Nantucket Rose

by CF Frizzell

  “So I am free,” she sighed aloud, watching the last vehicle leave the Eagle. She reset her cap and focused on the line of parked cars waiting to board. “Off and on. Back and forth.” A family in a Ford Explorer crept aboard, three children waving as they passed. Ellis waved in return. “I wanted carefree and that’s what I got.”

  I like the job, love the home, but, Jesus, really? Can I spend any more time wallowing?

  Raucous laughter drew her attention to the gangway, and she watched the wedding party bumble its way to ground level. Wheeled luggage toppled, one brunette did also, and created a massive, comedic logjam. Wes and two other seamen sorted out the mess and ushered the women along.

  Ali spotted her alongside the crawling line of traffic, and the entire party chorused Ellis’s full name, laughing its way across the wharf, ready to invade downtown.

  “Have fun, ladies,” she said, mostly to herself, and wondered how long it would take them all to reach Maggie’s B&B. They’ve probably booked every room. Look out, Maggie, wherever you are.

  “Those were the days,” a woman said as she edged her Lexus past Ellis. “Oh, to be a pretty girl in my twenties again, so carefree.”

  Ellis offered a chuckle but realized she couldn’t automatically agree.

  And her spirit slid into the trough of introspection she’d been in since parting ways with Maggie. Since she’d convinced herself that nothing mattered more than her privacy, that never again would she permit outside influence in her world, the life she’d salvaged from scrap.

  Back on the bridge as the Eagle glided away from the dock, she scanned the bustling open deck below and the passengers preparing to toss pennies toward the lighthouse. How many passengers would return, she had no idea, but figured most would someday. For now, though, they were off to God knew where, homes, jobs, loved ones eagerly awaiting their arrival, and she remembered such anticipation with a flash of melancholy.

  Back when their runs had them away from home for a day or two, in good weather or bad, day or night, no greeters ever awaited the Rose’s arrival. But she did remember times as a child when, with tiny hand secure within her mother’s, they watched her father and grandfather cruise into view. Though slightly less vivid now, the memories provided a lifeline to home that Ellis cherished above all else. She’d clung to that lifeline over the years, not only to survive the profound losses in her life, but to construct—and keep—what she had left. She’d spent the past several days examining that rationale, wondering if she was still clinging, if she was defending her life or avoiding it.

  How carefree am I, really, when I’m spending more and more time analyzing it? When’s the last time I had purpose, for me or anyone else? God forbid, some woman takes a liking to this façade. When did single-minded turn into pathetic and lazy? Who am I fooling, carefree at middle age?

  Chapter Thirteen

  If Ellis had been able to fall asleep promptly, the beautiful day that beckoned beyond her porthole would have had her up hours ago. Sunday was her free day and a list of chores awaited. But tossing and turning, thinking, questioning herself for most of the night had her tired and grumpy. She stared at the teak ceiling, wondering what Maggie was doing, if that wild wedding crowd had driven her crazy yet.

  She threw off the sheet. “Got my own business to take care of.”

  By midmorning, Ellis had managed to clean the head and shower, wash dishes and sweep the galley, swab the entire exterior deck, and do the week’s laundry at the Laundromat—all without stopping, so thoughts of Maggie wouldn’t leave her staring vacantly off into space. Finally, she arrived at the bilge pump repair on her list, and knowing it posed no immediate crisis, she allowed herself a relaxing moment in the sun. She hadn’t meant to doze off.

  “Ellis! Hey, wake up!” Ken Whitley pounded on the Rose’s hull and jolted Ellis from her deck chair. “Tug” rarely raised his voice except when passengers needed to hear him over the sound of his engines, so Ellis woke up instantly on edge.

  “Hell, Tug. Something on fire?” She hopped over the gunwale to the dock, watching him fuss with his black and white captain’s cap. He ran a hand over his bald head and put the cap back on.

  “That’ll probably be next, the way the morning’s going. Listen, I’ve got a problem and need your help. Like now.”

  Ellis rubbed her face hard to wake up. I should have gone to work. “What is it?”

  Tug pointed at her hull. “I’ve got a fuel leak. Don’t know how long it’s been, but—”

  “Jesus, Tug.” She was awake now. A fuel leak ranked as the most dangerous situation a boater could have, next to sinking at sea, and with his seventy-foot Roustabout at Straight Wharf, surrounded by tourists, pleasure craft, and artisan shops, he had a genuine nightmare on his hands. “Let me get my tools.” She vaulted back aboard the Rose. “Does Sam know?” She stopped for his answer before going inside.

  Tug glanced out at the harbor and up at the cloudless sky. “Well, I thought I’d try—”

  There was no excuse for circumventing safety protocol, especially not for a veteran mariner like Tug. Hands on her hips, Ellis glared at him. “Call him now, Tug. Shit. You know all the crap the harbormaster has to go through.”

  “I know, but those damn regulations will cost me a fortune.”

  Ellis stormed back to the rail. “Your leak isn’t contained?”

  Tug scowled up at her, defensive, embarrassed to admit the magnitude of his problem. “You fucking sound just like your old man. I came asking for help, not to be judged. Now, you coming or what?”

  Ellis swore under her breath all the way down for her toolbox and back up and onto the dock. She couldn’t imagine what she’d find below the Roustabout’s deck. And she knew she didn’t have replacement hoses or gaskets for the quick fix Tug probably expected.

  “If it’s anything but a drip, Tug, it’s got to be called in. And you know what Sam’s going to do.” Tug mumbled an obscenity as they hurried along the waterfront. “He has no choice, Tug. You can’t blame him. Coast Guard’s got to be notified.”

  “Look, I’m crossing my fingers it’ll be something small, like when you fixed Whitehall’s last summer.”

  “That wasn’t small,” she corrected him, and they hustled up the Roustabout gangway. “He was going to replace the fuel pump anyway and had the new one right there. He just didn’t know the process.” Tug lifted the hatch and they climbed down to the engine.

  “Well, I’ve got a tour scheduled for two o’clock. I really need this buttoned up in a hurry.”

  “Jesus, Tug. Smells like a refinery down here.” She set her tools down gently and looked around. “There’s diesel on the deck over here and could be…” She lifted a hose, and her hand came away covered in fuel. “God damn. You better start making calls.”

  “Maybe it’s just a clamp,” he said, hovering at her shoulder. “Was a time I could get down in there and do stuff like this, but the ol’ body won’t cooperate anymore.”

  Ellis didn’t want to hear him minimize this situation, didn’t want to hear the usual litany of ailments. Somehow, Tug Whitley managed a very lucrative touring operation that could well afford a skilled mechanic, but he never parted with a cent. The man hadn’t changed a bit since her father helped his childhood friend start the business, but how—why—her father put up with Tug’s whining had always been a puzzle.

  “It’s almost twelve thirty, so you better reschedule that tour, at least for today.”

  “Can’t. Don’t have an opening any other day. I’ve got a ton of money riding on this. Some wedding group staying at the Tuck’r.”

  Maggie, no. Damn sightseeing cruise. On the Roustabout? Not the height of luxury, granted, but ordinarily a reliable option—until now. The idea of Maggie and her happy-go-lucky guests cruising around the island for hours over a hemorrhaging fuel pump didn’t sit well at all.

  “I’ll do what I can, Tug, but I can’t promise.”

  He sighed heavily and shuffled around as he watched E
llis troubleshoot the leak. She was tempted to call Maggie with a heads-up. It’s really not my place, but she’d best find another boat.

  And that thought led to the obvious.

  Too proud? Too selfish? Too pigheaded to have said yes when she asked? Now look. It’s not her fault she’s stuck with Tug and his mess. If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine.

  She sat back on her heels and wiped her brow with her forearm.

  Diesel fuel dripped steadily into the bilge, and she knew a colorful sheen had to be growing in the water along the hull. She yelled at Tug to shut off his pumps. She cleaned her hands on a rag from her toolbox and wrote a list of replacement parts he needed, noting he’d returned to messing with his cap.

  “Changing out this old pump is long overdue, Tug. You’ve pushed it too far.”

  He shook the slip of paper she’d given him. “They’re at lunch at the Boatworks now. If they even have one, I won’t get it for another hour. How long will it take to change it out?”

  Ellis bristled at his assumption she’d do the job. “Not all afternoon, but face facts, Tug. You’ve got to clean this mess up. And cancel that damn tour.” She couldn’t help but feel disappointed for Maggie. She closed her toolbox and went topside. Tug practically climbed up her heels.

  “There really is a quick fix here, Ellis. You know that, right? I mean I can just blow this shit out, once I clear the harbor.”

  She sent him a hard look and peered over the side. “Notify Sam, will you?”

  “Look,” he said, sounding more desperate by the minute, and pointed down at the shimmering rainbow of fuel on the water. “It’s not that bad. And it won’t grow any bigger with the bilge pumps off.”

  “Why didn’t you shut them off when you first noticed it? And if you noticed it, others probably have already. You have to tell Sam.”

  The longer she stayed, repeating herself, the madder she became. He had trouble on his hands, and she really was done thinking about it. What kept returning to mind, however, was Maggie’s dilemma, the one she didn’t even know she had yet…and what would solve the problem.

  Moments later, standing on the Rose’s stern deck, Ellis wondered if the hot sun or lack of sleep or both had contributed to her lapse in common sense. The phone ringing in her ear just might be warning her, allowing an extra second or two to reconsider. But her head didn’t seem to be a player in this, making an offer she’d decided against some time ago. She’d done all the thinking she could pack into the six-minute walk back to Commercial Wharf, but the decision boiled down to feeling she was doing the right thing.

  “Ellis? Hi.”

  The soft, welcoming familiarity of Maggie’s voice sent a finger of warmth tripping down her chest. And realizing that Maggie had programmed her name into the phone, Ellis had to turn away briefly to clear her throat, take a breath. Concentrate.

  “Hi. Hope I’m not bothering you.”

  “No bother at all. This is a nice surprise. How are you?”

  “Oh. I’m well, thanks. Look, there’s this…ah…See, it so happens it’s a good thing today’s my day off.” Jesus, get to the point. That sounded like you’re about to ask her out.

  “Well, you picked a beautiful day. Are you going fishing? I thought the fish didn’t bite on hot days like this.”

  “Fishing? No. I think I’m going sightseeing—with you.”

  “What? Actually, I am hosting a cruise this afternoon. You heard? I’d love to have you join us, of course. I’m sure Ken won’t mind.”

  “Forgive me for being cryptic, but you will be joining me.” She pictured Maggie’s confusion, the crinkling of her nose, the way she bit her bottom lip. “I’m calling for several reasons, Maggie, and considering the hour, the most important ones are that Tug Whitley’s boat is out of commission as of right now, and I’m offering the Rose to help you out of this jam.”

  “You’re not serious. Are you serious?”

  Damn, she’s cute when she’s flustered.

  “Completely serious. I’ll fill you in on the tedious details of Tug’s situation if you want, but if I’m going to be cruising around Nantucket this afternoon, you probably should fill me in on your details.”

  “I-I’m speechless. Yes, I want details…but later, sure. Um. Wow. I’m due at Straight Wharf in twenty minutes. I was about to load the car with drinks and food. My guests know they’re expected to board by two, so they’ll be along—to the Rose instead? Really?”

  “I’ll be at Straight Wharf, once I gas up. You’ll just have to keep an eye out for your people.”

  “Ellis, I don’t know what to say. You’re a lifesaver. I hope you know that.”

  “Hey, I can’t say I’m willing to do it for a living, mind you, but…I couldn’t drop the ball here, if you know what I mean.”

  “I think I understand.”

  “Give me a half hour?”

  “Anything you want.”

  *****

  Laura knocked and called from outside Maggie’s bedroom door.

  “Everything’s in the car. Just brought out the shrimp cocktail, but the ice is already melting. You have ten minutes to get there.”

  “Thanks. Hey. Come in and tell me what you think.”

  Laura peeked in and Maggie held a white tank top above plaid navy blue shorts. “Too twenty-something for forty-something me?”

  Laura laughed. “Not at all. Boy, one phone call and you’re a disaster. She has an interesting effect on you.”

  “She’s just thrown my whole day—the biggest booking of our summer—into turmoil. I can barely think straight.”

  “Uh-huh. Think she’s willing to do this more often?”

  Maggie dug a pair of white Nikes from the bottom of the closet. “I doubt it. Something apparently happened to Ken’s boat, that’s all.”

  “Well, maybe this is just the push she needed.”

  Maggie took the door from Laura, implying Laura should leave. “I’m not getting my hopes up again.”

  “Well, I think it’s promising.” Laura backed out, shutting the door.

  Maggie dressed, explained to Retta that she couldn’t come, and drove her carload of food and drink bins through the maze of tourists, shoppers, and boaters on Straight Wharf before giving much thought to the significance of it all.

  Whatever made you agree to this, Ellis, must have been big. I can’t imagine you’ve had some epiphany, that somebody turned your head around. Damn. Maybe today’s adventure will persuade you to reconsider the bigger picture after all.

  She parked at the end of Straight Wharf and piled her bins onto the small utility cart she’d remembered to bring at the last minute. At the beginning of the long sliver of pier beyond the wharf, she stopped and pulled the brim of her Nantucket cap down farther to look out to the very end. As promised, the Rose sat waiting, sparkling against the harbor’s darker water. She took serious note of her amazing good fortune. Ellis appeared on the back deck, jumped onto the dock, and began jogging her way.

  You’re one difficult woman to figure out, Ellis Chilton, but so help me, I really like what little I know.

  Ellis slowed as they met on the boardwalk and ran a hand back through her hair. Maggie appreciated the windblown look, the vital, energized air about her that made every task seem routine, including this one. Ellis wore light gray cargo shorts—several sagging pockets said she needed to—and did sweet justice to her corded shoulders and biceps by wearing a Red Sox tank. In Docksiders and Ray-Bans, she was the epitome of an adventurous New England boater.

  “Hi, again. No Retta?”

  “I just couldn’t. I have enough on my mind today.”

  “I suppose, but she’s welcome any time.” She reached for the cart. “I’ll take this aboard.” Her hand slid over the handle and Maggie’s fingers.

  They looked down at their hands and turned to each other.

  Maggie searched in vain through Ellis’s black lenses. You certainly sent me reeling the other night, seriously bummed me out and cost me a few ni
ghts’ sleep, but damn if you haven’t come to my rescue today.

  Frustrated by her own reflection, Maggie let the handle drop and removed Ellis’s glasses. “Before we go one step farther…” She slid her palm along Ellis’s smooth cheek, drew her down to within a breath. “Thank you.” She kissed her lightly and returned the sunglasses.

  Ellis raised an eyebrow. “You don’t thank everyone this way, I hope.”

  “Only handsome, kindhearted women who live on the ocean.”

  “Jesus.” Ellis glanced at her feet. “I suppose the only thing to say is ‘you’re welcome.’”

  Maggie picked up the cart handle. “Now, where were we?”

  “Right here.” Ellis took it from her. “Did you park?”

  “No. I have to go back for that, but I should wait on the wharf to round up my troops.”

  “I’ll meet you aboard, then.”

  “Aye, Captain.”

  Nodding, Ellis smirked as she slid on her glasses and turned away with the cart. Maggie returned to her car, wondering where kisses like that could lead.

  The daydream of making love on an isolated piece of Madaket Beach had all the elements of an afternoon’s preoccupation, and Maggie had no idea how long she’d been in another world, with Ellis, both of them naked, when the bridal party’s commotion doused her with reality. The group assembled around her as Maggie gathered her composure.

  “We found you,” Ali said. “Only ten minutes late.”

  “That’s fine,” Maggie said and led them along the extended pier.

  “We’re going all the way out to the end?” Ali asked.

  “No, twerp,” a friend quipped. “We’re throwing you off in the middle of the harbor.”

  Jen, one of the brides, moved up to walk beside Maggie. “Ooh! So that’s it? The Nantucket Rose?” Maggie nodded with an unexpected flutter of pride as Jen babbled on. “I just love the name. It’s appropriate for a Tuck’r Inn outing, don’t you think? With all your gorgeous roses around the door?”