by Helen Brenna
“Funny how life is sometimes, isn’t it?” Claire continued. “You’re afraid of water, and Jake can’t get enough of it. The ocean’s the only place his busted leg doesn’t matter, the only place he feels whole.”
“Yeah, funny,” Annie murmured, wanting to ask more questions and knowing she shouldn’t. This wasn’t really her crew.
“I couldn’t have survived Sam’s death without Jake,” Claire said softly. “He was a rock while the rest of us collapsed around him.”
“Rock or not,” D.W. said as he grabbed an oatmeal-and-raisin cookie from the container in the middle of the table, “best to keep one thing in mind when you’re dealing with Jake.”
“And that is?” Annie asked.
“Treasure. It’s the only thing that really matters in his life. Get in his way and you’ll get kicked in the teeth every damned time.”
Claire sighed. “D.W., why don’t you go see if Ronny needs some help at the helm?”
“Aye, aye, captain.” He stood and, with “Later” thrown over his shoulder, he was gone.
Annie glanced at Claire. First Ronny, then Simon and now D.W. Could it be Claire had planned on getting Annie alone? She debated her best course of action as Claire went to the counter, poured some coffee into a cream-colored mug embossed with black palm trees and sat back down, this time across the table from Annie.
Claire took a sip of coffee and leaned forward. “So—”
“Whatever you’re planning to say, it isn’t necessary.” Annie held up her hands, palms forward, deciding to face it head-on. “I don’t have any romantic interest in D.W. None whatsoever. I swear. So you don’t need to warn me off. He’s yours. All yours.”
Claire cocked her head, confusion apparent in her wide eyes.
“I mean, he’s a very nice man and all, but he’s not my…type….” Annie’s jabbering trickled to a full stop. She snapped her mouth shut and sat back. “You weren’t going to warn me off D.W., were you?”
Claire shook her head. “No. I wasn’t.”
“I’m sorry. I thought…”
“What?” Claire asked, cautiously.
“Well, I’m not superintuitive,” Annie said. “But I’m not blind, either. I thought that you and D.W.…were…that you had feelings for him.”
“Feelings?” Claire said. “What kind of feelings?”
“Romantic?” Annie squeaked.
Claire laughed. “Me and D.W.? Are you nuts? I’ve known him since…I don’t remember not knowing him. The only feelings I have for him are as a friend. A sister to brother.”
“Okay,” Annie conceded.
“He’s a coworker. He was my husband’s best friend, for crying out loud. How could I have feelings for him? He’s…well, he’s D.W.”
“Claire, I’m sorry. I misread something. You don’t need to explain.”
Claire concentrated on the inside of her cup. “It’s complicated. You know…like…how a marine archaeologist comes to be afraid of the water.” She swirled her coffee. “Want to talk about that?”
No, Annie most definitely didn’t want to talk about that. “Thanks, but it’s something I need to work through myself.”
“I felt the same way when I lost Sam. About the water. I never wanted to get on a boat, let alone run one again in my life.”
“You seem to have managed.” Annie chewed on some crust leftover from her sandwich.
“Didn’t have a choice. D.W. wouldn’t give me one.” Claire smiled. “When this year’s diving season kicked into high gear, he came to my house, threw me over his shoulder and carried me onto the Mañana. I screamed and pounded on his chest. Scratched the living daylights out of his neck. I think he still has a couple scars.”
“But you stayed onboard.”
“Only because it wasn’t possible to swim home. While Jake shoved off, D.W. held me in a vise grip against his chest. When I felt the sway of the boat, that rocking motion, I crumpled in his arms.” Tears pooled in her eyes. “We sobbed together for an hour.”
“D.W.?”
When Claire nodded, a tear dripped from her lashes and splashed onto the tabletop. “He said he’d lost one best friend, he wasn’t losing the other. And that was that.”
“You’re not mad at him?”
“Hell, yes, I’m mad at him!” She sniffed and wiped her eyes completely dry. “I’ve been making him pay all summer long, haven’t I?” She grinned.
Annie looked through the window. “Maybe time does heal all wounds,” she whispered.
“That’s a load of crap, and you know it.” Claire swallowed her last gulp of coffee. “Our kind of wounds…they never go away. They become part of us, part of who we are, and we learn to accept the new us. One step at a time.” She carried her cup and Annie’s lunch dishes to the sink. “You made the first step by getting on a boat, Annie. There was no accident in that. The next step’s getting your feet wet. Voluntarily.”
“And you, Claire?” Annie softly asked. “What’s your next step?”
“Good question.” Claire turned. “I wish I knew the answer.”
SLEEPY SATISFACTION spread through Annie. The steady humming of the engine, the gentle swaying of the boat and the sound of waves crashing against the hull all conspired to keep her dozing. After lunch, without anything else to do, she’d come back to her cabin to read and had soon fallen asleep.
She took a deep breath and smelled the air… Oh, the air—sweet and fresh, and so different from Chicago’s smog and stuffy, recirculated museum air that she didn’t even mind her cramped new digs. With only a bed, a table, a closet and one small mirror affixed to the wall of her cabin, this boat was no luxury liner. For some reason she couldn’t explain, she liked that. She felt comfortable here, so comfortable she’d actually snoozed right through dinner. She snuggled deeper into her bunk, warm and content, like coming home for Christmas break after a semester away at college.
Only this boat wasn’t her home. Her smile faded. Her parents weren’t topside, preparing some wonderfully extravagant meal in celebration of her graduation. And the Santidad Cross, instead of buried and forgotten, was under this bed. She could almost feel its darkness seeping through the mattress, threatening to renew its hold on her.
That dose of reality brought her fully awake. No way was that happening. Jumping up, she zipped her sweatshirt and headed topside, running her fingers through her tangled, bed-head hair on the way.
The only voices came from the bow. She found Claire, Ronny and Simon playing cards, the scent of freshly popped corn wafting from the huge bowl between them. “Hey, sleepyhead.” Claire glanced up from her handful of cards. “We left you some of Simon’s special recipe spaghetti in the fridge. Help yourself. When you’re finished, come join us for a game or two of hearts.”
Ronny patted the deck next to him. “I’ve been keeping a seat warm for you right here.”
“Thanks,” she said, “I’ll probably head right back to bed after I eat something.”
“Not a bad idea.” Claire smiled. “Jake’ll have us up at the crack of dawn.”
She walked toward the galley. “Heya, sport,” D.W. yelled at her from the helm. “Missed you at dinner. I kept tellin’ Jake I’d be more than happy to wake you up. For some reason he didn’t think that was a good idea. Go figure.”
“I was out like a rock, D.W. Nothing would have made me move.”
“Oh, I have my ways, sweet lips.” He popped a hunk of chocolate chip cookie in his mouth.
“I bet you do.”
“Want a cookie?” He held one out to her.
“I haven’t had supper.”
“So?”
Intrigued by the gleaming look of all the latest technology, she stepped past him into the helm. This was one area she hadn’t acquainted herself with while unloading supplies earlier in the day. Amidst the clutter of D.W.’s stash of candy, crackers and chips, monitors flashed, computer screens blinked in readiness and a sophisticated communications system tuned to the latest weather reports. H
er parents would have loved to see this. The main control panel caught her attention. “Where are we, anyway?”
“Right here.” He pointed to a spot on the Global Positioning System map, a large monitor lit with different colored lights. “What are we looking for way out by Andros, anyway?”
“Jake will tell you and the crew. When he’s ready.” She smiled apologetically. “You navigate with this GPS system?”
“Yes, ma’am. It’s the only way to fly. We should be at the coordinates Jake gave me by one, two o’clock in the morning. That’s when I’m off duty. Won’t get much sleep tonight, so why don’t you stop by to make sure I get going in the morning. In fact, we could watch the sunrise from the porthole in my cabin.”
“D.W.,” she whispered. “You’d have a coronary if I took you up on that offer.”
His eyebrows rose. “Oooeee, baby! Bring it on.”
She shook her head and headed for the galley.
“Think about stopping in my cabin for that sunrise,” he said, loud enough for those playing cards to hear. “I’m telling you, I got the biggest porthole on this boat.”
Annie chuckled all the way to the galley. She was growing fond of this crew…well, fond of most of them. In the refrigerator, she found a plastic plate piled high with spaghetti, meat sauce and several thick chunks of garlic bread on a top shelf. After eating, she cleaned her dishes and considered Claire’s offer to join them on the bow for cards. Unfortunately, picking up that pastime again was bound to bring back countless memories, so she dismissed that option.
At a loose end, she ventured a few feet onto the deck and admired the reddish sheen of the setting sun alighting the darkening waters surrounding the Mañana. It used to be her favorite time of day on the ocean. Cautiously, she moved toward the stern. The boat shifted and she closed her eyes, willing the muscles in her legs to compensate, forcing her stomach to relax. All was quiet, peaceful. A warm breeze blew her hair away from her face. I’ll be okay.
A sound caught her attention and she turned.
“Have a good nap?” Jake sat behind her on the deck, leaning against the boat rail. A laptop computer across his legs, he was partially hidden behind some cabinetry and equipment.
“Yeah. I needed it.” Jake’s presence helped distract her, and she moved to the rail without a problem.
“I’m surprised to see you out here,” he continued, without a trace of his previous sarcasm. “I figured you’d be huddled in the corner of your cabin.”
“Me? Huddle?” She chuckled and glanced back out to the water. “Never.”
Snapping the laptop closed, he came to the rail next to her, ever-so-slightly favoring his left leg. “How is it you can be here now when several hours ago you couldn’t cross the gangway?”
She searched for any sign of disdain in those unforgiving eyes. Only curiosity met her challenge. Curiosity and something else she couldn’t quite put her finger on. Respect? Impossible. Understanding? Never. That baseball cap of his had to be throwing shadows on his face.
Looking away, she put more distance between them. For some reason, his hostility was much easier to handle than this tentative connection. “I honestly don’t know how I can be out here,” she answered. “But I’ve always liked sunset on water.”
“The only thing more captivating is a clear, moonlit night.” He turned toward the great expanse. “Then again, watching a storm cross the water. The way it moves. The lightning—”
“Exploding above the waves,” she finished for him, extending her arm and sweeping her hand at the view, as if she could see it right then and there. “As long as it keeps its distance.”
“Exactly.” He glanced at her. Serious. Penetrating. “Annie, why did you lie?”
CHAPTER SIX
LIE? ANNIE BLINKED. “What do you mean?”
“Why didn’t you tell us the whole truth?” Jake asked.
“Exactly what truth are you referring to?”
“Who you are. Where you came from.”
He couldn’t know. At least not all of it. “I’m nobody,” she bluffed, hoping against hope he would leave it alone. “Nobody from Chicago, Illinois.”
“The only child of Michael and Lucy Miller,” he said, pausing briefly, “isn’t a nobody. At least not in this industry.”
Hearing their names brought forth a dull ache in her chest. “How did you—?”
“The Internet.” He nodded toward his laptop. “Pretty amazing tool.”
“Couldn’t leave it alone, huh?”
“A marine archaeologist afraid of water? Right.” He leaned his elbows on the rail. “The article I read said they died in the Bahamas, but didn’t give the specific island. Was it Andros?”
For one second, she considered telling him the truth about the Concha site, that there was no treasure. But that would only convince him to head back to Miami, and then she’d have to start all over again with another treasure-hunting firm. The facts would come out soon enough. After she had her chance to rectify the past, then she’d tell him everything, and they could go back to Miami. Couldn’t get there soon enough as far as she was concerned.
“No,” she whispered, hesitating, thinking of the name of another Bahamian island. “They died at…San Salvador.”
“You were the only one with them?”
She nodded. “I’d just graduated from college. We were goofing off, island-hopping.”
“What happened?”
“Look,” she said, turning to face him, her arms crossed protectively in front of her. “I don’t like talking about it. Suffice it to say, it was traumatic enough that I couldn’t step back on a boat for their burial at sea. This afternoon at the pier was the first time I’d seen the ocean, let alone been in it, for more than a decade.”
“Sorry.” What looked like regret passed over his features. Maybe his unforgiving exterior wasn’t entirely impenetrable. “I should have caught you before you fell in.”
“You did me a favor. Now do me another one and let it rest.”
“Can’t do that, Annie.” He shook his head. “You’re on my boat, part of my team. As difficult as it may be, I need to know I can count on you to do your job in the water. I’m ultimately responsible for the safety of our entire crew.”
Surprisingly, that hurt. “I did not have anything to do with the diving accident that killed my parents.”
“I didn’t say you did,” he added softly.
“You implied it.”
“I need to know what happened. The Concha’s too important to leave any loose ends.”
“The Concha.” Now that didn’t surprise her. In Harold’s office she’d seen all the signs, and D.W.’s comments had reinforced her assessment. Still, she was angry, angry that any man would waste his life pursuing something so empty. “Don’t you ever think about anything else?”
“What else is there?”
“Spoken like a true treasure hunter,” she said, unable to keep the scorn from her voice.
“You should know. It’s your business, too.”
“You don’t know anything about me.”
“You were born into a treasure-hunting family. That’s all I need to know.”
“Oh, really?”
He nodded, sure and arrogant. As usual. Pulling a coin from his pocket, he flipped it once in the air before letting it rest in his palm for her to examine.
“Very old,” she said, shrugging. “Not particularly special.”
“It is to me.” He smiled. “My first find. A small wreck off the Keys. I was about eight, barely strong enough to hold a tank on my back. My dad was so excited.” He cocked his head at her. “You have your own first-time story. Don’t you?”
One look at his coin and memories flooded in unchecked. “I was eleven. We were off the coast of a little Greek island. Yeah, it was fun.”
“More than fun and you know it.”
“Things were different for me.”
He considered that. “How different could they have been?”
He nodded. “In Miami. Not too far from my grandparents.”
“Go to school?”
“Sure. On weekends and summer break, Mom and us kids joined Dad and Harold diving.”
“Did you have friends, play sports, go on dates?”
“Yes, on all three counts. You didn’t?”
Torn between wanting to punch him for bringing back all the anger and wanting to hold on tight and sob in someone’s—anyone’s—arms, she looked quickly away and leaned against the rail.
“How were things so different for you?” he asked.
Pick. Pick. Pick. He wanted to know? Fine. “Unlike you,” she began, “I was an only child. Didn’t have a brother or sister to keep me company. I never knew my grandparents. We were in the Mediterranean or the Aegean or the South China Sea when they died. My uncles and aunts? Didn’t meet any of them until after my parents died.
“I lived on a boat twelve months out of every year. Except for when I was thirteen and Dad got sick. We lived in San Diego for fourteen months, three weeks and two days while he recuperated. That’s when I figured out how different my life was from other American girls my age. The rest of the time, we anchored in ports around the world only long enough for my parents to make a few acquaintances, party a little. Never long enough for me to go to school or make friends.
“When my parents died, life as I knew it went with them. They were all I ever had.” She took a big breath, using anger to tamp down the threatening tears. “So don’t tell me my life was like yours. You have no clue.”
Jake remained silent for a moment as if actually absorbing what she’d said. The boat’s wake rolled gently behind them. The evening breeze carried the muffled laughter and chatter of the card players back to them. “Then what are you doing here?” he finally asked.
If Aaron hadn’t died, Annie wouldn’t be here. “Closing the book on a few chapters in my life.”
“There have to be easier wrecks. Why the Concha?”
“You should know the answer to that.” She glanced sideways at him. “If you were going to find only one treasure and then quit, what would it be?”