do so when all the men are about.'

  She extended her small, capable hand to the barman gravely shaking his.

  'All the best Lexy,' he said gruffly.

  Lexy was halfway up the stairs before she realized Dominic Frazer had not mentioned salary. Oh well, she shrugged, continuing to her room, the transportation to Bridgetown would be compensation enough if there wasn't more. Should they decide to continue after that, well, time enough to discuss salary later.

  Dominique swung by the grocery store near the docks. He hadn’t wanted to wait any longer to be under way, but he still had doubts about hiring a young woman to be his crew. If he could have made the trip alone, he would have and hired someone in Bridgetown.

  Ordering enough supplies to last for the week’s journey, and then some; he headed out to the post office. He’d send a letter home to alert them he was on his way. Then he’d swing by the bank and close that account. His time on St. Inez was over. He didn’t plan to return.

  So why was Lexy Kent so interested in leaving the island, he wondered. Money had to be tight or she could take a flight out. As he waited at a crosswalk, he thought more about her. She’d sure looked younger than she said she was. Maybe he should have checked her passport after all. Yet from the references, and the time she worked, she had to be older than a teenager. She didn’t look it. She did look capable and determined. Attributes he himself liked. The shakedown cruise would show if she was as good as she said.

  He stopped at the shrimp shack near the dock and got one last shrimp po’boy sandwich, and lots of fries. He’d miss this when he was gone. No facilities for french fries on the ship. The galley was small; most of the space would be filled with food. They’d eat their way through until they reached Barbados.

  When he reached the sloop, he went aboard and began to reconfigure the interior cabin. He’d sleep on the fold down couch. He’d move his things from the lockers in the forward cabin, to give her room for her own things. He and his brother hadn’t minded doubling up on their things. It would be different with someone else. Especially a woman. Though from what he remembered from earlier, she traveled light.

  He couldn’t believe no one else on the island came about the job. He’d posted it all over. Lexy Kent had been the only one to respond. Maybe the economy wasn’t as bad as he thought. Or maybe no one wanted to leave St. Inez.

  There’d be plenty of time to get to know his new crew member. If she suited–which he doubted–he’d keep her on. Otherwise, he’d find someone else once they reached home. He paused a moment thinking about his home and how long it had been since it had felt like a refuge. He planned a short visit. Appease the family, and then take off again. The memories would come, he had no doubt. But he would deal with them and shake them off once sailed away.

  Lexy took advantage of her few remaining hours on St. Inez to soak in a long hot bath, washing her hair and pampering herself with lotions and creams. It would be a long time before she’d be able to enjoy such comforts. A quick dip in the sea and a rinse with fresh water would probably be her bath henceforth; bathing facilities were limited on an ocean sailboat.

  Clean and fresh, dressed in the inevitable khakis and T-shirt, Lexy repacked her duffel bag. She carried all she owned with her and had pared down her belongings until they fit in the one bag. No dresses, Lexy didn't go places that required dresses. A jacket, folded at the bottom this time of year, khakis, shirts, shorts and a couple of swimsuits. Her underwear the only concession to femininity, being lacy and brief. Even her sleeping attire was merely large T-shirts, which fell to just above her knees.

  The corded cardboard box, still bound up from her last move, contained about fifty paperback books. Lexy loved to read and gladly borrowed or exchanged whenever she could. The books changed, of course, as she found new ones and discarded old ones. A few she kept to reread, one she had for sentimental reasons, though she was loathe to admit that, even to herself. She had cut out sentimentality from her life—she had no time for it.

  She put the duffel and the box by the door. She was ready. A quick dinner in the hotel's restaurant, early to miss most of the other inhabitants, and she’d head out. She’d told Dick the truth, as far as it went, everyone had been most proper around her. Still, she’d felt uncomfortable and conspicuous in the all-male gatherings at the hotel and would be glad to leave.

  Dominic Frazer was on the deck of the sloop when she stepped onto the pier. He was checking lines, unsnapping sail covers and casually keeping an eye out for her.

  Silhouetted by the late afternoon sun, her bag looking almost too big for her to carry, Lexy walked firmly toward the boat. She had had several spells of indecision during the afternoon, wondering if she’d done the right thing in hiring on, yet what choice did she have? She wanted to leave Santa Inez; this was the only job available. Though Barbados as a destination would not have been her first choice, it was a large enough place for her to find something more suited to her should this position not work out. She knew the places to avoid, the people not to run into, and if this didn’t work, she’d be in a much better position to find a new job.

  This had to work–at least for a week. She would see that it did.

  The recommendation by Miles Jackson, a name familiar as a leading authority in marine biology in the Caribbean, had been most explicit in all the aspects of sailing and marine navigation in which Lexy was proficient. She wasn’t worried about her abilities. Just her interactions with her new boss.

  Dominic stopped work and watched her as she carried her things along the pier.

  “You’re prompt,” he said, stepping down and offering a hand to help her aboard.

  'Hello,' her soft voice floated across the water. It was low, serene and pleasing.

  'Welcome aboard.' He reached for her bag, but Lexy shook her head.

  'I can manage, if you'll tell me where to put it.' She took the short ramp in small running steps, landing near him on the narrow deck.

  'Below, forward all the way. There's a small cabin, two bunks, it's yours.'

  'And where will you sleep?' She paused; surely it wasn't going to end up impossible after all.

  'The sofa in the main cabin drops down and makes a bunk, I'll use that. In the past, when my brother and I sailed the Marybeth, we shared the cabin. That, of course, under the circumstances, is no longer possible.' He spoke coolly, firmly.

  Lexy went below with uplifted spirits. The sloop was spacious for a sailing ship. The short ladder-stairs, four in all, led to the main cabin. A compact galley was along the port side of the ship, next to the head. The other side had the sofa-cum-dining area arrangement. Ahead was the door leading to the small forward cabin. Lexy opened it and entered. It was narrower than the main cabin, of course, with two bunks on either wall, joining in a common headboard as the bow narrowed. Forward still, on the headboard, was a hatch leading to a triangular storage compartment. There were storage compartments beneath each bunk, as well as the standard ones in the main cabin and topside. Lexy dumped her gear on the port bunk, and taking a quick peek into the compartments, she saw Dominic's clothes in the drawers beneath that bunk. The corresponding space on the starboard side was empty.

  That's mine, she thought, shifting her gear to the starboard bunk. Time enough later to unpack. She straightened and headed topside, noticing in passing that while the boat was not spanking new, it was well equipped and in excellent condition. Dominic Frazer obviously did not believe in denying himself a comfortable existence when 'incommunicado'.

  With Lexy's help, they cast off a few minutes before eight, taking the ship out to sea with the mainsail only, using the steady offshore breeze. Once clear of the harbor, Dominic plotted the course and locked in on the coordinates for Barbados. They were on their way!

  Lexy joined Dominic at the helm.

  'You’re experienced,' he commented, sitting back on the bench by the wheel, the shi
p steady on course. 'Did you sail a lot before working with Miles Jackson, Miss Kent?'

  'No, but his Sea Tiger was not unlike this sloop, we used it a great deal for gathering data. Later he got a ketch and we used that.' She paused a moment, but Dominic did not pursue the topic. Lexy gave a silent sigh of relief. While her experience working with Miles had been an enjoyable period in her life, the reasons she’d had to leave were not.

  'Mr. Frazer, since we will be together for several days, if not longer, would you like to drop Miss Kent and call me Lexy? It's my nickname and I like it better than Miss Kent.'

  'Certainly, if you like.' He gave her a quick glance, but was apparently satisfied by what he saw. 'Call me Dominic.'

  She nodded briefly, then turned her attention to the course laid in and the sea ahead. It was quiet, away from the land, almost silent –except for the slap of waves against the bow as they skimmed across the water. The sun dropped lower and lower in the sky, changing the color of the clouds on the distant horizon from bright pink to palest mauve. The trade winds were steady and strong enough to fill the sail. Long, slow swells were crossed easily by the running sloop. Behind them, Santa Inez island grew smaller and smaller, a dark mound diminishing in the evening sea, its sparkling lights growing dimmer until she could no longer see any.

  'Who is she named for?' Lexy asked, curious about the ship.

  'Who?' he asked, glancing at her.

  'The ship.'

  'She's the Marybeth, named for my wife,' he answered.

  Lexy felt a small twinge of relief. He was married, well and good. She hoped he loved his wife and would constantly consider her, Lexy, as only a fellow sailor.

  Still, she knew from Mr. Culver that having a wife did not stop a man with a wandering eye.

  She threw a quick look in Dominic's direction. His own gaze was distant. His profile outlined against the setting sun; strong chin, aquiline nose, his hair moving a little in the breeze. She looked away, watching the prow rise and fall slightly. It wasn't surprising he was married. He was not very young, in his middle thirties she’d guess, obviously wealthy with a boat like this. She wondered briefly why his wife didn't accompany him. Perhaps she was too distracting when he was trying to write.