by Nancy Radke
Releasing the line, he stepped down into the sloop and balanced himself against the motion. He felt safer here than in a motor-driven yacht. More at home with the water and the wind.
She doesn’t have to love sailing, just because you do, he told himself as he pushed them away from the dock, turning the boat into the wind. He coiled the line as the Sea Sprite bobbed and nodded its way out into Lake Washington.
“Let me do something,” Ellen said. “I feel useless just sitting here.” He watched her glance nervously from side to side as she leaned forward, white-knuckled hands on the cockpit coaning, then tried to stand while still holding on.
“Whoa there,” he said, as the boat rocked unevenly, upsetting his balance. "The object is to stay inside the boat.”
She sat, quickly, still hanging on. “Shouldn’t you be sitting, too?”
“I have to raise the sail.”
“Oh. Yes. Of course.”
“Don’t worry. I learned to sail in a Laser, and they are much more unstable.” He stood quietly, absorbing the motion with his knees, letting the boat settle down to a gentle rocking. “It’s a calm night with just enough breeze to give us a good trip. Do you want a life jacket? The float belt is much more comfortable than a jacket.” He handed her one while putting on the other.
“Thanks.” She put the belt around her. “I can swim.”
“I don’t plan for either of us to have to swim,” he said, dropping the centerboard and making sure it was settled in place. The little boat steadied perceptively and he stood up again. He stared down at her face, wanting to ease the concern there. She’d feel better once the sail was up, the boat moving.
She was in his way at the moment; he had to move her.
“Uh...you need to sit over there.” She moved to where he pointed, keeping her body low as she shifted positions.
“That’s better.” It would also place her beside him while he steered. He stepped past her to the mast, reached down and flipped a switch. A small light appeared on top.
“Running lights and everything,” she said, smiling.
“It was one of my first purchases. I wanted to sail at night, as well as day.”
He pulled the running knot which tied down the sail, then raised it, the large sheet fluttering like a bird set free, eager to ride the wind.
Next he released the jib, checked that everything was functioning properly, then sat down between her and the tiller as the sloop quivered, ready to go. “Comfortable?”
“Yes.”
She didn’t feel that way to him. Her shoulder and thigh touching him stayed tense, and she kept watching the flapping sails as if uncertain what they would do next. “The sail will always return to this position as long as the tiller is free,” he explained, trying to assuage her fears. “The boat won’t move—except to drift—until I start to steer.”
“I see.”
“If any emergency ever happens on a sailboat, make sure the tiller is loose. It’s like putting on the brakes.”
She turned her head and smiled at him. “First time jitters.”
“That’s okay. I’ll make a sailor out of you.” Touching the tiller with his left hand, he moved it away from him. The sail filled immediately, transforming the Sea Sprite into a ballerina.
Ellen grabbed his arm with one hand and the splash guard with the other as the boat tilted upwards beneath her.
“Relax,” he said, placing his right arm around her shoulders and pulling her closer. This was much better. He actually was glad she was nervous, it gave him the opportunity to hold her. “I’ve got it under control.”
She shifted closer. “You’re right. My mind knows that. I just have to convince the rest of me. I’ve been in larger boats, but this seems so fragile. So swift to respond. Like riding a mustang instead of an old mare.” Taking a deep breath, she let it out in a long sigh and settled against him.
Her acceptance of his ability was like a present, boosting a wave of pure happiness through him. He grinned broadly, wanting to let out a whoop of joy. He needed to get her out on the Sea Sprite as often as possible. Ellen was much more approachable when she wasn’t acting like a teacher.
Twilight had ended, leaving the sky lit by the city lights. Overhead, the brightest stars were slowly joined by their lesser fellows.
Jared controlled the Sea Sprite with a touch of his hand, making it dance effortlessly across the black waves. The breeze was not overly strong, but enough to move them at a good clip. He could feel Ellen relax more and more as she became accustomed to the motion.
From here they could see a chain of moving lights—cars crossing the floating bridge between Mercer Island and Seattle. Music drifted out from a party on shore, providing a romantic background. He couldn’t have planned it better.
“This is... this is wonderful,” she exclaimed.
“Aren’t you glad you came?”
“I wouldn’t have missed it for anything.”
She likes it! Jared hadn’t realized he was waiting for such a comment until he relaxed. He hummed along with the music for a phrase, then Ellen joined him and they finished the song together.
“I’ve never seen you so at ease,” she said.
He shrugged her comment away, but knew it was true. It was the first time he had ever been with a woman when he didn’t feel like he had to be constantly on guard. Was it because Ellen was the woman? Or because she knew his secret?
“What did you do today?” she asked, her low tones floating just above a murmur.
Waited for you. All day. Worried that you wouldn’t come, that you didn’t want to come. But he didn’t say that. “I worked out in my weight room early this morning, then did some repairs on the dock. I had plenty of things to do, things I’ve been putting off to make time for the tutoring sessions.”
“You do your show tomorrow, right?”
“Right. You can come with me, if you’d like to see what goes on.”
“Oh, yes. But do you think it's safe? I mean, you didn't want to be seen with me.”
"This is different. We'll be in with the technicians. No questions asked... they'll be too busy getting the show out."
"Then I'd love to come."
“It’s quite interesting, at first.” It had become routine for him, but it would be fun to share it with her. “They put make-up on me,” he added in disgust. “Even on my hands. I’m still not used to that.”
Ellen chuckled and he laughed along with her. Her response was all he could ask for. She made him feel complete.
A normal man, with a normal woman, doing a normal thing. Not having to hide anything; not having to apologize.
Suddenly he wanted to share everything with her. Would she stay in his life? Or would she lose interest in him after he was no longer her student?
Only time would tell.
He had set a triangular course and now turned to bring them down the back leg. The sail swung from port to starboard and they had to duck as it passed overhead.
She laughed in delight when they picked up speed again, the wind now blowing her hair back.
“You know, I would rather be out here than practically anywhere else in the world,” he told her.
“Except in a storm.”
“In some storms, it’s a challenge. In others—especially if its raining hard, it’s better to be in front of the fire with a good hot drink.”
“I think I’ll pass on storms.”
“How about the rest of the time?” he asked, almost holding his breath, waiting for her answer.
“Hey, anytime you want a passenger, give me a call. I’ll try not to repeat today’s fiasco.”
She’d handed him a gift of gold. “You’re on. Look at the stars,” he said, pointing upward to where the brighter ones shone through the city’s gleam.
She followed his lead. “There’s Cassiopeia. Ursa Major—the Big Dipper. Part of the Little Dipper and the North Star.”
“Where?” All he saw were dancing lights.
�
��There. You follow the two pointer stars on the Big Dipper—-“
“Oh, no, you don’t. Stay out of the teacher mode tonight.” He enjoyed being the one in charge. It felt good, and he wasn’t ready to give control back to her. Not unless he had a book in front of him.
“I thought a good sailor would know his stars,” she said, her voice lightly teasing.
“So many pinpoints of light—I can’t see any figures in them. After I learn to read, maybe then I’ll have you show me which are which.”
“Sure. Any time.”
“What’s your family like?” he asked, suddenly curious to know about the other people in her life.
“Well, my folks are still living. I’ve got three brothers and a sister. I’m the oldest.”
“You’re older than Kathy?”
“Yes. One year.”
“And she has three kids already?”
“Uh huh. She married while she was in high school. I was always pulling Kathy out of trouble. I guess she still expects it. My folks both worked. With me being the oldest kid, I sort of took care of everyone.”
That explained why she wanted to mother everyone, including him. “That’s all right, as long as they realize you’ve got a life.”
“They do.”
“Then why would Kathy expect you to baby-sit all day?”
“I guess... I guess because she’s done it before and I never complained.”
“Really? Does she even thank you?” He knew Ellen had a soft heart. This just proved it.
“Not always,” Ellen admitted. “She shouldn’t have to. We’re family.”
“You need to train them to be considerate of you.”
“I don’t know if that’s necessary.”
“Learn to say, ‘No.’ Not all the time of course.” Jared didn’t want her to start saying ‘No’ to him. “But enough so they start thinking of you.”
“I do... sometimes.” She paused, considered. “Now and then.”
“You have to be able to do things on your own without them expecting you to drop everything at the last moment and run help them.” He’d love for her to do that for him... exclusively. He hadn’t enjoyed being the one dropped. “Like your mother. She should have made sure you were free before starting her permanent.”
“But I’ve always been available before.” She sounded defensive.
“Then you need to become unavailable now and then.”
“They usually have some urgent reason why they need me, and no one else.”
“If you aren’t available, it will force them to be more considerate—and independent.”
Ellen fought against the emotions churning within her. What he was saying was the truth. She had actually felt guilty at not having Kathy’s kitchen clean when she got home. But she needed to do those things. Kathy was a scatterbrain. She needed Ellen’s help.
“You’re sounding like the teacher now,” she said. “I mean... what I mean is, I try to teach my students to be independent. Both in reading and in life. I didn’t think about how I was tying my family to me.”
“You’ll do it then?”
“I suppose so,” she admitted reluctantly. She shifted positions, drawing away from him, uncomfortable with the conversation. She didn’t want to cut herself off from her family—which would surely happen if she stopped helping them. She looked out over the water, silent, trying to think of something to say.
Jared spoke first. “I like your hair this way.”
Thankful he had switched topics, Ellen smiled, then laughed lightly, tossing off the compliment. “The wind is whipping it all over.” Including across her face and in her mouth. “I should have put it up.”
“Not for me. You don’t have to look like a teacher all the time.”
“It’s not that. It keeps it out of my eyes,” she said, shoving her wild hair to one side. It immediately blew back across her face.
He chuckled. “Maybe. But I like it this way much better.” Raising his arm, he ran his fingers through the fine curtain, his low laughter continuing when it cascaded back. His touch sent a thrill surging through her, as if each strand of her hair had feelings of its own that responded to him.
“Lovely hair.” His voice had softened, beckoning her with its closeness.
“Mr. Steel, are you flirting with me?” she asked, wondering how any man could find a woman attractive when she had her hair all over her face. Still, if he liked it this way, she would start wearing it loose.
“Yes. Very much so. And as much as I love to sail, I’d have rather gotten my first choice.”
She tried to recall what he was talking about. “First choice?”
“For the bet.”
“Oh.” She stiffened as she remembered. A kiss. She didn’t like reducing something so important to something so trite. “I’d just as soon not pay off a bet in that manner.” Her voice sounded prim, and she wished she had said the words differently, for he dropped his hand, allowing her hair to billow freely like a sail in the wind.
“Why not?” Even his voice had pulled away from her.
“I want a kiss to mean more than... than—“
“Than what?” he demanded.
She stammered, trying to explain, not wanting to hurt his feelings. “I don’t want it tied to anything. At least not anything like a bet.”
“Humm.”
He brushed one finger lightly across her lips, barely making contact. She gasped and her lips separated as the delicate touch cast a wave of sensation that rippled through her, its intensity magnifying larger and larger as it coursed downward, making her body tremble with anticipation.
Their gazes locked. He cocked his head as he said, “How about tied to: ‘I’ve been dying to kiss you ever since we met.’”
*8*
Ellen's heart quickened with anticipation. Did Jared really mean it... had he wanted to kiss her all this time?
"You have?" she whispered, studying his expression. By now the moon had risen, full, making it easy to see him.
He leaned toward her, his face a hand's breadth from hers. "Every second... well, almost."
"Oh... I...." She didn't know what to say, but she moved toward him instead of away, and Jared must have read that as consent.
His lips touched hers in a gentle salute, as warm as the summer sun kissing the lake. They gently brushed, withdrew, then came again, so that each second became a precious gift, fully enjoyed only in slow motion—slower than the panorama of stars moving overhead.
Ellen closed her eyes, savoring the moment. The spice of his shaving lotion mingled with the fresh air and the scent of canvas and wood. The music on shore—amplified—carried far out over the water, the bass guitar beating the same strong rhythm as her heart.
His manner stayed as gentle as the whisper of the slightest breeze caressing the sails; yet her emotions soared—out of all proportion to the strength of his kiss. It was as if the evening breeze had suddenly created whitecaps on the lake.
When he pulled back, her eyes flew open, disappointed... but he was only releasing the tiller. The boat, like a weathervane, immediately swung so it faced the wind, the empty sails flapping in protest. She glanced up at them, her emotions as uncertain of direction as the sails, then looked back at Jared.
The bench she was sitting on felt hard and unyielding. That was how she should be. She should stop encouraging him, now, while her mind was in control... well almost in control.
He leaned toward her, then paused, his eyes searching hers as if seeking confirmation.
"Ellen?" His voice murmured his request; his gaze held hers with a magnetic quality.
She hesitated, totally confused, her training as a teacher telling her to stop. Her heart telling her to continue. She had refused his wager initially—which was wise. If she allowed this to proceed, she would never be in complete control again. How would she reaffirm her position as teacher?
Did she need to? It wasn't like she had to manage a classroom full of fifth graders. She could t
each Jared without maintaining a professional image. Couldn't she?
Her hesitation lasted too long, and she saw the blank shadow of disappointment drop over him. If she refused, she could lose the trust she had worked so hard to build. She knew how it felt to like someone who did not like you in return. Who lashed out at you, whenever you refused them. Just the idea of Jared ever rejecting her, hurt.
Smiling up at him, she took hold of his warm, strong hands, pulled them up to her lips, and kissed them.
His breath caught at her acceptance and the shadows left his eyes.
"Ellen...." he said, breathing the word, moving his hands apart to cradle her head, his fingers weaving into her hair. Happy that he was happy, her spirits rejoiced with him. Their lips met with more firmness, the nodding acquaintance quickly progressing past the simple hello. All her senses sharpened as he aroused new passions within her, and with heightened awareness she tasted the summer sun on his skin, the sweet breath mint on his lips, and stroked the smooth cotton of his shirt.
Her fine hair covered both their faces, coming between them, and he shifted his hands to try to control it. "You're right," he said with a chuckle. "It does sort of blow around. Why don't you wear it longer, so that it has more weight?"
"That does nothing to my teaching image," she said, knowing that that carefully nurtured image of prim competence fell apart every time she was with Jared.
"True. I never think of you as a teacher—just a woman. A beautiful woman with red hair to die for."
She brushed it away, glowing with pride, but feeling compelled to apologize. "It's not a carrot red... it's more titian."
"Whatever. I find it hard to take my eyes off it."
"I used to wish it was more auburn, yet as I grew older, I realized it was an asset." She spoke nervously, wondering how to get back to kissing him.
"It's lovely. We must sail every night." Without further comment, he captured her lips, his hands scooping her hair out of the way.
She came alive under his touch, her lips opening to his like the unfurling of a sail, offering its outstretched wings to the summer breeze. He pressed closer, the little boat in tune to his movements, shifting delicately underneath them. Her senses rocked in a dance of their own, in harmony with the pound, thump, roll of the ship's tackle; and like the boat, her body responded willingly to the command of his touch.
