The Chilling Tide

by T M Bashford

  “It’s Friday. Haven’t you got work?” Shae asks.

  “Taking the day off.”

  “Why? What’s happening?”

  “It’s a surprise. I can’t tell you. That’s the definition of a surprise. I’ll meet you in the White Room in ten.” I leave before she can pry anything more from me. Upstairs, I text Finn. On our way in 10.

  Shae hasn’t mentioned us sleeping together, so I follow her lead. Being together had been bone-meltingly perfect, but when I woke in the stark light of dawn and felt her petal-soft skin, all the longing I’d suppressed hustled through me, a hot jungle breeze; I had to leave. Now, it’s harder than ever to be near her.

  I escort her down to the jetty. She’s weirdly quiet and tense. I wonder what’s making her edgy. Maybe it’s all the stairs. Gripping my elbows, she suddenly stops and turns to me.

  “Drew. I need to say this. Last night. We shouldn’t have… I got carried away. I’m still blind. What if my eyesight never… we should go back to being friends—”

  “Shh. Let’s take one day at a time.” My heart tightens with disappointment. “Today, it’s the surprise you should focus on. You’ll like it. I promise.” We navigate another step. “Not far to go.”

  Sassy Jam is moored at the end of the house’s private jetty, and George and Finn stand on the deck waving. I wave, too. Shae keeps walking.

  “Hey yup, my little Sirène. Fancy meeting you here.” George steps off Sassy wearing a T-shirt with a picture of the London Eye on it and a red West Ham United woollen hat.

  Shae freezes. “George?”

  “Got it in one.” He engulfs her. “How you holding up?”

  George has a three-inch scar across his temple. Maybe it’s where Brett hit him.

  “Siren? What are you implying about my sister?” Finn jumps in.

  “Finn?” Shae shouts. “What are you two doing here?”

  “They agreed to bring your birthday present,” I say.

  Shae frowns but kisses Finn’s cheek as he hugs her. His easy smile stretches from ear to ear. “You’re six weeks too early,” she says.

  Finn chuckles. “We’ll take it back then.”

  “It? You mean you’re not the present?”

  I grasp her arm and Finn secures the other. “Keep walking,” I say, then stop next to Sassy. “Give me your hand.” I guide her to rub Sassy’s hull.

  “A boat?”

  “Not any boat. Sassy Jam,” I add.

  I’m not sure what I was expecting but it wasn’t stunned silence. Then she jerks her head toward me. “You fixed Sassy Jam for me?”

  “With the help of George and your brother.”

  Her eyes fill with tears and she launches her arms around my neck. “Thank you. Thank you,” she whispers. She lets me go, kneels, and strokes Sassy.

  “Come on, sis. Get onboard.”

  We guide her into Sassy. She sits at the helm, her hand on the tiller and grins, apparently lost for words. Then she heads toward the companionway and down the three steps into the cabin. I regard her through a porthole. Her palms trace over the nav station, the galley, the edges of her bunk, the lockers. She moves through to the head and the storage areas.

  When she comes back on deck, her mood is bright. “I’m so familiar with her, being unable to see is less of an issue than I thought. This is the best present ever. How do I thank you all?”

  “Be happy,” I say. “It’s what we all hope for.” Finn and George join in with their agreement. “I’ve got a guy coming tomorrow to fit some instruments which will help you sail her—including an auditory compass, a talking GPS, and electric winches.”

  “She’s already been fitted with an autopilot and a brand-new comms system,” Finn adds.

  Shae’s face has creased into a frown and she slowly shakes her head. “You’re not expecting me to sail her while I can’t see, are you?”

  “Why not?” George asks. “I have a blind friend who does it better than I do.”

  “How is it possible? What if I hit someone? I love how you’ve fixed up Sassy and brought her here to me, but I can’t sail her.” Shae moves to climb onto the jetty. “Can we go back to the house now?” Her foot slips on the wet bench seat and the three of us jump to steady her. She drops into the cramped cockpit. “That’s why I cannot sail her. I’m a useless invalid.”

  “That’s absolutely not true, Shae,” I say. “You’re far from useless.”

  “You don’t believe my sight will return, do you?” She spits the words at me.

  “You’re wrong. What I do know is your recovery could take months and sailing will help you through a difficult time.”

  “How exactly can I sail? I’ll fall overboard, get knocked out, I can’t see the sails, I can’t use the instruments—it’ll make me feel worse than useless.”

  “Calm down, girl.” George places his hands on her shoulders and pushes her to sit on the bench seat. “Everyone, calm down and listen.”

  I’d never heard George sound or appear this stern, like a father disciplining his children.

  “If I didn’t know you could do this, would I have sailed to Australia, girl?” Shae simply stares ahead. Her mouth is set in such a way, I grasp she’s seething inside. “You need a boat you’re familiar with, true—bu’ that’s why you have Sassy. If the weather’s not perfect, you’ll stay in the cockpit and have someone else on board. But basically, in calm conditions, you can solo sail her with instruments made to help you—like Drew said. Tha’, and learning to use your senses, and you’ll be as good as any sailor out there. Bu’ it will come with time and patience. In the meantime, you can helm her with a crew.”

  Shae rubs her brow.

  “Figured you’d be right up for this,” Finn says. “What happened to your adventurous spirit? Weren’t you the sister who crossed the Pacific in the middle of cyclone season? Or was that a different fearless sister of mine?” Finn sits on the cabin roof, jigging his leg.

  Shae turns in his direction. “That was your sighted sister.”

  “We’re here to help you,” I say, stopping myself from reaching for her after her words on the jetty stairs. “Remember how quickly you picked up everything Miss Tiger taught you, and how easy it was to learn how to work with Boomer?”

  After a long silence she turns to George. “Maybe take me sailing first and I’ll think about it.” She breaks into a smile and everyone cheers.

  We motor into the harbor and take Shae for a sail as a passenger. George mans the helm and Finn and I act as crew. There’s a nineteen-knot wind so George puts Sassy Jam through her paces, and we tear up some waves. By the end of the afternoon, Shae has a grin permanently fixed to her face.

  That night, Shae is talkative and relaxed with her brother and George, and everyone drinks a potful. Excitement pulses through the air like a new beginning.

  It’s after midnight when Jamison clears the dinner table. He and Mrs. Jones are in their element with a tableful of celebrating people to nurture. There hasn’t been enough laughter in this house lately.

  Finn and George go for a swim, but Shae insists the water’s too cold without the sunshine on her.

  “Fixing Sassy Jam for me…” she says as we walk into the White Room. “How do I thank you? She’s the best birthday present ever. I’ve tried to figure out how to reclaim her for months.”

  “Glad she’s made you happy,” I say. “You’ll waltz Sassy up and down the Australian coast in no time.”

  Shae sits in her usual spot on the sofa and encourages Boomer over. “Speaking of birthdays, you kept your birthday a secret. When was it?”

  “Somewhere between an English hospital and Australia. It doesn’t matter. I had you with me as my present. More fizz?”

  “No. Thanks. Better not.” Boomer places his chin on her leg.

  “Back in a moment,” I say and then go ask Jamison for coffee and blankets before fetching my guitar. When I return to Shae, she’s listening to the rowdy sounds of Finn and George, a grin tickling her lips. S
he rubs her hands up and down her arms to warm up and I pass her a blanket before plunking next to her.

  I strum the first chords of I Want Candy. Shae joins in at the chorus and all I can think is I want you. I go straight into Walking on Sunshine and the racket brings Finn and George in. They fetch some beers for themselves and sing along. Finn is wired and dances around the room, a cat on heat, making Boomer bark. George splays his body across a sofa, legs apart, arms wide, as if lying on a double bed.

  Shae’s on the sofa and sitting in the position she usually does when I read to her. I shift to face her and strum Stevie Wonder’s I believe—when I fall in love it will be forever. I let my bare feet cover Shae’s. She doesn’t remove her feet and I sing to her whether she knows I’m looking at her or not. I channel everything I feel for her through my toes and will her to feel something in return.

  “Okay, lover boy, a more upbeat tune,” Finn demands when I finish. I redden and toss a bottle top at him, which he somehow catches and tosses back.

  “Nope, I’m for bed,” George slurs, struggling to his feet.

  “You sure you won’t stay in the house, George?” I check.

  “Much happier on the boa’, thanks.”

  Finn is to take the twin bedroom. I’m not ready to let anyone sleep in Dad’s room yet. George shoves the empty beer bottles into a neat circle on the table, then pushes the bottle tops into a pile for easy clearing up. Little does he know that Jamison won’t go to bed until the place is immaculate again. The thought makes me pack up, too, so we can let Jamison go to bed.

  “I better fetch my bag off Sassy,” Finn says, following George. “I might visit Colbie for a while, too.”

  “Don’t slip and fall in the water,” Shae warns jokily.

  She turns on her senses so she can exit the room without tripping. When she reaches the stairs, I walk up with her. Our arms brush and she links hers through mine.

  Staring ahead, she smiles. “Great evening.”

  I lead her to her bedroom door, open it, and stand aside.

  She gazes in my direction. “Night.”

  I bend to kiss her cheek and hold my lips there a moment too long. But she doesn’t move away.

  “Night.” My body is pulsing, a struck gong.

  She turns her face to me, and we breathe in each other’s air. It would be easy to adjust an inch and kiss her mouth, but I don’t want to ruin anything, and I can’t bear for her to reject me. Instead, I add, “Your hair’s getting very long, like when I first met you.” I wind a strand of it through my fingers then place my lips on her forehead before heading to my bedroom.

  Shae

  I shut my bedroom door and lean against it, my pulse flashing. He’s getting to me. When he rested his bare feet on mine and sang that song, it was as if he was reciting the words of a spell—every part of me opened up to him. One of the lyrics was about feeding empty souls. That’s how it felt… like he was feeding my soul.

  But worse, as I listened to his voice, I understood his confusion, his longing, his hurt—the hurt I am inflicting. Am I doing the wounding when all this time I’m worried I’ll be the one who gets wounded?

  When we came upstairs, I sought to somehow apologize, to vanquish the hurt. But I didn’t know how to without making it worse. I nearly told him I want him, and I need him. But everything is still dark and making promises for a future seems selfish. If my sight never returns, he’s the kind of man who’ll say he’ll stay with me, but after a while, he’ll regret it. He’ll feel obligated to me. Until I can see again, it would be wrong to get in deeper than we already are.

  Breakfast the next morning is eventful with George stumbling in late with a shocking hangover and Finn’s room unslept in. He’d met up with Colbie last night for old time’s sake.

  “Sassy and I had a little party,” George admits. I listen to him empty his pockets onto the wooden table as he has before every meal since he arrived. From memory, they’re always stuffed with tools or a ball of wire and surf wax.

  Finn arrives at nine a.m. as George pours a third cup of tea.

  “Wearing the same clothes as last night,” Drew says, his tone teasing. “Good night out, Finn? Can I lend you a comb?”

  “The best, mate. Went clubbing, crashed at Colbie’s. She’s something else.” I hear him pull in a chair and rap his fingers against the table. “Some drunk blokes started fighting and she was right in there, breaking it up.”

  “You young’uns. It’s all different these days,” George joins in. His knife and fork scrape on the plate and he talks with his mouth full.

  “Brody called,” Finn says. “I’ll need to return home soon. Mom’s having a bad time.”

  “Is this wha’ you mentioned on the trip over?” asks George.

  “Yep. Her depression.”

  George grunts. “Did I ever tell you about my daugh’er?”

  “A bit. Fiona?” I say. “She passed away a few years ago—my age.”

  “Yep. Died because of a guy called Shaun. She said he suffered from depression, and it can be a difficult medical condition, but it wasn’t depression. That was an excuse for the abuse.” Each time George has mentioned his daughter’s early death, he’s become morose and gone somewhere deep inside himself.

  “They’re putting something in the water these days. Violence everywhere. Shaun started hitting her after they moved in together.” George’s tone is strident. “It was a jealous rage. Apparently, it’s a good reason to kill someone you’re supposedly in love with. Jus’ took her life away. That’s why I left for Samoa, else I’d be in jail as soon as they le’ him out… I’d ‘ave killed him.”

  I’m shocked by his sudden forthright mood. He’s never spoken about his daughter in detail before or sounded quite so angry. It’s possible he’s still a little drunk. He must’ve continued his party into the early hours of the morning. I listen harder, and he’s slurring his words.

  “I’m telling you this because he worries me—Brett does,” George continues. “Drew told me wha’ he did to split you up, Shae. The lad always concerned me. He’s the type who’s capable of doing anything—he has no boundaries.” There’s something wild behind George’s words, something not even he can control. “I see Shaun in Brett. One day he’s a pussy cat and you think he’s nice to have around, the next he’s a prowling tiger. Believe me, Shae, Brett could be like Shaun. If he sees you and Drew together, who knows wha’ he could do.”

  Koala bear Brett and grizzly bear Brett. I’d never told anyone about the night he got hold of my gun.

  “Shae, you can’t see my scar, bu’ after you took off on Ariel to find Drew and Finn, Brett clouted me over the head with a lamp and knocked me out. No reason, other than he went into a rage because you left him behind. He put me in hospital for days.”

  “Oh, George. I’m so sorry.” Prickles of ice run up my spine. “I brought him into your life.”

  “S’not your fault. I figured he’d stolen stuff to fund his drugs and booze, bu’ the only thing missing when I go’ home was the pile of sea glass you collected for my wind chime. He didn’t even take the cash from my wallet. Please stay clear of him, Shae. I’m telling you this because I’d hate myself if I didn’t warn you. Don’t ever trust him. Listen to my warning this time.”

  Everyone’s silent. The clock in the hall tocks steadily. A house phone rings.

  “Pass the teapo’ would you, Finn?” George adds.

  “You and Jamison will hit it off,” Drew says. “Tea’s always brewing in his kitchen.”

  As if on cue, Jamison’s quick footsteps approach. “Phone call, sir. Shall I take a message as you’re at breakfast?”

  “Who is it on a Sunday morning, Jamison?”

  He doesn’t answer for a while. Then I catch Jamison’s whispered, “Brett Abspoel.”

  Drew

  Fifteen minutes later, I excuse myself from the breakfast table and find Jamison. In dad’s study, I tell him what Brett did to George, adding to the list of wrongdoings of my once
best mate.

  “First thing tomorrow, let’s change this home number,” I add.

  “Very good, sir. First thing.” His expression is full of questions.

  “When I confronted Brett at UCLA, I didn’t know what he was capable of. He could’ve put me in hospital, too. George’s words stink of the truth, Jamison. Brett is a loose cannon. He’s shown me that over the years, not just with Shae and George, but with the stuff he did at school—shoplifting, fighting, drugs.”

  “You kept these incidents from me. Why?”

  “I was protecting him.” I shrug. “Saving him from himself. I’ve always felt sorry for him.”

  “Your office forwarded copies of the latest of three threats they received recently, all sent to a public mailbox belonging to the Vega Corporation.” He pulls some folded paper from his pocket. “I wasn’t going to show you—it’s not as if you can do anything about it and I didn’t want to add to your list of worries. But if this is closer to home… if this is Brett—you need to know.”

  It’s like acting in a crime film—the notes are a handful of words, each made up of pasted on letters cut from newspapers, similar to a ransom note. The first one reads, ‘Watch your back’, the second, ‘Are you watching?’ the third, ‘I’m watching.’

  “The police found no fingerprints,” Jamison continues, “and each one was posted from a different place in Australia. They followed the obvious lead of Lucas, and even Eddie, but when neither of those panned out, they were left to conclude it was a prankster. They’ve recommended a security firm to take extra measures both at home and at the office. But if you think this could be Brett, we need to tell them.”

  Could Brett sink this low? And is ‘watching’ all he plans to do?

  The next morning the police take my statement regarding Brett. I suddenly don’t want to leave Shae and feel safer staying behind the walled garden and security gate. I decide to take time off work both for that reason and to be with Shae on her first day of helming Sassy. I’m going to have to pull some late nights for the rest of the week, but it’ll be worth it.