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

  “I want to get the first layer of fiberglass on that hole.”

  “Eew, stinky.”

  “I know. Maybe you can do the laundry while I take care of it. I’ll help you get the washers started. You can load the clothes in the dryers.”

  Jilly tried not to show her excitement. The washers took a long time—plenty of time for her to get to Tadie’s and back. All she wanted to do was thank Tadie and give her a hug. That shouldn’t take too long. “I’ll take my new book and read it while I wait,” she said, hoping God wouldn’t be too mad at the lie.

  “Good girl.” He took her bowl, rinsed it, and put the cereal away. “Why don’t you get your things together so we can start while it’s still cool?”

  When they got there, Daddy unloaded the bags of laundry. “How did we make so much of a mess? I didn’t even know we owned this much.”

  “Silly, it’s all that sanding and stuff.”

  His smile was crooked as he helped her sort the clothes and start the washers. He handed her a baggie with all the quarters she’d need and pointed her to a hard plastic chair. “I’ll be back in a couple of hours to fetch you and the clothes. Okay, punkin?”

  “I’ll be fine.”

  “The manager’s right on the other side of that wall. You know him. You need anything, you ask. And you know where I’ll be.”

  “Daddy, I’ve done laundry before. And you’ll be right over there.” She waved toward the Nancy Grace, whose mast rose behind a big motor yacht.

  He bent toward her. “I know. But we usually do chores together.”

  “I know how to set the temperature, and I have the money. You can go.”

  She stood in the doorway and watched as he left. When he was out of sight, she stuffed her book into her backpack, put the laundry bags under a table, and headed out, keeping clear of the marina office window and trying not to let any of the other boaters see her. They’d tell if they did, because she was a kid, and boaters were like that. They all watched out for the kids on boats. It felt like she had dozens of parents, which was nice most of the time. Except now, when she wanted to sneak away.

  Her heart beat so fast, it might bust open. She squinched her eyes tight and whispered, “Sorry,” to God. If this was what being sneaky was like, she wasn’t so good at it.

  She had to walk out to the highway, turn to the right, walk a little, and cross the bridge. At least it wasn’t the big bridge over to Morehead. Just a small one. Well, smaller anyway.

  The best thing to do when you had to cross a bridge with cars zooming past was not to look. Just keep your feet moving on the walkway and your head straight, like you know what you’re doing. And don’t look in the little bridge building. If you stare ahead, the man in there will think it’s okay. “That’s it,” she said under her breath, talking mostly to the bridge railing. “Oh, and there’s a boat leaving its slip. Just think about the motorboat and not the cars.”

  The boat was one of those flashy ones, all front end and loud motor. Daddy called them cigarette boats. She should remember to ask him why.

  The boat’s driver was trying to back up, but there was a lot of current pushing his backside into a piling. He went forward again, revved his engine, and zoomed out straight. Jilly was glad the Nancy Grace didn’t have to back out of a place like that. You could see the current whooshing past. She’d hate to get caught in it.

  She stepped off the bridge and felt a shiver of excitement. She’d made it across on her own. Now all she had to do was go to the first road, turn right, head to the waterfront, and go left until she came to Tadie’s.

  * * * * *

  Will spread out the fiberglass, measured what he needed, and cut it. This was good. He was being efficient and so was Jilly. They’d get something done before he had to waste an afternoon driving to Raleigh and back.

  She’d be okay. Liz was good with her. Liz wasn’t Nancy, but she was a good aunt. She’d help Jilly forget this nonsense about Tadie.

  He pulled on his gloves and pumped epoxy into a mixing cup. It squirted about an ounce and then only air. He lifted the can. Empty.

  How had he let that happen? Hadn’t there been plenty the last time he’d used it?

  Everything was ready, but not enough epoxy. Great.

  He pulled off his gloves, fetched his keys and wallet, and set off for the laundry area. Jilly’d probably be glad to be rescued from babysitting the clothes. The wash load should be about finished, so he could put them in the dryer and take her with him to buy more epoxy. By the time they got back, the clothes should be dry. It was too bad Plan A hadn’t worked, but Jilly would have to sit upwind of the curing epoxy.

  He parked and went in to get her. She wasn’t there. Well, maybe she’d needed a bathroom break. He checked the washers. They had a few minutes left before the spin cycle ended. He’d wait.

  Why was it that whenever you wanted a pot to boil or a washer to finish, it took forever? He looked at his watch.

  Jilly must be reading in there. He’d give her until the washers finished before he’d call her out. Surely she’d be ready by then.

  Finally, the washers clicked off, one at a time. He loaded the dryers, but Jilly had his stash of quarters. He went to find her.

  The bathroom door was ajar and the room empty. He walked into the manager’s office. “Have you seen my daughter?”

  The manager, a normally cheerful fellow from someplace south of the border, glanced up from the papers on his desk. “Jilly? Si. I thought she went with you. She followed you out.”

  “You haven’t seen her since I put in the clothes?”

  The man shook his head. “Not since then.”

  Will swallowed the panic rising like bile in his throat. Maybe she’d gone wandering around the yard. She knew she wasn’t supposed to, but she was an inquisitive child who made friends easily. She was probably off chatting with some boater. He pictured her tucked on a stool someplace or leaning over someone’s project, asking questions.

  But what if she weren’t? What if …

  His gaze circled the yard, but he didn’t see a flash of red anywhere. She knew better than to go inside anyone’s boat or into one of the offices. She wouldn’t have done that, would she?

  Why had he left her alone?

  He spent the next ten minutes striding the perimeter, asking questions. No one, it seemed, had seen her. He zipped into the yacht brokerage office just at the entrance. No luck. The same with the outboard repair place.

  He ran back to his car and drove slowly, stopping frequently. Finally, he headed out toward the highway. There he pulled up next to a fellow selling the day’s catch on the side of the road just before the turnoff.

  “I’m looking for a little girl who may have come this way. My daughter.”

  “Red hair and yellow shorts?”

  Hope surged. “Yes, yes. Have you seen her? Where was she?”

  The man pointed toward the bridge. “She went that way, about an hour ago now.”

  Will could feel his heart speed and shoot the blood faster. What was Jilly doing on the bridge to Beaufort? Alone.

  For the first time since she was two, Will wanted to tan her hide. Didn’t she know how dangerous bridges were? Not to mention walking by herself along the highway. Anyone could have snatched her. Anything could have happened.

  He drove at a snail’s pace, torn between wanting to hurry after her and fear of missing her if she’d hurt herself and was lying in the ditch, or if she’d gotten hot and crawled under one of those big bushes to cool off.

  What if he couldn’t find her?

  That wouldn’t happen. Jilly was mature for her age. She’d be careful.

  What was he thinking? Jilly, mature? A rational, mature child wouldn’t go hightailing it off by herself, scaring her father half to death.

  At the far end of the bridge, he tried to decide which way she would have gone. She probably wouldn’t want to stay on the highway, so he turned off toward the waterfront. But what if she were walking anoth
er street and not this one?

  He drove to the waterfront without seeing her. How far could her little legs have taken her in an hour? Not this far, surely.

  When he still hadn’t found her twenty minutes later, he pulled over at the waterfront and laid his forehead against the steering wheel. He prayed, this time with all the force of desperation. And then he went looking again.

  * * * * *

  Jilly didn’t have far to go now. Sweat dripped all over her, and her backpack felt as if she’d stuffed it with bricks. Her legs hurt. She must have worn blisters on her feet where her sneakers didn’t fit so good.

  She sat on the steps of the Maritime Museum and pulled out her bottle of water. She would have worn a hat if she’d known it would take this long to get here. The laundry must be finished by now. Pretty soon her daddy would come looking for her to carry the clean clothes back to the boat. He’d be mad when she wasn’t there and the laundry wasn’t finished.

  But she couldn’t turn around now. Not when she was this close.

  She took a deep breath and stood. Tadie’s house wasn’t more than maybe five blocks from here. She could pop into the store for a second and give Isa a hug.

  That thought gave her courage because the shop was only a block away. Hefting her backpack, she stepped out onto the sidewalk—and heard a screeching. She turned to look as her daddy slammed the car door and ran right out in front of another car.

  Her heart thunked hard. Oh boy, she was in for it now.

  He grabbed her shoulders, stared into her face, and lifted her to him in the hugest hug he’d ever given her. She hugged him right back. “I’m sorry, Daddy. I’m sorry,” she wailed as she felt the pounding of his breath against her face.

  “I couldn’t find you anywhere. Do you know what that did to me?”

  “I had to come, Daddy. Please don’t be mad.”

  He set her down. Now he looked angry instead of scared. “What do you mean, you had to come? You had to leave your job, do something stupid like walking across that dangerous bridge all by yourself, and risk having something terrible happen to you? You had to do that?”

  Tears coursed down her cheeks. She wanted to wipe them, but he had her arms in his grip. She couldn’t look at him, knowing how much she’d disappointed him. She didn’t want him to be angry, because what if he got so mad he left too?

  “I’m sorry, Daddy.”

  “Come on,” he said. “Get in the car.”

  He drove them back to the boat, stopping only to put quarters in the dryers. He didn’t say anything the whole way there, not even when they climbed on board. He just put away his stuff and got out her suitcase so she could pack what wasn’t still wet.

  He went by himself to get the dried clothes and dropped hers on the V-berth, leaving her to fold and put them in her soft suitcase. “I think we both ought to go get a shower before we leave,” was how he broke the silence.

  On the drive, Jilly stared out the window until her eyes wouldn’t stay open anymore. When she woke, they were outside some town, and her daddy was pulling into a McDonalds. He ordered for both of them before he parked the car under a shady tree.

  Handing her a cheeseburger, he set the fries on the seat between them and opened a pack of ketchup. They never went to McDonalds, and they hardly ever had fried potatoes or a soda. She wasn’t sure she could eat anything because her stomach still felt all knotty.

  “Why did you go to Beaufort?” This time her daddy’s voice was gentle, curious.

  She took a big sip of soda. She poked her straw in and out of the plastic top to hear it squeak. “I wanted to see Tadie.”

  Her daddy didn’t say anything. He just waited.

  “You wouldn’t let me go back, but I wanted to tell her good-bye.”

  He did that sighing thing again, and her stomach bunched even more. “We said good-bye when we left.”

  She tried to be brave. “We said we’d see her soon. We didn’t. And now I’m going away, and I don’t know when I’ll be back.”

  Her daddy stared out the side window. His fingers were tight on the steering wheel for a long time. Finally, he turned. “Eat your lunch. You’ve got to be hungry with all that exercise you got.”

  “She’s my friend, Daddy.”

  His face softened. “I know she is, sweetie. But you shouldn’t have walked off like that. I’ve never been so scared in my entire life. I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you.”

  “I was sure I’d be able to get there and back, and you wouldn’t have to know.”

  “But anything could have happened to you. It wasn’t safe. Can’t you see that?”

  She bit her lower lip and nodded. “I won’t do it again.”

  “Thank you. You’re all I have. You mean more to me than anything in this whole world. Can you please remember that the next time you want to do something that could get you hurt?”

  “Yes, Daddy.”

  He picked up his sandwich and pointed to hers. “Now eat.”

  “Yes sir.”

  It was a little better after that. Not perfect. Not easy between them like it had been. She knew it was because she’d scared him so much. And she was sorry for that. But not so sorry she would take back going to Beaufort.

  She pressed her forehead against the side window and watched the land go past. There wasn’t anything much to see, not even any cows. Just some dirt and grass, some buildings, a whole bunch of gas stations and food places. Lots of cars. She sighed quietly so her daddy wouldn’t ask why.

  She knew why. She’d tried to get to Tadie and her daddy had stopped her. Maybe if her legs had been stronger and she hadn’t stopped for that drink of water, she’d have made it there before he found her. That’s what made her sorry. If her daddy had to get mad, it would have been better—a whole lot better—if he’d done it after she’d found Tadie.

  * * * * *

  Will watched the flight attendant take Jilly’s hand and escort her to the plane before he walked back to the parking garage and turned the car toward Beaufort.

  If only he could undo the last few hours. Jilly was the light of his life, and he’d let her get on that plane without showing her. How could he have done that? For the first time since Nancy’s death, he’d been unable to get past his silence, past his own pain, to think of Jilly.

  What on earth was wrong with him?

  When she’d run off to Tadie, she’d triggered some elemental anger—and a profound sense of failure.

  What he needed was to get back on that boat and get it finished. Then he’d sail out of North Carolina for good. He’d move the boat and himself to safer climes, where he and Jilly could go back to enjoying life.

  They would do just fine on their own. She didn’t need Tadie. And he didn’t need these complications.

  Chapter Twenty-four

  Days overlapped, one into the next. Before Tadie knew it, three weeks had passed since Delia had left all that detritus in her life. The rest of the world seemed to be getting back to normal. Too bad she couldn’t.

  Martin drove over from Raleigh every free moment, trying to get on James’s good side. Rita said it appeared to be working. How lovely for them.

  Rita sailed with her when she could. Tadie occasionally sailed alone. Luna, her Luna, felt like a foreigner.

  The shop thrived. Hannah’s stock sold as soon as she put in something new, and she kept it coming. She probably needed the wheel-time to escape from her houseguest, who showed no signs of leaving. Hannah’s phone calls were full of Alex’s misdemeanors.

  It was after eleven when Tadie emerged from her studio where she’d been trying to do something with the same stones she’d had her eye on the morning Jilly left. Hunger drove her to the kitchen, but lack of energy had her staring at the open refrigerator.

  She finally pulled out salad mixings and had just tossed chopped cucumber over a bowl of spinach when the phone rang. She didn’t bother to check the caller ID before answering.

  “Hey, girl,” Hannah said. “You
working?”

  “Just eating.” She dribbled on some olive oil and carried her plate and the phone to the small kitchen table. Trying to instill her words with warmth and enthusiasm, she said, “What’s happening with you?”

  “I got a few more mugs ready to fire. I’ll have a kiln full soon.”

  “Matt feeling any better?”

  Tadie chewed a forkful of greens while Hannah described Matt’s latest symptoms.

  “He feels lousy, but at least he’s leaving work earlier and getting Alex to do more,” Hannah said. “Which has Alex in a dither.”

  “Why? I thought Alex wanted control.”

  “Control, maybe, but not work. He comes home complaining about how tired he is and slamming cupboard doors while he pours himself a drink. Then he plops down in Matt’s den, and turns on Matt’s television to some program he knows Matt won’t watch. I guess that’s why he’s not been over to see you. He probably doesn’t have the energy to come courting.”

  “Thank God,” Tadie said, meaning it. “I’d have to boot him out if he did.”

  “Has something new happened between him and you?”

  “Nothing new. Last time I saw him, that evening after Delia, he got on his high horse with Jilly. And he’d already scared the poor child to death by almost running over her.”

  “Oh no. I’m so sorry. You didn’t tell me.”

  “Not much to tell.” Nothing at all, really.

  “I hear Jilly’s gone to stay with her aunt …” Hannah’s voice trailed off, probably waiting for confirmation or denial.

  Tadie hadn’t told her much about the Merritt’s visit—or their abrupt departure—except that it had happened. During most of their conversations, she’d only been able to manage platitudes and talk of Rita’s love life or Elvie’s improving health. Now she said, “That’s what Will told Isa.”

  “She was a sweetie. But we knew they’d be moving on.”

  “We did. Cruisers always do.”

  “You okay?” Hannah asked.

  “Of course.”

  Tadie listened without hearing any more of Hannah’s words and was glad when the conversation ended. Her best friend really must be preoccupied if she hadn’t heard the lie in Tadie’s of course.