“The town got its name from the butterfly migratory patterns. Monarchs especially,” Monty said. “Every year from October through December, the eucalyptus trees are filled with them. Thousands upon thousands. There are other towns in the area that get their share, as well, but we’re hoping to bring tourists in year-round with the new sanctuary that’s being built. Especially in November, when we have a month-long butterfly festival.”
“Sounds promising.”
Monty nodded. “It is. It’ll include a nature education center, as well. Its location is perfect, right near Duskywing Farm, an organic outfit run by one of our locals, Calliope Costas. If you don’t go anywhere else before you leave, you have to make a stop there. Calliope’s...well, Calliope’s got a special manner with flora and fauna.”
“Flora and fauna?” Sienna laughed.
“Hang around Calliope long enough and you start speaking her language. It’s a good place, Butterfly Harbor. A happy place. It’s not perfect, of course. But it comes pretty darn close as far as I’m concerned.”
“You’ve lived there all your life?”
“That’s right. My father was a firefighter there when Frankie and I were born. Became chief a few years later. Never knew a man more proud of his town, more proud of his fellow residents.”
Sienna could name at least one who was equally, if not more proud. “Is he still chief? Your father?”
The cloud that passed over Monty’s face was one Sienna had seen many times before in her own mirror.
“He died fighting a wildfire when Frankie and I were sixteen. One of those freak wind changes that steals a life away in the blink of an eye. Two lives in this case. My dad and another fighter out of the Bay Area.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispered, but even against the wind he heard her.
“Thanks. He was a good man, but he was an even better father. Anything that’s good about me is because of him.”
“What about your mother?”
Monty shook his head. “Suffice it to say, Roxie was always more interested in Roxie than being a parent.”
Odd to call a mother by her first name, wasn’t it? Not that Sienna would know. She’d never known her mother and she’d learned early on that asking about her would only shut down her father faster.
An odd clunking sound emanated from somewhere below and behind them. An instant knot of unease tightened in her belly. Monty eased up on their speed until they came to a stop. With barely a flicker of concern, he turned off the engine. “Let’s see what’s going on.”
It was one thing, Sienna thought as she watched him descend to the lower deck, to be told they could have engine issues. It was another thing to actually experience it in the middle of the ocean. A part of her knew she should stay out of the way, but another part of her was curious. She was, after all, along for the ride, and while she knew the basics about sailing—admittedly with a sailboat—there wasn’t any reason she couldn’t learn more.
She followed him below and found him wedged into a closet that was jam-packed with electrical wires, gauges and boxes. Everything was covered in a lot of dust, which he was blowing off with every wire he lifted to check.
“I just want to make sure it’s not electrical before I dive in to look at the engine.” He kept testing wires as he spoke.
“What’s worse? Engine or electrical?”
“Neither is great.” His brow furrowed in concentration. “I took a good look before I made my final offer. Really thought she’d make it at least a couple of days before I ended up with issues. Hand me a rag, would you?”
He held out his hand, so she hurried to the kitchen, found a ratty towel under the sink and passed it to him. As he started to use it, she knew it wasn’t going to do him much good. She returned to the spot under the sink to grab a paintbrush she’d seen in the back corner.
“Here. Let’s try this.” She reached across him and began brushing away the dust and debris. It was quicker than the towel, and did a better job.
“Great. Thanks.” He flipped open a fuse box and ran his fingers down each outlet. “Nothing feels unusually hot.” He bent down, then quietly asked for the brush, which she handed over. “Ah, okay. This could be the culprit.” He motioned to an exposed wire barely hanging on to its connection.
“I saw some electrical tape in one of the drawers. It looked ancient,” he continued, as she was already retrieving it, “but it should work or at least for a little bit.” She bent down next to him, handed him the role of shiny black tape.
“A woman of hidden talents.”
“I told you.” The memories came fast, like a spinning film reel. “My grandmother was a very self-sufficient woman. She told me there’s nothing a man can fix that a woman can’t. You need me to tear that for you?”
“Yeah, if you can.” He winced as she accepted the tape, deftly tore off a piece and handed it to him. Soon he was pinching the sticky stuff around the wires.
She shifted closer, her arms tight between his chest and the electrical panel. “You see any other exposed wires?”
“No.” He inclined his head so that it hit the back of the cabinet. “I’m going to take a quick look at the engine, though, just to be sure.” He braced his hands on his knees and shoved himself up. “Not exactly the pleasure cruise you were expecting, I’m sure.”
“I’m not expecting anything.” She backed away to let him out. “But whatever happens, you aren’t alone.”
* * *
ONE THING HE’D neglected to understand upon his agreeing to be Sienna’s ride was that he would, in essence, be taking responsibility for her. For her safety. For her intact arrival in Butterfly Harbor.
It was one thing to take off in the run-down Dream on his own; he had no issues dealing with whatever consequences that followed. He’d purposely kept close to land, though, so as not to be considered offshore; some risks, even alone, he wasn’t about to take. He did a quick evaluation of the intake valves, the bilge pump and, specifically, the head gaskets. If they blew one of those they’d be dead in the water. Literally.
Despite the years Dream had spent unoccupied and moored, she was in pretty good shape. Until he got her into dry dock and really dug into the engine, however, he couldn’t risk burning her out completely.
“Well?” Sienna asked when he slammed the engine hatch shut. “What’s the verdict?”
“All the things I really worry about seem okay. Let’s start her back up.” He walked around Sienna and climbed back into the pilot cabin.
“We’ve only been out on the water a short time. How far have we gone?” She took a tentative seat on the bench beside him.
“About thirty miles.” He might have to reduce speed even more. “Hopefully we’ll catch some fast water, otherwise we’re looking at over a week to get home.” He smiled. “Though I bet you’d be good with longer.”
“I would be, yes.” She didn’t look anxious to get anywhere. “But I know you need to get back for your sister.”
“Only because Ezzie’s driving her nuts. I’m a good buffer. Let’s see how we do at a slower pace this time.”
They were no sooner on their way again than the radio crackled.
“Monty, you out there? Over.”
Sienna’s eyebrows went up as Monty picked up the radio receiver. “Here. Over. What’s up, Luke?” He mouthed “the sheriff” at Sienna, who wore a confused expression.
“I’ve got a couple of mischief makers here who want to ask you a favor. Over.”
“Mischief makers?” Sienna moved closer so she could hear better. She rested her hand on the back of his chair.
“That’s code for Luke’s son, Simon, and his friend Charlie. Charlie’s a girl, by the way,” Monty added with a grin. “They have a talent for getting into trouble. Remind me to tell you about Charlie’s adventure in the caves sometime.” He clicked the receiver. “Put th
em on, Luke. Over.”
“Monty, we had the best idea ever but we need your help.” Charlie Bradley’s excited voice could have lightened anyone’s mood. “We have a science report due next week and we have to display information about different animals in our environment. We want to do the ocean. Oh, yeah, sorry. Over.”
“Can’t exactly come get you right now, Charlie. Over.”
“Give me that.” A young boy’s voice came over the speaker. “Our teacher said as long as we do the report and find the information, it can be anything. So we were thinking maybe you could take some pictures for us? Over.”
Monty glanced at Sienna, who shrugged. “I can keep lookout for sea life,” she offered.
“Okay, Simon,” Monty told him. “We’ll do what we can. Just don’t be disappointed if it’s not an orca or great white shark. Over.”
“There aren’t any great white sharks around here,” Charlie said with what sounded like exaggerated patience. “But there are sea turtles and dolphins. Over.”
“What is it with her and dolphins?” Monty asked Sienna.
“For me it was always seals.”
“Okay, kiddo,” Monty responded. “I’ll email any pictures we take to you when I make a stop on dry land. Over.”
“Cool. Thanks, Monty!” Scrambling and shuffling ensued before Charlie’s voice exploded once more. “Right. Over! Bye! See, I told you he’d do it, Dad!”
“Appreciate this, Monty,” Luke said. “Simon was talking about swimming out to find what he could for himself. Thankfully cooler heads prevailed. See you when you’re back. Over.”
Monty chuckled. “Charlie is most definitely the cooler head,” he told Sienna. “Here.” He handed her his cell phone. “Since you volunteered, you’re officially life-form patrol. We’re about ninety minutes from Plover Bay.”
“Aye, aye, Captain.” She descended the ladder with new purpose.
He turned the engine back to full, half-expecting that clanging noise to start again, but it was sounding smooth. Relatively confident, he accelerated and resumed course.
Sure enough, by the time he radioed ahead to the marina for an open slip, the boat was still running fine.
“What a cute little town.” Sienna popped back into the wheelhouse and, standing beside him, shielded her eyes as he pulled into a small marina. “I’ve never even heard of it.” The stretch of local businesses took up most of the street on the opposite side of the marina. The fish stall was doing a brisk trade, as was the fresh-lemonade-and-organic-fruit-bowl stand that was new since he’d last been here.
The telltale hint of treetops a few blocks away belied the park beneath the barely blooming blossoms and branches. The few blocks of downtown wound in and around each other, but it was one of those places that appealed to him. Just like home.
“It’s definitely a blink-and-miss-it kind of town, but it has a lot of charm,” Monty said as he waved at a group of sport fishermen heading out in a trawler for the day. “They’re getting a late start.”
“How early do they normally go?”
“I’ve got my groups out and their lines in the water by six thirty at the latest.” Monty craned his neck to see where he was going. “Besides, earlier I’m out, earlier I’m back.”
“And you make a good living with your business?”
“Wind Walkers. And, yes. Don’t sound so skeptical. I just need enough to get by, not break the bank.”
“I didn’t mean to sound judgmental. I was just curious how the son of a firefighter ends up as a tour guide.”
“Water-excursion specialist,” Monty corrected with what he hoped was a smile. “And the answer’s easy. Firefighting wasn’t my thing. Frankie, on the other hand—”
“Your sister’s a firefighter?”
There was no misinterpreting the shock in her voice. “Not just a firefighter, she’s cochief. From the time we were kids, it’s all she ever wanted to be. She’s good at it, too.” But as good as she was, it hadn’t stopped Frankie from getting seriously injured last Christmas Eve.
He could still remember what it felt like, standing out there in the darkness lit by the very fire ripping through the town’s onetime pub that had been serving as a temporary mayor’s office. He’d watched it burn...with his sister inside. And he hadn’t been able to do anything about it.
He hadn’t felt so helpless, so useless, so scared, since their father had been killed. “Frankie is a multifaceted woman,” he said before he dwelled too much on the fear he’d managed to bank. He couldn’t worry about her; he shouldn’t. Not when she was so capable at her job. Nor could he silence that little voice in the back of his head that asked if one day the flames were going to be too much and he’d lose the only family he had left. “There’s nothing she hasn’t been good at, but firefighting? That’s where she excels.”
“Whereas your place is on the water. Opposite elements,” Sienna said as he pulled back on the throttle and turned off the boat. “You balance each other.”
He chuckled. “Oh, yeah. You and Calliope Costas would get along great. She has a lot of insight and shares it frequently, too. Come on. Let’s see if we can reconnect you and a little cell phone technology.”
CHAPTER SIX
SIENNA HAD DONE her share of traveling. Nana had always thought it important to expose Sienna to as much of the world as possible. It was also, Sienna learned at an early age, the best strategy to make sure she appreciated her own home, her own neighborhood. Her own life.
Stepping off Dream and onto the dock in Plover Bay reminded her instantly of some of the smaller Greek or Italian islands she’d visited. The smattering of colorful boats, street stalls and quaint hole-in-the-wall businesses were familiar to her and made her smile. “My grandmother would have loved this spot.”
“You think?” Monty sounded surprised. “All that jet-setting you two did?”
“We’d always travel off the beaten path. Go out on our own, just see where roads took us. She loved visiting new places, especially if they were ones that hadn’t been touched by a lot of tourism and commercialism.”
“Sounds like a woman after my own heart,” Monty said.
“Yeah.” Sienna looked up at the sky, and pretended that the morning sun rays came straight from Winnie.
They wandered past various businesses including a tiny tourist shop with starfish holiday ornaments and ships in bottles displayed in the windows, and a store filled with handmade candles. He wasn’t kidding, Sienna thought. Plover Bay was absolutely charming.
At the hardware store, Monty bought a few emergency tools and spare bits and bobs for the engine. Next they hit up Aft to Stern Parts and Supplies, proving to Sienna her grandmother hadn’t come close to teaching her all there was to know about boating. But something told her she’d be much more informed about engines by the time they reached their destination.
To save time, they visited the grocery store and left loaded down with kitchen supplies and healthier food alternatives before taking it back to the boat.
Trip two consisted of a couple of bags of fruits and vegetables from the farmer’s market, along with bottles of red wine made just a few miles away. She was still chuckling at the horrified expression on his face when she’d grabbed a handful—or two—of kale. He was most definitely not a fan, but she’d take it as a challenge to convert him.
A last-minute detour into a bookstore had Sienna realizing just how long it had been since she’d read anything for pleasure and, making up for lost time and with Monty’s encouragement and contributions, she ended up with a selection of mysteries, romances and the latest Stephen King thriller.
“You’re adding these to my expense sheet, right?” Her teasing smile faded at his guarded expression. “What? What’s wrong?”
“You might want to rethink getting another cell phone.” He moved to block her view of the periodicals stand.
“What?” She pushed him to the side. “What don’t you want me to...see?” Her jaw dropped. On the front page of a major San Diego newspaper was her picture with the headline “Runaway Bride Sienna Fairchild Goes Missing at Empire Marina.” “Oh, no.”
“Afraid so.” Monty gently pulled her away and, after offering the cashier a distracting smile, flipped over the paper. “If it’s made the papers you can only imagine what social media’s like about now.”
“My Instagram page runneth over, I’m sure,” she grumbled. “And it was turning into such a nice day.”
“Still is.”
Monty paid while she asked the cashier for the local branch of her bank.
“It closed a few months back,” the young woman said with a snap of her gum. She didn’t even look up as she ran Monty’s card. “Closest one now is about twenty miles inland. But they’re closed today.”
Even if she found a way there, her ATM card was back in her purse in San Diego. “Right.” Sienna wasn’t enjoying this part of the journey. At least she’d get a replacement cell phone at the nearby store. That hope was quickly dashed by her lack of ID.
“I’m sorry, but it’s company policy.” The friendly middle-aged man behind the counter at the cell-phone store blinked at her. He reminded her a little of a frog with over-round eyes and an equally round face. The fact that his shirt was the color of algae probably didn’t help. His name badge read Herb. She didn’t like Herb at the moment.
“But I told you, I’ve lost my ID.” Not exactly true, but close enough.
“There must be an exception to the rule,” Monty said, resting a hand on her arm. “People lose their wallets and phones all the time. You don’t refuse to replace them all, so what’s the catch?”
“No catch.” Herb pointed to the sign over the back counter. “It’s our policy.”
“Hold on,” Sienna said. “If I requested a new phone online they wouldn’t need my ID to mail it to me, would they?”
Bride on the Run--A Clean Romance Page 6
