To the Ends of the Earth / The Danvers Touch

by Lowell, Elizabeth

  Travis smiled and swung the boy up onto his shoulders for the walk across the weekend-crowded parking lot. After a brief tussle over whether Jason would wear a life preserver—the boy lost—the ride in the Zodiac was a giddy adventure for Jason, one that left him round-eyed and laughing with glee. Diego was so taken with him that he extended the ride by going around the Wind Warrior twice.

  Cat kept taking pictures of Jason and Travis and the transparent affection that flowed between them. Once they were aboard, Jason asked a thousand questions about the ship while he trotted around beside Travis, still wearing the bright red vest that was the price of being allowed on board a pirate ship.

  Patiently Travis answered each question with as much detail as the boy wanted to absorb. He talked about the long nights on the sea, nights filled with a dazzling river of stars and storms that shut out all light. He talked about sunrise in the tropics, a sunrise that was another kind of storm, one made entirely of light and heat and color. He talked about the deep night silences broken by the hiss of the ship’s bow parting the sea, and about the sudden, gigantic breathing of a whale surfacing nearby in the darkness.

  Cat heard all that Travis didn’t put into words, the aching hunger in him to be on the ocean again, to be free of land and smog and people, to be a captain with a good ship under his feet and a strong wind blowing through his hair, to have the past behind him and the future radiant with the endless miracle of the sea.

  Working tirelessly, Cat caught it all on film, the longing and the love of the sea; the intelligent, earnest, excited child and the equally intelligent, earnest, excited adult. She tried not to grieve that she would never know the joy of sharing their own child with Travis, but the sadness was there in the images she took, a poignant shadow defining the brightness of the day, the dark certainty of future loss.

  Hearing the elemental yearning for the sea in Travis’s voice, Cat knew that tomorrow was coming. Soon.

  Too soon. January was too far away.

  At least I have Jason to love, Cat told herself as she changed rolls of film. Until his parents move, anyway. I wonder if that’s what all the telephoning was about early this morning at his house.

  I hope not. I’ll miss my bright little tornado.

  Cat put away the thought of the future and the bitter losses that it would bring. She would grieve for both of them. She loved both of them. The love was very different, equally deep. Seeing the two men she loved so much enjoying each other made her want to laugh and weep at the same time, emotion overflowing her heart, breaking it and healing it in the same breath.

  I love. That’s more than I thought I would ever have in my life. Each of them returns my love in his own way. That’s enough.

  It has to be.

  “Cat?”

  She looked up from her camera and realized that Travis had called her name more than once.

  “I think you have something, don’t you?” Travis asked. “In your camera bag?”

  “Close your eyes, Jason,” Cat said, remembering. “And no peeking!”

  Without a word the boy put his small, perfectly formed, and slightly grubby hands over his eyes.

  Shielding the boat with her body just in case, Cat passed the carving to Travis.

  “You made it for him,” she whispered. “You give it to him.”

  “But I wanted you—”

  “Go on,” she interrupted, folding his long, finely scarred fingers around the boat. “Okay, Jason. Look what your pirate made for you.”

  The boy’s hands moved away from his face. His eyes grew big and then bigger still. Almost hesitantly he reached for the darkly gleaming boat. “For me?”

  Travis crouched down on his heels, bringing his eyes nearly level with Jason’s. “Just for you.”

  Jason threw himself at Travis and gave him a big kiss. “You’re the best pirate ever!”

  Travis caught the boy and stood slowly, wrapping Jason in his arms, holding him tight. “And you’re the best boy ever.”

  Then Travis saw the longing in Cat’s eyes as she watched the boy, tears that shimmered on the edge of falling.

  And he found himself wishing he could give her a child.

  In that instant Travis understood that he could fall in love with her. The realization was shocking. It told him how reckless he was. Despite the scars and savage lessons of the past, he believed that Cat was exactly as she seemed to be—a woman who loved without thought of money.

  She isn’t like other women, scheming and lying in order to get a free ride for life. Cat is different.

  She has to be.

  Anything else was unthinkable.

  At least this time, if I’m wrong, I’ll be the only one who suffers.

  It wasn’t much consolation for the terrifying risk Travis was taking, but it was all he had.

  Slowly he put Jason back on the deck of the ship. “Go show your new boat to Diego. He has a whole collection of carvings from all over the world.”

  As soon as Jason ran off to show his trophy to Diego, Travis turned to the woman who watched him with pain and joy in her beautiful eyes.

  “Tomorrow, Cat. Tomorrow we’ll go to sea together. Just for a few days. Please.”

  She closed her eyes against the naked plea in his. She knew Travis was being pulled apart by conflicting needs. She was being pulled apart in just the same way.

  She couldn’t go.

  It was impossible.

  There was too much to be done. January was coming down on her like an avalanche, fast and hard and furious.

  Then she opened her eyes and looked at the face of the man she loved.

  “Yes. Tomorrow I’ll go to sea with you.”

  EIGHTEEN

  AS THE Wind Warrior glided toward the exit to Dana Harbor, Cat leaned against the railing. Air that smelled of salt and cool water flowed over her face. Travis was a warm presence at her back, two strong arms bracketing her body, male laughter in her hair. She moved against him with a feline ease and sensuality, enjoying the heat and strength that radiated from him.

  “Like this, do you?” Travis asked, catching her close against his body with one arm. “I thought you would. Other than man, cats are the only land animals that live well at sea.”

  She laughed softly and lifted her hand until she found the rough silk texture of his beard. Her fingertips moved along the line of his lips, his jaw, the smooth lobe of his ear.

  On either side of the Wind Warrior the rocky barriers of jetties rose out of the sea, baffling the smooth-backed waves, creating a tranquil harbor for the myriad pleasure craft dozing at their white slips. The channel itself was a straight green ribbon leading to the ocean. There was no swell yet, simply a subtle rocking motion that hinted at the immensity of the Pacific waiting beyond the narrow thrust of jetties.

  “You’ve made a beautiful world for yourself with the Wind Warrior,” Cat said, looking at the limitless sea that beckoned just ahead.

  “This is nothing,” Travis said, taking Cat’s hand and kissing her palm. “Wait until she spreads her wings.”

  At the farthest reach of the jetties, seagulls soared and cried. Ocean swells creamed around the rocks, reaching for Wind Warrior’s black elegance. The ship’s motion changed subtly, eagerly, responding to the approach of unconfined ocean.

  At the edge of Travis’s awareness, the crew moved in silent concert, preparing the ship. Normally he would have worked with the men, but he wanted to be close to Cat at the exact instant that his ship stepped into the wind.

  The Wind Warrior rounded the outer jetty and slid into the sweeping embrace of the sea. Overhead, maroon sails unfurled in a sleek rush of canvas. The ship quivered, transfixed by wind.

  And then she heeled over and flew like the great black bird she was.

  Laughing softly, exultantly, Cat stretched out her hands to the horizon. She had been to sea before, but never like this, carried with such grace and elegance and silent power.

  Travis drank her response as totally as his sh
ip drank the wind. Then he turned Cat in his arms and kissed her until they became a single figure swaying to the rhythms of the untamed ocean. Finally he lifted his head and looked down into her radiant gray eyes.

  “Thank you,” he said.

  “For what?” she asked, smiling up at him, loving him the only way she could, silently.

  “For being here, for being alive, for being you.”

  Cat blinked back unexpected tears. She couldn’t speak for fear she would say what must not be said. I love you. So she stood on tiptoe and kissed Travis as though for the first time or the last.

  Silently, holding each other, they watched the blue-green ocean divide around the ship’s bow. Water seethed and foamed along the Wind Warrior’s elegant hull, wind filled her sails, eagerness vibrated through every sleek centimeter of her. The ship took the swells cleanly, rising to meet the looming liquid walls with an economy of motion that made her easy to ride despite her experimental rigging.

  Yet after a time, Cat was forced to admit the growing uneasiness of her stomach. It didn’t particularly worry her. For her, seasickness had always been something that rarely happened. And if it did, the queasiness vanished after a few hours.

  She hoped that hadn’t changed after her long absence from the sea. Motion sickness pills acted more like sleeping pills on her. They knocked her out.

  “Hungry?” Travis asked.

  “Um . . .” Cat swallowed.

  “You should be. You were so busy packing camera gear that you ate about three bites of toast.”

  “That’s probably why my stomach is jumpy. It’s empty.”

  He looked at her closely. Beneath her skin she was vaguely green. “Let’s go below and get you some food.”

  But Cat took no more than two steps down the stairs before her stomach clenched in warning.

  “Nope,” she said, retreating swiftly. “I’m staying above deck.”

  Travis didn’t argue. In some people, being confined made seasickness worse.

  “I’ll bring you some food,” he said. “How about a nice cheese sandwich?”

  She was on the point of saying yes when her stomach rebelled in vivid warning of what would happen to any food she ate.

  “No. Nothing,” Cat said hurriedly.

  “Dry toast? Fruit?”

  She shook her head, swallowed hard, and thought of something else besides food, anything—the cry of gulls and the blue-on-blue where sky met sea.

  The ship swooped down the side of a particularly large wave. Cat closed her eyes.

  It was a mistake.

  Her eyes snapped open. She saw Travis’s rueful, sympathetic smile.

  “Getting to you?” he asked softly.

  She nodded.

  “Want something for it?” he asked.

  “No. Everything I’ve ever taken was worse than the queasiness. It should pass. It always has before.”

  Cat breathed deeply through her nose, then let the breath hiss out from between clenched teeth. It was a trick she had learned when she had first gone to sea, a means of avoiding the nausea of mal de mer. Usually it worked. When it didn’t, there was always the head or a nearby railing.

  This time the nausea didn’t pass quickly. Cat spent the next few hours leaning on the rail, breathing out through her teeth and letting the wind blow over her. When the grip of nausea finally eased, she tried to take up her cameras and shoot the Wind Warrior under sail as she had planned to do.

  Another mistake. Changing her perspective from normal to through-the-lens, adjusting to the shifting focus, and switching her own position to get the angle she wanted nearly undid her. When Travis appeared in front of her with a pale yellow pill and a glass of water, she accepted without argument.

  “I’ll be better soon,” she said. “It’s been years. I just have to get my sea legs back.”

  “Uh-huh,” Travis said, doubtful.

  He had seen all kinds of seasickness. Cat looked green. He doubted that it would pass any time soon.

  As soon as the pill took effect, Cat’s eyelids turned to lead. Travis took her to his cabin. She was asleep before he tucked her into his bed.

  She slept for sixteen hours.

  Cat didn’t notice Travis as he came and went, checking on her. Or when he simply sat, watching her, holding her slack hand in his. Finally he lay next to her and slept, too, letting the fresh salt air from the open porthole wash over them.

  When Cat awoke, nausea was a fist in her stomach. Thanks to Travis’s help, she made it to the tiny head. Instead of leaving her on her own, he held her and wiped her face, taking care of her as though she was no older than Jason.

  “Okay now?” Travis asked when she stopped retching.

  “Yes. I think. Hope.”

  “You’ll feel better up top.”

  Travis was right. Cat felt better up on the deck. Yet she was tired despite her long sleep. The slow rhythms of the sea unraveled her ambition. She was supposed to be climbing masts and scooting about in the Zodiac, dangling from the railing and performing all the rest of the contortions a photographer went through to get the best angle for a picture.

  And each time she tried to look through a lens, her stomach flipped over.

  She had no better luck with breakfast. As long as she didn’t smell food or try to eat anything, her stomach behaved. When the crew ate breakfast, she was careful to find a spot at the bow, upwind of the galley. There she sat with her face tilted up into the fresh air while exhaustion consumed her, leaving barely enough strength to huddle on the bow and let the sea part before her.

  When Travis sat down behind Cat, she looked over her shoulder with an apologetic smile.

  “I’m sorry to be such a disappointment,” she said. “I don’t know what’s wrong. I’ve never been a bad sailor before.”

  He smiled gently and pulled her between his legs, settling her weight against his chest.

  “What could be disappointing about holding you?” he asked, burying his face in the gentle fire of Cat’s hair. “Go ahead and curl up in my arms. You make me feel like a god bringing you the gift of sleep.”

  “But I’m supposed to be shooting the ship and the sea,” she said, relaxing against him despite her words.

  “The sea was here before civilization began. It will be here when civilization ends. Sleep, darling. There’s all the time in the world.”

  Sighing, Cat burrowed into his warmth and let the world slide away, keeping only him.

  Travis wanted to turn and head back the next morning, but Cat insisted she would get better. She was right, up to a point. She didn’t spend any more time with her head in the toilet, but she stayed very drowsy even though she refused to take any more motion sickness pills.

  Feeling lazy and thoroughly spoiled, Cat spent the remaining two days of the trip curled in Travis’s arms. She let the gentle winter sun wash over her, counted waves, counted heartbeats, slept, and awoke to his smile.

  Yet no matter how much she slept, her body cried out for more rest. Though nausea came back only once in a while, she didn’t want to eat any of the time.

  The lack of appetite didn’t surprise Cat. Her desire for food had varied from slim to nothing during the past five weeks. The same thing had happened a few times before, when she got too wrapped up in her photography, worked too hard, and slept too little.

  “Here,” Travis said, appearing with a milkshake in his hand.

  “Thanks, but I’m not—”

  “Hungry,” he finished for her. “That’s okay. This isn’t food. Drink up.”

  Cat did her best, but only managed to swallow half of the milkshake in the next half hour.

  Watching her without seeming to, Travis worried about her lack of energy and appetite. He had known men who were hit by seasickness so hard that they only recovered back on shore. Yet from all that Cat had said, she hadn’t been seasick on Harrington’s boat.

  The thought that something else might be wrong with her, something serious, was gnawing in Travis’s gut
.

  “Don’t look so worried,” Cat said, giving him a chocolate-mustache smile. “I’ll go back to eating normally as soon as I’m on land.”

  “I’ll hold you to it,” he promised.

  And he did. As soon as the Wind Warrior anchored in Dana Point Harbor, Travis drove Cat to her house, dropped her off, and gave her a level look.

  “I’ll be back with a five-course meal,” he said. “You’re going to eat every bite of it.”

  “Oh. Goody,” she said without enthusiasm.

  He kissed her hard and headed down the beach stairs to his house.

  Cat stood in the kitchen, watching Travis dodge between the big winter waves and sprint along the wet sand to his own stairway. Then she sat at her little table and wished food had never been invented.

  She stayed there, just sitting, until sunset light sent scarlet shadows over her hands. Occasionally she wondered what Travis would bring back with him. Every food that occurred to her sounded either uninteresting or outright disgusting.

  Even the thought of food made her stomach jerk.

  She flattened her palms on the cool table, breathed sharply through her nose, then gritted her teeth and let the breath hiss out. It helped, but not enough.

  “Damn,” Cat groaned, her head in her hands. “I forgot that it takes me as long to get used to being on land as it took me to get used to the sea.”

  Even though she had been off the Wind Warrior for several hours, the room still swayed gently when she closed her eyes . . . and her stomach swayed a good deal less gently whether her eyes were open or closed.

  The idea of dinner defeated her.

  Tired.

  God, I didn’t know what the word meant until now. I’m too tired even to yawn, and I spent the last three days dozing in Travis’s arms.

  Cat shoved away from the table, went to her workroom, and slumped into the chair next to the answering machine. The message light was blinking.

  How much energy can it take just to listen? she asked herself, yawning.

  Sighing, Cat hit the play button. The chair wasn’t as comfortable as leaning against Travis had been. A tingle of longing and memory went through her. She wished she was back in the arms of her pirate, listening to a deep east Texas drawl that caressed her more warmly than California’s bright winter sunlight.