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

  She pulled out her sketches and opened the drawer where she stored some of the amber she wanted to use when she finished the garnet pieces. She was sorting by shape when little feet pattered into the room.

  She took a deep, cleansing breath and did her best to smile. “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  “Whatcha doing?”

  This was Jilly’s first visit inside the studio. Tadie understood the child’s fascination with a hidden room. “I’m working on some designs for new jewelry.”

  Jilly leaned forward over the workbench. “Can I see?”

  “They’re in the rough stage now. I’m waiting for the stones to speak to me.”

  “Do they really talk?”

  “No, of course not. But sometimes a certain stone will just seem to belong somewhere, with a certain chain or in a certain setting.”

  Jilly wandered the room checking out all the fascinating objects. When she came to Bucky’s photos, she stopped.

  “My brother took those,” Tadie said. “Do you have any idea where that might be?”

  Jilly shook her head.

  “It’s Afghanistan. It’s a country that’s had a lot of war and some very unhappy people ruling it. But look at the smile on that old man’s face.”

  “He seems happy.”

  “My brother and some of his friends helped him. I think he was happy then.”

  “Your brother died, didn’t he? Did someone shoot him?”

  She started to answer when Will strode into the room and pulled Jilly away from the pictures. Tadie felt the blood drain from her face at Will’s hard expression.

  “Jilly, sweetheart, go load up your backpack.” The glare he gave Tadie couldn’t be mistaken.

  Jilly looked puzzled. “Is the Nancy Grace ready? Is she all fixed?”

  “She will be. Now scoot.”

  “But I don’t want to go yet.” Jilly grabbed Tadie’s hand and clung to it.

  It took all Tadie’s self-control not to hold the child just as tightly.

  Jilly’s lip quivered. “Not until the boat’s all ready. I like it here and Tadie said we could stay.” Her voice sounded panicky.

  “Well, we can’t.”

  “Why not?”

  Will turned to Tadie, his eyes hard, glinting at her.

  She unclasped Jilly’s fingers and took her by the shoulders. “Hey, trooper. We’ve had a grand time. And we’ll do it again. But if your daddy wants you to go with him, don’t you think you should?”

  Tadie recognized the beginning of tears in Jilly’s eyes. She knew if she kept looking at them, the cold horror she felt would loose itself in her own tears, and hers wouldn’t be silent. She turned the child toward her father and gave her a quick push. “Go, sweetie. Get packed.”

  Will waited until Jilly’s feet hit the stairs. “You’ve been wonderful to us and we’re very grateful,” he said. “But I don’t appreciate you filling Jilly’s head with ugly tales about the world’s savagery. She’s much too young.”

  Had she mentioned savagery? Her heart thudded and her hands shook as she raised them to her throat. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think.”

  “Of course you didn’t. You’ve never raised a child. You’ve no idea how sensitive Jilly is, how a story about war could give her nightmares. She’s still getting over Nancy’s death, and now you throw images of Afghanistan at her. If I’d seen this room earlier, I’d have warned you to keep it locked and Jilly out of here.” At the door, he turned. “I know she’s become fond of you, but I’d appreciate it if you didn’t try to see her again.”

  Tadie didn’t move. She couldn’t. She heard Will climb the stairs, heard him walk into Jilly’s room. He must have already packed his things, because he didn’t go back into her father’s bedroom. He must have been planning to leave since last night.

  It didn’t take them long to finish and come back into the studio, where Jilly ran and threw her arms around Tadie’s neck, burying her face in Tadie’s hair. “Thank you so much. I had a wonderful time.”

  “I had a lovely time with you too, Jilly.”

  Jilly backed away and wiped the back of her hand across her eyes. She sniffled hard, making herself cough. “Daddy needs me at the boat, so I have to go. But I’ll see you later.”

  “Sure,” Tadie said, her voice catching. “Take care.”

  “Will you hug Eb for me? I couldn’t find him. Will you tell him I’ll be back?”

  Tadie nodded. “Mmm,” was all that came out, and she had to turn her head to hide the tears.

  As they walked out the front door and out of her life, Tadie dropped into the big chair near her daddy’s desk and stared at the walls until she could no longer sit. She rose and wandered back upstairs, where she stepped out of her nice clothes and let them heap on the floor. She replaced them with a long T-shirt. Without conscious thought, she moved to the window.

  The view didn’t mesh with her expectations. The water ought not to reflect sunlight. And the sky—how could it be blue and cloudless?

  Surely, such palpable changes ought to be visible beyond her ripped and bleeding heart.

  Chapter Twenty-one

  Tadie finally managed to rouse herself enough to stumble downstairs. She had the refrigerator open and a pitcher of tea in her hand when she heard the sound of flip-flops on the porch steps. By the time Rita stepped over the threshold, Tadie had taken down a glass and filled it, handing it to her without a word.

  “They gone?” Rita perched at the table while Tadie wiped the counter.

  Tadie nodded and continued to wipe, moving to the stove. When she’d rinsed the rag and folded it over the faucet, she straightened the tea towel and braced her hands against the countertop as she stared out the window and into the backyard.

  “Mama’s wanting to see you. Can you come up and have lunch?”

  “I’m not hungry,” Tadie said, this time bending to fetch a spray cleaner, which she squirted on the front of the refrigerator. She wiped it down with a paper towel.

  “That wasn’t dirty to start with. You sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine. There were some streaks I’ve been meaning to clean.”

  “Okay, you’ve cleaned. Now, will you come see Mama or not?”

  Tadie ran a hand over her forehead. Her fingertips felt gritty. How could there be grit left on anything? “I’m sorry. Of course, I’ll come.”

  “Lunch?” Rita rinsed her glass and set it in the dishwasher.

  “Fine. Lunch. I’ll bring the tea.” She forced a smile, but knew it didn’t make it all the way to her eyes.

  * * * * *

  “Hey, child,” Elvie Mae said, patting the couch beside her. “You come over here and give me a hug, you hear?”

  Tadie set the pitcher on the kitchen counter and bent over Elvie for a proper hug.

  “There now,” Elvie said. “I had to see you’re okay. This is the first hurricane we didn’t spend together, helping each other out. I knowed you had help, but it wasn’t my help.”

  “Yes ma’am. I surely missed you.”

  Elvie’s gaze pulled Rita and James into her circle. “See, I told you. This child still needs us. See that, James? She’s not so grown-up that she don’t need the rest of her family.”

  James nodded. “You’re right there, Elvie. Nobody’s that grown-up.”

  They ate and chatted, but Tadie tried to change the subject when Elvie asked about the folk who’d stayed with her. She did tell about Isa’s neighbor who’d turned out to be the painter fellow everybody admired so much.

  “What’s new since your last visit to the doctor?” Tadie asked.

  “It was a good report. I got to go back every so often, but I’m not gonna let them talk me into any chemo,” Elvie said, her voice fierce. “That’ll kill me faster than that cancer and make my life miserable while I’m here.” She shook her head of tight grey curls. “No sir. I’m gonna live how I live and trust in the good Lord to do what’s best for me. If he wants me home with him, fine. If he thinks I’m ne
eded here with my family, that’s fine too.”

  “Mama!”

  Elvie Mae raised her palm, shushing Rita. “You heard me. Hush now.”

  James scooted closer and touched his wife’s hand gently. “It’s a whole lot better for you to stay here. We ain’t ready to do without you any time soon, you hear?”

  Elvie turned her hand over and clutched his. “I hear, old man. I hear.”

  Tadie used her napkin to wipe at her eyes.

  Rita changed the subject. “Guess who’s coming to dinner day after tomorrow?”

  Tadie snapped her head toward Rita, whose innocent tone told Tadie exactly who would be revealing himself. “Re-ally?” she said, elongating the word, eyes wide.

  “Martin wants to meet my folks, and they want to meet him. So, yes. Really.”

  “Am I invited?”

  “If you want to come, you’re invited.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  * * * * *

  The sun shone through a gap in the curtains, dancing on the wall with shadows from the oak tree. Tadie lay curled on her side, watching the patterns but not paying much attention. Eb stretched, poked his nose up close to hers, then bounded to the floor when she didn’t respond. Normally, Tadie would have cuddled her cat and let the morning stir her imagination. Now, she wished the night and oblivion could last all day.

  When Hannah called, Tadie was still trying not to think. They compared hurricane damage and the news that Matt had caught a cold from someplace.

  “Why doesn’t that man do what the doctor says and rest?” Hannah said, her voice edged with anger, more than likely generated by worry.

  “Can’t Alex pitch in more? Isn’t that what he’s here for?”

  “Lands, Tadie, he’s too busy trying to get Matt to entertain him. He’s bored silly and keeps complaining because the land’s too soaked to do any logging, no matter how many contracts need filling.”

  Tadie listened and tried to make soothing noises while Hannah talked of the brothers’ latest battle over selective harvesting.

  “The owner doesn’t want to pay to do it right. Alex drives Matt crazy with his ‘who cares, strip them, the trees will grow back.’ You know how Matt feels. So he’s telling Alex the growth will take too long, making it bad for the land and bad for business.”

  “Good for Matt,” Tadie said, trying for enthusiasm about something that would normally have her up in arms. Strip cutting should be against the law, the way it wasted trees and left the land looking ugly and vulnerable.

  “Matt shouldn’t get so riled, but Alex’s pouts and stomps are going to drive me batty. Was he always like this?”

  “Seems so.”

  “How come we never noticed? Anyway, I think Matt’s beginning to wise up about his baby brother, but he still defends him, says we should let Alex stay as long as he needs to. I say he ought to pay rent. But, of course, Matt won’t hear of it.”

  “Maybe Alex will get tired and move on. Or at least, out.”

  “I heard him on the phone with Bethanne yesterday. There sure is no love lost between those two. I think she’s demanding money from him, probably for the girls. He was telling her he can’t afford to send more, although I don’t know why not. Unless he’s spending it on something I don’t know about, he should be setting aside a big chunk, living with us.”

  Tadie had trouble caring about any of this, but she tried to make appropriate noises. It wasn’t Hannah’s fault Will had run hard and fast.

  “Not only does Alex mooch food off us, but he keeps bringing in liquor. Matt won’t tell him not to. And the last couple of nights, Alex reeled up the stairs. What a mess. Oh dear. Hold on.” Hannah said something offline, then came back with, “Matt needs me. I’ll call you back later.”

  Tadie climbed out of bed, because staying in it just made her mind wobble all over the place, wondering what Will and Jilly were doing, seeing Jilly’s impish grin. She turned on the shower to wash off the aches she’d accumulated overnight and pictured Will rounding up supplies, getting started on repairs. She hadn’t asked if he planned to contract it out or do it himself. He’d probably pay someone so he wouldn’t have to hang around Beaufort and risk running into her.

  But hiring out the job didn’t sound like Will.

  What if she went downtown? Would she see them?

  No, that wasn’t likely. The boat was across the bridge off the causeway. Will would have rented a car so he could get to supply houses, maybe a grocery store. It would be just as easy for him to go over to Morehead and not come to Beaufort at all.

  She towel-dried her hair and ran a brush through her curls. This would teach her to let new people into her life. Never again. She was fine with the circle of friends she had. They wouldn’t hurt her like this.

  If only the world would return to the simpler place it had been before Elvie and Matt had gotten sick, and Delia—along with Alex, Will, and Jilly—had blown in. She needed to re-launch Luna.

  That reminded her of their last sail. She heard again the tinkling sound of Jilly’s laughter.

  The buzz of a saw told her James was out cutting limbs, so she left the shorts where they lay on a chair and got out long pants to go help. Rita joined them after her errands, lightening the workload, but it still took most of the day. Only once did Tadie remember Will’s promise to help. And then it replayed as she hefted branches or filled a bag.

  James pulled the last large limb free so he could cut it into pieces. “You want to get Luna in? We could do it next high tide.”

  Tadie glanced at her watch. “Not unless you want to go out at ten tonight.”

  James laughed, shaking his head. She dragged a smaller branch to the pile. “How about noonish tomorrow?”

  “Sounds good.”

  Tadie backed away from the noise of his chainsaw, bending with Rita to grab an armload of brush. “You up for some sailing?”

  “Sure am.”

  “Tomorrow then, if you’ve got the time.”

  New memories. That’s what she needed. To write new memories.

  * * * * *

  Dusk settled slowly over the water as Tadie perched on the dock bench, staring out at the empty anchorage. There was a loose board near her feet. And one missing. She should get them fixed.

  Maybe tomorrow. Or the next day.

  A big trawler crawled by, likely heading for the town marina. How on earth was she going to drive across that bridge and not look over to the left, imagining Will and Jilly on their boat? Would she wonder each time whether they’d fixed the rigging, planked and glassed the hole, painted the topsides yet? With contractors in demand everywhere, hurricane damage took weeks, months to fix. Whether or not he did it himself, the work would take a while. Jilly was bound to ask questions. What would he tell the child?

  And why had he been so angry? He’d spoken to her as if she were thoughtless and cruel. As if he hated her.

  Darkness began to overtake the day. Scattered street noises included a blaring car radio. Crickets sawed in the marsh. Gentle waves sloshed at the pilings.

  She sure could pick them, couldn’t she?

  “Daddy, how come I keep getting entangled with fools or crazies?”

  The breeze carried her words away, but didn’t bring back an answer.

  * * * * *

  As Tadie crawled in next to Eb that night, more doubts crept in like a fog, the kind that slithered over banks and along the shoreline until it shrouded the entire town. Bucky’s death had hurt. When grief had taken her mama, followed soon by her daddy, she’d tried to hold on. But losing Jilly in this awful mess she’d made with Will? That felt like the tipping point, where the next degree of heel would land a boat on her side.

  Somehow through the years, she’d believed, maybe some days holding onto her faith like it was the tail of a line ready to slip through her fingers, but holding on. Yes sir. She’d prayed for Elvie. She’d been chatting regularly about Jilly and Will. About this more thing that troubled her, making her want somethi
ng but not knowing what.

  And where had it gotten her?

  Perhaps she hadn’t held up her end of the bargain with God in terms of going to church regularly, but what about his part in the whole thing? Wasn’t he planning to cut her any slack?

  She got up to fetch a wet cloth, glaring at her reflection as the water ran in the sink. “Girl, you’re a mess. Look at you. And you’re getting worse, not better.” If only her eyes would quit leaking.

  “Stop it. You don’t need that man. Or his daughter.”

  She got back into bed, laid the washcloth over her eyes, and settled back on the pillow. “Time to quit whining.”

  She and Jilly would both be fine. She was strong, and Jilly was resilient. Pretty soon Jilly wouldn’t even remember the lady who lived in Beaufort.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  Rita’s legs dangled off the end of the dock. “Didn’t they say we’d have wind today?” She lifted her hair off her neck and wiped at sweat that had formed there.“You know they lied. That little ripple across the water isn’t going to get anyone sailing.”

  Tadie leaned back on the bench, the brim of her sunhat pulled low. “It’s too hot even to think of moving, honey.”

  “Well, maybe, but it seemed like a good idea when we thought of it. I miss hanging out with you and Luna.”

  Footsteps on the wood meant someone was headed their way. Tadie didn’t bother to turn, but Rita called out a greeting to her daddy.

  “I brung you some chicken necks.” James set a basket between them and the scoop net next to Rita. “You two ain’t doin’ much. Might as well catch us some crabs for dinner.”

  Rita was the first to move. James was already back in his garden when she pushed herself up to tie one crab line to a piling. “Come on, lazybones.”

  Tadie quietly complained, but she picked up the other line and knotted it on her side of the dock. They both sat back and waited.

  “Daddy’s been trying to make me into a crabber all my life.”

  Tadie fanned herself with her hat. “He hasn’t been very successful with either of us.”

  “I prefer pots,” Rita said, inching her line up through her fingers. “They’re a whole lot easier.”