Becalmed: When a Southern woman with a broken heart finds herself falling for a widower with a broken boat, it's anything but smooth sailing.

by Normandie Fischer

  “You okay?” Rita asked.

  “I’m fine. I didn’t sleep well last night.”

  “Mama?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Maybe when she recovers, you can take that trip.”

  “Maybe.” But she didn’t see how, not with all these obligations.

  Besides, did she still want to go?

  On the long drive home, all she could think about was a shower and bed. Some hotshot barreled past her once she got to 101, a fool who should have known better. A mile or so later, she passed his car parked on the shoulder in front of blue flashing lights, and she smiled for the first time in hours. But the smile faded quickly and didn’t make her feel any better.

  Worry about Elvie Mae segued into thoughts of the supper at Hannah’s. Maybe Hannah would drop some arsenic in her guests’ wine.

  With a sigh, she whispered, “Sorry, God.” Really, she needed to quit imagining murder and mayhem. She’d been raised better than that.

  * * * * *

  Although the water cleansed Tadie’s skin of dirt and sweat, she couldn’t scrub away the knot in her stomach. She wanted to call Hannah, but Hannah was getting ready for guests. A phone call might prompt her to badger Tadie into joining them.

  Tadie could tell Hannah no, say she wanted to go back to the hospital to sit with Elvie. Or she could repeat that she never wanted to see Alexander Morgan again—although she did wish she could be a fly on the wall. But that was pure nosiness. Hannah would hoot and tell her to get her sorry ass dressed and over there. And then Tadie would have to act horrified that Hannah had said ass instead of something more refined, mimicking either Hannah’s mother or her own. Or, she’d have to rebuke Hannah for calling hers sorry when the only sorry thing about it was a little more width and a few more curves than either of them had enjoyed in those teen years when the joke first started.

  The memory amused her. Back when their bodies had just begun to mature, Hannah had decided they ought to practice sashaying so they could wiggle their way down the waterfront and impress the boys working boats for their families. Tadie’s sashay had brought Hannah to her knees, doubled over with laughter. They’d never been a match for Bethanne’s practiced swish when she first showed up in town.

  Drawing her mother’s gold-handled brush through her damp hair, Tadie tried to picture her younger self—the one who’d loved to sail and dream and hadn’t yet had her heart broken. But all she remembered was sitting in front of this same mirror, her own brush in hand, trying to tame the untamable.

  * * * * *

  If she knew one thing back then, she knew plain. All she had to do in those early years was stare into that silvered glass, and she’d see it staring right back at her.

  It wasn’t fair. Some quirk of genetic roulette had landed her with a nondescript oval face and masses of unruly brownish hair that alternated between light and dark, streaked and not, depending on how much time she spent in the sun. Nothing like her mother’s soft blonde curls or elegant profile. That same gene game had won Tadie a pair of big, almond-shaped eyes and set them to lording it over high cheek bones and a strong jaw. While these features made girls drool over her brother, Bucky, they looked ridiculous on her. And those eyebrows. Who else had such dark winged things, tamed only by plucking? Her nose was straight, but too short. Her mouth smiled wide enough to meet her ear lobes when she got to laughing. Her hair always broke free from clips or bands and wouldn’t stay neat and in place, no matter how many pins Elvie Mae stuck in when she set it, and in spite of the best permanent wave Hairdo Beauty School and Salon had to offer.

  But then, she was Samuel Ellis Longworth’s daughter, and there wasn’t much she could do about her bloodline. The Longworth genes made women ogle her daddy and her brother. Lucky them. On her, they repelled the boys or made them treat her like one of the guys.

  And that’s how it was—until she hit eleventh grade. That year, Alexander Morgan took notice. Alex had black wavy hair with a long thatch on top that he had to brush off his forehead—or flick off when he knew girls were watching. And his eyes. The first time Tadie had seen those eyes of sea-blue with hints of green, like two miniature Caribbeans, her heart had flipped. From then on, every time she walked past Cape Lookout Travel Center and caught a glimpse of the poster showing the sea around Antigua, she yearned to sail on that green-blue water with Alex Morgan.

  Alex wasn’t just gorgeous, he was smart—maybe the smartest boy in French Four. He and Tadie had vied for top honors since middle school, with Alex winning in math and science, Tadie in the humanities. But that was fine with Tadie. She was going to be a writer. Or an artist.

  Alex listened. He asked her opinion about things, important things like life and art and the future. Early on, she’d figured out most boys liked to hear their own voice best. Alex seemed different.

  She and Alex talked after class, at lunch, sometimes on the walk home when he got out of Chemistry Lab early enough to catch up to her, and when Tadie’s best friend Hannah wasn’t hanging on her arm. He even started going to youth group at church just to see her, but he stopped not long after their first date. Between him, Hannah, and his brother Matt, they got her more interested in going boating or to a movie most Sunday nights. She followed along because it felt so fine to walk around with her arm tucked in Alex’s.

  The first time Alex asked her out, they went to Atlantic Beach, drove bumper cars, and had triple ice cream cones. The same flavor—chocolate almond with a scoop of vanilla in between. The second time was to an old Cary Grant movie, North by Northwest or Charade, she didn’t remember which, only that it was scary. She could still feel the prickles that scooted all over her skin when their elbows brushed on the armrest, and she didn’t move hers away.

  Alex kissed her late one June night as the lightning bugs flitted and flashed their tails and the crickets fiddled as if trying to wake the dead. From the large porch, she could hear her little sharpie creak against its mooring lines down at the dock when the canned laughter from Miss Etta’s TV quieted. Miss Etta didn’t like wearing her hearing aid, but her daughter Juniper came early to turn it off and get Miss Etta ready for bed.

  Alex turned her to face him and settled his hands on either side of her face. When he rubbed one thumb lightly along her jaw, her legs went weak, nearly folding when his lips brushed hers. For the second kiss, he pulled her over to the porch swing, and it was a good thing she was sitting, or she’d have been flat on her back from fainting.

  That second kiss and the next made Tadie wonder where Alex had acquired such polish. Her only other experience had been back in tenth grade when pimply Greg Matthews caught her behind a dune at a church cookout and slobbered all over her. She’d wanted to puke.

  “I’ll love you forever,” Alex had promised between kisses. She’d almost believed him, even though the words were probably spoken in hope of a reward.

  In her senior year, she kept the reward at bay, as much for practical as for moral reasons. She could hear Elvie’s voice, warning her to hold herself apart until she married. And she still had a plain face and unruly hair and a mirror that told the truth. Did Alex, when he said she was beautiful?

  They sailed and played and fought for valedictorian of their graduating class at East Carteret High School. Tadie won by four-tenths of a point.

  * * * * *

  Sleep swallowed her thoughts eventually, but morning happened. It always did.

  The first call of the day came as she stood wrapped in a towel, still wet from her shower. She let it go to voice mail. When she’d pulled on shorts and a tee, she retrieved the message. A strange voice vaulted over the line, assaulting her with a sugary, “Tadie, hey, this is Bethanne Morgan. How’re you doing?” The voice paused for a moment. Tadie’s fingers tightened to a stranglehold on the phone. “Hannah was telling us all about your jewelry last night, and I’d love to see some of it. May I come by? After all, we’re practically family. Call me.”

  Tadie sat down abruptly. Alex’s wife. What
was it with those two, calling her out of the blue? Sixteen years of silence, and now she was bombarded by both of them.

  And family? Hah!

  Twenty minutes later, she rinsed her mug and put it in the dishwasher. Her breakfast had glued itself in a ball just under her diaphragm. She wanted to yell at someone, but at whom? Ghosts? The house had never seemed so empty. Even Eb had vanished to some cool haunt.

  She peered out the open window. The breeze was still too light to sail. Maybe this afternoon. Until then, she should see if Elvie needed anything. Maybe she’d make those brownies Elvie loved.

  Tadie had dozens of chores she ought to tackle, designs to finish, clasps to solder. Instead, she picked up the phone and hit speed dial. Hannah’s rumpled voice answered on the third ring.

  “What’s your sister-in-law up to?” Tadie asked. “Why does she want to see my studio?”

  Hannah answered with a moan. “Do you know what time I got to bed last night? It’s Saturday.”

  “I know it’s Saturday. Bethanne called me at eight-thirty this morning, wanting to come over.”

  “Lord, love her. She must be bored.”

  “Thanks.”

  Tadie heard rustling. “Hold on a minute,” Hannah said. Water splashed against porcelain, followed by the sound of gargling. Finally, Hannah came back with, “That’s better. Okay, look, you know she doesn’t like you. Or any of us, for that matter. She’s probably worried about Alex.”

  “So she wants to visit me? That makes a lot of sense.” What was this, some alternate universe they’d slipped into, with no one acting as expected?

  Tadie could feel a bout of dermatitus coming on. The doctor said nerves would make it flare, and hers felt as rickety as they had at Bucky’s memorial service. She touched her neck, the last place she’d seen a breakout, but her skin felt smooth.

  For now.

  “I think she wants to case the opposition,” Hannah said, the humor in her voice upping Tadie’s mad.

  “Honey, I stopped being the opposition at nineteen. That’s old news.”

  “Yeah, well, you were right. All’s not happy in their world.”

  “You could have fooled me. Are you sure Matt needs Alex here?”

  Hannah’s grunt sounded over the airwaves. “I’d like to say no. Bethanne was an absolute pill last night. If I hadn’t been so concerned with other things, I’d have pointed at the door and sent them both home to learn some manners.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I went all out, you know? Mostly because I hated them coming and figured I wouldn’t give her anything to whine about. Magnolia-blossom centerpiece, pan-fried flounder in lemon-caper butter, mozzarella on tomatoes with basil, my cheese biscuits. But that didn’t stop her.”

  Tadie puffed a pillow behind her back, changing hands and ears as she tried to get comfortable. “What happened?”

  “It seems the Straits house is so far in the boonies, it takes an hour to get to New Bern or the club, and thirty minutes to get to our mediocre grocery stores. That’s bad enough, but the traffic is terrible. Maniacs drive the potholed roads, and fools pass on curves.”

  “Lands, Hannah, who knew Carteret County was such a mess?”

  “I know. I wanted to slap her. And Alex either ignored her or lit into her when she shot snide remarks his way. It was not fun.”

  “I’m sorry. You should have taken them to a restaurant like I suggested. Then you could have escaped before dessert.”

  “I haven’t told you the worst of it.”

  When she didn’t continue, Tadie said, “What? What happened?”

  “I’m scared.”

  Tadie’s blood pumped double-time as she imagined the worst. “Why?”

  “Matt had another episode yesterday. He didn’t want me to say anything, and he wouldn’t go to the doctor. I think it scared him so much, he decided the best way to deal with it was not to, so he drank himself silly last night.”

  “That’s not like him.”

  “No. Stupid man. But I am absolutely furious with Alex for plying him with liquor. He knows I won’t buy the hard stuff. I guess he showed me when he brought over a bottle and did the honors.”

  “Does he know how sick Matt’s been?”

  “Of course. That’s why he’s here. And I didn’t sleep a wink, worried something would happen if I turned my back.”

  “I am so sorry. How’s he doing now?”

  “Snoring like the drunk he was last night.”

  “So that’s what kept you awake.”

  “Hah.”

  “Anything I can do? You going to sit there and watch him all day or what?”

  “He made plans to go golfing with Alex. If he feels up to it, I guess I’ll head to the shop for a couple of hours. I have a set of soup bowls ready to go.”

  “The new green glaze?”

  “Yes ma’am. Came out real nice.”

  “Isa’s going to be thrilled. We’ve got to get Carolyn’s stuff off the shelf.”

  “I know. I saw it.”

  “You want to be the one to tell her?”

  Hannah shuddered audibly. “No way. She’ll think I’m jealous.”

  “I hate doing the dirty work.”

  “Ah, but you’re so good at it.”

  Chapter Eight

  “I sold a cup.” Jilly watched from the settee as her daddy fiddled with engine stuff. Pretty soon it would be time to make dinner. Daddy had promised a surprise, but he wouldn’t say what.

  He stuck his head up. “Only one?” He didn’t wait for her to answer before he ducked back down.

  She tried anyway. “It was one of those big cups, a mug. You can buy them one at a time. And, besides, they’re all painted different.”

  “Mmm …”

  “You could buy one. There’s still some left. You’d like them.”

  No answer.

  “Hannah makes them. They’re pretty.”

  That got her an eye, long enough for Daddy to say, “Hannah?” He grabbed a screwdriver and a rag. It was full of goop.

  “Remember how Isa told us Hannah makes pots and stuff? She’s Tadie’s friend and Isa’s boss. One of them. Tadie’s the other.”

  “Mmm … hmm.”

  “I met Hannah today. She’s the lady in the hat. The one who was sailing with Tadie when we first saw her, remember? Hannah’s nice. Almost as nice as Tadie, but different.”

  The rag flopped over the top of the engine, and Daddy crawled so he was lying on his side. It looked too tight to fit, but he’d done it before.

  Jilly wiggled closer to the other end of the settee so she could see him better. “Hannah told Isa I could get paid.”

  She would have thought her daddy’d answer that one. It was a big thing, earning money. Leaning out and over so maybe he could hear her better, she said, “Real money. A whole fifty cents an hour.”

  “Drat it!”

  Jilly’s eyes rounded for a moment before she figured he hadn’t been dratting the money. He slithered back until he had space to sit up, and she saw what had gotten him mad. She couldn’t help it. She giggled as he wiped something sticky off his face with his shirt. It didn’t do so good as a rag.

  Jilly clambered up to fetch the roll of paper towels. “Here.”

  “Thanks. What a mess.” He scrubbed his face and used another for his hands.

  “You almost finished?”

  Her daddy sort-of laughed. “Not even close.”

  “But—”

  “Hungry?”

  Jilly nodded hard.

  That got him out of the hole and the floorboards down to cover it. It also got him headed to the shower. “I’ll be quick.”

  Sometimes Daddy knew quick, and sometimes he didn’t. She sure hoped tonight was one when he knew, because her tummy was talking loud.

  She wandered to the companionway steps, but not outside. She couldn’t go outside without her daddy. Just to the steps. She could sit on the top one and peek out at the water and the other boats. Someti
mes you could see fun stuff happening when nobody knew you were looking.

  It wasn’t dark yet, but somebody on another boat played a guitar. Wouldn’t a guitar be fun to learn? Her daddy had given her a flute, but since he didn’t know how to play it, she sure couldn’t learn. That was the problem with going to school with just your daddy as teacher. If he didn’t know something, how was she supposed to?

  A big pelican flopped in, head first. Silly thing. Pelicans were funny birds.

  It was okay, school on the boat, because she got to go places. And be with her daddy. Nobody was better than her daddy.

  But it would be fun to stop sometimes and maybe do some land things, like learning guitar.

  “Hey, punkin, what you doing?”

  She scooted back down. “Watchin’ pelicans.”

  “What about dinner?”

  “I’m ready. What’s the surprise?”

  “Get your town shoes on. I’m taking you out.”

  Her eyes got round, and she could feel her mouth drop open. She shut it fast, and bouncing on her toes, said, “Out? Really? Where?”

  “I don’t know. Do you have any preferences?”

  “You mean like where we went before? The hamburger place?”

  “Like that. Or we could get all fancy and try someplace else.”

  “No, I like that one. I could have another burger.”

  “Or maybe spaghetti?”

  “Do they do spaghetti?”

  “Can’t see why they wouldn’t. It looks like a place that knows spaghetti from burgers. I also remember seeing pizza on the menu.”

  “Pizza! Let’s have pizza!”

  Jilly hurried to get ready, because she sure didn’t want her daddy to change his mind. By the time she’d pulled on her lifejacket, he had the dinghy ready and the motor on. Motors were better if you went out at night, so you could get out of the way if somebody was coming. The dinghy had a little red and green light, but sometimes people went too fast. Not her daddy. But some people.

  She looked at the outside of the restaurant this time, just to check the name. Daddy helped her say it. “Clawson’s.”