Becalmed: When a Southern woman with a broken heart finds herself falling for a widower with a broken boat, it's anything but smooth sailing.

by Normandie Fischer

  He’d probably cleaned up his language because he knew their daddy would read the letter out loud to Mama.

  They’ve taken away the basic freedoms—especially from women, who are treated like slaves and worse. Can you believe it? They’re not allowed to go to a male doctor without a man from their family acting as chaperone. Turns out, a lot of them die. And if you don’t worship Allah, bang—you’re dead. What a way to make converts. It’s crazy.

  The news out of Iran would have fueled Bucky’s frustration, with the talk of a twelfth Imam and world conversion through jihad. Kill yourself along with the infidels and enter the fast track to paradise—along with the promise of seventy virgins. What did they offer female suicide bombers? Seventy husbands? Seventy nothings?

  Closing her eyes, Tadie sucked in a breath and released it slowly.

  Let it out, let it go. Breathe in, push out the anger.

  She ought to stuff those photos out of sight in a drawer. But how, when they’d been Bucky’s last?

  “Helping the people gives my life meaning,” he’d once said.

  Had Mustafa’s daughter left any children? If so, had any been daughters?

  A photograph of ragged urchins bending over rubble brought Jilly’s precious face to mind. Sweet Jilly, who had the freedom to become whatever she wanted because she was born here and not there.

  Tadie turned to peer out the window. Look at her, living in this incredible place. A choked sob escaped, fighting the tears and startling Ebenezer. “Sorry,” she said as he rolled over and curled up again on the studio couch, his back toward her.

  She heard the back door open and Hannah’s voice call, “Yoo-hoo!”

  “In here.”

  Hannah’s tap-tap meant heels, not walking shoes. Tadie checked her friend’s opened-toed sandals as the other woman approached.

  Hannah picked up one of the amber beads. “Whatcha doing?”

  “Not much. You?”

  “I went to the CVS to pick up a refill Matt forgot. You been to the new one yet? Then I dropped by the Piggly Wiggly for milk ... hey, you’ve been crying.”

  Tadie waved a hand toward Bucky’s wall. “Just remembering.” The pounding behind her eyes hadn’t eased. “I should do something. Something real and meaningful—more than making jewelry and running a shop.”

  “But you’re good at those things.”

  “And who am I helping? Whose life am I touching?”

  Hannah bent forward, squinting at her. “You think you can bring Bucky back that way or make his death count somehow?”

  Maybe that was it. She took a minute to decide whether this was a reason to weep or find humor. “I’m a mess.”

  “You are,” Hannah said. “But I’m not saying you don’t have the right to be.”

  “I was getting all philosophical because the world’s falling apart, and Bucky’s dead because of it.” Hannah’s hand slid down her forearm, eking out the first hint of calm Tadie had felt since entering her studio. “He talked about helping those people,” she said. “I wish I could too. But I’m not a doctor. Or a politician.”

  “No.”

  “So I thought … this is crazy, but I wondered … ” She turned back toward the window, breaking contact and immediately longing again for her friend’s hand, for someone’s touch. “I thought of adopting a war orphan. Maybe more than one.”

  She could almost hear Hannah’s thoughts. Hadn’t Hannah and Matt tried to adopt a child or two? And then they hadn’t.

  She should have remembered. “It was just foolishness. You want a cup of decaf tea?”

  “Maybe a glass. With lots of ice.”

  Hannah didn’t stay long. At the door, she pulled Tadie into a hug and said, “I’ll help. If you decide you want to adopt and fill up this house, I’ll help.”

  Locking up, Tadie thought of Hannah’s words. Maybe she’d adopt an orphanage full and change the world twenty kids at a time.

  She rested her forehead on her palms. An orphanage?

  Her hand hit the light switches as she climbed to her room. What she needed was a candle, a bath, a good book, and music. Especially music.

  Fine, so her escape had a routine to it. If it worked, who cared?

  That elicited a groan. Because, honey, there wasn’t anyone else to care, now was there?

  She didn’t even look to see what was in the CD changer. When the music turned out to be Respigi’s Fountains of Rome, she released a little more of the tension that had tightened her muscles. She turned the water on full blast, poured in the bubble bath, and let the foam build while she picked out a Dorothy Sayer mystery that she’d meant to get to. Tucking it and a towel on the tub’s edge, she lit a candle and slipped into the water.

  * * * * *

  Air-conditioning day. Glory. Tadie opened the door to George and his crew, who were going to install two house units and one in the apartment over the garage.

  “George, you’ll make sure they put the apartment’s thermostat low enough for Elvie to reach, won’t you? She’s a tiny little thing. She’s never been much more than five feet, and she’s probably less than that now.”

  “We’ll take care of it.”

  Tuesday morning, Tadie woke to cool. Blessed, blessed cool.

  “Thank you, George,” she told the kitchen as she tidied up before punching in the numbers for Miller Electric.

  “Feelin’ better, are you, Tadie?” George asked with what sounded like a chuckle.

  “Yes sir. I’ll probably keep feeling better until I get my next electric bill.”

  That brought a guffaw from the other end of the line. “Well, comfort costs. You know that.”

  “Sometimes. But it sure costs a whole lot more for you on your stink potter than for me on Luna.”

  “Ouch. That was a low blow. You hear how much diesel’s going for these days?”

  “Horrible, I know. You better get yourself a sail.”

  “Not in this life. So, how’s Matt? I saw Hannah a couple of days ago. She said he’s not doing so good.”

  “They’re watching it.”

  “Guess that’s why Alex’s back.”

  “Guess so.”

  “Okay, well, I’m glad you like the system. If you have any problems, give me a call, hear? I’ll get prices on a lift for the apartment. How soon you need it?”

  “I’m still thinking about it, with those steps being so steep. There’s no rush, but it’s bound to come in handy at some point.”

  “I saw one you could sit or stand in that could go right up next to those steps. We could get my nephew to build you a gate at the top. If Elvie or James ever need a wheelchair, they can just ride in, up, and out.”

  “Would it hold up to salt air?”

  “One I’m thinking of would. Good sturdy thing.”

  “Then find out about it, will you? Elvie will be able to walk now. But the surgery got me thinking.”

  “I’ll be in touch,” George said.

  Tadie sure liked living in a place where she knew most everyone, or at least their brothers or sisters or cousins. She’d gone to school with both George’s first and second wife. The first had died early, but before she’d gone, she’d told George he ought to marry her best friend, Velma. He’d obeyed.

  Remembering the image of a satisfied Velma and a stunned George on their wedding day, Tadie refilled Eb’s water bowl and collected her car keys. When she got to the hospital, the nurse said Elvie was napping and James had retreated to the cafeteria.

  Tadie went through the line to get an iced tea before pulling up a chair. “What did the doctor say?”

  The black circles under his eyes seemed to have faded some. He swallowed a bite and rinsed it down with tea. “Doc said they couldn’t find none of that cancer in the lymph nodes they took. Leastways, ones they tested.”

  “I’m so glad. It’s what we thought, isn’t it? What they expected?” At his nod, she asked, “So, what’s next? Is she all well? I mean, we don’t have to worry anymore, do we?”


  “They’re wanting to do that radiation, maybe chemotherapy on her, just to be on the safe side, Doc says. She says no.”

  “Lord, love her.”

  “Maybe you can talk some sense into her, Miss Sara.”

  Tadie sighed. Where did people get the idea she had all this power? First Rita, now James. And he should know better. “When have I ever been able to tell Elvie what to do about anything? When that woman makes up her mind, there’s no moving her.”

  James hung his head on a slow nod. “You’d be right about that. She’s like a rock buried deep. Takes a big plow to move her stubbornness out the way.”

  “You said they got all the cancer cells. So maybe it’s okay not to go through all that mess chemo makes of the body.”

  “It’s the just-in-case that’s got me.”

  Tadie patted his rough hand. “I know.”

  His plate overflowed with food, but James stilled his fork and sat staring at the mashed potatoes he normally loved. Watching him, Tadie changed the subject and mentioned Rita’s plan.

  James didn’t say much at first. He scowled, but his fork plowed through the potatoes. After downing a few more sips of tea, he looked her right in the eye. “You think she means it?”

  “She said so.”

  “’Bout not liking this lawyering?”

  “Yes sir. But maybe she’ll go back to it one day.”

  He nodded. “Maybe. I don’t want her quittin’ just because she thinks I can’t do for her mama.”

  “She knows you can. And she knows I’m here. But think about it from her point of view. Elvie’s surgery made Rita take stock of what’s important. And spending time with her mama is number one. Rita’s a smart girl. She’ll do fine at whatever she tries.”

  “Well,” he said, scooping up a fork full of green beans. “I’ll be happy to see her. Always am. And Elvie’ll be beside herself.”

  “That’s reason enough then.”

  Tadie stood and hugged James. “You want help getting Elvie home?”

  “You’re a good girl, but we’ll do fine.”

  * * * * *

  Tadie opened the shop door to see Stefan Ward unwrapping two more paintings to replace their dwindling supply. He glanced up from under heavy grey-spattered brows and ran a hand through his thick mane of salt-and-pepper hair. “Hey, Tadie. Brought you two watercolors.”

  She studied the wispy clouds and brightly hued skies. “Looking good.”

  “I’ve moved to the beach,” he said. “Doing some ocean scenes for a change.”

  Isa’s hand caressed the frame of a sunrise over the sea. “Every one of your paintings is more beautiful than the last. I wish I could own each one you’ve brought us, because I never tire of studying them.”

  A blush crept up Stefan’s cheek. Surely he’d heard compliments before and plenty of them, but he looked like a hungry puppy, devouring Isa’s words.

  “Jilly helped in here again this morning,” Isa said, not looking at Stefan.

  “Good for her. I’m glad it’s working out.” Tadie turned toward her office. “Stefan, nice to see you again.”

  She flicked on the computer and logged in receipts until the numbers swam, merging with images of red hair and childish smiles. As she headed home, the sun’s reflection on the water almost blinded her, all whitened silver broken only by an occasional ripple of blue. Her sundress swung against her legs, the air swirling beneath it and across her face. The briny odor of the sea had replaced the marsh smells that floated across the creek and lingered on airless days.

  Alex’s convertible zipped down a side street as she neared her house. Her feet pounded up her front steps and she glanced over her shoulder, checking in both directions as she slipped the key in the lock.

  Then she slowed her movements. This was absurd. No one could bother her in her own home, not unless she let him.

  She grabbed a glass of iced water and drifted into her studio, picking up and replacing various items before she turned to go upstairs. Minutes later, the rumble of her stomach sent her back down again.

  A cobweb caught the light above the kitchen doorway. She attacked it with a dust mop, flicking on the television as she passed. It droned in the background while she poked around in the refrigerator, finally pulling out salad mixings and the last of a boiled chicken breast.

  Ebenezer watched from beside his bowl. “Enjoy,” she said, dropping in a few pieces of the chicken. “That’s all you get.”

  The weatherman’s voice noted local conditions as she tossed greens and sliced bites of chicken, reaching for the olive oil and a shaker of salt. He mentioned a storm in the Atlantic, which might become the first big hurricane of the season. She carried her salad to the couch.

  The storm’s predicted path appeared on the screen. Only one of the models suggested it might head northwest instead of only west. Good for the Southeast, bad for the Caribbean. August was prime time for storms, and they’d been mighty lucky this year. Best if any big blow held off and let Will and Jilly move the Nancy Grace out of town.

  Chapter Twelve

  Jilly’s tummy felt like it wanted to bounce right out of her. She’d spent yesterday morning with Isa at the shop, but her daddy didn’t want to go into town just yet, so she had to hang around and wait for him. Waiting was no fun. She’d finished her new book days ago and started on a harder one called The Railroad Children. It was okay, but she really had to think while she read it. It would probably get better. And easier once she figured things out.

  She stuck her head down the engine hole to watch her daddy loosen a nut. Why were those things called nuts? They didn’t look like peanuts or walnuts or even her favorite, pecans. So how come? It didn’t make sense.

  “Hey, punkin,” her daddy said, looking sideways at her. “What’s up?”

  “You almost finished?”

  “As much as I can do today.”

  “Did you call the parts man again?”

  “I did. He said the new heat exchanger should be in by tomorrow at the latest.”

  “Didn’t he say that yesterday?”

  Her daddy wiped his hands on an oily rag. “And Friday he promised it would be here Monday. Then Tuesday. I’d go someplace else if I hadn’t given him a deposit on the thing.” He pushed himself back up and onto the cabin sole. “I’m sorry about the holdup, kiddo. I know you wanted to get going.”

  “It’s okay. We can stay. I like helping Isa in the shop. Yesterday she even let me write things on something she called a in—”

  “Invoice?”

  Jilly raised her palm and squinched her eyes. “In-in-ventory!” Her eyes popped open. “That’s where she finds out what she’s sold and what she hasn’t. Did you know that?”

  “I think I did. But maybe not exactly the kind of inventory you were using. That’s another new word for your list.”

  Jilly’s pigtails bobbed. “And I got to use the one you taught me, you know, the egrets-and-cows word?”

  “I remember. How did you get to use it?”

  “Well, Isa said her working for Hannah and Tadie is that thing. Something good for all of them. So, I told her how you’d said the cattle egrets eat the bugs that bother the cows, so everybody’s happy.”

  Sliding his tool bag into the cupboard, her daddy glanced back over his shoulder. Jilly tried not to catch his eye, ’cause she was thinking as hard as she could to remember before he asked. It was sym-something. She remembered that much. Sym-bol? No. Sym-pathy? No.

  She bit her lip and kept her eyes on her swinging legs.

  “Up you go,” he said. “Let me close the hatch.”

  Maybe he wouldn’t make her say it.

  “So, do you remember the egret and cow word? Or did you just let Isa use it?”

  “I remember. Sort of. ”

  “Yes?”

  She blinked up at him. “It starts with sym.”

  “It does indeed. Do you remember the next sound?”

  Jilly shook her head.

  “B
.”

  “Symbee … ” All of a sudden, it flashed right there. Yes! She made a power jab with her fist as she shouted out, “Symbiotic!”

  Her daddy grabbed her and swung her around the small cabin, knocking over the water jug in the process. “You did it. What a girl.”

  Jilly’s arms clung to his neck, and she pressed her cheek against his ear. Nobody could hug like her daddy.

  When tomorrow came, they would have to get a taxi to go to the store for the part. They were good walkers, she and her daddy, but this store was too far. He said cruisers had to be good walkers, ’cause getting a cab all the time would break the bank. The times they got to ride in taxis were pretty fun, especially if they found one with an interesting driver.

  * * * * *

  And that’s what they got the next day. The guy was huge and had a wrinkle across his nose. She wondered if it had been broken and not put back together right. His arms were the biggest things Jilly had ever seen, like tree trunks. She thought his shirt sleeves might bust right off if he moved wrong. His hair was all crinkly, like on a lot of black men, and his eyes kind of crinkled too.

  As soon as she climbed in, he said, “Morning, missy. Where you and your daddy want to be goin’ this fine day?”

  Her daddy told him, and they started off, the driver chatting and asking if they were some of them people lived on a boat. He got real excited when he heard they were.

  “Closest I ever come to going out on the water was in a little skiff my cousin had. He took me and Willy huntin’ crabs. ’Bout near scared the living daylights out of us, ’cause we’d never learnt to swim. No sir, Momma didn’t cotton to us going near the water, so that was the last time I did.”

  “You mean you don’t like to go in the ocean?” Jilly asked, appalled.

  “Not me. I aim to keep these two feet planted squarely on this here ground.”

  “Oh my. I’m sorry.”

  He laughed. “No need to be sorry, missy. I ain’t. Not one bit.”

  Her daddy said, “Wait for us, please,” to the driver, and then he held the door so she could go first into the parts place.

  It was dark, mostly because the windows were really dirty, and the man behind the counter was skinny with not very nice eyes. The smell of him made her nose itch, a sort of sticky-sweet uck, along with smoke. Smoke was nasty.