The Complete Where Dreams

by M. L. Buchman

  And now to cap it all off, stupid, stupid Russell Morgan.

  “You don’t really know anything about anything, do you?” She knew she was being angry and putting words in his mouth that he hadn’t meant that way. But they stung. Like stumbling on a hive of bees on her last trip to her father’s vineyard when she was twelve.

  Fourteen stings.

  She never went back to his fields. Her father had protested that they weren’t even honey bees, just some nasty ground bees. She’d dug in her pre-teenage heels and had never again enjoyed the outdoors he so loved. She’d forgotten that memory; the moment that had turned her away from the vines. Such a small thing in retrospect and yet it had changed the very course of her life.

  She shook herself. How did she get her head into such an awful place? Nutcase curled up for a nap on a coil of rope that looked terribly uncomfortable until she settled herself inside the center. She belonged.

  Cassidy had been having fun. Right until…

  She’d just been afraid for the cat.

  That was all.

  But Russell had laughed. No, but he’d certainly smiled. Smiled at a joke that had pumped her so full of anger she could still scream.

  She glanced back at him. He was eyeing her with a look of extreme caution. As soon as she turned, he glanced away at the sails.

  Rats! If he were still laughing, it would be easier to remain angry.

  She checked the action of the boom, but it appeared to be staying safely to the other side of the boat. She stood and did her best to pretend she was stretching. It placed her closer to Russell than either of his parents. She kept her voice low, hoping the wind would make it so that only Russell would hear her.

  “Next time, warn me.”

  He nodded carefully, even had the decency to mouth, “Sorry.”

  For good measure she moved forward to scratch the cat, who woke up enough to purr appreciatively before going back to sleep.

  The rattle and cough of the engine as it started was a rude interruption to a lazy afternoon spent lolling about before a dying breeze. After the warm sun and the water, Cassidy was ready for a long nap though she never napped and her watch insisted it was barely three o’clock.

  Russell and his dad moved around in an easy fashion lowering and bundling sails. They hung rubber bumpers along one side. There was lots and lots of coiling and uncoiling of ropes to no purpose that she could quite understand. Sailboats made fixing her old VW Rabbit in college look easy.

  Nutcase complained when shooed from her rope coil and showed her displeasure by going below with a flick of her tail and not a backward glance.

  Julia sat beside her while the men fussed about. Despite the kerchief over her hair and her sunglasses and dark skin, the bright sheen of a day in the sun flushed her cheeks.

  “I believe that you are the first woman that has ever made Russell behave. I certainly was never able to.”

  If this was Russell behaving, what was he usually like? She had no interest in being someone else’s conscience. Half the time she couldn’t stand to be around him.

  “He and Angelo would get together and that was it.”

  The other half of the time she couldn’t stop thinking about him.

  “They’d get into trouble before they’d even left Maria’s kitchen.”

  “Maria? Who’s Maria?”

  “Maria Amelia Avico Parrano. Angelo’s mother has been John’s cook since shortly after I came along. Practically a family member. She and I birthed our boys within weeks of each other. Angelo and Russell learned to cook at her knee. Angelo’s a better cook, but not by much.”

  “He told me he could barely heat soup.”

  “You never saw two boys with such a passion for fine food. Or who could destroy a kitchen so fast.” Julia eyed her speculatively. “It’s not like Russell to understate his skills if given the chance. You are a very interesting woman, Cassidy Knowles.”

  Russell was once again at the tiller, guiding the long boat through the busy traffic streaming in and out of the marina. The Shilshole breakwater was so tall that she could only see the very tops of sailboat masts over it.

  He ducked from one side of the boom to the other to keep an eye on the traffic. The clutter of boats might move slower than the commuters on I-5, but they also didn’t turn as fast or stop as readily.

  Russell was completely, smoothly in control, moving as if there was no hurry in the world. The Lady slid through a graceful curve at his slightest command. She’d always thought of him as a bumbler, some people naturally were, but not now. Nor when he’d walked through the restaurant with the blond on his arm. Great! She really did bring out the worst in him. He was only an irritating, irrational idiot in her presence. The worst part was, she was little better around him.

  The passengers of every boat that went by, some so close she could smell what they were having for lunch over the diesel exhaust, turned to watch them. At first she thought they were watching the majestic blue hull slide through the water.

  Then she noticed that the women’s stares weren’t directed at the boat in general. Instead, most of them watched the skipper who stood tall at the helm.

  Now why did that bother her?

  Julia whispered in her ear, “Russell is so handsome, isn’t he? Even more so than his father, which is not an easy thing to do.”

  He was handsome. He also belonged out here. She could imagine him crossing the mighty ocean with the wind tousling his hair, his cat winding about his feet, and his lady at his side.

  “Ha!”

  “What?” Julia turned to her.

  “Nothing.” No way she was going to say what was going on in her mind. It was beyond ridiculous.

  Julia smiled and patted her arm, as if Cassidy’s thoughts had just been published across her forehead like a Times Square reader board.

  “He’ll get around to it eventually. He already can’t live without you, it will just take him a bit longer to realize that.”

  “But we aren’t…don’t…haven’t…” She sounded like a teenager trying to backpedal.

  “Yet I know how it looks when I see it.”

  “How what looks?” She’d better not be saying what she was saying.

  Julia placed a hand on one cheek and kissed her on the other.

  “We’re going to be great friends, Cassidy Knowles and Julia Morgan. You’ll see.”

  Russell aimed the boat into a narrow waterway in the forest of masts and radar thingies that was so dense it obscured the hillside behind them.

  “You want me to what?” The cordless phone was slippery in her hands, Cassidy grabbed a Kleenex from her living room couch’s end table to wipe off the sudden sweat off her palms. It was just as slippery after she did so.

  “C’mon, Cassidy. You already told Mom that you didn’t have plans for the 4th of July.” Russell’s voice was deep and soft on the phone. Not the softness of weakness, but the softness of warm fires on quiet evenings. “You were really great with them, by the way. Thanks. You were definitely the highlight of their trip out. I’d have been dead without you.”

  “A 4th of July boat party?” This made her far more nervous than meeting his parents. This would be a real date.

  “Right! We’ll cruise down to the Seattle waterfront before sunset and toss out a hook.”

  “We’ll go fishing?”

  There was a long silence.

  “Toss out an anchor.”

  “Oh.” They really had a language all their own.

  “Angelo says there’s great music and amazing fireworks along the beach there.”

  “There is. Who else will be there?” Far more nervous. Her stomach flip-flopped, unable to believe that she was even considering the idea.

  “Just a couple of the other boaters. You’re welcome to bring some friends. We’ll go with Dave and Betsy, they have a boat that puts mine to shame. I also just ripped out my electrical.”

  “You need electricity on a sailboat?” She really didn’t care. She
just needed to buy a minute to think. Did she really want to go out on a date with him? “Yes,” was the surprising answer. Well, not too surprising if she was going to be truthful about it.

  He was saying something about running lights and anchor lights and radios.

  Did she want to have that date among other people she didn’t know? It would certainly be safer. Chaperoned—not that she needed any chaperones—at least not normally. But around Russell maybe she did. Not in case he did something. More to keep herself from jumping him and really regretting it in the morning.

  He was on to metering and instrumentation.

  She’d beg off on the decision, call him back tomorrow when she’d had a chance to sleep on it.

  “It’s interesting the different types of cable and equipment that are required to survive salt air corrosion even if it’s inside the cabin. Did you know that stainless steel rots in sea air? It rots fast if it gets salt spray.”

  Delay was definitely a good idea. Better yet, she’d tell him to expect her if she showed up, and not if she didn’t.

  “Yes.”

  “Oh, you knew about stainless? Weird, huh?”

  “No, I mean, yes, I’ll be there. And no, I thought stainless was, well, stainless.” That wasn’t what she’d meant to say. All her standoffish thoughts were careening together to make her voice silky in a way that sounded nothing like her and a lot like someone with much more confidence.

  “Really?” Russell’s voice practically squeaked in surprise.

  “I’d love to. See you then.”

  She pressed the hangup button before her mouth could invite him up to the condo which had a great view of the fireworks.

  Still clenching the cordless phone, like the lifeline to a woman lost overboard, she staggered up to the glass door to her balcony. The late evening waterfront was dappled with a thousand lights and beyond the water the Olympic Mountains were etched against the pink sky.

  Cassidy leaned her forehead against the sun-warmed glass.

  Ferries plied the water. Commercial ships unloaded at the piers. Traffic hustled along the waterfront.

  She reared her head back a few inches and thumped it forward against the glass.

  And she was totally adrift at sea.

  Perrin had already made a date with a banker she’d been seeing for a while and had been really pissed about not going along on the sailboat. “I can’t believe this dream guy of yours is that same grouch who sat at dinner for thirty seconds. How can you be dating him? Though he’s a hunk, I have to admit that. And makes great ads. You should see what we have picked out for you to model. It’s wicked.”

  “He’s not my dream guy,” Cassidy had insisted over the phone; Russell was too much of a pain in the behind to be anyone’s dream guy. So why had she dreamt of him last night and why was she now climbing aboard Dave and Betsy’s boat?

  Perrin had sniggered.

  “I’m not dating him; besides, he’s not always a grouch. And I’m not modeling anything lurid.”

  “I bet deep down he’s mean.”

  Cassidy’s guess was just the opposite, but she’d kept it to herself. She was beginning to think that Russell was a really decent man, all wrapped up in being a guy.

  Jo wasn’t a fan of boats, her dad had been a deadbeat Alaskan fisherman and boats always reminded her of the stench of fish and too much beer. But she only made Cassidy beg a little before caving in.

  Now it was the afternoon of the Fourth and they cast off from the dock and were underway even before she and Jo had a moment to stow their belongings below. Except, here on the catamaran, it wasn’t “below,” it was “in the salon.” She glanced wistfully at the receding dock out the long, narrow windows.

  “This is it, Jo; if we jump now, we might still make it.”

  Her friend shook her head, “You got me on this ridiculous thing, you don’t get off the hook so easily. It doesn’t look so bad anyway.”

  And it didn’t. Russell’s boat below had been a combination of beautiful mahogany shaped into pleasing curves, items neatly stowed in custom cubby holes, and a complete mayhem of sawdust, tools, and half-ripped out sections.

  There had been a hole right in the middle of the floor that opened to concrete a few inches down. Being in a boat on the water and seeing that it was filled with concrete hadn’t made her feel all warm and fuzzy. When Russell had answered her question that it wasn’t just concrete, but rather about six tons of concrete and iron boiler punchings, whatever they were, she’d considered swimming ashore. Through the hole in the floor, she’d seen a thin film of water washing back and forth over the concrete. It had been mesmerizing and left her feeling a bit ill. She’d spent very little time below during the sail with his parents.

  Dave and Betsy’s salon was like a warm living room. Everything was neatly stowed. There were a hundred homey touches: a quilt throw on a settee, a small group of pictures along the only bit of open wall, even tiny curtains for each window. Water stains on the table and fraying on two chairs in particular added to the lived-in and cozy feel.

  The others were on deck: Russell, the owners, and an old man with more white beard than face. Cassidy glanced at Jo and they both moved farther into the boat. At the end of the salon there was a set of a half-dozen stairs to either side, leading down into each hull of the catamaran.

  They tip-toed down the set to the left. A tiny kitchen—a galley—wrapped ingeniously around the steps. Forward lay a small bedroom, barely bigger than the double bed stuffed in it. More quilts and pictures, though definitely a guest room. It even had a tiny bathroom with a toilet and shower tucked behind the door.

  At the other end of the hull was a floating office. A laptop sat on a cubbyholed desk. There were several bookshelves, mostly filled with novels, but there were three books, all with similar titles, grouped off to one side. They were by Betsy and Dave Howard.

  She slipped the first book free of the elastic bungee cord that ran across the front of the bookshelf and showed the cover to Jo.

  “Cruising Over Fifty.” Jo read aloud.

  Their hosts smiled from the cover, looking much as they did now, wearing a tiny bikini and a Speedo respectively.

  “If I look that good at fifty, I’ve won the lottery and gone to heaven.”

  Cassidy flipped to the copyright page. Ten years ago.

  “They’re over sixty now. Whoa!” She checked the picture again. Fit without the harsh lines of gym machines and definitely no cosmetic surgery. She slid the book back into place.

  They returned to the salon. Jo turned for the cockpit, but Cassidy crossed the salon and descended into the other hull.

  A couple of seats were built into the hull at the foot of the steps. To the stern was the master bedroom. A sweater was tossed on the made bed and the pillows still showed the dents of their owners’ heads. Cassidy could move in here in a heartbeat. Toward the bow was a small sink and a closed door.

  Jo plucked her sleeve. “Enough, Miss Snoopy. There is a line between curious and nosy.”

  “I’m nosy.”

  “Right,” Jo headed up the short flight of steps and Cassidy turned to follow. Behind the door was the unmistakable pumping sound of a marine toilet being flushed. Clank, gurgle, clank, gurgle. It was the first thing Russell had taught her about his boat, this one sounded exactly the same. Someone else was aboard, maybe old white-beard’s wife.

  The girl who popped out of the door knocked Cassidy back onto the settee at the base of the stairs. Her bikini revealed far more than it covered. She had blond hair, the casual fitness of being in her early twenties, and the serious curves of someone quite dangerous.

  She inspected Cassidy with a quick glance from boat shoes and creased navy pants to her silk blouse. She’d never been assessed and discounted so quickly.

  Then the woman’s face broke out into such a large smile that Cassidy almost doubted the expression that had been there moments before. Dangerous like a shark this one.

  “You must be Cassid
y. Hi, I’m Teri.” She held out a hand and grabbed Cassidy’s with a grip that would have fit better in one of those mano-a-mano guy moments. “Russ said you’d be coming.”

  “He didn’t mention you.” Nice, Cass, real nice. But it didn’t faze her new acquaintance a moment.

  “Yeah. Well, with Tommy gone, I was at sorta loose ends. Kinda invited myself aboard, you know.”

  “Tommy?”

  “My ex. I kicked him overboard. He wanted me to go climb this idiotic rock, and after all this training, he like wouldn’t take me with him. I was, you know, really pissed.”

  “Ex-boyfriend? I’m sorry.”

  “Ex-husband. Two years, three months or some such. At least that’s what he said. Fun, but what a waste. He was so, you know, protective. There are times when a girl needs someone to watch over her, it’s kinda charming, but not all the time fer crying out loud.” She shrugged in a way designed to lift her generous bosom and make it look as if she were about to spring from the tiny bits of cloth.

  Jo stuck her head back down, “You coming? Oh, hello.”

  Jo got the introduction, without the attacking handshake.

  They didn’t even have to glance at each other to share the thought. This girl was as wild as Perrin had been in college, with none of the class or intelligence. Teri was a disaster waiting to happen.

  Back on deck, the dance began, and Cassidy started to feel far worse than a bit of seasickness. She looked longingly back at the marina, now just a tiny cluster of masts disappearing rapidly behind. This boat was much faster than Russell’s and had opened the gap quickly. They’d raised sail while she was below, but the wide catamaran had stayed so level she hadn’t noticed when they got underway.

  Dave stood at the wheel. Instead of a narrow cockpit where everyone’s knees were always bumping together in a friendly little circle, here you could spread out. There were two couch-sized places to sit with a small table bolted to the deck between them. They didn’t need the wide-bottomed, heavy mugs to avoid spilling drinks, just a good solid glass.

  Russell stood by Dave and chatted about the “set of the sails” and “monohull vs. twin-hull leeway.” While Cassidy was congratulating Betsy on her beautiful boat, Teri joined the other sailors. In moments she was cranking a handle on a winch and talking about the “lie of the wind.”