“Yes ma’am. Now, if the wind blows from exactly the right quarter and with enough force, the current isn’t such an issue. But most of the time, Luna only likes to take to the Cape going with the flow. I remember once waiting too long to come back, and it didn’t matter what I did, Luna wasn’t going to behave.”
Jilly’s eyes rounded. “What did you do?”
“Well, if Billy Doyle from over Harkers Island way hadn’t been heading home about that time, I would’ve had to wait out the tide. That’s why I always take plenty of water and a jacket or long shirt with me.”
“What did Billy Doyle do?”
“He tossed me a line and towed Luna around past the riptide that cuts through there.”
“Those smelly motors come in handy sometimes, don’t they?” Will said.
The teasing look in his eyes elicited the same in Tadie’s. “I sure hate to admit it, but Billy saved me several hours of kicking my heels on the banks.”
Checking out Luna’s rounded transom, he asked, “Have you ever thought about an electric motor, maybe on a bracket?”
“I have, but I like the challenge of trying to sail everywhere. It was my fault I got caught on the wrong side of the tide, and it sure taught me a lesson I haven’t forgotten.”
When Jilly asked what she’d do if a storm came, Tadie tried to sound soothing and make light of something that obviously frightened the child. “I check the weather and stay home if the weatherman suggests anything bad, or if I see clouds building. But around here, there’s always someone like Billy willing to lend a hand. Worst case, I could go over to the lighthouse and get help from the rangers. This whole area is a national park. Did you know that?”
Jilly shook her head.
“Years ago, folk lived over on Shackleford or had fishing camps there, but a storm took out most of the houses. Then, a while back, they decided to keep this place from turning into another Nags Head or Atlantic Beach, full of houses and people, crowded and busy with no place left for wildlife. They made these banks federal parkland. Now the rangers protect the birds that use the dunes for nesting and the wild ponies that still roam out here.”
“That’s a good thing.”
“It certainly is.” Tadie checked ahead. “It’s about time to tack. You want to help me?”
Jilly’s head bobbed.
“Come sit up here, just on the other side of the tiller. Do you know the difference between steering with a tiller and a wheel?”
Jilly said, “Un-unh,” as she scrambled up on the stern and stared at the tiller Tadie held.
“When you’re steering the Nancy Grace, you turn the wheel the way you want to go, don’t you?” Jilly nodded. “Well, with a tiller, you push it in the opposite direction. Can you find the wind?”
Jilly looked around, as if searching for it.
“Look at the sail, sweetie. See how the boom hangs over the boat on that side—the starboard side? The wind is pushing it over, so that means the wind is coming from there.” Tadie pointed to port. “Does that make sense?”
The girl nodded again.
“Where would we point the bow if we want to go into the wind?” As Jilly’s finger pointed left, Tadie said, “Excellent. Which way do we push the tiller to make the bow go that way?”
Jilly pointed right.
“Good. That will make the bow come around into the wind. You got that?”
Again Jilly’s head bounced as she reached for the tiller.
“Just one more thing,” Tadie said. “We don’t want to keep the bow pointed straight into the wind, do we?”
“Nope. That would put us in irons, wouldn’t it, Daddy?”
“Yes ma’am.”
“And how do you know that term, young lady?”
“’Cause we’ve been in irons before on the Nancy Grace.”
“I’m afraid so,” Will admitted. “When Jilly’s daddy wasn’t paying enough attention to what he was doing.”
“We’ve all been there.” Tadie nodded to Jilly, who placed her hand on the tiller. “Push the tiller hard toward me until Luna’s bow comes right around and goes through the wind to the other side, then you can ease the tiller back to the center. You’ve seen your daddy tack your boat, right?”
“And I’ve helped.”
“I’m sure you have. A first mate is indispensable on a boat.”
“Daddy,” Jilly said proudly, “that’s our word.”
“It is indeed.”
“Indispensable?” Tadie asked, pleased to have hit a chord.
“Yep.”
“Okay, Miss Indispensable, let’s see what you can do.” Tadie pointed at the tiller. “Remember the commands?”
“Ready about?” Jilly called loudly.
Will took hold of the jib sheet. “Ready.”
“Hardy Lee!” Jilly shouted, making Tadie laugh.
“Go for it. Hard-a-lee.” Luna’s bow began to turn. “Mind your head,” she told them, pushing Jilly’s down slightly so the swinging boom wouldn’t clunk into her. “Ease the tiller back toward the center, gently. Excellent. You’re a natural.”
“Daddy, did you see that? I tacked the boat all by myself.”
“You did, didn’t you? And I imagine in that one maneuver you learned more about sailing than you’ve been able to learn on the Nancy Grace in the year we’ve been cruising.”
Tadie adjusted the main sheet. “You sail her for a while, okay?” she told Jilly.
Jilly gripped the tiller for all she was worth.
When the main began to luff slightly, Tadie laid her hand over Jilly’s to guide her. “See how a slight movement will bring her back on course? Keep your eye on the wind—where it’s coming from—and on how much sail you have out. Shall I give you another short lesson?”
Jilly soaked up the information until she could recite the points of sail with faultless accuracy.
Will beamed at his daughter. “Your mother and I both learned on a small boat like this.”
“I know. I’m going to learn to be as good a sailor as you are.”
“I’m glad. Then you can be captain of the Nancy Grace, and I’ll be your mate.”
Jilly laughed as she turned to Tadie. “Isn’t my daddy funny?”
“He is that,” Tadie said, glancing from one to the other.
Will handed around the pretzel bag, but Jilly was too engrossed in her job.
“Not yet.” She turned back to Tadie. “Don’t you worry about getting stuck out here?”
“You mean becalmed?”
Jilly looked to her daddy.
“No wind,” Will said.
“What do you do if you’re way out and it stops blowing?”
Tadie looked from Jilly to her daddy. “Do you always start your engine when there isn’t any wind, or do you sometimes just drift along, enjoying the water and the stillness until the wind comes up again?”
“Not often,” Will answered. “We’re usually in a hurry to get into port, because I never enter a new anchorage after dark. I don’t want to take any risks with the cargo I carry.”
“He means me,” Jilly said, pointing to her chest.
“Precious cargo indeed,” Tadie said. “I never go so far that I can’t get home before dark, unless I’m pretty sure of finding help, like at the Cape. When the wind dies, I’ve got options. I can toss out an anchor on one of the shoals and either wait until the breeze returns or accept a tow from a passing boat.” She pointed to the oar resting behind Will. “Or I paddle home. It takes some time, but it’s excellent exercise. And I’ve rarely been out when there wasn’t at least a breath of air.”
“Luna probably moves in a lot less wind than we need for the Nancy Grace.” Will shifted position, reaching for a bottled water, which he lifted in question. “Tadie? Jilly?”
“I’ll take one,” Tadie said. “And there’s a jar of cashews behind you in that bag.”
He passed out the water. “Do you often have crew?” Will asked as he dug for the nuts.
“Sometimes Hannah comes
or another friend of mine, Rita. But not so much anymore.” She glanced ahead. “Shall we tack again?”
At the end of that maneuver, Jilly asked if her daddy could drive some.
“Of course he may.”
“You don’t mind?” Will asked.
“Not at all. Frankly, it will be fun for me.”
And it was. Tadie couldn’t remember the last time someone else had taken the tiller for her or enjoyed doing it as much as Will seemed to. He got that same rapt look on his face that she recognized from catching herself at it, and every time he glanced over at either her or Jilly, a smile lit his face. It was the company that made it so much fun, Tadie decided, wishing these two wanted to stay a while. She hated growing fond of people only to have them move on.
* * * * *
The sun slanted low in the sky as Luna meandered up Taylor’s Creek. They hadn’t paid proper attention to the dying wind, and by the time they realized it had slowed, they were ghosting along at about a knot and a half—barely enough to waft them home. At least they’d been able to come in on a reach. If the faint breeze had been on the nose, Luna would have needed all their shoulder and arm power on the oars, and Jilly would have seen firsthand what no wind meant on a motorless boat.
After they dropped sails and tied up to the Nancy Grace, using cushions as fenders, Will asked, “You want to take potluck with us?”
“Daddy doesn’t like to cook. He says I need to learn how.”
“Aha! I see a purpose behind this invitation.” Tadie ignored Will’s murmured disclaimer as he held out sail ties. “So, Miss Jilly, why don’t you and I try to scrounge enough for a meal?”
“She means to gather, collect,” Will said, before Jilly could ask for a definition.
Ah, yes, the child might not understand. “Sorry. I forget.”
“It’s okay. Daddy uses big words so I can learn them. I like words.”
“I like words too,” Tadie said, stifling another pang. This family had way too much charm.
Jilly led the way up the ladder and barely waited for Tadie’s feet to hit the cabin sole before she grabbed her hand and pulled her forward.
Will waved them toward the galley. “Scrounge away, ladies. Use anything you find. I’ll be exceedingly grateful.”
Tadie dug through the small refrigerator and pulled out eggs, cheese, and green onions. In a locker, Jilly helped her unearth a can of refried beans, along with salsa and an unopened package of flour tortillas.
“Huevos rancheros, coming up,” Tadie said and put Jilly to work.
When they gathered at the salon table, Will eyed the plates. “You’re hired. Anytime you want to come for a meal, just say the word. I’ll even shop to order.”
Tadie worked to hide the pleasure she felt at his words. She handed out paper towels for napkins. “I hope they’re cooked properly. I’m not exactly an authentic Mexican chef.”
Will scooped beans with some of the heated tortilla. “Could have fooled me.”
“Jilly was a great help.”
“I stirred the beans and put in the cheese,” Jilly said, smoothing her napkin over her knees. “And the onions. Tadie chopped those.”
“Excellent, ladies. This hungry man thanks you.”
When Will volunteered to clean up after dinner, Jilly again grabbed Tadie’s hand. “You wanna see my cabin?”
“I do.”
“You’ve seen the head,” Jilly said, waving at it as they passed. “Don’t you like my shower? And this is where my daddy reads his charts. He’s got electronic and paper. And radar, too, so we won’t be surprised. That’s daddy’s workroom in there. It’s kinda little. And this is my cabin. I get the V-berth. Isn’t it grand?”
Tadie slid her hand over the smooth planking on the walls, as Jilly climbed the little step to her bunk to pull a bear from the menagerie. “This is Tubby. I’ve had him forever.”
“Hey, Tubby, glad to meet you,” Tadie said, touching the glass nose.
“Daddy’s bed is back there.” Jilly danced toward the aft cabin. “See, he has a nice bunk too. And he has a little bathroom—I mean, head—all his own.”
A double Pullman berth extended along the port side with the same lovely wood cabinetry that offered lots of storage. Everything was ship-shape.
Out the hatch over his bed, Tadie could see sky. She imagined lying there, studying the stars.
“She’s a wonderful boat. How does she sail?” Tadie asked, backing out of the cabin. Anything to take her mind off that bunk and the idea of starlight. She was pitiful. Plain pitiful.
“Ah, the sailor asking.” Will’s words made her blush. Well, not his words, but her thoughts. “She’s a lot of fun,” he said. “Mostly because she tracks well and has a sea-kindly motion.”
“We love her,” Jilly said.
“I understand. I love Luna. Now, dear people, I really must take myself and Luna home.”
“There’s no wind,” Jilly said. “How’re you going to get there?”
“It’s not far. I’ve got to keep those muscles strong.”
Will stood up. “Don’t be absurd. I’ll tow you home with our dinghy. I have one of those noisy things we sometimes use.”
“You don’t need to.”
“It will be my pleasure.” Will laid his hand on Jilly’s head. “Okay, punkin, you get ready for bed, and I’ll be back in a few minutes. You know the rules.”
“No going on deck without you.”
“Good girl.”
As Will climbed the companionway steps, Tadie bent toward the child. “Thanks for all your help sailing Luna today. Perhaps you and your daddy can come with me some other time.”
“And you’ll come out with us? When Daddy fixes what’s wrong?”
“I’d love to.” Tadie reached for the child to give her a quick hug, and Jilly’s arms grabbed hold and tightened. “Goodnight, sweet girl. Sleep tight and don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
Jilly sucked in a breath. “That’s what my daddy always says.”
Oh, glory. There was way too much about this child to love. “I had someone who tucked me in with those words when I was little,” she said. Not her own daddy, but Elvie Mae.
One more hug and she excused herself to help Will launch his dinghy from the davits. “My dock’s about two blocks up from where you tie the dinghy. There’s a tee with solar-powered lights on the pilings at the end.”
Will nodded and held Luna close for Tadie to climb on board. He rigged a bridle off his stern and tied the bow line to it. Tadie tightened down Luna’s boom before grabbing the tiller as Will started the dinghy’s motor.
She steered in Will’s wake, hoping he could see her wave of encouragement when he turned to check on her. He pulled her right up to the dock and cut his motor early to keep the tow line free of his propeller. After she came alongside, he grabbed the spring line and helped ready Luna for the night.
Tadie held out her hand. “Thank you for the tow.”
“You shouldn’t thank me.” He clasped her fingers, and she felt a strange tingling sensation. His teeth gleamed white as he smiled. “You’re the one who has given us a perfect afternoon and evening. Thank you. Jilly and I will both remember that sail for a long time.”
“I love the idea of helping another young girl enjoy Luna just as I did when I was her age. Perhaps you’ll be here long enough for us to go again.”
“Who knows?” He dropped her hand as if he’d just noticed it still rested in his. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight, Will.”
She heard the outboard’s hum long after she’d lost sight of his silhouette. As other sounds intruded—the lap of water against a piling, a car door slamming in the distance—she felt again the tingling in her hand and wiped her palm down the side of her shorts.
Chapter Eleven
The if-onlys surely did hurt sometimes. Small arms, an eager face, a child’s laughter. Was that the more she wanted? Until Jilly, Tadie hadn’t thought so.
Stop it.
&
nbsp; It was early yet, too early for bed. She wandered into her studio and pulled out a tray of gemstones. Sometimes, fingering various pieces and setting one next to another helped her see patterns, arrangements for the stones, whether to use gold or silver, make it layered or simple. Some of her most productive time was spent just letting her mind wander.
She touched a piece of tourmaline and picked up some oddly shaped amber. Perhaps the amber would be next, after she’d finished the piece she was working on. A necklace. Silver in contrast to the golden highlights. Abstract, definitely.
After making a quick sketch, she jotted notes and set them aside. Restlessness wouldn’t let her work. She picked up her water glass, hunting up a distraction as she glanced around the studio from the couch she’d set up under the side windows, to her workbenches, to the interior walls that held Bucky’s pictures.
Oh, how she missed her dear, kind, fun-loving little brother.
She’d hung some of his earlier and artier pictures within easy view, shots of gulls and boats and life in Beaufort. But on the wall to her left were others, the last he’d taken. Or that he’d ever take. They were haunting pictures of an alien people in an alien world, people whose eyes stared out and reminded her of the place that had claimed him.
His journal and camera had returned home weeks after his casket. It had been hard to read his words at first, and then there’d come a day when that’s all Tadie and her parents wanted to do. Read and remember.
And see what he’d seen.
Bucky talked about befriending an old man named Mustafa, whose son-in-law had slaughtered his wife, Mustafa’s daughter, after discovering she’d offered a drink of water to a soldier. She’d interacted with a man not of her family and had to be punished.
Off with her head.
Tadie touched the photos, tracing the deep lines in a face that had to be Mustafa’s. A few days after he’d posed for Bucky, the Afghan police had stilled his smile, knocked out his front teeth, and broken his spine. Bucky and a couple of his friends had hauled Mustafa to an American-built hospital. He’d lived, but barely.
Tadie opened the drawer that held Bucky’s notes.
You won’t believe the mess over here, all because these Islamic fundamentalists think their way is the only one.
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. Page 9