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

  “What about an assistant for her? We could let her pick someone. That would make her feel she has some authority.”

  “I like that. You want to take care of it?”

  “Sure. In the meantime, get some pots in here, will you?”

  “Soon as I can.”

  Tadie walked home in the early dark of evening, pacing herself, her hands tucked in her jacket pockets. Much of Beaufort closed down in the winter, including many of the restaurants, but not the new Mexican one. Light flooded the sidewalk in front, and she paused to check the menu. Sharing a meal from here with Alex had been fun, but she didn’t want to repeat it. Not after what Hannah said.

  She unlocked her front door and turned on a light in the hall. Hanging her coat in the closet, she meandered back to the kitchen where she fixed a salad of spinach, sliced oranges, walnuts, and dried cranberries. Eb raced out the back door and meowed to come back in, all before she’d set her plate on the table.

  Between forkfuls of dinner, she sorted through the mail she hadn’t yet tackled. She’d left specific instructions not to save the junk, but these days it was hard to tell, so she ripped up the standard number of credit card offers. Of the two invitations to dinner, one was for yesterday, and the other would be next week at the country club. She should have sent an RSVP days ago.

  Her fingers stilled when she flipped over an envelope with her name printed in childish scrawl. She stared, unseeing, before she tore it open.

  Dear Tadie, I miss you so much. Daddy says he rote you but you did not rite back and he says maybe you dont want to see us. But I said no you jus didnt get the letter on acownt ACCOUNT of Isa telling him she didnt no where you are New York or Bofort. BEAUFORT. I told him I promised you we wood see you soon and we have to keep a promise so I no you are waiting. It is almos Christmas and Daddy asked where I want to go and I said Bofort but he said we cant coz your most likely not even there. So if you get this letter plese tell me where you are so we can come see you. If you are in New York maybe somebody can tell us where. I have ben to New York befor and it is a big place. So maybe you wood like to have some friends keep you company. Daddy said maybe you have found other friends and I asked if he ment another little girl you wood like more than me but he said no you wood not like another little girl more. Wood you? I hope you get this letter. My daddy has not smiled much since he came up here from Bofort so I think he misses you too but he wood never say so. My Aunt Liz says that is the way men are so we have to do the saying. Your friend, Gillian Grace Merritt

  PS We are going to take the ferry across to diner. Have you ever been on the ferry?

  PS again Daddy showed me how to spell Beaufort and som words and I fixed it once but I sort of ran out of space to fix it the next time. Is that okay? I didnt let him reed it. This is a girls letter I said.

  Tadie felt the tears, but she couldn’t move to wipe them. Only when one dropped on the precious paper in front of her did she run her hands over her cheeks to stop the flow.

  She didn’t have Will’s cell phone number, and she really needed some way to reach them that didn’t require a post office box and days of waiting. Almost-eight was not old enough to have much patience, and this poor child had been waiting since the promise of soon they’d given in August. Christmas was only a week away. That didn’t leave much time.

  She examined the envelope. Jilly had mailed her letter on Tuesday. Will had called the shop before then, and today was already Saturday. How long did the caller ID keep numbers? It probably depended on how many calls had come in since then. The phone in the shop rarely rang. Maybe …

  She grabbed her coat and sprinted out the back door to the garage. It took only five minutes to drive downtown. She had the door open in two more—keys never worked when you were in a hurry. She bit her lip, reached for the phone, and retrieved the IDs from the last callers. Scrolling down, she looked for an out-of-town area code. Thank heavens they all had cell phones, so Isa’s personal calls came to hers. She saw where she and Hannah had called on their way home.

  There. She didn’t recognize that one, not the area code or the number.

  She pulled her cell phone out of her purse and dialed. And then she hung up.

  What would she say if Will answered? She wanted to yell at him, but that wouldn’t do any good. She could ask to speak to Jilly.

  That’s what she’d do. She’d just politely ask for his daughter.

  She dialed again and it went to voice mail. She hit End.

  But at least it had sounded like his voice. So now she had a number.

  She wrote it down for good measure and headed back home, wondering if she ought to leave a message. A message would give him time to recover—to give the phone to Jilly and let her call back.

  Then what would she say?

  Well, she’d cross that bridge when she came to it.

  She pulled back in her drive, parked in the garage, and was on her back steps when the apartment door opened and James stepped out. “That you, Miss Sara?”

  “Hey, James. I had to go check on something at the shop. How’re you all doing?”

  “Just fine. Elvie says come by tomorrow if you have the time.”

  “I do. You all going to church?”

  “You think she’d miss it if she wasn’t dead?”

  “Well, why don’t I come with you? I could use a little of that good gospel singing.”

  “You know that will make Elvie mighty happy.”

  “Okay. See you around ten. I’ll drive.”

  “No ma’am. I’m the driver here.”

  With a wave, she went back into her warm kitchen, turned off the porch light, and picked up her unfinished salad. Eb lay curled on the couch across from her, oblivious, but she didn’t mind. Occasionally, his tail swished along the chintz cover, or a paw lifted to rub his nose. She was glad for his company, remote as it was.

  Her mama had often sat in this big chair while Elvie fixed something for their dinner. Supervising, she’d called it, though she didn’t pay much attention to the preparation. Now Tadie swallowed the last few bites and remembered the then and the now while she put off the phone call.

  Finally, she punched in the numbers. When Will’s voice again asked that she leave a message, she cleared her throat. “This is Sara Longworth calling for Miss Gillian Grace Merritt. Could you please have her return my call at her earliest convenience?” She gave the number so he wouldn’t have any excuse, then she closed the phone. Jilly wrote as Gillian Grace. Wouldn’t she think it fun that Tadie answered with her real name?

  Of course, Will might think it snooty of her. And if he did? Too bad. That man had a lot to answer for already. What was one more issue between them?

  When Alex knocked on her door, Tadie had just loaded her plate in the dishwasher and did not want company. What she wanted was a hot bath, a good book, and perhaps a piano concerto. “Don’t you ever call first?” she asked, opening the door.

  “Why should I? You might tell me not to come.” He obviously imagined himself irresistible as he waltzed right in and checked the coffee carafe. Finding it empty, he took down a glass and filled it with water from the dispenser in her refrigerator.

  Tadie watched, fascinated. The man acted as if the years between their youth and the present hadn’t happened. “Please,” she said with as much sarcasm as she could muster, “make yourself at home.”

  He peered over his glass. “Thank you. I have,” he said, toasting her.

  She had to laugh. What else had she ever been able to do when he acted like that?

  “Tell me about your trip,” he said, turning the chair and throwing his leg over the seat so he faced its back. “Did you and Hannah have a great time?”

  “Didn’t she tell you?”

  “Sure. But I want to hear your version.”

  “We had a great time shopping and eating.”

  He looked her over. “I like the effect. You were too thin before.” He concentrated his gaze.

  She brought up h
er arms and crossed them. “I haven’t gained that much.”

  “Only where it counts. Your cheeks are fuller. Much sexier and healthier. It’s good.”

  Drat the man. Why did he do this, make her face heat and her heart pump uncomfortably? No, why did she let him do this to her?

  She stood and wiped her palms on her jeans. “Look, Alex, thanks for stopping by, but I’m tired.”

  “That was quick.”

  She held the door open. “I’ll see you later.”

  He bent toward her, but she backed away. The smirk back on his face, he asked, “What’s wrong with a brotherly kiss?”

  “You’re not my brother. Goodnight, Alex.”

  His shrug seemed intended to say it didn’t matter, but she noted the slight pout as he pushed open the screen door and before he whispered, “Goodnight, beautiful.”

  Standing with her back to the closed door, Tadie fanned her face. She hated that whispery voice, caressing her and calling her beautiful.

  Chapter Thirty-two

  Will listened to Tadie’s message twice. Such a formal greeting. Sara Longworth calling.

  But she obviously wasn’t going to blow Jilly off, and that was the most important thing. He’d caused enough trouble and wasn’t about to let Tadie add to it. Not if he could help it.

  Maybe he should phone her first. Talk to her. Apologize in person.

  She’d asked for Jilly. What had Jilly written in that letter? Probably stuff about missing Beaufort. He glanced toward the V-berth where his daughter lay tucked up in bed, talking to Tubby. Her prayers had been full of Christmas and of going to see Tadie, and she’d sounded happy, expectant. Maybe he should get her up to return the call.

  No, that wasn’t a good idea. She’d never get to sleep after that.

  Slipping on his down jacket, he climbed out into the cockpit. With all the city lights, he couldn’t see a single star. It made him suddenly long to be elsewhere, someplace warm, someplace where the horizon filled with sunsets and stars winked overhead. Where the noise came from birds and jumping fish instead of planes, trains, and automobiles.

  He blew into his hands to warm them. He should have brought out his gloves and a hat.

  Tadie might be getting ready for bed. He imagined her cleaning up the kitchen, wiping down the counters, and turning out the lights before heading up those wide stairs. She’d walk into her lovely room with no need to close the door. Maybe she’d turn on music. She seemed to like music, much as he did, even many of the same pieces.

  Of course, maybe she wasn’t alone. Maybe that dark-haired jerk, Alex, was there. The one who had the manners of a toad. The thought conjured an image of those smirking lips.

  But if the creep were Tadie’s lover, would she have left him to go traipsing off to New York? Not likely.

  Will pulled the phone from his pocket and flipped it open. All he had to do was scroll down on missed calls to find her number. He hit Send and waited.

  It seemed to ring forever. When she answered, her voice sounded lazy. He heard music—he’d known he would—playing in the background and then a splash. What? Was she taking a bath?

  Warmth snaked up his body. Her voice spoke again. “Hello?”

  She must not have looked at the caller ID before answering or she’d have known who was calling. Should he say anything or just hang up?

  “Tadie?” He thought his voice cracked. It certainly didn’t sound like him.

  Water sloshed. “Wi-ll?”

  He knew hers cracked. Good. “How are you?”

  “I’m ... why, I’m okay. How are you? How’s Jilly?”

  “You got her letter?”

  “And yours, but not until a couple of days ago.”

  “I heard you were in New York. Why?”

  She was quiet for a moment. Perhaps he shouldn’t have asked.

  “Why? You mean, why did I go?”

  “I’m sorry. It’s none of my business.”

  “No,” she said. “It’s not. You made sure it wasn’t.”

  “I know. Look, Tadie, I’m sorry about that. I was a jerk.”

  He heard the sound of air through pursed lips. Lots of air. “Yes. You were.”

  “I know you didn’t mean to upset Jilly. I can’t believe I behaved the way I did.”

  “I can’t either. You hurt me, Will.”

  “I know.”

  “I love Jilly.”

  “I know.”

  “Can you please quit saying ‘I know’?”

  Now he’d exasperated her. This was not going well. “I’m sorry.” He should never have called.

  After a long pause, she came back with, “Good. You should be.”

  He heard gurgling, like water going down a drain. She was definitely in her bath—this was not a good idea at all. He could picture it, and that was the last thing he wanted, to imagine Tadie naked and dripping.

  His eyes slammed shut and then opened abruptly. Think of something else, anything else. Look, someone was climbing on board that big Hatteras. A new neighbor?

  It didn’t work. The water continued to slurp. “Look, Tadie, should I call back at another time?”

  “Oh, no.” The no sounded like an embarrassed whisper.

  Quickly, he said, “It’s okay. I mean, I don’t want to bother you. I can call later when you’re ... when you’re not …”

  Suddenly, she started laughing. It began as small gasps, morphed into a giggle, then bellowed forth in a full-throated laugh. A smile spread across his face. He couldn’t help it. And then he was laughing too, caught up with her in the absurdity of it. Both of them embarrassed at an idea. He was hundreds of miles away and couldn’t see a thing. And yet …

  “Hold on,” he heard her say between guffaws. She must have put down the phone, because things in the background became decidedly muffled. Maybe she had set it on a towel or her clothes. He imagined her pulling on a robe. Maybe even a nightgown. Did she sleep in a gown or pajamas? She’d always been dressed when they stayed with her, always fully clothed before she left her room.

  “I’m back,” she said, calmer now though her voice still held a hint of humor.

  “Decent?”

  “Yes sir. Completely.”

  “What are you listening to?” he asked.

  “Brahms. Shall I turn it up?”

  “No, then I wouldn’t be able to hear you. I’d rather hear your voice.”

  “You would?”

  Boy, was he surprising himself tonight. “Yes.” He coughed slightly. “You know where I am right now?”

  “No, where?”

  “In Baltimore, sitting in the cockpit, trying vainly to find a single star. I don’t know whether there’s a haze or just too many lights.”

  “Probably the lights. Why are you in Baltimore?”

  “Right now, I haven’t a clue. It was someplace to go when we left the Eastern Shore. I didn’t have anywhere else I wanted to be.”

  “Nowhere?”

  “Not then. I was too angry. Too upset.”

  “At yourself?”

  “Yep.” He couldn’t believe he was having this conversation.

  “Tell me why, exactly.”

  “Because I hurt you. Because I messed up a great friendship. Because I did something that would hurt Jilly a lot if she knew about it, and I didn’t have a clue how to fix it.”

  “Why did you do it? It couldn’t have been because of what I said to Jilly. You’d already packed.”

  “You noticed.” He paused, trying to find the words. “I was scared. Terrified. I didn’t want you getting so close to Jilly. I was afraid she’d be hurt when we left, so I thought I should take her away quickly, before it got worse.”

  “That’s all? That terrified you?”

  “Maybe terrified is too strong a word.”

  “Maybe you’re not telling the whole truth.”

  “Look, the main thing is, Jilly misses you. I was wrong to keep you apart, and I know now it doesn’t have to be an either/or thing.”


  “I never thought it did.”

  “Well, look. I’m embarrassed to say this. I mean, it sounds ridiculous, but I was afraid you might be playing up to Jilly to get to me.”

  “Will!”

  “I know. But it’s happened before, lots of times.”

  “You think I’m so desperate for a man I’d use a little girl to get one? That I was after you?”

  “I’m sorry. I was wrong.”

  “Way wrong, buddy. Way wrong.” He heard an intake of breath. “Listen. I’m ready for bed now. You have Jilly call me sometime.”

  “Sure.”

  “Goodnight then.” She ended the call.

  Way to go, Merritt. Way to go.

  * * * * *

  Tadie turned out her light and lay staring at the dark room. The rat. The self-absorbed, self-centered creep.

  Fine. He admitted he’d been a fool. But why had he even thought it? Because she wasn’t young and beautiful? Did she give off some sort of scent that screamed needy?

  Horrid thought. She didn’t need any man. Much less a man obsessed with his dead wife, afraid to share his child, who attacked and ran when faced with things he didn’t understand or like.

  She pictured Alex standing there, calling her beautiful. If anyone, Alex ought to know beauty. He was a whole lot better looking than Will Merritt.

  Of course, Alex was married and was a snake.

  A rat and a snake. Weren’t there any nice, sane, normal, unattached men around?

  Maybe she ought to let Dave Fargo, the elementary school principal, take her out. He’d been hinting for ages. But he sported a crew-cut, had beefy arms and no chin—and there was no getting away from it—his jokes embarrassed her.

  No. What she needed was to spend more time in her studio.

  She did not need, nor did she want, a man.

  As she snuggled down under the covers, she remembered the timbre of Will’s voice when he’d called. When he’d said he wanted to hear her voice. Not the music. Her voice.

  Maybe Will Merritt didn’t know what was really bothering him.

  What if ...