Brie was hoping they’d wrap up this discussion soon and move on to something completely nonverbal. “Well,” she said, “light moves at 186,000 miles per second. That’s about 11 million miles in just one minute. So try to imagine how far it goes in a year. Space is a big place—like I said, not for the faint of heart.” A soft breeze lifted her hair, and it glowed gold in the lantern light.
“So what is it about the stars, Brie? What really intrigues you?”
Brie looked at him, surprised by his seeming ability to see into her. “I guess they’re a lot like people. Knowable but unknowable. I mean, we can chart them, classify them, analyze their light spectrums to see what they’re made of. But in another way we know nothing, because the light from most stars started traveling so long ago. In space you never see things as they really are, only as they were.” She looked at John earnestly. “But mostly I’m just fascinated by what’s out there. Studying it… well, it changed the way I think about pretty much everything. It made me think big. I guess you could say I was altered by astronomy.”
“You know what?” John said, holding her eyes. “I like the results.”
The coolness of the night was working on Brie. She shivered. “It’s starting to get cold,” she said. “I think I’ll go grab my jacket.”
“I have a better idea,” John said, catching her hand as she started to walk away. He pulled her over and, circling his arms around her waist, stepped behind her, pressing his body against hers for warmth. They stood at the rail looking out to sea. John felt another shiver run through her and wondered if she could sense his desire, which he just barely had in check. Being a detective, she probably could. He was still bothered by that phone call from Garrett and wondered what Brie’s relationship with him was—and what it had been. He sure seemed territorial about her. Oh, damn Garrett, he thought. I have the advantage—I’m here, she’s here, I’m the captain of this great old schooner, I’m not bad looking…
Brie leaned back into him, a bundle of sensations. Feelings of safety and desire ran through her like a warm current. There was refuge in his strong arms, and there was passion in those molten brown eyes of his. She liked John’s easy-going manner, but she also liked the captain in him. The past few days, she’d seen him take control of several difficult situations. And there was a physical presence about him she’d witnessed in other men who pitted themselves against the elements. Just face it, Brie, he’s a hunk. But one you have no future with. Tomorrow you’ll be heading back to the mainland, and he’ll be heading back out to sea for the rest of the summer.
As if reading her thoughts, John turned her around to face him. “What would you think about staying on the Maine Wind this summer?” he asked. “I’ll be needing a second mate, and with your sailing background you’ve got all the right qualifications.”
Brie was thinking about being a mate all right, just not the kind that climbs masts for a living. But the possibility intrigued her. She wasn’t ready to go back to Minneapolis—that much she did know. Staying aboard the Maine Wind, though, with John? That could lead to something that wouldn’t be so easy to resolve.
“Um, I’m not sure,” she said, looking up into his eyes. “I hadn’t decided how much longer I was staying in Maine. I guess I’d like to think about it.”
“That’s fine,” John said, still holding her captive in his arms. He brushed aside a lock of hair as it blew across her face. “Maybe this will help you decide.” Leaning down, he kissed her lips gently, lingering there, letting her just taste him. Brie’s arms involuntarily went around his neck, and John, drawing her close, kissed her like the sun might never rise again on planet Earth.
In every woman’s life there are a few unforgettable kisses. For Brie there’d been just two others, and they finished first and second runners-up to this one. John relaxed his hold on her, and she swayed, light-headed. She decided that she definitely hadn’t done enough kissing lately. When she looked up at him, he was looking kind of daffy—a sign that her return kiss was not without impact.
John leaned toward her again, but Brie put a hand on his chest, gently stopping him. “You wouldn’t want my decision to be biased by undue sexual influence, would you?”
“I might if it helps you say ‘yes’ to my offer.”
“If I stay aboard, we’ll have to maintain a working relationship—i.e., you’re the captain and I’m part of the crew.”
“Does that mean I can order up a kiss whenever I want?” He nuzzled the side of her head, kissing the top of her ear.
“Very funny, and no it doesn’t,” Brie said, trying, but not very hard, to wiggle out of his arms. She was having a monumental inner struggle keeping her distance. And she was really glad they were up on deck and not below near either of their cabins, since she’d already fantasized plenty about rolling around in one of those snug little berths with him.
“Seriously, John, I couldn’t function as part of the crew if we were romantically involved. I have to be okay with you barking out orders, and what if we were having a bad day—an argument, say—it could affect my performance on the ship.”
“You mean to tell me you’ve never had a relationship with anyone you’ve worked with?”
“That’s right, I haven’t. At home, in the police department, I wouldn’t even entertain the thought.”
So much for Garrett, John thought smugly.
“You crewed for your dad. Weren’t you ever having a bad day with him?”
“That’s different, and you know it, but yes, occasionally I was, and it did make it harder. And there it was just our family aboard—there weren’t any passengers involved.”
“But…” He took a step toward her, his expression halfway between helpless and desperate. “But what about this?” He waved a hand between them. “You kissed me back—that means you’re interested too.”
Brie sighed and stepped into him, laying her head on his chest. “I am interested, John. And I’m more than a little attracted to you. But my career is back in Minnesota, 1500 miles away, and if I stay here for the summer, it could make the decision about whether or not to go back even harder. And if we got involved—what would that make the decision?”
“I don’t know, Brie, maybe it would make it easier,” he said matter-of-factly.
Brie looked at him like they were speaking two different languages. “Let me sleep on it, John,” she said. “I promise I’ll let you know before we get back to port. Oh, and I almost forgot to tell you, I’m going out on a lobsterboat in the morning with a woman I met in the village. She has her own boat. She thought I might like to come out with her and see what lobstering’s all about.”
“But the Coast Guard is supposed to be here by noon.”
“I know, and she promised to have me back by eleven.”
“Well, okay, but you be careful out there. Even though the gale has passed, the seas will still be running high. I wouldn’t want to lose my potential second mate.”
“I’ll be careful, John. Remember, I cut my sailing teeth on Lake Superior. But I need to turn in now.”
He lifted her chin up and kissed her lips gently, and his presence, coupled with the salt air, was so intoxicating that, for just a moment, she had a longing to stay with him on the deck of this ship forever. She forced herself to take a step away from him.
“Goodnight, John,” she said, softly. She walked past him toward the companionway, not noticing the shadow that moved across the dimly lit deck up near the bow.
“Goodnight, sweet Brie,” he said, just as she reached the top of the ladder.
Brie froze in her tracks. No one in her life, except her dad, had ever used that expression. It was what he’d said to her every night of her young life. Goodnight, sweet Brie, sweet dreams. She looked at John curiously, and a palpable energy passed between them. Shaken, she disappeared down the ladder. She’d always been a firm believer in signs, but this one had really unsettled her, and she badly wanted to dismiss it as coincidence.
She stepped in
to her cabin, shut the door, and picked up her wash basin to tap off some cold water. She needed that coldness on her face—needed it to bring her back to reality. She lingered over the bowl, splashing water against her skin. What was he doing using that phrase? She felt as if he’d looked into her psyche and picked the one thing that could most influence her. What really scared her, though, was that it had placed an immediate and inescapable warmth around her heart.
“This isn’t happening,” she said as she stripped off her jeans and pulled on her leggings. “This can’t be happening—not here, not now.” Over the past five years she’d made several attempts at relationships, but they’d all fizzled—some sooner, some later. And none of them, not even the one that lasted over a year, had had a flicker of the intensity that passed between her and John when they merely looked at each other.
Brie got into her bag, pulled it up to her chin and lay there for some time, thinking about her life back home. Over the past twelve years of relentless dedication to her work, she’d piled up a very comfortable amount of savings, as well as tons of vacation time. But lying here now, she had to admit to herself that she hadn’t stored up much happiness. And for the first time, the realization of how alone she was poured like a flood tide into her consciousness. Her friends had, one by one, married and started families, while she hadn’t even managed to find Mr. Right. Her mother had remarried two years ago and moved to the southwest, and her brothers had their own families. But, worst of all, since the shooting of her partner last year, she had felt alienated from her work—the one thing that had meant the most to her. She realized she was more alone than she’d ever been in her life.
What was more, over the past couple of days the little voice inside her head had been getting louder in its insistence that maybe there wasn’t that much to go home to. Move to Maine, though—even if it is just for the summer? That would mean jeopardizing everything I’ve worked so hard for. That’s crazy, isn’t it?
But a pleasant sensation of heaviness, coupled with a feeling of floating, was taking over her being, as if she were a hot air balloon tethered in place. “It’s crazy, isn’t it?” she murmured. One last image crossed her mind before her balloon took flight; it was of a pair of warm brown eyes followed by two simple words—home port.
Above where Brie slept, John walked the deck uneasily. Not since his father died had he felt such a complete lack of control over his own life, and he knew what he desperately longed for could slip like sand through his fingers. He went below to the galley to pour himself a mug of coffee. Once back on deck he walked aft and sat down on a wooden storage locker. Leaning back against the rail, he stretched out his legs and thought about how much he wanted Brie with him this summer—how much he wanted her.
The ship had swung at anchor and now faced into a steady, but much gentler westerly wind. John realized his life had also swung to a different heading. He felt temporarily adrift—at the mercy of elements well beyond his control—uncertain of what lay ahead or which way the winds would blow. And while the captain in him was used to this feeling, even excited by it, the man in him wasn’t so sure.
He got up and took another turn around the deck. He’d always liked the solitude of the watch, but tonight it was oppressive. He felt restless and alone. He stopped at the rail and looked across the ink-dark water. Blackness shrouded the harbor and the village beyond, where the bodies of two men lay—the secret of what had really happened on deck that night as still and silent as they.
John shivered, an odd feeling passing over him. Something seemed wrong. But how could it not? Two men had died. He wrote his feelings off to extreme fatigue and checked his watch. Still another hour till Scott took over. He walked silently aft under the stars.
19
BRIE WOKE TO A CRYSTALLINE DAWN whose clarity was equaled only by that in her own mind. Like the ball on a roulette wheel, her decision, at least for the near future, had dropped into a specific slot, and she hoped it held her lucky number. She resisted questioning the decision, knowing that when you wake with that kind of certainty, it’s a gift.
She hopped up and, grabbing her towel, soap, and shampoo, headed for what qualified as a shower at the end of the passageway. She was back in her cabin in ten minutes and slicked her damp hair back into a ponytail. She pulled on a pair of washed-out jeans, a heavy cotton sweater, and her canvas deck shoes. She grabbed her camera and her rain slicker, deciding it was the best option for keeping her clothes dry while they hauled traps. She realized she was excited about going out with Anna today, and noted that it was the first time in quite a while she’d felt that way. Maybe her lucky number had come up.
Brie headed up on deck, planning to hit the galley and scramble a couple of eggs, as George had encouraged. Emerging from the companionway, she saw him sitting on the forward cabin top, drinking a mug of coffee. She hailed him.
“Hey, George, what a morning!”
“Sure is. Maybe this trip will at least end on a good note.”
“Let’s hope so,” she said, stopping in front of him. “That stove going?”
“I kept my word. The eggs are waiting, and there’s hot coffee.”
“George, you’re the best.”
“There’s a skillet down there with the butter already in it—all you have to do is scramble the eggs.”
“Can I make a couple for you while I’m at it?”
“No thanks. I can never face food this early in the morning. I can cook it, just can’t eat it.”
Brie headed below and set the skillet on the burner. Within a minute the butter started to sizzle, and she cracked in the eggs, stirring them around. She sliced off a thick piece of bread from the loaf George had set out and spread it with apricot preserves. Scrambling the eggs around a little more, she slid them onto a plate. Then, filling her mug with coffee, she climbed back up on deck to eat her breakfast with him. They sat together, silently enjoying the peace of the early morning light on the sea. Brie noticed the wind had shifted into the west, promising good sailing back to the mainland.
At 6:25 the quiet was interrupted by the sound of a motor starting up in the harbor. “That must be your ride,” George said.
Brie hurried below and washed off the plate, mug and skillet she’d used. When she came back up, a lobsterboat was cutting slowly across the harbor toward the Maine Wind. Just then Brie saw John emerge from the aft companionway and head forward.
“Hey Skipper,” George called. “You’re supposed to be asleep for another half hour.”
“I know, but I wanted to see Brie off.”
George noted the look that passed between the captain and Brie and wondered just what had gone on last night after he’d hit the sack.
Anna idled her motor as she approached the stern of the Maine Wind and drifted slowly up to the ship. Brie and John walked aft, and George noted the captain’s arm around her waist. Something’s developing, he thought, and it couldn’t happen to two nicer people. George knew that he, Scott and the captain all shared a common thread of independence, but he was also aware that the captain had seemed less settled the last couple of seasons. George had decided he needed something, and it wasn’t too hard to figure out what that was. He thought Brie fit the bill nicely.
John caught Brie’s arm as she started to climb over the stern. “Remember what I said last night, Brie. Be careful.”
“I’m a sailor, John. We’re careful by nature. See you in a few hours,” she said, climbing down the ladder.
When she jumped onto the deck of the Just Jake, Anna turned and hailed her. “Hi, Brie. Welcome aboard.”
“Anna, meet Captain DuLac.” She raised a hand toward John, who was looking over the stern of the Maine Wind. “John, this is Anna Stevens.”
“Hi, Anna. Great morning, isn’t it?”
“Sure is,” she yelled over the steady rumble of her boat’s engine. “You weighing anchor today?”
“We’re hoping to,” John called back. He left it at that, not knowing what Brie had t
old her about the Coast Guard’s arrival.
“C’mon forward, Brie,” Anna said. “I’ll let you drive.”
Brie waved to John before stepping into the wheelhouse. After a few instructions from Anna, she took the wheel and motored clear of the Maine Wind. Then, as John watched, they took off out of the cove and headed north, up the western side of the island.
The wind was kicking up a little. Just Jake cut smoothly across the water, sending out a large enough wake to counteract a rather laid-back incoming surf. Gulls were circling and calling, excited about the fishing possibilities this sun-washed morning presented.
“I thought we’d head up this way—give you a chance to see the top of the island. I’ve got one group of traps up here, but most of mine are on the other side of the island.” As she spoke Anna poured out a cup of coffee and handed it to Brie.
“Thanks. I could use a little more coffee. Hope this is the same stuff you had the other day.”
“The very same,” Anna said, smiling.
Brie handed the wheel over to Anna so she could drink her coffee and enjoy the view of the island. They were starting to see lots of brightly colored buoys now as the water near the island became shallower.
“How deep are these traps set?” Brie asked.
“This time of year most are set in 10 to 15 fathoms.”
Brie did the math in her head—60 to 90 feet deep. “Who decides on the buoy colors?” she asked.
“They’re assigned by the state and printed on your Maine State Lobster License. My colors are green, red, yellow.”
“So you work alone?” Brie asked.
“At this time of year it’s pretty slow. When school gets out, I’ll have a sixteen-year-old kid working stern for the summer.” Anna switched topics. “Say, a couple of people noticed the goings-on at Fred’s store last night. What’s this about another body?”
Brie wished she didn’t have to talk about bodies on this beautiful morning, but didn’t want to appear rude, either. “The case is shaping up to look like a murder-suicide. Apparently Tim—one of the passengers—killed Pete and then jumped to his death over on the east side of the island. Before it becomes official, though, I need to get another sample of his handwriting to compare to the suicide note we found. That will have to wait till we get back to the mainland.”
Rigged for Murder (Windjammer Mystery Series) Page 18