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

  A nod, his compassionate eyes looking down at her. But he didn’t tell her what to do. He wouldn’t have, even if he’d really been here.

  This was something she’d have to figure out on her own.

  * * * * *

  The crack of splitting wood woke her. She spent a few moments identifying the sounds. Had a whole tree fallen or merely a limb? Her bedside clock was dark, so she fumbled for the flashlight and pointed the beam at her watch. Almost five-twenty.

  The old house shuddered as the wind barreled through town, its howl frighteningly eerie. Please, let no one be out there unprotected.

  A door opened and closed across the landing. Probably Jilly climbing in bed with her daddy. Wouldn’t it be lovely to have someone with whom to snuggle when storms got bad? Eb had vacated his post next to her. He was undoubtedly shivering under a couch while the storm raged.

  Thunderstorms had scared her mama so much that Tadie had to comfort her when Daddy was gone. At night, he always held her mama close, merely speaking a soft word to his daughter before telling her how brave she was and then sending her back to bed. He never knew Tadie had wished—more than once—that there’d been room enough in the big bed for her too.

  Why all these morose thoughts? Didn’t she have something better to do than lie here having a pity party?

  She wished she could call Hannah. Hannah would tell her some absurd story and they’d laugh. At least, Hannah would have before all the trouble with Matt.

  She flicked off the flashlight and listened to the dark night raging around her, wishing she were on better terms with God.

  Chapter Seventeen

  The stillness jarred Tadie awake, forcing her off the bed to see what was wrong. She flicked on a flashlight against the shuttered dark, then dressed in jeans and a top, gathered her hair into a clip, and slipped into the bathroom to brush her teeth with water from the pitcher she’d put there yesterday. She found Will awake in a big wing chair, Jilly asleep in his lap, and a twelve-inch taper burning beside them.

  She pointed to the back of the house. Will nodded and slipped out from under Jilly’s limp form. He tucked the afghan over her shoulders and followed Tadie to the back porch.

  Considering the force unleashed in the last hours, things didn’t look too bad in the yard. As she’d expected, limbs lay strewn everywhere. A couple inches of water stood near the barn, but that was probably from overly saturated ground, not flooding.

  “I want to find out what made that loud crack in the night,” she said, heading for the steps.

  He extended a restraining hand and stopped her. “I don’t think the eye is going to last very long, not the way that thing came through here.”

  He was right. Almost on his words, rain slashed from the opposite direction. Ducking through the door, Tadie shook off the drops that had collected in her hair. “You know what happens around here when a storm comes in from the south?” She took his silence for interest.

  “The wind blows the water straight up the sounds, giving us really low tides. A northerly wind blows it right back, flooding the low areas. You watch the tides, especially down east, in a northerly wind. Even without a storm surge, the water can wash out the roads.”

  “High tide was at nine-thirty.”

  Tadie glanced at her watch. “Ten-twenty. It’s outgoing, but just barely. Let’s hope the storm doesn’t stall.”

  “Daddy?” a sleepy voice called from the other room.

  “Right here, punkin.”

  “What’s happening? Is it daytime yet?”

  “It is. See it through the cracks over there?”

  Tadie aimed her flashlight toward the table, looking for matches and additional candles. “Let’s light this place up a bit. What do you say? Make it more festive.”

  Jilly jumped off the chair. “I’ll help.”

  “Come on over here and hold this for me,” Tadie said, handing her the flashlight. “Aim it there so I can see.”

  They lit candles on the mantle. “That’s better. Now you can help me light some in the kitchen, and we’ll do something about food.”

  “Where’s Eb?” Jilly asked, looking around the room.

  “He’ll come out when he smells breakfast.”

  * * * * *

  Isa padded in as Tadie picked up the steaming kettle. “Thank goodness for gas stoves. Does this mean we actually get a cup of coffee?” Tadie watched her sniff her way to a carafe, through which a lovely brew dripped. “Ah ...”

  “You may also have your choice of breakfast, as long as I don’t have to bake it or toast it. This new oven has electronic gauges. Don’t they plan for outages anymore when they design stoves?”

  “They think we prefer a button to a knob. And a machine to do our thinking for us. I hate them. They always go on the fritz or jam or just turn recalcitrant.” Isa turned to Jilly, touching the top of her head with a light tap. “How are you this loud morning, Miss Jilly?”

  “What’s recalcitrant?”

  “Stubborn. Which I bet you never are.”

  “Never, ever. You know what? We’re going to play cards after breakfast. Tadie said they always used to play Slapjack during hurricanes. Have you ever played Slapjack before?”

  Isa lowered herself into the chair next to Jilly. “I think I have. The name sounds vaguely familiar.”

  “I haven’t. But Tadie says it’s really easy to learn.”

  “I recall having my hand slapped a few times.”

  Jilly fisted her hands and pulled them to her chest as if getting them out of harm’s way. “Who hit you?”

  “My sister. She was a wicked player. She won all the games.”

  “That’s not very nice.”

  “I agree completely.” Isa looked around. “Where’s your daddy?”

  “Upstairs. He said he’d only be a minute, but it’s been a lot longer.”

  Tadie turned from minding the coffee. “Maybe he fell asleep.”

  “I woke him up a lot. He says I kick and sometimes I fling my arm in his face. I don’t think I do. I never feel it. Don’t you think I’d feel it if I was beating him up like he says?”

  “Absolutely,” Isa said. “Your father must be miserably mistaken.”

  Tadie, never having slept in a bed with anyone else—not even Hannah on sleepovers, because they always had twin beds when they were young—hadn’t a clue.

  Will’s head poked around the entry. “Are you talking about me?”

  Jilly hopped over and hugged him. “You didn’t go back to bed. Tadie thought maybe you did, because I kept you up all night.”

  He ruffled Jilly’s hair, which hung down past her shoulders in a riot of red. “Just getting presentable for breakfast. Now,” he said, turning to Tadie, “what can I do to help?”

  “Bacon anyone? And how about eggs?”

  “Bacon,” Jilly said. “We never get bacon. Daddy says it stinks up the boat.”

  “Well, then, let’s skizzle up a mess of bacon that will otherwise spoil, and I’ll scramble eggs. Do you like those?”

  “What’s skizzle?” Jilly asked.

  “Ah. Elvie Mae always said she was going to skizzle up a mess of something when she meant she’d fry it up without a lot of fat in the pan. Maybe a pat of butter when she wanted to brown meat or fish.”

  “But bacon’s got fat,” Jilly said.

  “Right. But I’m not adding more.”

  That seemed to satisfy the child. “Can I help?” Jilly asked.

  “You can pull a chair over, and maybe your daddy can take care of the bread.” Tadie pointed toward the loaf. “We can’t make toast, so we’ll have bread and butter with strawberry preserves Elvie put up last spring.”

  “I’ll get the plates and set the table,” Isa said.

  Breakfast was cooked, served, eaten, and plates wiped clean, all by candlelight. Eb’s new best friend added a dab or two of egg to his cat food. Several times they heard loud creaks and groans, a snap or two from the trees, and metal screeching, but nothin
g huge hit the house.

  Ignoring the potential havoc, about which she could do nothing, Tadie concentrated instead on trying to slap the most jacks—within reason.

  When Eb walked over Jilly’s legs before leaping up to the couch pillow, she said, “Silly cat,” and turned back to the game. She soon crowed, “Mine!” when three other palms hovered a fraction too long above the pile.

  “Look at all the cards you’ve collected,” Isa said, raising her brows. “Are you certain you’ve never played this game?”

  Jilly shook her head as she collected her stack. “That’s all four. Now what do we do?”

  “Seems to me,” Tadie said, “we have to declare you the queen of Slapjack and find something else to play.”

  “What else is there?”

  “See that stack? I got those out for us to choose from. Can you read the titles?”

  “Monopoly and Scrabble. What’s that?”

  “A word game. You might like Monopoly better. I also have checkers and chess, but we can save those for when the laws of attrition begin to work on this group.”

  “What?”

  Tadie explained. “Have you ever heard of survival of the fittest?”

  “Like with the wild horses? The strong one gets to make the babies.”

  Isa’s brows shot up. “What have you been teaching this child, Will?”

  Tadie wondered the same thing. “That’s right, Jilly. The law of attrition applies to all the weak males who get so worn down they fall out of competition.”

  “Like me winning all the jacks.”

  “You show yourself the strong one, and eventually one or two of us may fall away from pure exhaustion.”

  “Or from always losing,” Will said, stacking the cards.

  “I suppose we could go file our nails.” Isa began to braid her long hair. As she pulled the tail into a band, she glanced over her shoulder at Jilly. “The losers, that is. The attrited.”

  “Good word.” Will gave her a thumbs-up. “Care to conjugate it in verb form?”

  “I won’t even try,” Tadie said. “Of course, instead of filing our nails, we could roam the room, gossiping about the others.”

  “Elizabeth Bennett and what’s his name’s sister, you know, the one who wanted Mr. Darcy for herself.” Isa leaned forward, looking pleased.

  “Caroline Bingley.”

  Tadie couldn’t remember when she’d last had this much fun on land. The hurricane had brought all these guests under her roof and given an excuse for her first house party. And here was Isa, relaxed and adding so much to the group.

  “I take it we have two Jane Austen fans?” Will said.

  Isa looked surprised. “He recognizes the references. Amazing.”

  “Jilly’s mother. My mother. Jilly’s aunt.”

  “Women of taste, obviously,” Tadie said, pulling the board games from a cupboard near the stairs. “Austen is popular now, but Isa and I have long been official members of the Jane Austen fan club.”

  Isa nodded. “In my case, forever.”

  “Have you bought any of her novels for Jilly?” Tadie asked as she lowered herself to the floor and opened the Monopoly box.

  Will ran his finger down Jilly’s nose. “In about six years, she might enjoy reading Miss Austen. Right now, Blackbeard captivates her.”

  “And wild horses,” Tadie said.

  “And breeding practices,” Isa threw in.

  Jilly rolled her eyes. “You guys.”

  “I’ll tell you what, Miss Jilly,” Tadie said, “if you keep in touch and let me know where I can find you, I will send you the complete works of Jane Austen for your fourteenth birthday. Every young woman must own a set.”

  Jilly’s eyes lit. “That would be lovely.” She turned to her father. “We can do that, can’t we? Always tell Tadie where we are?”

  “Of course we can.”

  “But I won’t be fourteen for a long time.”

  Isa waved her hand in the air. “It will come upon you sooner than you can imagine.”

  * * * * *

  They played Monopoly and then played Monopoly some more. Mid-game, Tadie popped corn on the stove top.

  “You can do it like that instead of in a microwave?” Will asked, only to be swatted by Isa.

  They sipped hot chocolate and ate more of Tadie’s soup while Jilly racked up properties, including Boardwalk. Fortunately for the rest of them, Isa bought Park Place on her next turn. Will and Tadie breathed a collective sigh as their pieces continued to land on one or the other.

  When Jilly begged to buy the coveted property from Isa, she received a firm negative. “You’d break me with one hotel,” Isa said.

  Jilly extended her lower lip, but her eyes sparkled as she pretended to pout. “Well, this way neither of us can make money on them.”

  “Hold on a minute. Don’t get greedy.” Will forked over the rent money as he landed on the houseless property.

  Landing on the last of the purple low-rent properties, Tadie let out a, “Woohoo. Hotels coming up.”

  “Won’t help much,” Will said, examining her rental amount.

  “I know. But it didn’t cost much either.”

  Eventually, hotels dotted the landscape, and everyone seemed to owe money to someone. When Will raked in the stash in the middle of the board, he escaped debt and proudly bought two more houses.

  Isa counted her paltry change. She had a long way around the board and a lot of rents to pay before she’d hit Go again and could add two hundred to the measly amount tucked under her side of the board. “Ladies,” she said, “I’m going broke. I propose we call Will the winner and be done with it.”

  “You mean quit?” Jilly asked.

  “Did I say the wrong thing?”

  The edge of Will’s finely carved lips curled in what certainly looked like a smirk. “Perhaps Isa has a broken nail,” he said, his eyes dancing as he returned Tadie’s bemused stare.

  Isa held up her fingers and examined the ends. “Here goes that law, Jilly. Right in front of your eyes.”

  “Ah,” Will said, winking at Tadie before turning his gaze toward Isa. “The first to go. What does that say about you, my dear Isa?”

  She picked up a cushion. “I assume you’re referring to the fact that I won’t be lead stallion this year. If I weren’t afraid of catching this on fire, it would be in your face, Will Merritt.”

  “Thank God for small favors.”

  “You’re teasing, aren’t you? Both of you?” Jilly asked, a worried frown wrinkling her nose and forehead.

  Tadie reached out a hand. “Of course they are. Grown-up silliness.”

  As she spoke, Will grabbed Jilly, bringing her up on his lap and tickling her until her squeals of “Daddddy!” forced him to quit. He turned her to his chest and wrapped his strong arms around her in a hug.

  Tadie watched, mesmerized. When she glanced up, she saw Isa staring, not at Will and Jilly, but at her.

  Chapter Eighteen

  The rain continued long after the heavy winds abated. When Rita called from the apartment to check on them, Tadie picked up the hall phone, the only one in the house not dependent on electricity.

  “We’re fine,” Tadie said. “If you get bored with the older folk, you can come play with us. We’ve exhausted Slapjack and Monopoly—which was an all-day affair—and now Isa has a puzzle set out on a card table in the living room. I think Will’s going to help her, but that may not keep Jilly going for long.”

  “Daddy’s done the same thing over here. He loves that tropical puzzle you gave him, when was it? A couple of Christmases ago? Mama’s lounging around, watching us try to match pieces of identical blue.”

  “You okay with cooking and everything?”

  “Doing well, thanks. I peeked out a little while ago. The old oak out back lost its good swinging limb. But it may have needed to come down anyway.”

  “Won’t we be lucky if that’s all we lost? I haven’t been out yet.”

  “Hold on a sec,
Tadie. What, Daddy?”

  Tadie heard James say something before Rita came back on. “Daddy says not to worry about the cars. There was a little water, but not deep enough to hurt much. He’ll get them washed down as soon as the electricity comes back.”

  “Thank him, will you? What about Isa’s?”

  “He parked it back behind the garage, so it didn’t get anything but some rain and leaves.”

  “I appreciate it, Rita. Isa will too. If you change your mind about coming over, you do it.”

  “I will. Have fun.”

  * * * * *

  Isa and Jilly leaned over the puzzle. The rain continued, finally slowing to a light drizzle a little after seven o’clock. When Will and Tadie stepped out to check for damage, Eb slipped past. He bounded down the porch steps, pausing at the bottom, obviously not sure he wanted to get his feet wet.

  Tadie pulled up her hood as she sloshed through puddles that began as soon as she stepped off the porch. Surveying the mess that littered the yard, she groaned. “Oh my.”

  “Jilly and I can help with cleanup.”

  “No need. James will be here.”

  “Who’s James?”

  “He and his wife Elvie Mae live over the garage. James does the gardening, and he used to drive for my parents. They’ve been taking care of us forever.”

  Will raised his brows. “Servants?”

  Tadie raised hers right back at him. “Friends. Family.”

  “How fortunate.”

  She heard the sarcasm. What did he know? “It has been.”

  He held out a palm. “I’m sorry. Maybe I’m just envious. Anyway, helping with the cleanup is the least Jilly and I can do. She’ll get a kick out of it. It’ll be a change of pace from the boat.”

  “Then I’d appreciate it.”

  Approaching the south end of the property, they discovered a tall pine that had snapped about twenty feet up. Fortunately, it had maimed only a cluster of azaleas. “I’m glad it missed Mama’s bench. She used to love sitting out here when the azaleas were in bloom. Her grandmother planted some, her mama others. She wouldn’t let James come near them, except to water and mulch, but he’d sneak out every so often to prune them so they’d come back fuller the next year. She never knew. She thought if he cut them, they’d be wounded.”