“Only the best shrimp on the coast. Whatcha got to trade?” Paul eyed his niece.
“Money?”
“Oh, your money’s no good here. Meg just brought me some blackberries.” Paul held up a basket of fresh berries dotted with dew and glistening in the sun.
“Well, we have some fresh Snickerdoodles back at the house. I could go get you some.” Billie smiled.
“If you didn’t bring them with you, what good does that do me? How many pounds do you want?”
“Two should be plenty. We’re having a shrimp boil tonight at Billie’s. Come on by or are you tired of shrimp?” Sandy took the package of shrimp from the deckhand.
“Never tired of shrimp. This guy isn’t either.” Paul pointed to the man who stood behind Billie.
“Hi, Neil. I didn’t see you there.” Billie felt a blush again.
“The shrimp boats are a popular place this time of evening.” He smiled. “One pound please.” He handed over the money to the deckhand.
“Sandy is fixing shrimp boil tonight with our moms.” Billie had no idea why she had to explain herself.
“Sounds good. Mike and I are cooking some on the boat. When are you coming by to see her?” Neil pushed the hat back on his head. “She’s right over there.” He pointed down the dock.
“Go ahead, hon, I’m going to talk to Uncle Paul for a minute.” Sandy stepped back as the water rushed across the deck. Deckhands tossed buckets of sea water to rinse the residue from the catch back into the ocean. Sea gulls dove to pick up the scraps screeching loudly at their neighbors.
Billie paused and then wondered why she felt so shy. Neil, a nice man, had a nice boat. What was the harm in it?
“Sure.” She brushed the hair out of her face and Neil gestured toward the boat with Overboard painted on the stern.
Billie sat on the seat with a bottle of water chatting when Sandy arrived with the bag of fresh shrimp, gulls following her.
“Are you busy tomorrow?” Billie looked at her friend. “Want to take a boat ride?”
****
The shrimp pot, set up in the front yard of sand and sea grass, began to boil the salted water. A small bundle of spices wrapped in cheese cloth floated on the surface leaking out its precious flavor to be soaked up by the prawns and vegetables. Billie dumped the potatoes and corn into the water, allowing them to cook a little before the shellfish went in. She leaned over the pot and breathed in the succulent smell.
Giselle sat in her chair on the porch as the sun set behind fluffy white clouds. A light breeze blew her gray hair away from her face and she closed her eyes serenely. “This is lovely, ladies.” Giselle spoke for the first time since pushed out onto the porch. “We need to do this more often. It’s not that Raven’s cooking isn’t wonderful, but a shrimp boil on the beach is hard to beat.”
Raven walked out the front door with a tray of glasses and two frosty bottles. “Ladies, I have wine to go with the fish tonight. A light chardonnay or a light bubbly non-alcoholic chardonnay—or some kind of grape juice.” She pointed to the bottles then poured them into glasses and handed them around.
Billie sat on the swing as Sandy dumped the shrimp into the water. “A toast is in order, I think. To my five favorite women in the world and the shrimp that gave up their lives to feed us.”
“Whether they wanted to or not.” Sandy giggled and raised her glass.
Giselle sipped the bubbly grape juice and let it roll down her throat. Her hand began to shake, and she placed it on the tray balanced on the arms of the chair. “I don’t think I’ve eaten mashed shrimp boil before, but there is always a first time for everything.”
“How long before the shrimp is ready? I’ll get the garlic rolls.” Raven stepped back into the house.
Giselle scooped tiny morsels of chopped and mashed shrimp, corn and potatoes and pulled small pieces off the soft garlic rolls, munching happily with her friends and family. She rinsed it down with sips of bubbly juice. She had not eaten this much food for a while. Raven perched next to her charge helping her when she needed it.
Sandy and Billie sat together on the swing like they did when they were children, and Martha took the folding chair close by. The small screened in porch, full to capacity with shrimp eaters, began to cool in the evening breeze.
“I forgot, Martha and I made cookies today. Dessert anyone?” Billie got up to go to the kitchen listening to the groans behind her.
“Sweetie, could I get a cup of tea to go with them?” Giselle asked as her daughter walked in the house.
“One pot of tea coming up,” she replied.
Chapter 20
Sandy looked into the distance, still surprised that she and Billie were on the boat with the guys. They seemed to be nice people, but she never thought Billie would go on anything resembling a date.
By habit she watched the weather; the lightning in the distance caught her eye. No one else noticed. Neil played guitar again, poorly. Mike followed her around most of the time, even on the small boat. The boat itself wasn’t that small, forty feet, but with four people occupying space, it shrank. Four people each had ten feet to call their own—that is if they lay end to end on the top—and they wouldn’t do that. Inside, it felt smaller.
But Billie laughed at all of Neil’s jokes—something she didn’t do much anymore. No matter how much she saw her therapist and took the meds assigned to help her, she wouldn’t be the same person Sandy grew up with. But maybe that was okay.
Billie had agreed to go out with the men on the boat, and Sandy intended to see to it she had a good time. She put her feet up on the seat and looked out to sea.
They had drifted out beyond sight of land. Sandy wondered if anyone else noticed that. They were too busy having fun, and that got boaters into trouble. The squall she saw in the distance seemed a long way off, but squalls moved fast. It might take a while to reach shore. They needed to head for home
“Guys, there’s a squall to the south and we need to be heading back in.” Neil continued to play—or pick out tunes. Whatever he did with the guitar did not include piloting the ship. “Neil,” Sandy continued. He looked up. “There’s a storm headed our way. We need to be getting back.”
“Where?” He shaded his eyes and looked toward land.
Sandy pointed behind him. “To the south. The harbor is the opposite way.” She pointed.
“Are you sure?” Neil got up, setting the guitar to the side. He walked to the control station and tapped on the compass. Why did men do that, Sandy wondered. Magnetic north was magnetic north. Tapping didn’t change things.
Lightning flashed again, closer this time. “And it’s headed this way.” Sandy held her hand up to shade her eyes and looked out to sea. The dark blue water and sunlight above belied the weather in the distance where the sky was darker.
“Well, it’s a long way off.” Neil started to pick up the instrument again.
“We need to go.” Billie’s smile had disappeared.
“Now? We were just having fun.” Neil strummed.
“Now, captain.” Sandy reached for the guitar.
“Please.” Billie began to shake, and Sandy knew how quickly things could get bad with her. “Let’s get in before it hits.”
Neil stared at the damaged woman.
“Come on, bud, let’s get the ladies in before they get wet.” Mike patted his friend on the shoulder as Sandy took the guitar and headed for the galley.
They needed to clear off the deck in case they couldn’t outrun the storm. When she turned around, Mike had toted the ice chest down the stairs with Billie right behind him carrying the picnic lunch. Sandy heard the engine start up and felt the boat turn around, headed the other way. At least Neil knew how to use a compass. Nice as he was, he needed work on his piloting skills. An unseasoned captain on a stormy sea could spell disaster.
Billie walked past her on the way to the berth after she put the lunch in the tiny refrigerator. Sandy could hear her rummaging through closets and drawers.
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“Where are the life jackets?” Her voice went up several notes when stressed.
“Try the drawers under the bed, sweetie.”
Sandy hoped they would not be needed, but if it helped Billie feel more secure, then she should have one.
“Found ’em.” Billie came out with her life jacket secured around her and three others in her hands. She gave one to Sandy who quickly put it on, smelling the musty odor of a seldom used vest. Once wet, it didn’t smell new. She knew it had been stowed away without a thorough drying.
Once on top, Sandy found the men tending to the boat, and the sky darkening behind them. Billie handed the life jackets to Neil and Mike. Neil promptly dropped his at his feet as he piloted the boat. She didn’t know where Mike’s went.
“Is this as fast as she’ll go?” Billie slid up next to Sandy and placed her hand up to shade her eyes looking toward land.
Mike smiled at Billie with what looked like indulgence. “Hey captain—can this bucket of bolts move any faster?”
Neil turned and gave his friend a look of disdain then glanced at Billie. “Everybody have a seat. We’re going to find out how this baby handles the waves,” he said as he pushed the throttle forward.
The boat lurched throwing Billie backward, she grabbed Sandy’s arm. They sat down together on the bench and looked out to sea. The squall gave the boat a run for its money as the dark sky in the south moved toward them like a shroud.
Winds shifted and began to blow from the east, pushing the small boat away from its intended target. Sandy immediately noticed the change.
“Neil,” she stood and walked his way. “That wind has changed. What’s the compass look like?” She watched in amazement when he tapped it with his finger then looked into the distance. The waves threatened to knock her off her feet, and she grabbed the back of his chair just as she caught site of the rocky shore just for a second. Then it disappeared again.
“There it is.” Sandy pointed toward the land.
“There what is?” He looked back down at his instruments and reached for the compass again.
“Land. I saw it for a second. You know tapping that thing makes no difference, right?” Sandy glanced back at her friend who sat motionless and stared toward the shore.
“I didn’t see it. I think this east wind is blowing us off course.” Neil looked again in the wrong direction.
“It’s right there, see the dot to the right a little? That’s the rocky shore, on the far end of the island.” Sandy stood pointing to land with her finger.
“Yes, I sometimes fish off those rocks.” Neil adjusted the nose of the ship toward the rocks. “Thanks, I didn’t see them.”
“Well, I lived on the island a long time and know how the winds normally blow around here.” Sandy smiled and touched his shoulder when the crack of lightning flashed beside them. She glanced at Billie sitting straight up and looking at the shore. Then the rains came down in sheets.
“Billie, hon, why don’t you and Mike get below where it’s dry?” Sandy tried to sound calm but knew things weren’t good as the small boat tossed and turned. “Billie?” She looked around to see her friend frozen.
“Mike, can you help her out?” Sandy nodded to her friend, and Mike quickly took the bait, helping Billie to her feet and into the hull of the boat. Sandy would remain with the captain to assist with getting them into shore in one piece.
The increased speed of the boat helped to take the waves, as the boat sometimes sliced across the top of them, then down into their depths. Still the boat rocked from side to side making little headway. Neil kept an eye on the compass and headed for the rocks that showed up on the opposite end of the island from where he tied the boat.
“Once we get closer to the rocks we can head into the wind and should be able to make the harbor. Just keep the rocks in sight.” Neil nodded. He was an amateur. Thankfully Sandy wasn’t. A gust of wind sucked the hat off his head and blew it into the darkened sky just as a rogue wave ran up and over the boat soaking Sandy and Neil to the bone. He wiped the water from his eyes but never took them off the intended target. He might have been lax about leaving when he should, but he remained vigilant about getting them home.
The engine churned, pushing the boat against the angry sea. Sandy hung onto the back of Neil’s chair losing her balance several times on the wet and slippery deck. She could not stay dry with the rain and the waves flowing over the hull. Suddenly the wind shifted again, this time to the rear of the boat. It blew them toward the rocks and the island at a faster rate of speed. At this rate, they would make shore in a hurry.
“Well, that helped.” Neil looked up at his co-pilot as the boat picked up speed toward the shore.
Sandy spoke with authority. “It will get us there quickly. When I tell you, you need to turn this thing around and push it toward the harbor. We can’t afford to hit those rocks. It will push us right into them, if we let it.” Neil didn’t hesitate. The boat picked up speed—either headed for safety or destruction on the rocks.
“Okay now, turn the craft toward the west end of the island. We’ll have to crab into the wind some, because it will try to push us into the island too quickly or turn us over. Do you want to do this or me?” Sandy didn’t want to sound bossy, but she knew the sea better than Neil.
“No, I’ve got it. Here we go.” Neil turned the rudder, and the boat crabbed into the wind at an angle, the waves threatening to roll them over as he turned sideways to them. The next wave swamped the boat. Sandy found herself thrown sideways smacking her head on the wall. She held on to the secured captain’s chair for her life. If she went overboard, she would never see land again. She watched as the life jacket thrown at Neil’s feet earlier washed overboard. She couldn’t afford to retrieve it. The waves were relentless, pushing the boat sideways, closer to the island.
Slowly the boat made headway to the other part of the island where the marina sat—and the sudden squall began to blow away. The small storm rushed toward the mainland. The boat moved the opposite way from the storm as the weather raced on to batter the coast line before falling apart over land. Soon the lights of the harbor could be seen in the distance, and the sun peeked out from dark clouds only to be covered up again-soon to reemerge completely. “There it is.” Neil breathed a sigh of relief.
Sandy brushed wet hair from her eyes and patted Neil on the arm. “I don’t mean to be rude, Neil, but you’ve got to watch the weather when you’re on the ocean. It can take you out in a second.” Sandy nodded to the man who captained his own boat into harm’s way. He nodded back like a little boy.
Soaked, Sandy went below to check on her friend as Neil expertly pulled into his slip at the marina. She found Billie sitting rigidly on the twin bed with Mike beside her. Billie didn’t need any more trauma in her life. By the time they reached the harbor, the storm was a memory—at least on Sandhill Island.
Once at the slip, Poppy walked their direction to help tie up the vessel. He probably hoped Neil would tip him. He often made some pocket change that way.
“You guys are all wet. Did the storm getcha?” Poppy held his hand out to Billie as she stepped up on the dock.
“Not quite, but it tried,” she replied, and Sandy took her arm as they headed for home. Neil had a lot to learn about the ocean.
Chapter 21
With her arm around the shoulders of the oldest friend Sandy had ever had, she walked with Billie back to the house from the dock. Neil tried to explain, but Sandy said Billie, distraught, needed to lie down. They would talk later. The friends didn’t talk on the way home. Sandy knew Billie needed her space.
Drenched, they walked in the door of the house Billie and her mother lived in most of their lives. Raven carried a basket of laundry into the living room, then she immediately stopped what she was doing and ran to Billie’s side.
“Honey, are you okay? What happened?” Raven wrapped Billie in the cocoon of an afghan and handed a large bath towel to Sandy.
“There was a s
torm.” Sandy wiped her face with the towel.
“I can see that. I’m making tea,” Raven announced quietly and turned toward the kitchen.
Giselle was still taking her afternoon nap, and Billie didn’t want to disturb her.
Raven returned quickly with two steaming mugs. “The kettle was already hot. Okay, so what happened? It barely rained here on the island. This,” she gestured to the two women in front of her, “must have happened out on the open water.”
“We ran into a squall. It caught us off guard.” Sandy toweled her long blond hair dry.
“Caught you off guard? You? Try again.” Raven looked at Sandy like her mother when as a child she lied.
“Okay, it caught the captain off guard. I tried to tell him, but you know how men are. Anyway, it was a fast mover, and I think it would have caught up with us even if he had moved when I suggested.”
Billie stared off into space wrapped in the throw. Then she lifted her head and began to speak.
“The storm caught us by surprise. But what really caught me by surprise was my reaction. It’s not like I’ve never been in a storm or soaked to the bone before. So, what is my problem?” She wiped away a tear and then sobbed into the arms of her mother’s nurse.
“Your problem is you are still delicate. Too much too soon.” Raven smoothed her dark wet hair with a second towel.
“So, when will I be normal again? We ran into a little storm, and I froze like a statue. The car wreck happened two years ago and had nothing to do with storms, or boats, or anything.” She reached for a tissue on the coffee table, blew her nose and took the steaming mug of tea that sat on the coffee table. It took both hands to hold it steady.
“Your doctor would say ‘what’s normal?’ And she would be right. What is normal for one is not normal for the next.” Raven handed a second cup to Sandy.
“Raven?” A weak voice called from Giselle’s bedroom. The aging woman had finished her nap.
“Be right there,” Raven called back over her shoulder.
Stones of Sandhill Island Page 9
