Cami and Amber shared a look. "Well, maybe you're just tired—you haven't gotten a lot of sleep since the attack…”
Marty grunted. "I don't think so, missy. I don't need to get all that much sleep, and this is a different type of ache.” He shook his head. “Nope, I think we got us some bad weather comin’."
Mia glanced up and shielded her eyes with her hands. “Could be a thunderstorm…”
“I’m thinking more like a hurricane,” Marty said.
Cami scoffed. “Come on, let’s get back to work and leave the forecaster to his aching knees. I can only worry about one disaster at a time…”
Chapter 3
Sailing Vessel Tiberia
South of Massachusetts
Reese stretched the next morning with a groan. He sat up on Tiberia’s deck where he'd set himself a makeshift bunk out of the starboard bench cushions. He swayed to the gentle roll of the deck as the boat ghosted over low swells that had lulled him into the deepest sleep of his life. He yawned as he stretched his back.
It'd been a remarkably restorative sleep, too. For the first time in almost two weeks he hadn't been personally responsible for the safety of Jo and himself through the night. Even more remarkable, he hadn’t gone to bed hungry and woken up starving. Libby and Jo had made a filling, if simple, meal of canned tuna and pasta the night before.
Recent blinked in the pink light of dawn and gently stretched his arms over his knees. His wounded shoulder twinged in protest only briefly, then the muscles relaxed he sighed. He hadn’t been able to raise his arm very high at all in the past dozen days, so the simple pleasure of stretching brought a smile to his face.
"Glad to see you're in a good mood," Byron said.
Reese grunted as he got to his feet and joined the older man at the helm. “It’s morning and we’re at sea and still alive...”
"Coffee?" Byron asked.
"Please," Reese groaned.
"There's a thermos on the aft bench," Byron said with a jerk of his hand over his shoulder.
Reese poured himself a cup of steaming black gold and returned to Byron’s side. The older man stared forward around the mainmast and kept one hand firmly planted on the wheel, while the other held a wide coffee mug proclaiming him to be the world's best captain.
A moment later, Tony emerged from below decks and joined the two older men at the wheel. He nodded in greeting, then stared at his uncle for a moment. "You know Uncle Byron, they've got this thing that you can attach to the wheel there so that you don't have to hold it all the time..."
"A real sailor doesn't need an autopilot," Reese and Byron said at the same time.
Tony laughed, shook his head at their confused looks, and moved toward the coffee. "Aunt Libby's right, you guys do sound alike."
Reese and Byron cleared their throats and looked away. Byron was the first to speak. "About yesterday..."
Reese swallowed the coffee in his mouth and held up his right hand on instinct, then winced at the pain in his shoulder. "Seriously, Byron—forget about it. It's not that big a deal."
Byron shook his head. "No, I need to get this off my chest. I acted like an idiot, and I need to apologize. What happened at the dock wasn't your fault—- even if those people were chasing you—I slipped and fell when I tried to get down and hit my head out of sheer clumsiness. The fact that you took a bullet in the arm trying to get me back to the boat says a lot about your character.”
Reese shook off the apology. "Seriously, it was nothing. Just a scratch," he said as he showed his bandaged arm. The angry red scratch across the bicep looked painful enough, but compared to his shoulder, was little more than a mosquito bite. "I've done a lot worse than this to myself just working on my own boat."
Byron grunted over the rim of his mug. "How big?"
Reese grinned. "Camilla's a thirty-eight-foot Hunter.”
"Camilla?" Byron asked with a raised eyebrow.
Reese snorted. "My wife's first name. She hates it."
Byron grunted in amusement. "You know, you're not so bad." They waited the time it took to go over three swells, then Byron turned and faced him again. "You said you’re from South Carolina? You sail the Intercoastal Waterway?"
Reese nodded. "Quite a bit, actually, when my daughter’s with us. She doesn't like bluewater cruising, but when it's just me and Cami, we've been known to hit the Caribbean from time to time." Reese pointed east with his coffee mug. "Always wanted to head up and see New England for myself, but never got around to it yet."
"Well, you could've picked a better time,” Tony said.
Byron scoffed. “He’s right, you have terrible timing. But I'm glad you're here.” He coughed and looked away. "Libby and I prefer Maine and Nova Scotia. Some beautiful scenery up there, but the wind’s a little tricky."
"Done any sailing in the Caribbean?" asked Reese.
"Oh, a few times. It's too hot for us, mostly. We were gearing up for a transatlantic run next month before the winter storms set in," Byron explained.
"No joke?" asked Reese." "That's not messing around."
Byron shook his head. "No, sir. I love a challenge," he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“I’ll say,” Reese agreed.
"Well, no sense beating around the bush.” Byron exhaled and looked Reese in the eye. “I've made up my mind. I think it's a good idea to have you sail Intrepid. She's a good boat, and you’ve proven to me you know what you're doing."
Reese blinked. "Wow, you really get right to the point, don't you?"
"Noticed that, did you?" asked Byron with a grin. "It just makes sense. I figure now's not the time to be hashing words and exploring feelings. We need to get to Baltimore as fast as possible, the only way we’re going to do that is if somebody can sail Intrepid."
“But—” Reese began.
Byron sighed and raised his hand to stop Reese. "I'd prefer it if Tony was the skipper, but you've seen him," he said with a nod toward his nephew. "Goes green around the gills just thinking about it."
"He's not lyin’," Tony said as he blew on his coffee. "This sailing stuff just isn't for me." He took a sip of coffee and grinned. "Give me fresh turned soil any day."
"And be trapped in one place forever?" asked Byron, a horrified look on his face. He shivered. "Perish the thought." Byron cleared his throat. "Anyway. If you're still willing to do it, and you think you can handle running the boat with a gimpy arm," Byron said with a glance at Reese's arm. "I think it's a pretty good idea...or at least I can't come up with a better one."
Reese figured that was about as good as he was going to get from the crotchety old sailor. He nodded. "Sounds good to me."
"Good. Now that's settled, I don't have to eat breakfast on a queasy stomach."
"Worried I was going to say no?" asked Reese.
"Worried you’d say yes a little too fast."
Reese grinned. "Fair enough. I'll get breakfast started."
Tony sniffed the air and clutched his stomach. "By the smell of it, I'd say somebody already has."
Libby emerged from the hatch a moment later with a large tray covered in scrambled eggs and toast.
"Where'd you get the eggs?" asked Reese.
Tony made a face. "Don't get too excited. Those are dehydrated eggs. I think they're nasty, but I'm hungry enough to eat just about anything right now."
"Well, don't eat too much," Libby chided, "I don't need you throwing them up ten minutes later and wasting all this food. You haven’t kept anything down for two days—go slow." She turned to Reese and smiled as she presented the tray.
Reese smiled, but noticed the way Libby carefully watched him as he reached with his right arm to take the plate. Her smile widened as Reese settled on the starboard bench and waited for the others to sit.
"Looks like your arm is healing nicely," Libby observed as she offered Byron a plate of eggs and toast.
Jo emerged from below with a couple coffee mugs and an urn of fresh coffee. "It's about time. I haven't said it yet, but
he needs to pull his weight around here if he wants to eat..."
"Good morning to you, too," Reese said as he raised his coffee mug in salute.
As everyone took a plate of food and found their spots, Tony released the halyard and let the mainsail drop, which effectively stalled their forward momentum.
Byron watched Intrepid carefully and adjusted Tiberia’s course to make sure they didn’t collide as the two sailboats drifted on the current. They didn't make any headway south, but the loss of forward momentum allowed the boats to stabilize enough for everyone to enjoy a relatively calm breakfast.
"I take it you've come to a decision," Libby said casually as she picked at her eggs.
"I have," Byron replied around a mouthful of food. He swallowed and sat up, sure of everyone’s attention. "Reese here has graciously agreed to skipper Intrepid. Once we’re done eating, we’ll pull her alongside and get everything squared away."
"I was thinking about that," Reese announced. He pointed a fork at the boat in question. "I'm not comfortable with how low she's riding in the water.”
Byron watched him carefully.
"You said that she was full of food supplies and water, right?" Reese asked.
Byron nodded, still silent.
"Well, if it's all right with you, I'd like to transfer as much of that as possible over here. No sense in having all our eggs in one basket."
Byron smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."
"Byron," Reese said as he laid his fork down on the plate. "I hope by now you realize Jo and I aren't out to do anything shady. I'm grateful for the ride that you're giving us to Baltimore. I have no aspirations beyond that. Jo and I can find our way back to South Carolina from there by land."
"Speak for yourself," Jo said over the top of her coffee mug. "Now that I got my sea legs, this sailing thing ain’t so bad. Sure beats walking a thousand miles!"
Everyone shared a laugh, and they continued their breakfast, but Reese noticed Byron watched him closely. The suspicion in his gaze from yesterday had all but vanished, but Reese could tell he wasn’t ready to trust him completely.
The sun was well up above the horizon by the time they pulled Intrepid alongside Tiberia. Tony dropped rubber fenders between the two boats, and Reese slipped aboard to tie the two sailboats together. Once they were locked, Tony and Reese proceeded to transfer boxes of prepackaged long term storage food from Intrepid's galley up the hooded companionway.
Though his shoulder burned with the effort of transferring the dense boxes, Reese grit his teeth and bore the pain. As long as the scar tissue didn’t tear, he felt strong enough to push through the pain.
Reese whistled when he saw the interior of the second boat. Saul and Mary had spared no expense. Polished walnut glistened from every available surface. They had evidently taken a fancy to 18th-century naval vessels, from the looks of all the wood adornments and carvings.
After they’d carried out half the boxes and cans of food, Reese and Tony started with the bottled water. They found a dozen cases and split the pile evenly.
"How far do you think this'll take us?" Reese asked Byron as he handed over a case of bottled water.
The older man grunted as he took the cargo and passed it to Jo, who then took it below. "Hard to say. We’ve been making pretty poor time ever since we left Boston—not saying anything against you and your abilities to sail," Byron added quickly. "Towing this fat pig behind us really slowed us down, didn't it?"
"That it did," said Reese as he wiped the sweat from his brow. "We've got plenty of food, but there's not really all that much fresh water over here," he observed.
Byron grunted. "I was thinking the same thing. We'll probably have to put ashore near Newport. See if we can find any supplies before we continue south…”
Reese nodded. "I was looking at the nautical maps you had down in the galley last night," he confessed. "Looks like Long Island's got some serious cliffs that might've stopped the tsunami from doing much damage inland."
"There's a fair bit, that's for sure," Byron said as he crossed his suntanned arms. "I'm hoping there's a fair amount of people still alive, too, or at least not terribly affected by the waves. If not, we'll have to rely on the desalinator board Intrepid."
Reese coughed in surprise. "There's a desalinator here? Why didn’t you say so?"
Byron looked uncomfortable and put his hands in the pockets of his white deck shorts. "To be honest? Stupid foolish pride—I wasn’t sure about you, and I didn't want to let you know that if you took Intrepid, you’d have all the food and water, plus the only way of getting fresh water short of catching rain.” He shrugged. “Thought it might prove too much of a temptation, even if you were an upstanding guy."
"Well, I can't say I'm pleased with the lack of trust, but that's understandable," Reese said.
"I had a change of heart," Byron added. "You're okay."
Reese grinned. "Thanks for the ringing endorsement."
"Hey, you done chit-chatting, or you want to help me down here?" Tony called from Intrepid's hatch. He handed up another case of water. "This stuff's heavy."
Reese laughed as he took the water, walked across the deck and handed it to Byron, who stood on Tiberia’s deck.
He grunted under the weight of the water. "How much more?"
"There were a dozen cases, and that’s number six, so now we’re even.” Reese wiped his face. “I guess that's about it."
Byron nodded and looked at the sun in the sky. "Well, we wasted enough of the day. You ready to get underway?"
Reese grinned. "I was born ready."
Tony hugged Libby and shook hands with Byron, then accepted one of the shotguns and a box of shells from Tiberia’s armory.
"Really?" asked Tony. "You really think I need to have this? Trust me, Uncle B, if he tries to take the boat, I'll be able to beat him down with my bare hands."
"Hey," Reese said, only half indignant. “Standing right here...”
"What?" Tony asked innocently. "You're old."
Jo coughed on her own laughter from Tiberia’s deck.
"Don't forget—he's got a busted shoulder, dear," Libby offered helpfully.
"You guys must have the best family reunions," Reese said. He hugged Jo, and she checked his arm one more time.
"Remember, don't overdo it,” she warned. “Let Tony do the heavy work. You just make sure to keep up. I get the feeling Byron's gonna set a hard pace to follow."
"We need to, if my hunch about the weather's right." Byron squinted to the west. "Winds are going to shift soon..."
Reese turned and peered to the west. The barest smudge of gray on the horizon foretold the weather Byron feared. "Could be," he said noncommittally. "But you're right, it's best we get going."
"You said it, we been sitting here drifting for too long," Jo replied. She turned to Byron. "What do I need to do?"
Tony untied the two boats and pulled the rubber fenders back aboard Intrepid.
"Okay, I haven't had much to eat, so I don't feel ready to throw up...yet. What's first on the agenda?"
Reese grinned as he took up position at the boat’s wheel. Unlike the spartan silver wheel aboard Tiberia, the carved wooden monstrosity aboard Intrepid looked like something more comfortable on a pirate ship than a sailboat. "First order of business, we unfurl the mainsail and raise it just like you did when we left Boston."
"On it," Tony said. He clipped the shotgun to a seat on the starboard rail and got to work. While he prepared the mainsail, Reese secured the rigging for the boom and tested the wind with his hand in the air. “Well, the winds in the right position, so..." he muttered.
Tiberia’s sail rose smartly and snapped as it caught the wind. Before Tony had even finished untying the mainsail on Intrepid, Tiberia lurched forward under the slight breeze and pulled ahead.
Reese grinned. "Oh, so it's gonna be like that, huh?"
“Oh, crap,” Tony said. He sat down and wrapped his arm around the railing as the wind filled Intrepid�
��s sails and the boat began to heel.
“Hold on,” Reese said with a wide grin. “I need to teach your uncle how to race...”
Chapter 4
Lavelle Homestead
Bee’s Landing Subdivision
Northwest of Charleston, South Carolina
Cami sat back from the kitchen table and looked at the notes she'd recorded on the zucchini harvest. They’d finally finished pulling in all the vegetables from the garden, and none too soon. Marty had mentioned the day before that his knees ached. Cami looked up from the table and squinted at the trees outside. Some high, white puffy clouds coasted across the far horizon—at least as far as she could see between the trees, but otherwise the sky remained crystal clear, as it had for the past few days. It wasn't unheard of in the low country to have several days—or even weeks—devoid of rain during the late summer, however afternoon showers were such a frequent part of living in the coastal lowlands of South Carolina that Cami had grown accustomed to the brief, if intense, regular showers.
She frowned down at the harvest paperwork. Something urged her to keep a close eye on the weather. It'd been years since hurricane Matthew came close to a direct hit on Charleston. Hurricane season traditionally peaked in August-September. Cami sighed. Yet another thing to worry about.
Amber skidded to a stop in the kitchen which successfully distracted Cami from her troubling thoughts. "Mom, the sheriff’s back!"
Cami got to her feet, picked her pistol off the table and holstered it, then followed Amber outside. She smiled to herself as she watched her daughter move around the corner of the house. Amber wore the pistol on her hip very well. The addition of a weapon to her normal summer clothing of cutoff shorts, tennis shoes and a tank top accentuated Amber's figure in ways she was sure Mitch had found attractive. Cami glanced around—she was sure other men would find Amber attractive, too, and that was one of her constant worries in the crazy new world they lived in.
Broken Tide | Book 3 | Maelstrom Page 3
