He had grown up sailing his family's yacht, a smaller, more traditional, and far more seaworthy vessel, but when he and Caroline decided to spend a few years circumnavigating, a custom yacht had been beyond their means. Aside from being inexpensive and anonymous, cookie-cutter yachts like Isis, with their condo-like interiors and modern appointments such as washer-dryers, dishwashers, and flat-screen television sets had great appeal to non-sailors like Caroline. The boats were designed to captivate those who dreamed of a romantic life at sea but were unwilling to give up the trappings perceived as necessary to modern life. Caroline Delorme had immediately fallen under the spell of the salesman at the boat show where she and Robert had been shopping, and their savings had been sufficient for a down-payment.
A few months later, she and Robert had taken delivery of their 'built-to-order' assembly-line boat, just in time to join an organized rally that promised safety in numbers to would-be adventurers who weren't confident enough to cross an ocean on their own. Their days had been filled with the lectures and classes put on by the rally's organizer, and the evenings had passed in a whirl of social activity.
They had no time alone together until their departure, and then they didn't see one another because of their watch schedule; four hour shifts left them so exhausted that they barely spoke during the offshore passage. Aside from the normal problems of non-working accessories common to new boats, their Atlantic crossing had been uneventful. After three weeks of easy sailing in benign conditions, they found themselves in St. Lucia with hundreds of other neophyte sailors from the rally. Most of the other people set out to enjoy a few months exploring the islands before returning to their former lives to savor the memories of carefree days and deserted tropical beaches.
Caroline and Robert didn't feel the pressure of time that their companions sensed. They had the rest of their lives to idle away in paradise, or so they thought, not realizing they were running out of money.
At the same time that the cocaine habit they shared helped them to avoid facing their problems, it accelerated the depletion of their remaining savings. Conveniently, their supplier offered them a way out of their financial dilemma.
Private yachts move relatively freely throughout the islands, as does contraband of various sorts. The authorities charged with interdicting illicit trade focus by necessity on the most obvious, most egregious smugglers. Couples touring the islands on private yachts are not usually worthy of their notice. While they may carry various sorts of illegal cargo, the quantities are small and are usually for personal consumption rather than for sale.
When Robert's and Caroline's local connection learned that they couldn't afford their habit, he offered them the opportunity to earn a little cash by smuggling small quantities of drugs which he and his cronies skimmed from the major supplier for whom they worked.
To avoid the notice of his boss, their pusher arranged to sell the product to an associate in St. Lucia rather than bringing it into Martinique. Their first delivery from St. Vincent to St. Lucia had gone unnoticed, or so they thought.
While the law enforcement authorities in St. Lucia had missed the ripple of new product delivered by Isis and her crew, a rival gang in St. Lucia had felt the disruption that inevitably came when a new supplier entered the market. The thugs in St. Lucia lost no time in uncovering the source and were soon on the lookout for Isis. Turf wars were not unusual in their business; they planned to intercept the next shipment and use the crew to send a message to the interlopers from Martinique.
Robert and Caroline had picked up a second shipment from St. Vincent and were enjoying a pleasant sail back north to deliver the drugs to their supplier's contact in St. Lucia when they were intercepted in the middle of the St. Vincent Channel by three armed men in a speedboat. They were beaten severely and left for dead after they surrendered their cargo.
Barely able to sail because of their injuries, they made their way back to Martinique to be greeted by their 'friend.' He and his boss were not sympathetic. After abusing Caroline in front of a helpless Robert, they had taken her away, saying that she could work off her share of the debt.
Robert felt for Caroline, but at least he was still alive. He wasn't sure about Caroline, but he didn't see that as his problem. He needed to find a way to pay off what he owed; Caroline could fend for herself. She had helped run up their tab with the dealer; she could find her own way out of her predicament.
He was enjoying a few lines of the coke he had scored last night as he contemplated the opportunity he had been offered. He had missed Caroline at first, but he was getting over it. "Her fault anyway," he mumbled to himself. "Liz is prettier. Sailor, too. Not like bitchy Caro, always whining about living on a boat."
In the manic state following his last hit, he fantasized about life with Liz. She was a great cook and perfect crew. They could run the all-inclusive charters that his suppliers had set up for him with no problem. After a few weeks, he would be clear of his debt -- his and Caro's, he reminded himself, wondering if her captors would then release her -- and making money. If things worked out with Liz, he could resume his interrupted circumnavigation with her. "Better her than Caroline, anyway," he muttered. If not, he was sure he'd be able to find another woman. Women were easy to come by if you had a yacht and money.
****
Liz and Dani sat in the cockpit, watching Connie in the distance. She had taken the dinghy and her snorkeling gear to the reef along the shore south of Ste. Anne, sensing that Liz wanted some time alone with Dani.
"I know I should cut my losses," Liz said, "but part of me needs to see him and talk things through with him."
"Don't get sucked in by the flowers, Liz." Dani glanced over at the open box on the cockpit seat beside Liz. The roses were beginning to wilt. Liz held the note in one hand, the fingers of her other hand fidgeting with a corner of the heavy, cream-colored paper.
"No. It's not the flowers," Liz said. "It's just…"
Dani let the silence hang, knowing that there was no advice that she could offer her friend. This was a situation with which she had no experience. She liked the occasional company of a strong, independent man herself, but she had never formed any romantic attachments, nor was she interested in doing so.
"There's so much that's unresolved," Liz continued. "I thought we were together for life, and suddenly, he was gone. There was nobody I could talk to about it -- no chance for me to discuss it with him, to try to understand what happened. I don't even know how he felt about me, really. I found out from some of our coworkers that he was from a wealthy family; his wife's father was some kind of minor noble. I consoled myself for a while with the idea that he really wanted to be with me, but that his family situation left him no choice."
"Think that was it?" Dani asked.
"That's the problem. I don't have any idea; I was just making up explanations for his behavior to try to cope. Pathetic, huh?"
Dani shrugged, not knowing how to answer. She was angry that her friend had been hurt and was still suffering. She suppressed her urge to find Robert Delorme and deal with him herself, the worthless bastard. She knew that would make her feel better, but it wouldn't help Liz.
"For months, I thought that if I could just talk with him, I could put my feelings to rest, at least. I didn't have any fantasies about his coming back; I didn't want him back, but I needed -- guess I still need -- to know why he did that to me."
Liz stared at the note in her hand for a long moment. She sniffed back her tears and looked up at her friend. "Help me, Dani. You're the best friend I've got -- the only person I can talk to, now that my father's dead. Should I meet Robert for drinks this evening, or not?"
"I can't answer that, Liz. I've never been where you are. All I can tell you is to do what will get you through this with the least pain. You've already suffered enough because of him; don't do anything that might make it worse."
Liz nodded, choking back tears. Dani reached toward her, offering an awkward embrace. Liz fell into her a
rms, hugging her and sobbing. Dani, her jaws clenched, patted her friend's shoulder gently, holding her, stroking her hair as she had seen women do when soothing an upset child.
Chapter 4
Sandrine shook her head as Dani explained Liz's quandary. Her husband, Phillip, was a former business partner of Dani's father and was like an older brother to Dani. He had retired to a villa overlooking the anchorage in Ste. Anne, and he and Sandrine enjoyed visiting with Dani and Liz when Vengeance was in their neighborhood. Sandrine and Phillip had invited the three women to dinner and had been surprised when only Connie and Dani had appeared. They were sitting on the veranda, looking out over the anchorage where Vengeance was silhouetted by the fast-fading light of another gorgeous sunset.
"Why you do not tell her to do not go with him, Dani?"
"I was out of my depth. My advice was to break his nose. Connie has more experience with this sort of thing."
Sandrine shifted her penetrating stare to Connie. "So?"
"You can't tell someone else how she should feel, Sandrine. Liz has to find her own way through this. Her emotions are pulling her one way and her rational self is pulling her another. You must have been there, even if Dani hasn't."
"No, never. Sometimes a man behave like I am merde… how you Americans say? Piece of shit, is right?"
"That's the saying," Connie agreed.
"This makes me to be angry, like the crazy chicken with rain…is not right. How you say?"
"Wet hen," Dani offered, suppressing a smile. "Makes you mad as a wet hen."
"Yes. That is so. Mad like the 'wet hen.' I spit on this man who make me the wet hen. So, not to wish to see him again."
"You are fortunate to be so sure of yourself," Connie said. "I envy you and Dani for that. Not all of us are that way. Some of us blame ourselves when people mistreat us."
Sandrine thought about that for a moment. "Is this so with Liz, Dani?"
"She was feeling all alone when she met him, I think. Her father had just died, and they were close. Remember that he raised her by himself after her mother died when she was young. She was vulnerable, and she trusted this jerk."
"So she must see him, the jerk, you say, to make her understand he is not good? That is it, I think. She will see. Then she spit on him, like the crazy chicken in the rain."
Their conversation was interrupted by the chiming of the kitchen timer from inside the house. "Dinner in ten minutes," Sandrine said, excusing herself as Phillip poured more wine for their guests.
****
Liz sat in the booth at the dockside bar with Robert and sipped her wine with restraint. She was determined to keep her wits about her; she was emotionally drained from her afternoon of indecision and she worried that she was feeling too much warmth toward him. She had finally decided that confronting him was preferable to continued agonizing. She would hear him out; then she could ask her questions, if any remained.
She was frustrated with herself. She still felt the old familiar tingle every time her eyes found Robert's; she was annoyed that her hormones were betraying her after all this time. He was as handsome as ever, and he was groveling, which was a new experience for Liz.
She had initially been attracted to him because he was so sure of himself. Seeing him in a tentative, apologetic posture was disarming. She fought down her impulse to reach out, to soothe him, forcing her attention back to what he was saying.
"…so when she told her parents that I was going to divorce her so that I could be with you, all hell broke loose. I didn't know that her father's bank held the notes on my father's business. Jesus! My old man went berserk."
"Her father threatened to call the loans?" Liz asked.
"I don't think it got that far. Our parents had always been very close; Caroline and I were just an extension of their long-standing relationship. My father was going to cut me out of his will and get me fired from the job with the European Commission. Between him and Caroline's father, I would have been finished; no financial institution in the world would have hired me against their advice."
"What did Caroline think? She can't have been happy that you were having an affair with me; I would have thought she would have wanted a divorce." Liz contemplated the broken man across the table. She reconsidered his glib answer to her earlier question. When she had asked him how he could have led her on for so long when he was married, he had told her that he had been overcome by passion for her the first time he met her.
"It was like being stuck by lightning; I resisted my feelings as long as I could, but it was hopeless. I'd never felt like that about anybody before," he had said.
"She must have been devastated," Liz continued, returning to the present.
"I'm not sure. Certainly she was hurt, but there was no passion between us -- not the blazing kind of fire that you and I had. Caroline and I grew up together. We were like brother and sister; there was no spark between us. We got married because that's what our families expected. It was inevitable that one of us would meet someone and fall in love. As far as wanting a divorce, what she wanted was never a consideration, any more than what I wanted. She was every bit as powerless as I was; her parents told her what she would do, and that's what she did."
"Given all that, I don't understand how the two of you ended up putting out to sea on Isis," Liz said.
"Well, after I went to work for her father, my situation became intolerable. He treated me like a dog -- not even a dog. It was worse than that. Every time he belittled me publicly, he gloated. Caroline said we were in purgatory, but it felt more like hell to me. Finally, I couldn't stand it anymore. I quit; I told them all I was through and just walked out."
"What happened then?"
"I went to our house to pack a few clothes and told Caroline what happened. She decided to come with me. We had a little bit of money -- enough to buy the boat, and a little left over to live on."
"Where is she?"
"Beats me. She couldn't take living on the boat. She got seasick; she missed being rich. We were almost out of money, and we decided to try running some charters down here. I'd been working on that, trying to line up deals with some of the resorts for day charters and get listed with the charter brokers -- working my ass off. She just bailed out on me a few weeks ago. I came back to the boat one day and she was gone. She left me a note saying her folks sent her a plane ticket. Guess the price of freedom was just too high for her."
"So what will you do now?" Liz asked.
"I'm going to try the charter thing. I've got some backing from some local businessmen to help me get going. My first charter's in three days, but I've got to come up with a mate who can cook. Know anyone who might be interested?"
Liz shook her head.
"How about it, Liz?" he asked, bowing his head and looking up at her from under his eyebrows. "You'd be perfect."
"No, Robert, I'm…"
"Please," he whined, "Just hear me out. I know I treated you horribly. I still can't sleep at night; I'm so ashamed of what I did. I'm not asking you to take me back. I don't deserve that. I'm just asking you to help me try to get this business off the ground. Come with me to pick up the people in St. Vincent. I'll give you your space. You could help me through this first charter -- strictly business -- and we'll see how it goes between us. Don't give me an answer now. I know I'm asking a lot. Just think about it, okay?"
Liz shook her head, annoyed at her racing pulse, hoping that he couldn't see the flush she felt spreading over her cheeks at the thought of being alone with him on the boat. "I'll let you know tomorrow. I've got to go now to pick up my friends in Ste. Anne," she said, pushing her chair back as he rose quickly to his feet.
"Thanks, Liz," he said softly.
She hurried away to the dinghy dock, blinking back tears at the same time she clenched her teeth in anger.
****
Dani and Connie sat at the dining table in Vengeance's saloon as Liz bustled about in the galley making a pot of tea. "Sandrine thought Dani's suggestion o
f violence was right on target," Connie said as Liz joined them at the table.
Liz smiled as she squeezed a lemon wedge into her steaming mug of tea. "I feel better, but I'm more confused than ever," she said, taking a cautious sip. Setting the mug down, she summarized what she had learned from Robert.
"I can't believe he had the nerve to ask you to be his crew," Connie said when Liz was finished with her tale.
She looked at Connie. "When he first mentioned crew, I thought of telling him about you. It didn't cross my mind that he was asking me until later."
Dani studied the surface of the tea in her mug, lost in thought. She looked up at Liz, but Liz avoided her gaze. "You're thinking about it, aren't you?" she asked.
"Yes, damn it," Liz acknowledged. "I can't understand it, but I keep picturing how it would be to sail with him. In my imagination, though, we're on Vengeance and I'm the skipper."
Dani laughed. "Ready to flog him for the slightest transgression, no doubt."
Liz smiled. "I'm the one who needs flogging. I'm annoyed with myself, but my pulse races when he looks at me."
Connie said, "Of course you're thinking about it. Don't be so hard on yourself. The kind of feelings you had for him don't just go away. When a serious, long-term relationship ends so traumatically, it takes a lot of time and thought to work your way through your feelings. What did you tell him?"
"Well, at first I just said no, but he said he knew that we couldn't go back to where we were before he left me. He's so different now; he's like a scared little boy, almost. He always seemed so strong and sure of himself before; this new side of him is more attractive. I had to restrain myself from hugging him and telling him it'll all be okay."
"So how did you leave it?" Connie asked.
"He's got a charter to pick up in three days in St. Vincent, so he needs an answer, but I couldn't bring myself to just refuse. I think it would have crushed him."
Bluewater Ice: The Fourth Novel in the Caribbean Mystery and Adventure Series (Bluewater Thrillers Book 4) Page 23