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

  “I’ll bet they’re beautiful,” Will said, following her out toward the sidewalk. “Perhaps we’ll be here in the spring someday.”

  She turned to him. “Jilly’s special. I hope you do come back.”

  “She’s very much like her mother.”

  Tadie felt herself relaxing. “Your lifestyle fascinates me. Why did you decide to live on a boat and go cruising?”

  “That’s easy.” He increased his pace to walk beside her. “Because of Nancy. Because she’d always wanted to.”

  “And couldn’t?”

  “We’d looked at boats for years, dreaming of the day we’d buy one and head out with Jilly to see the world.” He raked his hands through damp hair. “It never happened. One night, a drunk driver hit the wrong pedal at a red light.”

  Tadie stopped walking as the force of his words hit her, like a fist slamming into her stomach. She’d imagined cancer or some other disease taking this man’s wife, Jilly’s mommy. Not a drunk driver.

  Before she could utter a word, he continued. “You know the ironic thing?”

  Tadie shook her head, even though he was staring out at the water.

  “She was a school counselor and had been trying to help a number of boys whose fathers went on drunken binges.”

  All she could utter was a lame, “I’m so sorry.” This man needed a hug. She wished someone who knew how to comfort were here to give it. Someone not named Tadie Longworth.

  He whispered, “Yeah,” and seemed suddenly fragile. “Me too.”

  Should she leave this wound alone, or would he want to talk about it—about her? She kicked a stick out of the way and stuck her hands in her slicker pockets. Her shoulders hunched forward.

  She knew parental loss and sibling loss. Sometimes those memories, those endings, turned her into a jellied mass of pain. But the sudden death of a much-loved spouse? How did Will manage day after day, having to be strong for Jilly? What were his nights like, when he’d turn in bed to find his wife gone? “When ... when did it happen?”

  “Twenty-one months and three days ago.”

  She winced. He’d counted the days. They were longer ago than her daddy’s death, but obviously not long enough. “I don’t know what it’s like to lose a spouse. I’m so very sorry.”

  “Thank you.” His expression seemed wistful when he glanced her way.

  She started walking again. Perhaps it was time to change the subject. “May I ask you one more thing?”

  “Only one?” His mouth curved.

  “For now,” she said. She liked that, his humor. Perhaps that was how he endured.

  “Shoot.”

  “Do you ever miss having a home—other than the boat?”

  He seemed to think about that for a while, peering across the water dreamily, as if seeing past the banks to the great ocean. “I guess, sometimes. But not for a house, more for what home used to be. Now, home for me is wherever Jilly is. I know she misses some things, like having a best friend—and that’s your fault.”

  Whoa. Tadie tried to see his expression, because his tone sounded pretty serious.

  “My fault?”

  He shrugged slightly and then turned. Tadie’s tightening stomach eased. Will’s eyes twinkled at her when he said, “She found out from Hannah that the two of you have been best friends since kindergarten. Now she wants one too.”

  “How sweet. But I suppose that’s difficult, traveling as you do.”

  “She’d love to get to Baltimore and meet up with the children she played with in Charleston. She may not have one best friend, but she makes friends wherever we stop.”

  Tadie looked away. If only she could suggest they stay. Let Jilly find friends here.

  Will began walking again, avoiding broken limbs and debris. “She loves the Nancy Grace as much as I do. This is not merely a passing fancy for either of us.”

  “I’m sure. You’re giving Jilly something priceless, even if there are negatives involved. I suppose each choice negates some other one.” At the sidewalk, she stopped again. “I had a wonderful father who taught me a lot. I guess the times I miss most are those when we sailed together, just the two of us.”

  “Your mother didn’t like the water?”

  “She was afraid of it. She was a lovely, gentle woman, but she had issues—at least that’s what they’d be called in today’s world. There was a simplicity about her that probably came from some sort of mental illness. It wasn’t talked about.”

  “Why not? Couldn’t she have gotten help?”

  “Right after Bucky was born, my daddy took her up to Duke. I was very young, but I remember she couldn’t stop crying and seemed to retreat inside herself. I think she probably had postpartum depression that triggered something deeper. They gave her medication, but from then on, we spent a great deal of time taking care of her.”

  “That was a lot to put on you.”

  “No, we had Elvie Mae and James.”

  “A good thing, obviously.” He shot her a rueful grin.

  “Yes sir. A lifesaver.”

  “I hate it when I stick my foot in my mouth.”

  “You’re forgiven. You ought to meet them sometime, you and Jilly. I think you’d like them—and their daughter, Rita, who is about to take the bar exam. An amazing young woman.”

  “You got me there. Anyone who can get through law school and still be sane is amazing. My father wanted me to go, but I couldn’t imagine anything more boring. I’m much more of a hands-on type of fellow.”

  “Hands-on doing what?”

  “Mechanical engineering. I still get to dabble in it, consulting for my old firm, but the wonderful thing about owning a boat is getting to play with engines and systems all the time. I’m really just a glorified mechanic.”

  “A handy man to have around.”

  “I am that.”

  They smiled in harmony before Tadie stepped out into the road far enough to see that a crew had blocked each end of Front Street. A downed pole obstructed the west end. Debris littered lawns, the street, and the marsh across the road. Her dock seemed to have survived relatively intact, but she couldn’t say the same for a small motorboat that had blown off its moorings and landed in the grass. In the other direction, limbs were down in the yards, and next door to Mr. Bobby’s, a tree blocked the Nelson’s front door. Mr. Bobby and Angie seemed to have fared pretty well, unless there was damage she couldn’t see.

  “I hope it isn’t any worse in other places,” Will said, his voice and the lines in his forehead exposing the worry that suddenly assailed them both.

  Sensing his urgency, Tadie asked, “You want to call the marina?”

  “Think anyone will be around?”

  “If they can get through, they’ll be there, checking on the boats.”

  They hurried inside, where Tadie took their jackets and pointed Will to the landline in the hall, before following her nose to the kitchen.

  “What’s going on in here, ladies? Certainly smells good,” she said, hanging their damp jackets on hooks outside the laundry room.

  “Spaghetti.” Jilly said proudly.

  Tadie tapped the child’s cheek. “Can’t wait.”

  Sampling the sauce, Isa held up a finger. She tossed in another few pinches of basil and said, “Hannah phoned. I told her we were fine. She said Matt and Alex had a mess to contend with in the driveway, a big tree downed. Otherwise, they’re doing well.”

  “Good thing both of them know how to handle trees.” Tadie turned at the sound of Will’s shoes tapping on the hardwood floor.

  He rubbed a hand down his face. “No one answered.”

  “They could all be outside,” Tadie said. “We’ll try later, but it’s possible those downed lines are affecting the marina. They may not be letting cars pass. Surely by tomorrow you’ll reach someone.”

  “I hope so. If not, I’ll have to walk over.”

  Jilly grabbed her daddy’s hand. “We’re cooking. Isa’s teaching me how to make spaghetti.”


  He tweaked her nose. “I’m so glad, punkin. You know how much I love good pasta.”

  “Since we’re the designated chefs,” Isa said, waving a wooden spoon their way, “why don’t you two go sit down in the other room and do some grown-up thing. Tadie, I’m using sauce from my freezer, and we’re adding things from yours.”

  “Teach Jilly as much as you can, please,” Will said. “I beg you. I’d love to have a budding gourmet.”

  “Tired of your own cooking?” Isa asked.

  “An understatement.”

  Tadie wished she could let go and relax, but she sure didn’t want to go sit in the living room alone with a man who was fretting about his boat and wishing he were anywhere but here. “I think I’ll go freshen up,” she said, pretending a lightness she didn’t feel. “Call me when you’re ready for help.”

  Will seemed as relieved as she was. He grabbed a lit candle and handed her one. “That sounds like a fine idea.”

  Great, now Tadie had to worry about where to put her free hand and how her feet hit the floor. She didn’t want to stumble on the stairs, and she didn’t want him staring at her backside. She hoped the stairwell hid her reddening face and awkward tread.

  Breathe. Just breathe. Concentrate on walking a straight line and getting into your room. You can do it.

  * * * * *

  They managed to get through dinner. Well, more than managed, but only because Jilly chattered and Isa told stories and the food really was delicious.

  “I’m exhausted,” Isa said after they’d used another bucket of water in the clean-up. “You children may stay up all night, but I’m for bed.”

  “Right behind you,” Will said, herding Jilly.

  Candles in hand, they headed toward the stairs and had begun their ascent when lights popped on around them. “Goodness,” Tadie said, startled by the brilliance. “I thought we’d turned all these off.”

  “One of us, probably yours truly,” Isa said, “must have forgotten and hit switches during the dark day. Sorry. You need help?”

  “Not a problem. I’ve got it.” Tadie started toward the hall outside the kitchen.

  “You take the back. I’ll get the front,” Will said, shooing Jilly upstairs with Isa.

  “Night, Tadie,” Jilly called.

  “Goodnight, honey.”

  Isa’s hand was on Jilly’s back. Isa would be the one helping Jilly undress. Tadie shrugged back her longing for another, “Will you hear my prayers?” from that sweet little voice. Another, “Can I hug you?” She flicked off the kitchen light, along with the one in the dining room. Will peeked in her daddy’s library as Tadie walked through the dark at her end of the house.

  “Done,” he said when they met up again at the bottom of the stairs.

  “Thank you.”

  They climbed silently. Why did they have to be silent? Couldn’t she think of one intelligent thing to say when they were alone together? They’d almost achieved ease as they walked the yard that afternoon. He’d shared his story. She’d shared some of hers. It had almost felt as if they could be friends. But now it was merely awkward. She was too conscious of him, too aware of his male-ness, and she hadn’t a clue why. She couldn’t be attracted to him.

  Not to him. Not to a man who’d soon sail out of her life and never be heard from again. A man who was still in love with his dead wife.

  Tadie’s feet hit the landing first, and she turned toward her room. Will headed toward Jilly’s. “Goodnight, Tadie. Sleep well.” His words sounded soft, easy, in a way she couldn’t answer.

  She wished she could. She’d like to know how to be relaxed again. “Goodnight,” she said, barely glancing behind her. Goodnight.

  The water sputtered through the pipes as it got used to flowing. Thankful the gas hot water heater had kept the tank ready for this moment, Tadie turned on the shower and climbed in.

  * * * * *

  Will lay in the big bed, longing for sleep. He’d been greedy in the shower, letting the spray sting his back, but his muscles still tensed.

  It must be worry about the boat.

  Jilly’s eyes had slammed shut almost before he’d finished kissing her. The other side of the house was quiet, so maybe he was the only insomniac.

  Tadie’d seemed different after dinner. Maybe even before. Had he said something during their walk? Something that upset her?

  She’d been buddy-buddy all day with all of them, but especially with Jilly. That was good. It was. But he didn’t want it to intensify. A little fun passed the time. A little friendliness. He wasn’t trying to lock up Jilly. But he sure didn’t want her upset when they had to leave.

  So it was probably a good thing those lights had gone on like they did so Isa had to corral Jilly toward bed instead of Tadie having another bonding moment with his daughter. Too many emotional weavings between Tadie and Jilly might be Jilly’s undoing. He’d seen women, single women, who preyed on motherless children as a means to an end.

  That was not going to happen here.

  Maybe he was abnormally cautious, but Leslie and others like her had made him so.

  Leslie had come to visit her friends on Sea Breeze when they were all anchored in Charleston. She’d been so good at the game, Will hadn’t recognized her ploys until he’d found her in his face every time he ferried Jilly to the other boat. It hadn’t taken her long to sniff out Jilly’s weaknesses and try to weasel her way into their life. He could hear Leslie’s sugary voice now. “I’m just taking the children to the yacht club pool, wouldn’t Jilly like to go?” And then, wouldn’t he like to meet them afterward for dinner? And, where was the Nancy Grace off to next? Did they need crew? She’d love to volunteer.

  Will had never been happier to see someone’s back than when Leslie’s vacation ended and she waved a somber good-bye from the Sea Breeze’s dinghy.

  He was not going to be ensnared by any woman. Knowing firsthand what stepmothers were like, he wasn’t about to inflict one on Jilly. She was never going to play second fiddle in his life. Besides, they were doing just fine on their own.

  Sure, Tadie seemed like a nice person, a friendly sailor and now a hostess without any hidden agenda. But she was single and over thirty, an age when most women were either attached or looking to become attached. And getting pretty desperate about it. Well, she could just get desperate with someone else.

  He blew out a puff of air. Boy, wasn’t that conceited.

  But better to be too cautious than to regret a relationship and see his Jilly hurt. People said a child was better off with two parents. Not true if the child didn’t belong to both of them. Any budding expectations? He’d just nip them and run.

  Sure, he had needs. He was human. And male. But he’d practiced sublimation now for almost two years.

  Just the thought made him grit his teeth.

  He missed Nancy so much. Talking about her today must have triggered all that had happened after that walk. Including his aching need as he lay here, his mind switching from Tadie to his own imaginings.

  “Nancy,” he whispered in the dark. He longed to see her beloved shadow, to feel the whisper of her breath on his cheek. He reached out and slid his hand over the empty pillow, brought it down over the cool sheet. “I need you.”

  But only silence greeted him. He pulled the pillow over his face and tried to hide from the ache that wouldn’t go away.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Tadie gasped at the carnage, unable to utter another sound after Will’s pained, “Oh, no.” The Nancy Grace’s starboard rigging hung, limp and lost, the stainless wire draped over stanchions where it had ripped free of the masthead. The lifelines were down, several stanchions broken. A large gash streaked through the paint along the topsides, just under the porthole for Will’s cabin. And about two feet of wooden rail had splinters pointing upward.

  Into their silence, the balding yardman droned on, scratching his head between words. “I knowed we shoulda got all that stuff off that big boat. Shoulda said something, but we ki
nda got caught tryin’ to get things tied down all over the yard.”

  Will stared at him, obviously speechless. Tadie longed to take Will’s hand for comfort—his and hers. Instead, she balled her fingers into a fist, letting her nails bite into her palms.

  The man rambled on. “When that wind came up, it just laid hold of that furling and shredded it, but not before the loosed sails added to that there shade thing of his and that high pilothouse just sent it kabooming right over into the boat between yours and his. That’s the one hooked your riggin’.”

  Will opened his mouth, but no words came out. Tadie tried to wrap her mind around the pain he must be feeling, like coming upon a loved one who’d been assaulted. If Luna’d been holed or sunk, she’d feel the blow to her stomach, the squeeze to her heart.

  “Sorry about that, mister. Real sorry. Boss is too. He’s in there on the phone, trying to get the other owners down here and get the insurance things going. You got insurance?” At Will’s nod, he sighed. “Got good photos before we pulled that other boat off’n yours. Boss said he tried the number you gave him. Didn’t get no answer.”

  Will found his voice. “Cell towers must be down.”

  The man shrugged and walked away, shaking his head.

  Will set up the ladder and climbed aboard. “She’s got a small hole, probably where the other guy’s spreaders slammed down before he lost his mast.” He sounded weary. “It could be worse.”

  Again, Tadie longed to put her arms around him. Just as a friend. For comfort. She pointed at the poor sloop that had suffered the most damage. The crane had righted it as well as the yacht next to it, whose bimini would never be the same. The smaller boat had lost mast and rigging and had dings and dents, as well as a couple of holes in her sides. Her owner was not going to be happy when he got here. Tadie marched around to the stern. Morehead. Okay, a local. Then she checked on the big boat. Nevada.

  Nevada? As in desert? No wonder the boat wasn’t prepared for a storm.

  Will poked his head over the rail. “We got some water inside. I’m going to have to haul out these soaked things and make sure the bilge pump works. I’ll need some help.”