by Dina Silver
I laughed and rolled my eyes. “Thank God, he gave it to someone else. I just made a complete fool of myself.”
He sat next to me. “Tell me what happened.”
I took a deep breath. “I kissed him,” I said, and tilted my head back. “We kissed each other, I think, or we were about to, and then he mentioned his wife and left.” I threw my hands up and looked Quinn square in the eyes. “I had no idea he was married!”
Quinn let out a heavy sigh, glanced down at the floor between his feet, and placed his hand on my knee. After a beat or two, he turned back to face me. “Jess, his wife died four years ago.”
The room went silent, and time stood still while I absorbed the gravity of his words.
“What?” I asked, exasperated. My lungs filled with air as Quinn’s explanation left me speechless but brought me some clarity. “Oh my God,” I whispered after a moment.
But before Quinn could respond, there was a rap on the door. “Can I come in?”
Quinn stood and patted Grant on the shoulder as he walked out. Grant bent his knees and crouched down in front of me. “I’m sorry.”
I just stared at him, my heart aching for whatever he was going through. He’d had a wife, and I knew nothing about her. Yet there she was in the room, occupying both of our thoughts in that moment. I was sorry too. Sorry that I’d let myself fall so hard for a man whom I knew very little about.
“I mean it,” he said, and took my hand in his.
“I appreciate the apology, but does that mean I’m not getting an explanation along with it?”
He lowered his eyes. “I’m just not ready.”
After a second or two, he stood and walked out.
Not ready to kiss me? Not ready to give me an explanation? Not ready to talk about his past? Not ready to get close to someone? I threw myself back onto the bed and went to sleep.
At four o’clock in the morning, I woke up with a wicked headache and walked to the kitchenette for a glass of water. At the other end of the suite, Grant was sitting alone on the balcony with his leather-bound book on the table next to him. He was sitting too straight to be asleep. I took one step toward him and then changed my mind and returned to my room.
The next morning I awoke to a text from Grant. It read, I’d still like to have you on the boat one day when we get back.
To which I responded, I’m ready when you are.
Chapter 16
One week after our trip to Bangkok, I rode my bike to Royal Phuket Marina after the lunch shift at The Islander and boarded Imagine for the second time.
She was still breathtaking. A fifty-three-foot Hallberg-Rassy, built in Sweden, with golden teak decks, stainless steel accents, and a polished hull that sparkled like a diamond. Grant was her second owner. Quinn talked about the boat like it was his, though, proudly boasting of every modern amenity and gadget, including two bathrooms, dual zone heating and air conditioning, washer and dryer, water maker, electric winches, dual autopilots, and a complete “electronics package.” The galley was equipped with a refrigerator, wine cooler, and gas oven.
“Ahoy!” Quinn shouted from the bow when he noticed me walking my bike down the dock. “You looking for a couple of sailors, young lady?”
“I sure am!” Grant had kept his word and invited me for a boat ride, but we had yet to discuss anything that happened between us in Bangkok. However, I wasn’t about to carry a grudge or put any unnecessary pressure on him. All I could do was keep my feelings in check and move on. As much as I wanted an explanation from Grant, I didn’t feel it was owed to me.
He extended his hand and helped me aboard. “Rubber soles, I hope,” he cautioned me.
“I’m all good,” I said, and pointed to my flip-flops.
“Have a seat.” He gestured to one of the benches. “I have some news for you.”
“Oh?”
“Our third crew fell through.”
My eyes widened. “Are you playing with me?”
He shook his head. “Nope. Happens all the time. The guy we hired found someone leaving sooner. Didn’t want to wait until January.”
“You’re not joking?”
“Nope.”
“Are you offering me the job?”
“Yep.”
I sat back and folded my arms. “How does Grant feel about it?”
“He told me to offer it to you, obviously. That is, if you still want it.” He paused. “Well, do you?”
“I do.” I smiled. “What changed his mind about me?”
Quinn thought for a second. “He never doubted you could handle the job. I think he just needed an extra push.”
“Do I have you to thank for that?”
He winked at me, then clapped his hands together. “Well, I guess I better show you around then.”
Quinn gave me a quick tour, pointing out Grant’s master bedroom at the stern of the boat, with its own head (a.k.a. bathroom). Then he took us back through the salon area to the bow, where there was another bathroom, a teeny, tiny closet-like room with bunkbeds, and just past that a larger bedroom where Quinn slept.
“This is where I bunk,” he told me. “And you’ll get the room we just passed, next to the head.”
I looked around his room, and my eyes landed on his bed. “What a lovely quilt,” I said, noticing the folded blanket on the end of Quinn’s bunk.
“My girl, Bridget, made it for me,” he said, grinning.
“My mother used to quilt. May I?” I asked as I lifted it off the bed and gently unfolded it. There were University of Miami patches, patches representing different US states, like Georgia and Texas and Nevada, and other squares with colorful stripes and paisley patterns.
“Those are places we’ve been together, and Bridget’s going to add patches for all the countries from this trip when I get home.”
I folded it back up and gave it a quick pat once it was back on the bed. “I love that you’re such a softie,” I said to him.
“And I love that you’re a real sweetheart. I mean it, Jess. I told Bridget all about you, and she can’t wait to meet you one day.”
“Thanks, Quinn. I can’t wait to tell her what a lucky girl she is.”
He raised his arms to his side. “As if she didn’t know,” he said as we walked back through the salon to find Grant.
“So what do you think? Manageable enough for you?” Grant asked me as we climbed the stairs into the cockpit just as he was coming aboard.
“She’s beautiful,” I said as he joined us, carrying two grocery bags.
And so was he. Captain of his ship. King of the sea. I couldn’t help but marvel at both him and his boat.
“Thank you,” he said.
“And I’d be honored to join the crew.”
“Thank you again.”
The cockpit was enclosed with glass windows to protect the wheel and the controls from the elements. Quinn and I took a seat behind Grant on the white padded benches that surrounded that part of the boat.
“I thought you might want to take a ride, if you have time. Nothing fancy. Just a quick turn out of the marina and up the coast a bit.”
“I’d love to.”
Quinn stood and took the bags from Grant and then paused. “Wait a minute. Does having Jess as part of the crew mean I’m off grocery duty?”
“No,” Grant said.
“I’d be happy to take over grocery duty,” I spoke up.
“I’m teasing you. Better get used to it,” Quinn said, then leaned over and whispered in my ear. “And used to grocery duty.” He cracked himself up, then went down the stairs with the bags.
Grant rolled his eyes at me. “Don’t let him get to you.”
“Never. I adore Quinn,” I said. “And besides, I’m eager to carry my weight around here.”
“Well, you can start by hopping off the boat and throwing the bowlines off so we can set sail.”
“Aye, aye, captain!” I said with a salute, and leapt gingerly off the boat onto the dock, where I unhooked the rope
s and tossed them on deck, freeing Imagine from her restraints.
“The marina has a long, shallow, and narrow channel that we have to exit through,” Grant said to me as I got back on board while holding a thin metal rail and stretching my right leg out in front of me. “So I’m putting you in charge of reading the depth meter as we navigate our way out of here.”
I looked at him like he was crazy.
He continued. “Don’t worry. I’ll show you what to do. Come here.”
I sidled up to his side near the steering wheel.
“This here is the depth meter,” he said, and pointed to something that looked like a small digital clock. “It gives us the measurement between the keel—which is the fin-shaped piece underneath the boat that ideally will prevent us from capsizing—and the ocean floor. Your job is going to be to tell me as the numbers drop so I know whether we’re about to get stuck or not.”
“What happens if we get stuck?”
“Then we crack a couple beers and wait for high tide.”
“Doesn’t sound too bad to me.”
“Ready?” he asked.
I nodded and checked the display on the screen. “We’re at ten feet,” I told him.
“I don’t need the reading until we’re away from the dock and exiting the marina.”
A few minutes later we were out of the slip, and Grant asked for a depth reading.
“Five feet!” I said, and kept him abreast of any changes.
Three feet.
Two feet.
One foot.
Crap. We were stuck. I could feel the boat come to a gentle stop.
“What the fuck?” Quinn yelled up from below.
Grant looked over at me as he reversed the motor and rolled his eyes.
I stifled a laugh before defending myself. “In all fairness, you didn’t actually say at what depth we’d get stuck.” I shrugged.
Once we were through the channel, Grant said the wind looked good and that he’d turn off the motor after the sails were up.
“I’m happy to hoist if you need me.”
Quinn laughed as he emerged from the salon. “The old man doesn’t hoist, Jess. Everything is on pussy pilot. Press a button and it’s done.”
I smiled. “My kind of boat.”
Grant shook his head. “True, everything is automatic—we wouldn’t want Quinn to break a nail either—but you can help put out the mainsail if you’d like to. The mainsail has what’s called in-mast furling. The sail is wrapped up in there and will unravel when you’re ready. Once it’s up, we’ll kill the motor.”
“I would like to.”
“As soon as I push the button that lets out the main, you grab the line and wrap it on the winch—Quinn will show you—and give it a good pull to tighten it. I’ll take care of the rest. After that, we’ll let the jib out.”
“If you get tired of pushing buttons, I can get that one for you,” Quinn shouted over his shoulder as he was tidying up the dock lines.
“I’m trying to teach her a few things, smartass.”
I gave Quinn a playful shove, then shouted to Grant, “Just ignore him. I’m here to learn!”
Once the mainsail was out, we rejoined Grant in the cockpit.
“Can I let the jib out?” I asked Grant. “If it’s truly as easy as pushing a button, then there’s every indication I won’t screw it up.”
“Sure. Just press the green button that says ‘jib out,’ and that will allow the sail to unfurl. Then this button over here controls the winch that will pull the jib sheet tight. Two steps and you’re good to go.”
Watching Imagine unfold her canvas wings was a magnificent sight.
The guys and I drifted at the mercy of the wind for just a little while and dropped anchor about a mile out from a little island called Ko Rang Yai. Quinn was laid out on the bow with a baseball hat over his face.
“You’re a hugger; Quinn’s a napper,” Grant said, and I laughed.
“He seems like he knows what he’s doing, though, no?”
“I’m just kidding. He’s been my best crew yet. Never complains—other than to bust my balls—he’s a hard worker, and people love him everywhere we go. He’s been great to have with me. I might not have made it through the last leg without him.”
“Why’s that?”
Grant thought for a second. “By the time I was ready to leave New Zealand, I’d been there for a long time and sort of lost my motivation to move on. My goal was always to circumnavigate the globe, but after six months without sailing I just didn’t feel like finishing.”
“Did Quinn make you change your mind?” I asked.
“In his own way, he really did. I’d e-mailed him about two weeks before he was supposed to fly out, telling him kind of where I was in my head, and he literally flew out a week later . . . and eight days before we were supposed to set sail to Fiji.”
“He surprised you? I thought you two had never met before?”
“We hadn’t. He’s a friend of a friend, and I guess he told her that he might not be taking the trip with me anymore, because I was throwing in the towel or whatever, and she asked him to change his flight and meet me earlier—to try and encourage me to finish my trip. As you can see, he can be quite convincing in person.”
“That he is,” I agreed.
“Anyway, I’m pretty grateful for him and what he did for me. Even though it’s an unbelievable trip for anyone, he left a lot behind—with Bridget and all—and I want to make sure he has a great experience.”
We sat in silence for a few minutes.
“Would you like something to eat?” he asked. “I picked up some cheeses and bread before we left.”
“That was so nice of you. Maybe in a little bit,” I said, and sat biting my tongue, wishing I could ask about his friends . . . and his wife, but it just didn’t feel like the right time. Maybe there would never be a right time.
Grant removed himself from the helm and lay down on the bench across from me. The sun was behind us and shining brightly into the cockpit on its way down for the evening.
I sat up. “So tell me what you do for excitement.”
He turned his head and arched a brow. “Excitement?”
“Yeah. What excites you out here? Is it the wind in your sails, the beers at dusk, meeting new people, seeing new places? What gets you the most excited when you’re out here doing your thing?”
Grant propped himself up on one elbow and donned one of the biggest smiles I’d seen him wear thus far. He just stared at me and gave one singular nod before he spoke. “I’ll let you know as soon as I find out.”
Once Quinn woke up and joined us in the cockpit, I insisted on heading down to the galley and preparing a cheese tray for us. I sliced the baguette, placed the brie and aged cheddar on a plate, and carried it upstairs with three cold beers.
“To our new crew!” Quinn toasted, and we all clanked our bottles.
I caught Grant’s eyes on me when I looked his way.
We spent the day on the island lying on the beach and playing volleyball. Grant and I against Quinn. Anytime I’d fall in the sand diving for the ball, which was often, Grant would offer his hand and help me up. After about an hour, I was covered in sand and sweat, so we all jumped into the water. Grant and I stayed close, while Quinn swam farther out. The water was tepid, and crystal clear near the edge of the sand. The sight of Grant diving under and shaking his hair as he emerged made me catch my breath. I had to force myself to look away.
“Come here,” he said, moving the water with his hands.
I was no stranger to the charms of the many cruisers that passed through Phuket during my time there. I’d gone out with a few guys, slept with one or two, but never anything serious. I’d never even considered getting attached to any of them, because they were usually gone as quickly as they came. Pun not intended.
But with Grant, it was different. My primal instincts were awakened the first time I laid eyes on him, and I was determined more than ever to be aroun
d him for as long as possible. Maybe he had no interest in me. Maybe he had a girl in every port. Either way, I felt alive when I was with him, and I didn’t care whether it was right or wrong. I just knew that my heart beat faster when he was close to me, and my insecurities hung over my head like a bright neon pub sign, flashing my vulnerabilities for the world to see. What was one more leap of faith?
I walked deeper into the ocean, letting the water come up to my chin. “This island is beautiful.”
He looked toward the shore, then back at me. “It is.”
Quinn swam up just as Grant had floated closer to me. “I’m starving,” he announced.
There was a tiny hut of a sandwich shop that sold soft drinks in glass bottles and the most mouthwatering spicy peanut chicken skewers, of which we each devoured four.
On the sail back, Quinn fell asleep down below in the salon, and I sat with Grant at the helm. His eyes were comforting, more so than words. The way he emanated warmth and trust and tenderness with one glance, you could tell he’d had that gift all his life and had been the type of child people call an “old soul.”
Later that night when we got back to the marina, I hugged the boys and hopped on my bike. My heart and head were full as I relished the chance to experience life on that beautiful boat, with that equally attractive man. My mind was in a spinning haze as I rode home.
It was nearly midnight when I crawled into bed and heard my phone chime. It was a text from Grant that read, Having you on board gets me excited.
Chapter 17
It was my first Christmas away from home, and no, I never did get used to celebrating the holidays without snow. A week earlier I’d sent gifts to Caroline and my dad, in which the postage cost more than the presents themselves. Christmas morning I awoke to a rarity: homemade breakfast by Mrs. Knight. She’d made pancakes and eggs and bacon, and she invited me to join them on the back patio. On the table was a small wrapped box with my name on it.
I placed my hand on my heart. “You didn’t have to get me anything.”
“Oh, honey, it’s nothing. I promise. Just a little token of Thailand. I noticed you didn’t have one in your room.”