by Dina Silver
February 16, 2011
Dear Caroline,
Just a quick note to let you know that we are all still doing well. Grant says we should arrive in Sallalah, Oman, midday tomorrow for a quick 24- to 48-hour stop for fuel and hopefully food. If we can’t reprovision there, we’ll be eating a lot of pasta and peanut butter on the next passage. With a Pringles appetizer, naturally.
Although this has not been a great sail—and we have run the engine every minute to keep a good pace—it has not been as bad as Quinn or Grant had expected so far. Fishermen present the biggest problem. They are everywhere and make our watch very, very busy, since we never know if they’re going to turn out to be a threat or not. We did have one get a little too close for comfort the other night, but thankfully, with the help of our convoy (and the US Navy), we were able to thwart the threat, and it turned out to be nothing.
I don’t want to say too much about Grant, but he’s been a wonderful support, and I can’t wait to tell you more about him. Let me just say that I’m doing my best to keep my heart from going adrift.
Jess
Quinn turned in early the next night while I cleaned up the galley. It was raining pretty hard, and Grant was drenched from checking the rigging when he came back down to the salon.
“You’re soaked. Can I get you a towel?”
“I’ll grab one from my bunk,” he said, and removed his wet shirt as he turned and walked away.
Seeing those two guys shirtless was a regular occurrence, but that night, watching Grant slowly peel his damp clothing off his toned, suntanned arms stopped me in my tracks. My body stilled as my eyes followed him down the tiny hallway to his room, where he towel-dried his hair and slid a white cotton T-shirt over his torso. He turned to return to the salon and caught me staring at him. He stopped walking as we locked eyes and held that moment in time for what seemed like an eternity. No words were necessary. My expression must have conveyed everything that had been on my mind, because he extended his right hand to me and gave me a subtle yet commanding nod. I swallowed and left the dishrag on the counter, never once taking my eyes off of his. My desire for him increased with every step until I reached his grasp.
He guided me into the master cabin and shut the door. There was very little space between us and the bed—a foot maybe—and the only light was from the moon filtering in through the small windows above the bed. As soon as we stopped, I placed my free hand on his cheek. He closed his eyes for a second and then turned to kiss the tips of my fingers. Grant released me, then placed his hands on either side of my neck. I tilted my head upward to look into his eyes again and found them scanning my body.
“I think it’s time for that kiss,” he said in a low whisper, then slowly removed the dry shirt he’d just put on.
There was nothing for me to say. I’d lost my urge to speak when he extended his hand, and my mind delighted in the thought that my physical hunger for him might finally be satisfied.
He reached for my hand and placed my palm over his heart. His skin was damp, and he smelled like the sea. My eyes went from the back of my hand to his face, and without hesitation he bent forward and kissed me. His lips were soft, in contrast with the stubble that surrounded them, and his hands tightened their grip on my neck as he parted my mouth with his tongue.
“You take my breath away,” he said.
I dropped my arms to my side, numb with desire. He pressed my back against a wooden post at the base of the bed, and we kissed with unadulterated abandon. A moment later he lifted me up onto the mattress and continued to explore my neck and ears with his mouth. My breathing intensified when he laid his weight on top of me and spread my legs to make room for him.
“Your skin is exquisite. Has anyone ever told you that?” he paused to ask as he slowly dragged his fingers over my thigh.
I shook my head and pulled him to me, guiding his lips back to mine.
Grant straightened his arms beside my head while keeping our mouths glued to each other and began to press his hips into mine. I could feel him getting hard as I closed my eyes and arched my back to meet his body. He wrapped his hand around my waist and pulled at my shorts while I wiggled out of them. Then he removed his own as I watched him stand for a second, naked, in front of the bed, looking too big for the tiny space. It was dark, but I could see his eyes light up as I removed my underwear and tossed it on the floor. He expertly lowered his warm body back on top of me and parted my knees again. Then he placed his hand on my chest and paused to look at me.
“I’ve never felt this way about anyone,” I said as if to explain my rapid heartbeat.
I lifted my chin and pulled on his hair as he bent forward and kissed between my breasts. He pulled gently at my bikini top with his teeth and placed my right breast in his mouth. I turned my face away from his and moaned, causing him to press himself harder between my legs, which were begging mercilessly for him to come inside me.
“It’s time,” I choked out—the same words he’d said to me moments before.
He smiled with one corner of his mouth, then took both my wrists in his right hand and placed them above my head before slowly guiding himself inside of me. My body shook, then tightened, then released itself to him completely. He moved with skilled precision, keeping one hand on my wrists and one pressing into the bed beside me as he managed his pace—slow at first, then more rapid and controlled. His head was down, allowing his gaze to be focused on where our bodies were connected.
Finally, he released my arms and put his lips on mine.
“Keep them there,” he said, and I was quick to obey.
Both his hands pressed hard into the mattress beside my body as he kissed me, starting at my chin, then moving on to my neck and my breasts before increasing his thrusts until he released himself and drew me closer to him.
He laid his head on my chest, which was pounding like the waves, and then lifted his mouth to mine. Our bodies were sweaty and beat. He rolled over, pulled me on top of him, and wrapped his arms tightly around me.
“You are magnificent. Thank you,” he whispered.
I let out a small laugh. “Thank you.”
Grant rolled to the left and propped his body up on one elbow as I fell to his side. He put his other hand under my chin. “Come here.”
I leaned forward. “That was a great kiss, but don’t ever make me wait that long again.”
He ran his fingers through my hair as we gazed at each other. “Thank you for what you’ve done for me.”
“What have I done for you? You’re the one who’s done so much for me.”
He pulled me close and then released me. He was gazing at me intently and smiling. I loved when he smiled.
“You’ve . . . how can I explain it? You’ve brought some excitement back into my life.”
He kissed me again, nipping my lower lip with his teeth.
Grant leaned back against the wall behind us, and I stretched my legs beside him, my limbs loose and relaxed.
“How about another round of excitement then?” I whispered in his ear.
He slowly trailed his fingers from my shoulder to my knee and then flipped me on my stomach. He sat up and straddled me from behind, kneading my legs with his strong hands and making my head spin.
He leaned over and whispered into my ear, “Try to relax.”
“You’re not making it very easy,” I mumbled.
“Shh,” he said, and massaged my inner thighs and buttocks with his fingers until I begged him to stop. I couldn’t take it any longer. My need for him was explosive. The weight of his chest on my back released the air in my lungs, and I nearly gasped as he entered me a second time.
My heart was doomed, but it was the best sleepless night I’d ever had.
At five in the morning, I awoke to a slurping sound and nearly screamed when I opened my eyes. Quinn was standing at the end of the bed, holding a bowl of cereal and wearing a colossal grin.
“Hey, kids,” he said.
Grant rolled over a
nd grumbled.
I sat up straight and pulled the thin sheet over my chest, mortified, and shrugged. We were caught, and Grant didn’t seem to care, so why should I?
After Quinn left, snickering and shaking his head, I pulled the sheet over Grant’s shoulder, got dressed, and crawled out of there. I took a quick shower, grabbed a new pair of shorts and a tank top, and joined Quinn on deck as the sun was coming up.
“Busted,” I said as I plopped down next to him.
“It’s all good, Jess. Don’t sweat it.”
He finished his cereal, and I let the wind blow on my face, waking me up a little before saying anything else.
“I like him, Quinn. A lot.”
He looked at me. “I can see that, but you don’t have to explain. It’s all good. I mean it.”
“I’m not really trying to explain, although maybe I should be, but you’re the only one I have to talk to about it.” I leaned forward and patted him on the knee.
Quinn chuckled. “Okay, I gotcha. We can be girlfriends.” He placed the empty cereal bowl next to him, sat cross-legged, and folded his hands in his lap. “Let’s chat it out.”
A smile spread across my face. “I know your loyalty is to Grant, and I one-hundred-percent get that. But, if I asked you to be completely honest with me and tell me if he’s had countless other women in that bed, would you tell me?”
“No.”
I lowered my chin and raised my brows. “No to what?”
“No, he hasn’t had countless other cabin dwellers.”
My shoulders relaxed. “Has he had any?”
“I can’t diss my boy like that,” he said. “But countless is a pretty big number.”
“You’re right, and it’s totally not my place to ask.” I glanced out at the water, so smooth and calm that morning. Exactly as we’d hoped. “I’m for sure going to get my heart broken,” I mumbled.
“I don’t know about that.”
I turned my attention back to Quinn. “I can’t help it. I’m in too deep already, and I’ve somehow convinced myself that having any part of him, no matter how small, is better than having none of him. I mean, what was I thinking? I’m going back to Thailand, and he’s sailing through the Med and picking up a new crew and has about a year left of his journey, and then God only knows what he has planned after that.”
“Fuck, this hurts.” Quinn unfolded his legs.
I threw my hands up. “I should’ve known better than to get involved like this.”
“Can I ask a question?”
“Sure,” I said.
“Do your girlfriends ever get a word in edgewise, or should I just sit here and nod and snap or whatever?”
“Sorry. I guess we girls usually just talk over one another and interrupt with our infinite wisdom. Got any?”
Quinn straightened his legs out in front of him and leaned back on his hands. “Look, if it’s any consolation, which I know it is, I think he likes you too.”
“Did he tell you that?”
“Not in so many words.”
“Then in how many?”
“Guys can tell. We don’t need a neurotic gabfest like this to know when one of our own is interested in a girl, and I can tell he’s into you.” He paused to raise a brow and lean in. “He was into you, right?” he sneered, and I smacked him.
Grant awoke and joined us on the bow. I felt my cheeks turn beet red as he and I exchanged looks and smiled.
“Sleep good?” Quinn said. “Or was the bed a little rocky last night?” he cracked.
“Wow. Seriously?” I shot him a look, and then Quinn stood and patted Grant on the back as he walked away.
Grant sat next to me, his tousled hair and morning stubble in perfect harmony.
“Looks like it’s going to be a beautiful day,” I said.
“It does,” he answered without looking away from me.
I smiled at him, but all I could think about was our limited time together and how I may never see the man again once we reached Egypt.
“I can tell you have something on your mind,” he said. “Care to discuss what went on last night?”
I lowered my eyes and fumbled with my hands. “Yes and no. Yes, because I’m desperate to know how you’re feeling, but I don’t want to put any unnecessary pressure on the situation.” I looked up at him. “I mean it. I’m really not that girl.”
“What girl?”
I waved a hand in front of me. “You know, that ‘what are you thinking?’ kind of girl you need to coddle after sex.”
He sniffed out a laugh. “Okay, no coddling then.”
“And not because I’m scared to talk about the future . . . or lack thereof.”
He sighed and looked over the rails at the sea. “Yeah, I’ve been thinking about that myself.”
“You have?” I piped up.
“Yes, I have.”
I tucked my hair behind my ears. “What have you been thinking about exactly?”
“Whoa. Didn’t you just tell me you’re not the ‘what are you thinking?’ . . .”
I shook my head. “Okay, fine. How about I tell you what I’m thinking?” I said, and sat straight.
I learned at an early age the rewards and perils of speaking my mind. Sometimes being forthright would get me into trouble, but more recently it’d gotten me to where I was in life. On my own, halfway across the world, and on a boat in the middle of the Indian Ocean with a man unlike any I’d ever met. How could I ever regret telling him how I felt?
I took a deep breath.
“You’re not on trial,” he said.
“I’m thinking that I really like you, and that you’re the most incredible person I’ve ever known, and that I don’t have anything to lose for telling you.”
He narrowed one eye. “What do you mean you have nothing to lose?”
“I mean, I’m not afraid of opening up to you, or of having my heart broken.” I looked away. “Only of never seeing you again.”
He nodded in a way that didn’t quite ease my concerns.
“Oh my God, I am that girl,” I whispered.
He sighed again but didn’t look bothered in the least. “I wish I had all the answers, Jess, I really do. But the truth is that I don’t know exactly where I’ll be in six months, let alone six weeks. I have a very loose travel schedule, and I’ve allowed for many changes and diversions in between.” He paused. “I definitely don’t think this trip will be the last time we’ll ever see each other, though.”
“I hope not.”
He leaned forward and kissed me. He tasted like toothpaste and held the back of my head while he explored my mouth with his tongue before resting his forehead against mine.
“How about we enjoy the time we do have and then worry about the continuation to this story another time?”
“Deal,” I said. “But just so you know, I like happy endings.”
Chapter 23
I was dreaming about Grant and me. We were in a home. It must have been my subconscious’s version of what Grant’s house would look like, because I’d never been there. It was in the mountains somewhere at the bottom of a hill. The décor was rustic yet modern. Sleek lines, lots of wood built-ins and flooring, and a singular glass staircase leading up to a lofted master bedroom. The kitchen was clean and sparse with no cabinetry on the walls, only floating shelves to hold the white plates and bowls. There were a few small appliances hidden below the countertops, and I was making microwave popcorn. We were about to watch a movie, and Grant was waiting for me on a large sectional couch near the TV and the fireplace.
We smiled at each other as I tended to our snack in the kitchen. I pressed the preset popcorn button, and after about a minute I heard the signature pop-pop-pop noise and went to give Grant the thumbs-up—but when I looked up, he was gone. Pop, pop, pop.
The sound was real, but everything else was not. When I awoke from my dream, I could still hear the noise. Pop, pop, pop. Only this time it was gunfire, and it was getting louder.
And it wasn’t a dream.
By the time I opened my eyes, there were seventeen Somali pirates on board Imagine.
DAY ONE
It’s very difficult to describe my emotions in that moment. Fear, shock, disbelief hardly scratch the surface of what I was going through. My breathing was heavy and labored due to the sheer terror of it all, and my body temperature rose instantly—to such a dizzying, intense heat that I nearly fainted. Physically, I didn’t know how to react. My eyes rolled back for a brief moment, and my mouth went dry as I dared to look at them. Every single one of their faces looked like Death. Dark, hallowed eyes devoid of emotion.
Many of them were chewing on khat, a drug I’d heard of many times and knew that nearly every Somalian gang member was addicted to it. It’s a leaf from an African plant containing mind-altering chemicals similar to amphetamines and is used like chewing tobacco, often held in the user’s mouth between their cheek and gums.
The devil had boarded Imagine.
The raw fear caused my ears to clog, like I was on an airplane, so it sounded like the men—some young teenagers—were trying to communicate with me through a tin can. Three of them were waving guns in my face, trying to get me to move, but there was nowhere to go. The space was crowded with our captors, and my legs were curled tightly beneath me, my face nearly pressed against a wall. It seemed impossible for me to stand because my limbs were petrified. When I didn’t move, one of them smacked the left side of my head with a gun. I passed out and had a moment of peace.
I awoke to find two of the men pissing on my bare feet. I tried to scream, but there was something soft and damp in my mouth preventing me from doing so. I swung my feet away from them, and they just continued to let it trickle onto the floor.
I was hunched over, sitting on the floor of the salon, desperate to know where Grant and Quinn were. Blood drenched my shoulder, thick and dark, no doubt from the hit to the face. I began to cry and was hit again in the same spot. The second blow temporarily blinded me. I saw only black and kept trying to blink the darkness away. Eventually, a blurred vision came back to me, and I saw them. Grant and Quinn had been right in front of me the whole time, only I couldn’t see them until now because there were so many people standing in the way. The three of us were tied up and seated on the floor of the salon. I squinted, trying to make out their faces. Quinn’s head was down and he was slumped over, gently convulsing. The sight of him made me nauseous. Then I looked up at Grant. He was staring straight at me, eyes wide, with a dirty rag in his mouth and his arms behind his back. I tried to read his expression, but the sight of him bound and gagged destroyed me.