Making Waves

by Lorna Seilstad

  “Yes, miss.” He nodded, filling her coffee cup. “I’ll be back when he arrives.”

  After pouring a generous amount of cream and adding two sugars, Marguerite took a sip of the brew and glanced out over the water. The cloudless sky promised another hot day. Already the humid temperature had her blotting her upper lip. An ache formed in her chest when she thought about how much cooler it would be on the water. But there would be no sailing today.

  “I’m sorry I’m late.”

  She startled, jostling coffee from her cup. “Trip, you scared me!” She blotted the spill while he sat across from her. “I was beginning to think you weren’t coming. You did say 9:00, right?”

  “Unlike you, I prefer not to run when I’m late.” He flashed a dimpled grin. “Oh, wait, you don’t run – you step lively.”

  The corners of her mouth lifted. At least he didn’t appear to still be angry with her.

  “Besides, the guys and I had to make a practice run early this morning. With the regatta only two days away, we can’t miss even one.” He spoke casually, but a bitter edge seemed to find its way back into his voice.

  “Like yesterday’s?” Marguerite glared. “Trip, I’ve apologized. I can’t undo what I did, but I also don’t intend to be reminded of it day and night. So if you’ll kindly tell me what you found out, I’ll be on my way.”

  He touched her arm. “I’m the one who should apologize. That was uncalled for. Have you ordered?”

  She shook her head and he signaled the waiter. They placed their orders, and Trip skillfully skirted around the subject at hand. He questioned her about what things she had seen and done since her arrival at the lake. Reluctantly, Marguerite admitted that her experiences so far had mostly been limited to his boat shop and the Yacht Club beside it.

  Trip frowned. “But there are so many more approp – so many more things for a young lady to do.”

  “You were going to say ‘appropriate’ things.” She wrinkled her nose.

  “That doesn’t make them automatically distasteful.”

  “Would you like to sit in a sewing circle all morning?”

  He laughed. “You don’t fancy that kind of excitement?”

  The waiter arrived and deposited a plate of biscuits and gravy in front of each of them. Without a second thought, Trip offered grace for the food.

  Warmth ignited inside Marguerite like a kindled fire. In all the times she’d been with Roger, he’d never offered any kind of thanks to the Lord.

  “What are you thinking?” Trip asked between bites.

  She shook her head. “Nothing.”

  “Lying comes easy to you, doesn’t it?”

  Her temper flared a bit, but then she realized he was attempting to rile her. “I wasn’t completely lying. What I should have said was, I wasn’t thinking anything that I cared to share with you. Do you like that better?”

  “Not really.” He lifted his hazel eyes to hers. “I’d rather know what put that sweet smile on your face.”

  Her cheeks burned and she reached for her glass of water. “I know you’ve been avoiding the subject, but what did you find out about my father? Is he going there under duress?”

  “Let’s talk about it after breakfast.”

  “Don’t you dare coddle me, Trip Andrews.”

  He scowled. “I was simply hoping to put off that part of the conversation until you’d finished eating.”

  A chill coursed through her, and she gripped her fork, her knuckles whitening. “Just tell me.”

  “Marguerite, I can’t know anything for certain – ”

  “What did you find?”

  He drew in a long breath. “It looks like he’s gambling heavily and he has been for some time.”

  Tears pooled in her eyes, and she tried in vain to blink them away. “Are you certain?”

  Trip pushed back from the table. He pulled out his wallet and dropped a dollar near his plate. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”

  The touch of his hand on her elbow anchored her while her emotions churned like the lake on a stormy day. She let him propel her out of the restaurant, down the pavilion stairs, and toward a bench in one of the flower gardens.

  “Trip, how certain are you?” Her voice cracked. “Maybe he’s there to get someone else to leave. He’d do that for someone, you know. Try to protect them. Get them out of a bad situation.”

  He pinched the bridge of his nose. “I don’t think that’s the case. Some of the workers said they’ve seen him there every day for over a month.”

  “A month? He was gambling even before he brought us here?”

  “Apparently.” With the toe of his boot, Trip nudged at a weed wedged in a crack between the sidewalk’s bricks.

  “But why would he do this?” Marguerite fought to keep the moisture from gathering in her eyes. “We don’t need the money.”

  “It isn’t about money.”

  She stood and tugged her jacket into place. “Well, I need to go talk to him. I’ll straighten this out. He’ll listen to me. If he’s going down this wicked path, I’ll stop him. Would he be at that den of iniquity now?”

  “No, it’s too early. It isn’t even open.” Trip moved to face her. “And there are two things wrong with your plan, Marguerite. One, remember, that is no place for a lady, and two, you can’t stop him.”

  “Why not?” She marched off in the direction of the gambling den. “Are you changing your story now? Afraid for me to confront him because I’ll find out the truth?”

  Trip fell in step beside her. “You know that what I’m saying is true. Deep down inside, you know.”

  Roger’s words now mocked her. You don’t know him as well as you think you do. So Roger knew. That was what his fight with her father had been about. He said her father was a liability.

  “Doesn’t Daddy know how wrong this is?” She ignored the quiver in her voice.

  “He probably does, but he has to be the one to choose to stop it.”

  She whirled toward him. “I’ll go there and drag him out if I have to!”

  “Marguerite.” His eyes sparked with flecks of gold. He took a deep breath, and when he spoke again, his voice was as soft as a purr. “Have you listened to anything I’ve been saying? No one’s there now, and even if they were, I don’t want you going there. It isn’t safe, and no respectable woman would ever be seen near that place.”

  Hot, angry, traitorous tears broke through and trailed down her cheeks. “But I have to do something. This isn’t at all like him – he’s got to stop going there!”

  Trip fished a handkerchief from his pocket. “I know how you feel.”

  “You can’t know how I feel.”

  “You’re wrong.” His voice echoed of a story she had yet to hear.

  “How?”

  “I’ll tell you later. I promise.” They walked in silence for a few more minutes.

  Never had Marguerite felt so powerless. She knew a lot of men dabbled in games of chance and had heard of a few who gambled professionally. Once, she’d overheard some ladies at one of her mother’s teas talking about the poor Winchells losing their home and business because of Mr. Winchell’s fondness for dice. Her father would die if he lost everything.

  She stopped on the path and turned to Trip. “I have to do something.”

  “Then pray. It’s a lot safer, and it’ll do more good.” He placed his hand on her arm and squeezed it. “You need to get your mind off this. Hey, how about this afternoon I show you some of the sites that the lake has to offer?”

  “I’d rather go sailing.” She released a long sigh.

  “Not going to happen.” He chuckled. “What do you say? You can spend the morning praying, and then you and Mark can meet me at the fountain at 1:00.”

  “You just want to keep an eye on me.”

  “Someone has to.”

  “Trip, I shouldn’t. Not right now.”

  “Yes, you should. Come on. It’ll be fun.”

  “I guess I would like to see mor
e of the lake.”

  “Good. Bring your bathing costume.”

  “We’re going in the water?”

  “You said you wanted to see more of the lake, and what better way to do it than to get in it? Besides, that’s what one does at Lake Manawa – especially if they can’t sail.” He grinned, his dimples deepening. “Don’t worry. I won’t let you drown, and I’ve already had plenty of experience pulling you out of the water.”

  Another potential sailboat buyer came into the boat shop, and Trip and Deuce spent most of the morning talking to the man about the exact specifications for his order. After he agreed to a spring delivery date, he left the office and Trip joined his crewmates in the workshop.

  Lloyd looked up from sanding a mast. “So, how did your breakfast with Miss Westing go? It’s good to see you didn’t hold her little escapade against her.”

  “Don’t give him a hard time.” Harry cuffed Lloyd on the head. “It’s hard to stay angry at a girl as pretty as her.”

  Lloyd ran his hand along the wood. “But we have a regatta to win, and the last thing we need is for Trip to get distracted.”

  “Don’t worry. I am completely focused on the race. What’s more, I’m still mad at her.” Trip dipped his cotton cloth in a can of wax. “But she’s got a lot going on in her life. I’m just trying to help get her mind off some of it.”

  Ignoring the laughter between his friends, Trip ran his rag in circles along the outer hull of the most recently finished boat, buffing it to a shine. Who was he kidding? He knew his anger had ebbed since yesterday, but if he gave any thought to Marguerite’s lies, it still burned him. She could have gotten herself killed, and because of her they’d lost a half day of racing practice too.

  Deep inside, though, he admired her fierce determination and her unwavering family loyalty. That fact scared him almost as much as yesterday’s near disaster. She would clearly do anything for her father.

  The memory of her on the deck of the Argo that first day, soaking up the experience like a sponge, took shape in his mind like a painting on the wall. With her blue eyes alight and her skirt dancing in the breeze, he’d never seen anyone take to sailing more. Too bad she’d had to quit. If she’d told him the truth from the start, maybe things could have been different.

  And he didn’t mean with sailing.

  No. He wasn’t allowing himself to go there. Any feelings he had for her consisted of a misplaced sense of responsibility. She isn’t my problem. After today, I’m done looking after Marguerite. Spending time with her is simply too dangerous.

  “Hey, Trip, didn’t you say you were supposed to meet her at 1:00?” Mel called across the workshop. “You’d better hurry. You’ve only got thirty minutes to get there.”

  Ready in fifteen, he easily beat her to the park’s fountain. He spotted Mark and Marguerite and waved them over. Marguerite, face still etched with worry, carried a rubber swim bag in her hand. Mark already wore his bathing suit.

  “Is that your bathing costume?” Trip pointed to the bag.

  Marguerite nodded and her cheeks pinked.

  Mark spotted some friends and asked Trip if it would be okay if he swam with them.

  “Can you really swim?” Trip asked.

  The boy rolled his eyes. “Of course I can. You think I’m a girl?”

  Trip laughed. Since he couldn’t very well tell Mark that the more time he spent alone with his sister, the more he felt like a boy at his first dance, he sent the youth on his way. “Make sure you stay where Marguerite can find you.”

  As soon as Mark left, Trip swept his arm toward the bathhouse. “Well, don’t just stand there holding your costume. Go put it on.”

  “Now? I thought we could talk about you-know-who for a while since Mark’s gone. I saw him this morning and he acted like his old self.”

  He gave her a gentle shove toward the changing area. “Play first. Talk later.” After checking on Mark, he hurried to the men’s bathhouse to change into his own suit.

  Trip’s breath hitched as Marguerite emerged from the bathhouse in a sailor-collared bathing costume. She jogged across the sand toward him, her knee-length light blue skirt bouncing with each step. A red sash accentuated her narrow waist, and even though she wore black stockings, he had no trouble envisioning the shapely calves and ankles hidden beneath them.

  An appreciative smile played across his lips. If he wasn’t careful, he might forget all the reasons he had for not courting Miss Marguerite Westing.

  No, no, no. Don’t even go there. He steeled himself with a deep breath. If he could sail a schooner single-handedly, he certainly had the fortitude to spend one afternoon with Marguerite without being drawn in by her feminine wiles. After all, he was a disciplined sailor and a Christian. He simply needed to remind himself that the only reason he’d asked her to do this was to help get her mind off her father. One afternoon of fun.

  One.

  No strings. No commitments. No tomorrows.

  She stopped in front of him, cast an embarrassed glance at his Union-style suit and bare legs, and giggled. Her cheeks bloomed. “Sorry. I’ve never seen a man in a bathing suit before. I mean, I have – out there – but not someone I know. Not that I actually know you. I mean I do, but I don’t too.”

  He laughed. Why did the fact that he followed her ramblings scare the daylights out of him? “Ready?”

  She looked around. “Where’s Mark?”

  “Over there. We can spot him if need be.”

  “Oh.” She pressed a hand to her exposed neck. “What are we going to do?”

  “It depends. How’s your head?” With her hair tucked beneath her bathing cap, a purplish bruise on her temple was visible.

  “I feel perfectly fine.”

  “I thought you said you were done with lying.”

  “Okay, very dull ache. Sleep did wonders.”

  “If you’re up to it, I thought we’d go down the toboggan slide.”

  She whipped around to see the thirty-foot-high toboggan ramp standing about twenty yards off the Manhattan Beach shore. Using curved wood sleds, whooping bathers rolled down the slatted logs into a shallow area of the lake. With a bathhouse attached to it, the toboggan run was one of Lake Manawa’s crown jewels.

  “We’re going on that?” A broad grin spread across her face, and she bounced on her toes as if the excitement would carry her away. “Where do we get the toboggan?”

  He snagged her rubber knapsack and slung it over his shoulder along with his own before heading toward the water. “We rent them inside the bathhouse. They even sell refreshments there.”

  The waist-deep water made swimming unnecessary. Although Trip preferred the much larger toboggan slide out in the deeper water, this one would be better today. Even at the base of the slide, Marguerite would be able to stand up in the shallow water after their ride down.

  After wading through the tepid water out to the slide, he offered her his hand, then pulled her onto the narrow dock surrounding the bathhouse. Inside the building, they rented a toboggan and stashed their knapsacks in one of the bathhouse cubby holes. Trip led her down the dark, damp hallway until they joined a long line of swimmers bearing sleds at the base of the stairs. Only the daylight coming from the platform on top lit the stairwell.

  “Looks like we’ll have to wait our turn.” He noticed her worrying her lip. “What’s wrong? Are you scared? We don’t have to do this if you don’t want to.”

  “No. I want to.” She offered a halfhearted smile. “Truly.”

  The longer they stayed in line, however, the more shallow her breaths became. She grew quiet and pensive. Why was she suddenly so nervous? Where had the adventurous woman gone? She could travel a road in the dark but couldn’t go down a slide? Maybe heights scared her. He’d heard of that before.

  He placed his hand against the rough wall. “Hey, are you sure you’re okay? Why don’t I just take the sled back? We can do this another time.”

  “No! Please don’t. I’ll be fine as soon a
s we’re back outside again.” Gooseflesh pimpled her skin, and she rubbed her arms. “I’m just a bit cold.”

  The line moved forward. They’d be up next, but perhaps he should still insist they leave. “If you’re chilled …”

  She tugged at the ends of the tie on her sailor collar. The line moved forward. “Look! It’s our turn.” Without waiting for him, she bounded up the stairs. She paused at the top with her hands on her hips and a cocky expression on her face. “What’s taking you so long?”

  “Someone had to lug the toboggan up the stairs, Miss Sassy.” He grinned, glad to see a rose-tinted glow on her cheeks. He set the toboggan on the platform and directed her to get on first. “I’ll sit behind you, like on a sled. Then I’ll push us off.”

  Sitting with her knees raised, Marguerite hugged them tightly. Trip started to climb on behind her and paused. He’d gone on the toboggan slide before with Harry and Lloyd, but this was the first time with a lady. Why hadn’t he thought about how close they’d have to sit?

  “Trip?”

  “Just waiting for you to get settled.”

  “I am.”

  “Oh yeah, I guess you are.” He slid in behind her.

  She sat bolt upright when their bathing suits made contact.

  “Relax. It’s going to be fun.”

  “I’ll admit I’m a little scared. What if I can’t swim at the bottom?”

  He chuckled. “Just stand up. Remember, it’s shallow.”

  “Right.” She shuddered.

  “And don’t worry, I’ve got you.” Wrapping one hand around her waist, he drew her against him, her cold suit pressing against his own. Her breath caught beneath his grasp. With a mighty push, he sent the toboggan careening down the ramp.

  16

  Marguerite squealed at the stomach-lurching thrill of the descent down the toboggan slide. The trees on the shore blurred as they flew by. She and Trip collided with the water with a colossal splash, and instantly she sank under the water.

  She jumped up sputtering and laughing. “That was amazing!”

  Trip laughed, then dragged the toboggan up from the water and flipped his wet hair out of his face. “Better than sailing?”