Making Waves

by Lorna Seilstad

  “Nonsense. You’re a natural.”

  “Yeah, a natural at getting seasick, and it happens every time. You might as well face it – it’s not for me.”

  “You can’t quit now, Mark. You just learned all those knots.”

  “Mine look like lumps of coal. Yours were the ones that turned out.”

  “It takes some practice. Please, Mark, you can’t quit now.”

  “I can quit anytime I want.” He raked a hand through his rumpled hair. “Why don’t you go watch without me? Maybe I’ll come later.”

  Her mouth went dry. Don’t panic. Think this through. “Mark, it’s only polite to tell Mr. Andrews if you intend to discontinue lessons. He’s been a good teacher. At the end of today’s lesson, you can say something if you still want to.”

  “I guess you’re right. I like Mr. Andrews, just not his bouncy boats.”

  “Now, go get dressed so we can get going.”

  “What about breakfast?”

  “Let’s try eating after you’ve gone sailing. Maybe that will help the seasickness.”

  Mark’s lower lip jutted out. “No breakfast? I’m liking this sailing less and less.”

  “Okay, you go get dressed, and I’ll get you some biscuits from Alice.”

  “Remember, I like – ”

  “Honey and lots of butter. I know.”

  Ten minutes later, Mark downed his biscuits in three bites each and washed them down with a glass of fresh milk Isaiah had procured from one of the local farmers. Marguerite took the time to dab the honey from her lips and finish her tea, then the two of them mounted their bicycles and rode from camp.

  Marguerite turned an eye toward Mark. She didn’t blame him for wanting to avoid becoming sick again, but Trip had assured him it would pass with time. What if he told Trip he wanted to quit today? She’d simply have to make sure he didn’t have the chance. Maybe today would go well and he’d want to continue.

  Lord, You can do anything You want to me. Please just don’t let Mark get sick again. Shamed that she was thinking only of herself, Marguerite quickly added, If he does, I won’t make him keep taking the lessons.

  Dismounting quickly, they both laid their bicycles against the boat shop wall and hurried inside. No one was in the office or workshop, but the heavy doors in the back swung open toward the dock. Marguerite directed Mark outside and followed him. She paused when she caught sight of Trip on the deck of the Endeavor, his torso hard, wide, and masculine. Heat climbed her throat, and she touched her warm cheek.

  Mark jogged to the boat and Harry waved at him. “Whoa, Mark. Where’s the fire?”

  “We didn’t want to miss you all.”

  “And why might that be?”

  Before he could respond, Trip shouted to Harry for a line. The curly-haired man snagged a coiled rope from a hook, and Marguerite hurried down to the dock to join them.

  Harry handed Trip the line. “Look who I found.”

  “Good morning. You two are here early.”

  “Marguerite was hoping to watch you practice this morning.”

  “Was she now?” Trip straightened and grinned. He caught her gaze and her cheeks warmed even more. “I’ll tell you what. Since we’re one man short ’cause Max had a job to do, if you can tie these two lines in a fisherman’s knot, you can come out with us.”

  Marguerite scrambled on board after her brother and followed him to the ropes Trip had indicated. Mark tried to make the knot but ended with a tangled mess.

  Making Waves Marguerite wiped her sweaty palms on her divided skirt. “Here, let me show you.”

  “Don’t help him,” Trip said. “Make him do it.”

  She sighed. The fisherman’s knot was the easiest one. “Can I at least talk him through it?”

  Trip chuckled. “I suppose.”

  While Marguerite coached, Mark looped the rope around. After a few false starts, he said, “I think I got it.”

  Trip stepped behind Marguerite. His skin-tingling breath on the back of her neck made her pulse drum.

  “Then pull on it,” he said.

  In her head, she heard Trip’s directions from yesterday. If the knot “stops,” then you did it right.

  Mark pulled both lines, and the knot tightened and finally stopped.

  She released the breath she’d been holding and smiled.

  “Good job, Mark.” Trip slapped him solidly on the shoulder. He gave her a tilting grin. “You too, teacher. Now, go sit in the stern where you’ll be safe. Mark, you can sit on the port side. Your job will be to help us keep the ship from heeling. Remember how we use our weight as a counterbalance?”

  Her brother nodded and scampered into his assigned place. Marguerite hesitated for moment. If she asked, would Trip let her join Mark?

  As if he knew what she was thinking, Trip pointed to the stern and waited until she moved that direction.

  Mark grabbed hold of the safety line and a wave of fear rolled through her. Soon they’d be under way. How would his rebellious stomach fare? She’d almost forgotten how far the sailboats sometimes leaned, especially when racing. And today was so windy. If he got sick again, he would want to quit for sure.

  Maybe his seasickness had passed, and if he got into trouble she could help him out. With everyone getting so busy, she doubted anyone would notice if she moved from her spot.

  She looked up to see Trip standing before her. “I can trust you to stay here, right? I’m letting you on this boat now only because I believe you’ll do what I say.”

  Great. He trusts me. Lord, don’t You have any other believers You can make squirm this early in the morning?

  “Now, I’ve got to go check all the knots ’cause – ”

  She grinned. “Because a bad knot is worse than a bad wind.”

  He tapped the top of her straw hat. “Ah, you were paying attention.”

  Let’s just hope Mark was too.

  Within ten minutes, Lloyd released the bow from the dock. Once the ship drifted clear, he tossed the second line to the deck and jumped on.

  From her seat in the stern, Marguerite watched the four men move about with their tasks like a well-groomed team of horses as the Endeavor made sail. They ribbed one another and raucous laughter rent the air. But when the time came, they settled down to work. How differently Trip captained the Endeavor than his father had the Argo. High spirits and genuine respect for each other kept the top-notch crew performing each task with precision.

  Harry swung into a seat near Trip. “Your dad seemed a smidgen impressed with our race times yesterday.”

  Marguerite strained to hear Trip’s response over the flapping sails. He wiped a sheen of lake spray from his face. “Unfortunately, it’ll take more than one good time to impress him.”

  “Like winning the regatta?” Harry leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. “Don’t put so much pressure on yourself, Trip.”

  “He’s working himself to death. You heard the doctor. If he doesn’t let me take over soon, it’s going to kill him. Before he’ll let me do that, I have to prove myself.”

  Stunned by what Trip said, Marguerite thought about his father. Captain Andrews didn’t look well, but if a person never cracked a smile, what did they expect?

  “He’s a proud man, and it’s hard for him to trust anyone to do it like he would.” Harry leaned against the mast and rubbed his temples.

  Trip frowned. “Headache?”

  “It’s not what you think. I haven’t been drinking.”

  “I didn’t say anything.” Trip turned the tiller into the wind.

  “I didn’t go anywhere near Stone’s place. I swore to you I’m done with that, and I am.”

  Trip nodded. “I hope so. I just know there are a lot of temptations down there.”

  “There are a lot of temptations everywhere.” Harry adjusted the mainsail. “Trust doesn’t come easy to you either, my friend, but you’re going to have to start giving me the benefit of the doubt. It’s been a year, and I think I’ve earned it.�
��

  “You’re right,” Trip mumbled. “Sorry.”

  Trip turned and caught her eavesdropping. Marguerite averted her gaze, but it was too late. Anger flashed in his hazel eyes, and his lips turned downward. “Mark, go help Lloyd hoist the jib.”

  Even though the sailboat picked up speed once the second sail was unfurled, Trip told Harry to go ahead and put the spinnaker up as well. When it billowed under the headwind, the Endeavor flew across the water toward the buoy that marked their turning point.

  Trip announced he was about to tack, and Marguerite prepared to duck when the boom came across. The ship heeled so far she had to reach for the lifeline. She fixed her eyes on Mark, who had turned positively puce. If he got sick now, the results could be disastrous. He could go overboard. With the others busy, no one seemed to notice him.

  The ship evened a bit, and she made her move. Legs wobbling, she took a position beside him on the leeward side. Trip shouted. She grabbed the lifeline just before the ship dipped deeply to one side, setting the sailboat at a forty-five-degree angle to the water. Blood racing, she followed the others in holding the line.

  If this wasn’t flying, it had to be the next best thing.

  Mark’s face was now the color of the caps on the waves. She grabbed hold of his jacket with one hand. “Mark, hold on! Don’t think about it.”

  Trip eased the turn and the boat leaned less, but Mark spun and got sick over the side. Marguerite helped him back, her heart plummeting with the water’s dwindling swell.

  “Trip, you might make a sailor out of her, but I don’t know about the boy.” Harry secured the jib sheet after the next crisscross in the water.

  “I have to admit she seems more of a natural than he does.” Trip turned toward her and raised his voice. “But she needs to stay where I tell her.”

  Pride swelled inside Marguerite like rising dough in a warm oven. She quickly punched it back down, recalling that “pride goeth before a fall.”

  Besides, today would be her last day. She’d already made a promise to God. After this last experience, Mark would want to quit, and she’d vowed to support his decision.

  Her pulse thundered. Lord, do I really have to give this up? I’m not sure that I can. It just keeps getting better.

  She pulled herself to her feet. The wind threatened to yank off her hat, and she caught it with her hand as she made her way back toward her seat in the stern.

  “Tacking,” Trip said.

  Marguerite thought it odd that a week ago she wouldn’t have known what tacking was, and now it seemed like a term she’d known her whole life.

  “Boom coming across!”

  She glanced at Trip. Why was he shouting?

  Then she saw it. A gust of wind whipped the boom from Harry’s hand and it swung wildly for her.

  Her mind yelled, Duck!

  But her body didn’t listen.

  At the last second, she lunged out of the way. The boat dipped and her footing on the deck slipped. Arms flailing, she fought to keep from falling. She lost the battle when the boom tapped her head and sent her flying over the lifeline, directly into the depths of Lake Manawa.

  12

  “She can’t swim!”

  “What?” Fear wrenched Trip’s gut at Mark’s words. “But – ”

  “She can’t swim. She lied to you. She doesn’t know how to swim.”

  “We’re losing her!” Harry shouted. “She can’t reach the life preserver. It’s too far away.”

  Mark hung over the edge. “Stop the boat and get her.”

  “Sailboats can’t stop on a dime.” Harry hauled him back by the waistband of his britches.

  Trip shook off the shroud of panic threatening to consume him. His crew knew how to handle these emergencies. They’d practiced them dozens of times, and just as they’d trained, Harry refused to take his eyes off Marguerite since the moment the boom struck her. Lloyd tossed the cork life preserver overboard with a precise aim, only to have the waves carry it outward. As captain, Trip instinctively began a rescue turn.

  “Mel, take the tiller. Bring her about on Marguerite’s leeward side.”

  “She’s got the preserver now,” Harry said, “but she’s having trouble holding on.”

  “That hit on the head must have dazed her. Get ready to haul her out.” Trip’s blood raced. He kicked off his boots, stood on the bow just long enough to sight her, and then dove into the lake. Keeping his head above water, he kept her in his view, making determined strokes through the choppy water. Pulse hammering, he prayed God would let him reach her in time.

  She can’t swim. She lied to me.

  Still, guilt assaulted him. She was his responsibility and he’d failed. No novice could possibly have known that the boom could swing like that on a windy day if someone lost their hold on it.

  The life preserver slipped from her grip. Please, God, no!

  Muscles straining, he pushed harder. When he’d come close enough, he dove deep into the murky water. His eyes burned as he looked for her.

  A dark object appeared a few yards below him. Lungs aflame, he pushed harder. His fingers wrapped around a piece of fabric, and he held it fast as he made strong scissor kicks with his legs until he broke through the surface. He drew the unconscious woman up beside him.

  Fury and worry mixed in generous portions propelled Trip toward the sailboat. He ignored his burning muscles. Marguerite, breath shallow, awoke with a jerk, thrashing in his arms, and Trip nearly lost his grip on her. “Easy. I’ve got you.”

  She settled into him – he feared she was too weak to fight – and let him drag her along.

  She couldn’t swim.

  She’d lied.

  To him.

  He’d been completely duped by her. His one stipulation he’d told her directly. No one got on his boat who couldn’t swim. No one. Ever.

  “Trip?” she croaked.

  “Don’t try to talk.”

  “I’m sorry.”

  She fell silent again and grew even more lax in his arms.

  “Don’t go back to sleep!” he shouted, wasting precious air. “Stay with me.”

  They reached the Endeavor. “Get that line down here,” Trip yelled. “We’re going to have to hoist her up.”

  Lloyd and Harry sent down the rope tied with a harness.

  Trip caught it in his free hand. “Can you tread water so I can get this around you?”

  “I … I can’t swim.”

  “I know.”

  He drew the loop around both of them, and she put her arms through it.

  “Listen. I’m going to let go of you and slide out of the harness.”

  She stiffened against him.

  “You just make sure you have both arms through it. The guys will tighten it when I move. Whatever you do, don’t panic. Understand?”

  She nodded against his shoulder.

  He slid away, ready to catch her. As soon as Harry saw she had both arms in, he yanked the line so hard Trip knew it would leave welts. Marguerite, shivering in the swells, clung to it.

  He grabbed her chin and forced her to face him. His heart lurched at the sight of her eyes wild with fear. “Listen. I have to get on board to help hoist you up.”

  “You’re leaving me?”

  “Just for a minute. The boys won’t let go. You’re going to be fine.”

  Trip swam to the back and scrambled aboard. He sucked in great gulps of air but allowed himself only seconds to catch his breath before joining his mates.

  The Endeavor heeled so far now that Marguerite was only a yard beneath their reach.

  “Bring her up.” Trip stretched over the safety line.

  She winced when the lifting began but didn’t cry out. When they’d hoisted her to within reach, Trip snagged the collar of her jacket and hauled her aboard.

  “Trip, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it made a difference if – ”

  “Stop.” Trip lowered her onto a seat at the stern. “Harry, get this boat moving. Miss Westing
is going home.”

  Betrayal.

  Marguerite saw it in Trip’s eyes. Bitter, furious pain oozed from him like a festering wound. Worse than that, the deafening silence. He hadn’t spoken another word to her. After feeling the goose egg–sized lump the boom left, he’d silently gone back to the helm, taking his position at the tiller and sending Harry to sit with her.

  Harry eased into the seat beside her. “So, if you wanted to go for a swim, you should have said so.”

  Marguerite gave him a weak smile. Head throbbing, she pressed her hand to the back of her neck.

  “Feeling woozy?”

  She nodded. Immediately regretting the action, a moan escaped her lips. She glanced at Trip. Did she see concern, mixed in with all the other emotions, playing across his face?

  “It’ll pass,” Harry assured her. “I been knocked on the head by more than one boom, and look at me. I’m fine. If you want, you can put your head on my shoulder.”

  Trip glared at him. “No. We don’t want her going to sleep.”

  “Ah, Trip, she’s going to be fine.”

  “We’ll let a doctor decide that back on shore.”

  “I don’t – ”

  Harry squeezed her hand. “Don’t argue with him now. Trip and I have been friends for a long time, and that calm you’re seeing is only about half a hair from becoming one hurricane of a storm.”

  When they docked, Marguerite listened to Trip bark orders at his crew. Anger seethed from him like a volcano on the verge of exploding. If he only knew how much like his father he sounded, he’d be ashamed.

  She didn’t argue when Trip ordered Lloyd to fetch a doctor or when he told Harry to take her up to his room on the upper level of the boat shop. But when he followed them into the room and told Harry he needed to go find her mother, she could no longer hold her tongue.

  “No! You can’t do that.”

  Trip arched a dare-me eyebrow at her. “And why not, Miss Westing?”

  “Please, she thinks Mark and I are spending time with a friend today.”

  “So you lie to her too.”

  “No, that’s the truth.” She met his cold eyes. “I do consider you a friend.” A wave of dizziness made her grab for the footboard on the bed.