by Lisa Ruff
He turned to the woman he held in his arms. She was still pale, but she wasn’t crying anymore. “How are you doing?” He kept his voice soft as he captured her eyes with his own, trying to convey confident, calm serenity. Anything to ease her fear.
Kate swallowed and looked away. “Not so good. I can’t help—”
“I know you can’t.” Patrick stopped her words with a kiss. “I wouldn’t have brought you out here if I’d known you would be so frightened. Why didn’t you tell me?”
“When did I have the chance?” she snapped.
Patrick almost smiled at that. That was more like the Kate he knew. “Well, any time over the past hour.” He thought for a second. “Or back in February when we first met?”
“We were away from the dock before I could say anything,” Kate answered. “You told me you would just look at the boat, then we’d leave. Then you surprise me with this!” Her voice rose with each word until she was nearly shouting. Fury had replaced fear.
Ian stuck his head out of the companionway at that moment. He quickly shook his head at Patrick. “No go. We’re going to have to sail her in.”
Patrick closed his eyes for a moment. What a mess. He could check the engine himself, but even if he found something that Ian had overlooked, they had few tools or spares with them to do repairs. He opened his eyes. There was no use hiding reality from her any longer.
“We have to sail back, Katie.”
“It won’t be like it was before,” Ian added. “We’ll be going downwind, so the boat won’t tip so much.”
Kate looked at Ian, her eyes pleading. “Really?”
Ian nodded and patted her shoulder. “We’ll take it slow,” he said with a smile. He stood on one of the cockpit benches and surveyed the water around them. “And there’s not so much wind now. We’d better get going.” He shot a glance at Patrick.
Patrick read what his brother was thinking in a second. He saw Evan scan the water, too, and wince. The wind was dying. Fast. A typical July day on the Chesapeake. They needed to get going before it died out altogether.
Frustrated, Patrick watched as the other two men did all the work. He couldn’t let go of Kate. Or, rather, she wouldn’t let go of him. The idea of sailing—of tipping over—had her clinging to him again. The sails went up in a matter of minutes. The wind was now a mere breeze, but it was blowing the right direction. Evan took the helm.
Their slow passage through the water toward land eased Kate’s fears. She let loose her tight grip on Patrick’s arms and sat back a little. Ian offered her a handkerchief so she could wipe away her tears and blow her nose.
“Thank you,” she said. “I must be a mess.”
“I’ve seen worse,” Ian answered with a smile. “You should have been there when we got hit by a gale off Patagonia. Patty got doused by a wave when he went up to drop the jib. He swallowed at least two gallons of seawater. He looked like a drowned cat, and spent the next hour with his head over the side.” Ian chuckled. “That was worse.”
Kate managed a short laugh. “I guess it would be.”
“You should have filmed that,” Evan said.
Ian shook his head. “Too rough for the camera, but it would’ve been good footage.”
“Yeah, so you could embarrass me,” Patrick added acerbically.
“Of course,” Ian agreed. “Anything to keep you in your place.”
The three men laughed, then fell silent.
“It seems dangerous,” Kate finally said.
“What does?” Patrick asked.
“Sailing.”
“Not really. It has its thrilling moments, but it’s not that dangerous.”
“But the boat almost tipped over,” Kate protested. “And that boat you raced did go over on its side.”
“That was a different situation,” Patrick said. “What happened today was normal. It’s called heeling. The wind pushes the sails, but the weight in the bottom of the keel pushes back.” She looked skeptical and he brushed a finger over her cheek. “I can explain the aerodynamics of a sail and how that transfers power to the keel, if you want.”
She shook her head. “I’ll pass right now.”
“Sailing’s only dangerous when you forget to be careful,” Ian said.
“That’s right,” Evan piped up. “Remember Benny Stillson last season? The boat jibes, the boom hits him in the head and he’s dead like that.” He finished with a snap of his fingers.
Kate’s eyes widened and she gulped.
“Do you have to tell that story now?” Patrick ground out.
“It’s not a story,” Evan shot back. “It’s fact. And there are lots of other instances like that one.”
“He was a good sailor. I never understood how he missed that call,” Ian said.
“One too many beers, is my guess,” Evan answered.
“Benny didn’t drink.”
Evan shrugged. “Who knows? It was an accident then. Happens to the best of them.”
Patrick could see the horror on Kate’s face as she listened to the exchange.
“That’s right,” he said. “It was an accident. They happen all the time, even on boats.”
“Yeah, they do, so you can’t say sailing isn’t dangerous,” Evan argued.
“I didn’t say it wasn’t dangerous.”
“Yes, you did.” The protest was made in triplicate.
“I said, it’s not that dangerous.” Patrick was annoyed that his brother and best friend were hurting his case with Kate. “How many people die in car accidents every day?” Patrick looked at Kate as he spoke. “Accidents happen whether you’re on land or at sea. You walk across the street and get hit by a car. Or some idiot crosses the line on a narrow road and there’s a head-on collision. Or you slip in the bathroom and crack your head on the tub. Is walking across the street dangerous? Is driving dangerous? Taking a bath? No, of course not. Sometimes accidents just happen.”
“But you expose yourself to unnecessary dangers on the ocean,” Kate said. “And what if you fall off the boat? Or get hit by the boom, like Evan said? A thousand miles from nowhere, there’s no one to help you.” She paused, searching his eyes. “And you choose to be out there.”
“Things like that rarely happen, Kate. We’re harnessed in, tethered to the boat, and there’s a full crew to help anyone who is injured. You should worry more about me when I get in my truck and drive to the grocery store. Or when I walk down the stairs at your house.”
“But you’re less likely to die in one of those accidents than you are on a boat on the ocean.”
“That’s not true,” Patrick said in frustration. “What do I—”
“Ahoy, there, Blue Magic!”
The crew all looked over to starboard. A small power-boat pulled up alongside and Ian jumped up to grab its rail. A skinny runt of a man stood grinning at them.
“Youse all look like you might be wantin’ a tow.”
“Yeah, Stub,” Ian said. “That would be nice, since it’s your fault we’re stuck out here.”
“My fault! How’s that?”
“The fuel line is fouled and we couldn’t get the engine started.”
“Well, you the fools taking out a boat when I ain’t finished workin’ on her engine yet. Course, I thought I got ’er all cleared.” Stub scratched his head. “I guess I’ll have to take another peek. Toss me a line, Ian.”
Ian and Evan scrambled to get the sails down and some towlines rigged. Patrick shifted Kate to one side and lifted the cushion to get into the locker beneath their seat. He pulled out three fat white fenders and passed them to Ian. Once they were secure alongside the launch, Stub put the engine in gear and guided them back to the marina.
Kate was silent on the return trip. Patrick watched her closely, but she refused to meet his eyes. She seemed calm, but her fingers were wound together tightly. Stub maneuvered them into the dock carefully. All three men jumped off and secured the boat in her slip. With a wave, their rescuer left them, shouting that he would
look at the engine later that day.
“Hey, they’re calling for winds up to twenty knots on Thursday,” Evan said. “You want to try this again?”
“Get lost, McKenzie,” Patrick snarled at him.
“What’d I say?” Evan was the picture of wounded innocence, his green eyes wide and guileless.
“What didn’t you say?” Patrick began then, checking to see that Kate could not overhear, whispered, “Would it have killed you to help me out a little?”
“What do you mean?”
“He’s pissed because you told Kate about Benny,” Ian said.
“So?”
“So, she’s terrified out of her mind and you tell her about some guy dying on a sailboat,” Patrick hissed. “How big of an idiot are you?”
“Well, it’s the truth. I—”
“I’d like to go home, Patrick,” Kate said quietly.
Patrick spun around to see her standing on the side-deck right behind them. She held out a hand that he ignored. Instead, he reached up and grasped her by the waist, gently lifting her down to the dock. He held her steady as she slipped into her sandals, then put on his own shoes.
“I’ll see you guys around,” she said to Ian and Evan.
“You feel better?” Ian asked.
She smiled. “I will once I get to shore.”
Patrick walked with her up the dock and to his truck. He helped her inside, went around the hood and got in the cab.
“Kate. I—”
“Skip the explanations, Patrick. Just take me home.”
He hesitated, then stuck the key in the ignition. They made the journey back to her house in complete silence. Kate kept her head turned away from him, looking out the side window the entire way. At her house, he pulled into the driveway and turned off the engine.
“Don’t get out,” Kate said. “I’ll see myself inside.”
“I’m sorry, Kate.”
She shrugged. “I know. Me, too. It’s over, so let’s just move on, okay?”
She turned away and slid out, closing the door with a firm thud. Patrick watched her walk around the hood of the truck. She didn’t look at him once and he felt like banging his head on the steering wheel in aggravation. It had been a disastrous morning. Now they were back to square one or somewhere worse. He got out and followed her. He couldn’t just let it end like this. She was halfway up the steps when he caught up to her.
“I really am sorry for what happened. Can we just talk about this, please?”
She turned and looked at him, her eyes dark and enigmatic, before continuing up to the front door. “I don’t think there’s anything to say.”
Patrick moved and took her arm gently, preventing her from inserting her key into the lock. “If I had known you would be so frightened, I would never have taken you out there.”
“I know that, Patrick. You don’t have to keep apologizing. I’m as much to blame for what happened as you are. I should have told you I was afraid of the water.”
“Then why won’t you talk to me?”
“Because there isn’t anything else to say,” she repeated.
“Of course there is. We have to talk about the baby, Kate. I want to be a part of its life, of your life. I think we can make it work between us.” His voice trailed off as he watched incredulity spread across her face.
“You really are something, Patrick Berzani. You still think that, after this morning, there’s hope for you and me? Well, guess what? I’m thinking just the opposite. Today, you demonstrated precisely why I want you far away from me and this child.”
“What did I—”
“What made you think taking me for a sail was a good idea? Especially without any warning?”
“I thought if I could show you how good it was out there—”
“You told me you wanted to talk, Patrick. Not sail.”
“I wanted to talk. Honest!”
“I suppose we were going to have a nice chat, just the four of us? You, me, Evan and Ian? You’re hopeless.”
“I didn’t know you were going to freak out.”
“That’s not the point!” She was shouting so loud, the whole neighborhood could probably hear. “The point is that you risked my life out there and the life of our child!”
“I didn’t!”
“You didn’t ask me if I could swim. Or give me a life jacket. Or even tell me where one was,” she said, ticking off points on her fingers. “Does that sound like good father material to you? I’m four-and-a-half months pregnant, Patrick. What if I’d gone in the water?”
Patrick ran a hand through his hair and walked to the edge of the porch. He turned back and looked at Kate. With her hair waving softly around her head, her face flushed with anger and her eyes bright, she looked beautiful. If only she wasn’t so stubborn. If only all his plans for the morning hadn’t gone so wrong.
“So where do we go from here?”
A car drew up in the alley next to the studio, drawing Kate’s attention. Her eyes flickered over his shoulder, then back to his face. Patrick couldn’t read her expression, she had closed herself to him completely.
“I don’t see how we can go anywhere.”
He opened his mouth to dispute her words, but was interrupted by the man who had gotten out of the car.
“Kate! Hello.”
Patrick turned to look at the tall, barrel-chested man coming up the walk. He had a round, cheerful face with a wide smile and bright blue eyes. Those eyes glanced at Patrick for a second, then returned to Kate. He climbed the steps of the porch and took her hands in his, kissing her on both cheeks. Patrick’s fists clenched.
“You look gorgeous,” the man said.
“Hello, Steve,” Kate said with a slight smile. “Are you early or am I late?”
“I’m a bit early,” the man admitted. “I couldn’t wait to see you.”
Kate unlocked the front door, then glanced at Patrick. “Thanks for stopping by, Patrick.”
“Aren’t you going to introduce us?” Patrick asked.
Halfway through the door, Kate turned around, obviously reluctant. “Steve, this is Patrick Berzani. Patrick, Steve Craig.”
“Pleased to meet you.” Steve shook Patrick’s hand.
“Let me guess. You’re one of my replacements.”
Steve looked puzzled. “Replacements? What do you mean?”
“Leave it alone.” Kate glared at Patrick, but he ignored her.
“Congratulations. You’re Kate’s first choice,” he told Steve.
“Well, that’s good news,” Steve said jovially. “I’ve been working on her for two years.”
“It’s taken you that long?” Patrick raised an eyebrow.
“Just leave,” Kate said. She took a position between the two men, facing Patrick.
He looked over the top of her head at Steve. “I’m really honored to meet you. It takes a heck of guy to volunteer to raise another man’s child.”
“Kate, what’s he talking about?”
“You mean she hasn’t told you?” Patrick asked.
“Shut up, Patrick,” Kate said stonily.
“What is going on here?” Steve asked.
“Well, you see, Steve, Kate’s pregnant.” Patrick smiled disarmingly at his rival. “I’m the father, at least biologically, but since I’m not quite up to her standards, you’ve been selected to take my place.”
Patrick watched with satisfaction as Steve’s eyes widened and his mouth opened and closed several times like a fish gasping for air. Kate flushed bright red.
“Of course, I don’t intend to just disappear. I’ll be hanging around, keeping an eye on things in case—”
“That’s enough.” Kate’s arms were folded tightly across her chest as she scowled at Patrick.
“I suppose you’re right. I’d better be going. You two have a lot to talk about.” Patrick smiled slightly as he brushed a finger over Kate’s cheek and nodded at the other man. “Nice meeting you, Steve.”
He turned on his heel
and walked back to his truck. As he got in and drove off, anger once more burned a hole in his heart. She might think that it was over, but it wasn’t. Not now and not ever.
Chapter Five
With her safety goggles strapped in place, Kate scooped up a glob of molten glass from the crucible with the end of a blowpipe. She kept the pipe turning as she placed the ball onto the flat steel marver and rolled it into an oblong shape. The glass glowed a bright orange as she worked, losing color slowly as the heat dissipated. When it was smooth, she rested the pipe on a floor yoke, thrusting the glass-covered end of it back into the oven. Rollers on the tall, Y-shaped stand kept the pipe rotating and balanced the weight of the glass. Even through the dark goggles, she had to squint as she stared into the glowing flames of the oven.
A swell of strings from the stereo followed the choreography of her work. The baby kicked in time to the music, as if demanding to be a part of the creative process. Kate laughed and patted the small life inside her. From the first, the baby had been most active whenever Kate worked in the studio. She wondered if her child would be a dancer, since she moved to the music so much. The baby fluttered again, a one-two punch against her stomach. Either a dancer or a soccer player.
When the glass was hot again, she pulled the yoke back and blew a series of staccato puffs into the pipe, watching as the oblong expanded. One hand in a Kevlar mitt cupped the globe to control the shape as she blew and spun. She could just see the pattern of irregular spots where specks of metal were suspended in the walls of the vessel. In the hot, glowing glass, only her imagination could see what the final colors would be: deep red and gold flecked with silver strands. She took off the mitt and put the globe back into the oven until it was a white-hot blaze, then pushed the glass down into a sand mold. The mold formed the bottom of the piece and gave it a sharp, jagged base to contrast against the smooth sides of the bowl. She used a hand-torch to keep the neck hot and blew more air into the pipe, expanding the globe.
As she worked, Patrick was never very far from her mind. Steve pulled a close second. Though she hadn’t seen either man for two days, she was still angry. And hurt. Kate felt a flush climb her cheeks that had nothing to do with the temperature in the studio. How dare Patrick stick his nose in something that wasn’t his business. Why couldn’t he understand that it was over between them?