A Star to Steer Her By

by Beth Anne Miller

Tristan just shook his head in defeat, then leaned in for one last kiss, folding me into his strong arms. “Good night…for now,” he murmured into my ear. He slowly stepped back, waved to the girls, and disappeared down the ladder.

  Jenny and Amanda turned to me with identical leering expressions on their faces. “Tell us everything.”

  …

  Later that night, after I had rehashed the evening in (some, but not all) detail, and my borrowed clothes had been returned to their rightful owners, I crawled into my bunk. But I was too keyed up to sleep. Instead, I replayed the evening in (all) detail over and over in my mind.

  A corner of my curtain was pulled aside. “Red? You awake?” He spoke softly enough that if I was asleep, he wouldn’t have woken me.

  In response, I rolled onto my side and scooted as far into my bunk as I could get. Which wasn’t very far, to be honest—I wasn’t sure we’d both fit.

  Tristan reached over me to grab the edge of the cubby. The mattress shifted as he pulled himself into the (very) small space and curled up behind me. I heard the faint whish of the curtain being drawn.

  “Hi,” he breathed into my ear. I turned my head to kiss him, and then he settled his head on the pillow behind mine, his body pressing even closer to me, his arm coming around my waist.

  I thought we were just going to sleep, but his fingers began inching under the hem of my tank top, and before long, our clothes were shoved aside, and we discovered that there was more room in the bunk than either of us had thought.

  It was quite some time before I closed my eyes that night—after our bodies had cooled off, our clothing had been restored, and our bodies were curled together in the small (but not too small) space. The last thing I remembered was Tristan whispering “I love you.”

  Chapter Thirty-Four

  The next day, we spent hours cleaning the ship in preparation for our arrival in New York. The heads were scoured and cabins tidied, the brass bell and compass housing were polished, the galley was scrubbed from end to end.

  We had one final ceilidh on the ship that evening, the biggest, rowdiest one yet. Tristan’s arm had healed enough for him to be able to play a few tunes on the fiddle. The crew had taught us some particularly raunchy sea shanties, and the singing and dancing went on until the wee hours of the night.

  Tristan and I stayed up long after everyone else had gone to bed. We sat out on the bowsprit, marveling at the New York skyline a short distance away, then trying to find stars in the hazy sky. We sat quietly, huddled close together under a blanket for warmth, our hands linked together in my lap, watching the sky go from black to midnight blue to gray and then pink as the sun came up.

  We set sail just after breakfast, our final time getting the Meg underway.

  I watched the mainsail go up, listened to the rhythmic shing, shing of the rings as the sail climbed up the mast. The sheet of canvas stretched between the gaff and the boom and filled with wind. The sight filled me with pride and other emotions I couldn’t let myself dwell on, or I’d break down.

  I almost broke down again when the homeward bound sail was raised. It turned out better than I think any of us could have imagined, and the captain had been right: I could identify who had worn all of the clothes we’d stitched together.

  At the bottom left was Steve’s Yankees T-shirt. Kevin’s Red Sox T-shirt was next to it, the rival team shirts forced to touch each other. Above them were Jenny’s turquoise halter top and impractical white shorts and my Harry Potter T-shirt. Kevin had linked the three of us together in perpetuity. Next to my shirt were Tristan’s gym shorts, the ones he slept in—I felt a brief pang of disappointment that he’d given those up. Amanda’s purple tank top had a prominent place in the middle. The crew had donated clothing as well—the captain’s faded and ratty Celtic football—soccer to us Yanks—shirt was right at the top.

  It was a short jaunt across the Lower Bay into the Narrows, passing under the majestic Verrazano Bridge, which connected the boroughs of Staten Island and Brooklyn. We entered the Upper Bay, facing lower Manhattan, with its tight cluster of towering skyscrapers.

  But we weren’t there yet. Under full sail, we were welcomed into New York by one of the most recognized landmarks in the world: the Statue of Liberty. The iconic statue, over three hundred feet tall from the ground to the tip of her torch, seemed to wink at us as the morning sunlight glinted off her ever-staring eyes.

  We circled the statue, then sailed around Governor’s Island, entering the East River for a view of the historic Brooklyn Bridge and South Street Seaport. We sailed under the bridge, then reversed our course, coming around the tip of lower Manhattan. We marveled at the gleaming blue Freedom Tower standing tall over the Financial District, then turned north, up the Hudson River.

  The skyline was spectacular as we passed by the Empire State Building and Midtown. Our little schooner was completely dwarfed by the immense hull of the U.S.S. Intrepid, the World War Two-era aircraft carrier-turned museum docked on Manhattan’s West Side. We waved to the Navy sailors lined up along her stern.

  After passing the Intrepid, we came about again, turning back down the Hudson.

  “Ms. Goodman, please take the helm,” said Captain MacDougall. He’d remembered what I told my parents on the phone.

  This would be my last time at the helm, my last time feeling the smooth wooden spokes run through my fingers as I corrected my course, my last time feeling the strength of the ship beneath me as I guided her across the water. A lump came into my throat. “Thank you, Captain,” I choked out. He inclined his head in reply, looking a bit overcome, himself.

  The headsails were struck, and a team of students hurried out to the bowsprit to furl them. The others struck and tightly furled the mainsail, then the foresail.

  Bereft of her canvas wings, and steered by me, the Megaptera Novaengliae, the Giant-Winged New Englander we’d called home for two months, turned left into Chelsea Piers, the final port-of-call of our voyage.

  We were greeted by the sight of a huge banner, strung across the front of the building marked Pier 59, which read “New York City Welcomes the Megaptera Novaengliae!” We were greeted also by a crowd of people standing along the slip, cheering and applauding. From my position at the helm, I saw Mom and Josh’s shining red hair, and my dad standing behind them.

  I almost lost it at the sight of my brother’s blinding smile, something I hadn’t seen in eight months, but I had to steer the ship. I could cry later. I swallowed back the sob and smiled in return, wiping away my tears on my sleeve.

  I hadn’t asked if he’d be there with my parents in New York, afraid of the answer. Sure, we’d made up over the phone, but that didn’t mean he was ready to face me. Seeing him there…it felt like I had truly healed.

  I guided the ship into her berth, while Captain MacDougall manned the engine controls and shouted commands. Some of my shipmates lowered the homeward bound sail and carefully folded it, while others stood along the port side with fenders to protect the ship from scraping against the pilings of the pier. As the captain cut the engine, Tristan, Kristy, and Justin leaped from the rail to the dock to catch the dock lines.

  I stayed by the helm as the dock lines were secured and the gangplank was lifted into place. A schooner docked to our left caught my attention. She was a sleek two-masted ship, like the Meg, and I cocked my head to the side to make out the name painted on her stern. Sea Fever. I smiled sadly. “Sea-Fever” was the poem Tristan had quoted to me an eternity ago, as we stood under the black velvet sky glittering with a million billion stars:

  “I must go down to the seas again, to the lonely sea and the sky,

  And all I ask is a tall ship, and a star to steer her by.”

  Those words were truer than ever. As happy as I was to see the welcoming smiles of my family on the pier, all I wanted to do was give them a hug and then cast off the dock lines, back the ship out of the slip, raise the sails, and go right back out to sea.

  The captain called us for our final m
uster at midships. “Student crew of the Megaptera Novaengliae, we have reached the end of our voyage together. When you boarded this ship, most of you didn’t know forward from aft, port from starboard, halyard from sheet. When you boarded this ship, you were novices. Now you are sailors. It has been my privilege to sail with you all.”

  Kevin stepped forward, the homebound sail folded neatly in his arms. “Captain MacDougall, on behalf of the student crew of the Megaptera Novaengliae, I hereby present you with our homeward bound sail, so you never forget us.”

  The captain was silent for a moment. He was visibly moved, his eyes welling with tears. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Kevin.” He looked at all of us. “Thank you all. You can be sure I’ll never forget you.”

  Once our whistles, cheers, and applause died down, he called us up one by one to receive certificates of completion. We were dismissed for the last time and told to go get our parents and bring them aboard.

  I slipped through clusters of people on the dock until I spotted the red hair. “Mom!” I shouted. She turned around—and so did fourteen other mom-aged women. I had a moment to smile at that before I was sucked into a bone-crushing embrace.

  “Sharon, you’re hogging our daughter.” My dad nudged my mom out of the way and enveloped me in yet another bruising hug.

  There was a tap on my shoulder. I turned around and launched myself into Josh’s strong arms. I hadn’t felt those arms in far too long, and being in them now, knowing things between us were okay, brought tears to my eyes. When he finally let me go and pulled back, his eyes were bright as well.

  They studied me like I was a zoo exhibit. I glanced around at my friends, who were all undergoing the same scrutiny by their own parents. The guys all had shaggy hair and days’ worth of scruff. The girls had long braids that had gotten a little scraggly during the morning’s sail. We were all tanned and freckled (some of us more so than others), wearing our own navy “Crew” T-shirts and jeans, and as it was a warm, sunny day, we were all barefoot. We kind of looked like pirates.

  “You look…wonderful,” said my mom, “tanned and fit and healthy.”

  Josh slung his arm around my waist, and I leaned my head on his shoulder. “You really do look great, Ari,” he said. He sounded surprised, like he hadn’t really believed me when we’d spoken on the phone. “You’re not limping at all anymore?”

  “Not unless I’ve been doing a lot of running around. I’m really okay, Josh. Come on, I’ll show you guys the ship.”

  My mother was shocked at the size of my bunk, and horrified by the head, but my dad and Josh took it all in stride. My dad had been in the army back in the day, so crowded, primitive living conditions were nothing new to him. And Josh was a guy.

  “I’m really proud of you, Ari,” said my dad when we returned to the deck. “You haven’t just adapted to life aboard this ship, you’ve clearly flourished here.”

  I looked up at the tall mast, swaying gently in the breeze. The captain had been right: I wasn’t the same person I’d been when I boarded the ship in San Juan, just two months before. I’d made friends I’d never forget, and had fallen in love. I’d left the scared, scarred girl behind and had become an explorer, an adventurer, a sailor.

  I was strong and confident. I’d faced some of the most terrifying things imaginable and had come out okay.

  “It’s been an amazing experience, Dad.”

  Amanda and Kevin and their parents were a few feet away, and I led my family over to join them. Jenny stood off to the side with a tall, distinguished-looking man and a perfectly coiffed blond woman that could only be her parents. Her mom carefully touched one of Jenny’s braids with a manicured fingernail, looking like it might bite her. Jenny saw me watching them and rolled her eyes, but I knew she was happy they were there.

  “Hey, Red.”

  I turned to see Tristan coming from the quarterdeck. He was in jeans and a navy “Crew” polo shirt—this time with the sleeves intact. His hair was neatly pulled back, and his face was clean-shaven—he had taken extra care this morning, knowing he’d be meeting my family. His lips curved. My heart fluttered, the way it always did when he smiled like that. I heard a soft “oh my” from my mother, and I had to hold back a giggle.

  He came over and stood beside me, and I could tell he wasn’t sure what to do. I slid my arm around his waist and he gazed down at me. I smiled at him, and he smiled back, love shining from his eyes. I glanced at my family. My dad stood up straight and looked stern—as dads are supposed to. My mom looked a little swoony—Tristan did have that effect on women. And Josh looked—okay, actually.

  “Mom, Dad, Josh, this is Tristan.”

  We hung out on the ship for a while, but before long, it was time to go. I said good-bye to the crew, receiving an emotional farewell hug from Davey, who ordered me to keep in touch.

  My parents and Josh brought my bags to the dock while I took a final turn around the ship, from the helm to the bow, memorizing every detail. I ran my hand over the smooth, gleaming wood of the mainsail boom, breathed in the scent of the sea clinging to the rail. How could I say good-bye to this ship? How could I return home to strip malls and traffic and tourists everywhere, and not wake up every morning with the roll of the deck beneath me, the sound of the sea against the hull?

  How could I say good-bye to Tristan?

  A shadow fell over me as someone joined me at the rail. “Ms. Goodman.” I turned to see the captain, his hair tousled by the breeze, a sad smile on his face. “You weren’t gonna leave withoot sayin’ good-bye, were ye?” he asked, his accent thicker than usual.

  “No, of course not. I was about to go looking for you.”

  “Not easy to bid her farewell, is it, lass?” I followed his gaze to where my hand caressed the smooth rail. I shook my head, unable to speak. “I know exactly what you’re feeling. I’ll be bidding her farewell for a while, myself. Did Tristan tell you?” I nodded. “Aye, well, it’s a long overdue trip home.”

  “It won’t be easy, will it?” I asked, finally finding my voice.

  “Saying good-bye never is.” We stood for a moment, gazing out at the Freedom Tower, a few miles away. “Ms. Goodman—Ari—you’ve come a long way this term. And you’re one of the best natural helmsmen I’ve ever seen. Email me after you get home and I’ll write you a letter of recommendation.”

  “Thank you, Captain. It means a lot that you would do that, after everything.”

  “Please, Ari. It’s because of you that I have my son. There’s nothing I wouldn’t do for you. I’ll be in Scotland for a few months, but I expect to be back at the helm of the Meg next year. If you find yourself wanting to work as a deckhand, you reach out to me, aye?”

  I was about a minute away from sobbing my heart out. “I—I don’t know what to say. It means so much to hear you say that.” I held out my hand. “Good-bye—for now—Captain MacDougall. Thank you for an unforgettable experience.”

  His lips quirked in a smile nearly identical to Tristan’s. He took my hand and pulled me into a hug. “Best of luck to you, Ariana Goodman. I hope to see you again soon. Keep in touch, aye?”

  “I will.”

  He smiled, patted my shoulder, and turned away.

  I stared out at the sea of people on the dock: my shipmates and their families. There were tearful embraces, happy smiles, exchanges of email addresses and phone numbers. When we boarded the ship in San Juan, most of us were strangers. Now, we were friends. This ship, and our experiences, had changed us all.

  It was time to go. I stepped off the ship onto the dock, into Tristan’s waiting arms. He pulled me close, his lips pressing against mine one last time. I was breathless when we parted, and as I gazed into those sea-blue eyes, I couldn’t hold back my tears.

  “Don’t cry, love,” he said. “This isn’t good-bye. Your dad invited me to join you for dinner later, and I’ll see you this summer.”

  I was thrilled that my parents wanted to get to know him. But then he’d be home in Scotland and sum
mer was two months away. I didn’t have to return to campus, as this voyage counted as a full semester, so it would be a long, slow two months without him. And maybe we could find work together on a local boat for the summer, but what would happen to us after that, when I returned to college and he returned to the sea? I forced that thought out of my head—I’d have plenty of time to wallow in it later. For now, I’d make the most of the few hours we had left.

  He slung his arm around me and we walked up the pier. I turned back for one last look at the Megaptera Novaengliae. Her hull gleamed in the sunlight. Her two towering, polished wooden masts stretched far up into the sky. Her white canvas sails were neatly furled and bound to their equally polished booms.

  I had been proud to call her my home for two months, and would be leaving a part of myself behind.

  Holding tightly to Tristan’s hand, I turned away from the ship. We reached the end of the pier. A big easel at the entrance to the next slip caught my eye, and I froze. “Tristan, wait.”

  “What is it, Red?”

  I pointed to the sign.

  Looking for Adventure? The Schooner ‘Sea Fever’ is looking for crew to sail with her as she spends the summer exploring the Caribbean. Must have experience sailing on a schooner. See Captain Smith at Pier 59 for more information.

  I turned to look at Tristan.

  He turned to look at me, and his lips curved in that slow, sexy smile.

  As we headed back down the pier toward Sea Fever, I knew that our journey together wasn’t over.

  Did you love this Embrace? Check out more of our new adult titles here!

  Don’t miss more books by Beth Anne Miller! Sign up for our newsletter here!

  Author’s Note

  I spent nine weeks of my sophomore year of college aboard the schooner Harvey Gamage participating in the SEAmester program (offered at the time through Southampton College of Long Island University). We sailed around the Caribbean and up the Eastern Seaboard of the U.S. to Long Island, NY.