Tattered Innocence

by Ann Lee Miller

  Endorsements

  2013 Favorite Fiction List

  Michelle Sutton's Edgy Inspirational Author Review Blog

  "My favorite kinds of books are the ones you can't put down. I got so hooked on the romance in Ann's story that I stayed up till 3:00 a.m. reading. Her characters were wonderful, and I had to know what happened next."

  Jill Williamson, author of the Blood of Kings series, Replication, The New Recruit, and Captives—Eastern Oregon

  “Rachel’s coming to grips with the fact that God’s forgiveness for her sins needs to be reflected in the way she lives her life–as someone forgiven and not condemned–profoundly affected me.”

  Danielle Lakes, freelance editor—Burnsville, Minnesota

  “Amazingly talented writer. The book is very well written and the characters come to life. You almost feel like you are sailing right along with them! My kids would love these books.”

  Ashley Wiles, juvenile detention officer—Daytona Beach, Florida

  About The Art of My Life: “I had a hard time picking which of Ann Lee Miller’s novels to make my Top Five Books of 2012. They are that good. Her stories are utterly engaging, and her characters so authentic that in reading them I felt like I was in my twenties all over again.”

  Helen Wakefield, Book Review Sisters—Australia

  Tattered Innocence

  By

  Ann Lee Miller

  This is a work of fiction. The events and characters described herein are imaginary and are not intended to refer to specific places or living persons. The author has represented and warranted full ownership and/or legal right to publish all the materials in this book.

  Tattered Innocence, All Rights Reserved, 2013

  Copyright © 2013 Ann Lee Miller

  Published by Flawed People Press

  Gilbert, Arizona

  Smashwords Edition

  Produced in the United States of America

  Cover Art by Robin Roberts at Red Red Design

  Ashland, Ohio

  Edited by Danielle Lakes

  chicken_in_a_pot@yahoo.com

  Burnsville, MN

  Proofread by Jackie Jessup

  New Smyrna Beach, Florida

  Thank you for downloading this ebook. It remains the copyrighted property of the owner and may not be reproduced, transmitted, or stored in whole or in part by any means, including graphic, electronic, or mechanical, without the express written consent of the publisher except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews. If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to download their own copy at Smashwords.com. Thank you for your support.

  To learn more about Ann’s books and what is coming next from this talented author visit AnnLeeMiller.com

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  New Smyrna Beach Series

  By Ann Lee Miller

  Book 1: Avra's God

  Book 2: Tattered Innocence

  Book 3: Kicking Eternity

  Book 4: The Art Of My Life

  For

  David and Sarah

  Who never found it necessary to learn life’s lessons the hard way.

  My characters could use your moral compass, strong wills, and several sessions of life coaching on your living room couch.

  Glossary of Sailing Terms

  Aft—a part of the boat at or near the rear

  Amidships—in or toward the center of the boat

  Ballast—weight stowed in the keel (bottom of the boat) to stabilize the boat upright

  Barnacles—small, hard-shelled marine animals that cling to any surface submerged in saltwater

  Bimini—tarp shading the cockpit

  Boom—horizontal beam attached to the mast and bottom edge of the mainsail

  Bow—the front of the boat

  Bowsprit—plank that extends beyond the bow to anchor rigging.

  Bulkhead—an upright partition separating rooms of a ship

  Buoy—floating stationary marker that indicates a channel or underwater hazard

  Can—a green buoy shaped like a cylinder

  Chart—nautical map

  Chock—a guide for an anchor, mooring or docking line, attached to the deck

  Cleat—a fitting used to secure ropes

  Coaming—backrest that encloses the cockpit, running between the main cabin and the after cabin

  Cockpit—area from which the boat is sailed containing the wheel and engine controls

  Companionway—a stair or ladder leading from inside a boat to the deck

  Dinghy—ship's small rowboat

  Dock box—all-weather storage box anchored to the dock, roughly the size of a cedar chest

  Drink—a slang reference to a body of water

  Dry Dock—location where boats are removed from water for repairs

  Fender—A soft plastic cylinder used to protect the boat from bumping against the dock

  Fiberglass—a cloth, when coupled with resin and hardener, that adds strength and protection for the hull from the elements

  Finger pier—narrow dock that extends along the side of a boat

  Forestay—wire support for the mast, running from the bowsprit to a point at the

  top of the mast

  Gangplank—a ramp leading from dock to boat to facilitate boarding

  Genoa—a large jib or staysail

  Gunwale—upper edge of a ship’s side

  Halyard—the rope that hauls up the sail

  Head—ship's bathroom

  Hatch—entryway into the cabin of a boat, usually a slab of wood or fiberglass that slides open and shut

  Helm—the wheel by which a ship is steered

  Hull—the body of the boat

  Jack Stands—props that keep a boat upright in dry dock

  Jib—the foremost sail of a ship

  Keel—a fin down the centerline of the bottom of the hull

  Ketch—A two-masted fore-and-aft-rigged sailing vessel with a mizzen mast stepped aft of a taller mainmast, but forward of the rudder

  Knot—a nautical unit of speed equaling l.l5 MPH

  Lifeline—a wire guardrail surrounding the deck to prevent people from falling overboard

  Luff—the flapping of untrimmed sails

  Mainmast—the taller mast positioned toward the front of the boat

  Mainsail—the largest sail attached to the mainmast

  Mast—the tall pole holding up the sails

  Mizzen Mast—The shorter of the masts, located toward the rear of the boat

  Nun—a red buoy shaped like a cone

  Piling—a long heavy beam driven into the ground underwater to support a dock

  Port—left, as a sailor faces forward; the opposite of starboard/right

  Porthole—window on a ship, usually round in shape

  Pram—a small rectangular dinghy

  Resin—a waterproofing substance, used to coat fiberglass cloth on the hull of a ship

  Salon—living area of the main cabin

  Scuppers—drains that enable water to run off the boat’s deck

  Seawall—wall erected along the shore to prevent erosion

  Sheet—the rope used to control the sail

  Shroud—wire cable that holds the mast up from both sides of the boat

  Slip—parking slot for a boat tied to a dock in a marina

  Sole—the floor of a cabin

  Sounding—measuring the depth of the water

  Starboard—right as a sailor faces forward, the opposite of port/left

  Staysail—A triangular sail hoisted on a stay/wire

  Stern—the rear of the boat

  Tacking—a zigzag course when sailing upwind

  Transom—the rear of the boat
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  Travel Lift—a mobile crane used for lifting boats out of the water for repairs

  Utility lines—water and electric lines running from dock to boat

  Wake—disturbed water left behind a moving boat

  Chapter 1

  Rachel hot-footed it across the glittering sand of the Dolphin View Restaurant lot, too-new sandals clenched in her hand. The denim of her skirt caught her knees and shortened her stride. She slowed her breath. Hyperventilating wouldn’t help her ace this interview, and crewing on The Smyrna Queen was her only way out.

  Worn work boots appeared on the dirty sand in front of her. “Rachel?”

  Her gaze panned upward over faded jeans, carpenter’s belt, paint-splattered T-shirt, and stopped at toffee eyes trained on her. Her breath hitched. She’d been prepared for an old-salt captain, not a Diet Coke commercial. Hot granules scorched the soles of her feet, and she burrowed one foot toward cooler sand and balanced the other on a big toe.

  She held out her hand, squinting at him. “Rachel Martin.” Her heart hammered like it had when she interviewed for her first and only job—high school athletic secretary—five years ago. But she only had to convince him she could sail, not manage details for nineteen sports.

  He glanced at her hand but didn’t take it. A muscle tensed in his jaw. “Jake Murray.”

  Palm fronds rustled in the May breeze.

  She dropped her hand, swallowing his slight, and burrowed deeper in the dirty sand with her toes. First mate was the only job listed in the Hometown News classifieds she qualified for, and she needed this job to untangle herself from Bret. Why had she thought doing the right thing would be easy?

  His pale curls moved in a puff of hot breeze as he frowned at her bare feet. “I’m starved. Let’s go inside.” A halo of chin stubble sparkled in the sun. He shoved his hands into his pockets and strode toward the restaurant, his shoulders hunched.

  The screen door banged behind him. A weather-beaten Best Fried Seafood on the Florida Atlantic Coast creaked on a sign overhead.

  Rachel marched toward the smells of grease and fish. She dropped her sandals on the Dolphin-shaped mat, slid gritty feet into them, and pushed through the fingerprint-smeared door.

  At three, the place was empty, except for a woman peeling shrimp in front of the fan, her support hose rolled into knee-highs. She tossed each shrimp into a huge stainless steel bowl, like morsels of wisdom she’d collected from living.

  Rachel fought the urge to drag a chair over and pour out her messed-up life.

  Jake moved from the counter, through the back door, to the outdoor seating without casting a glance in her direction.

  The counter guy scratched the grouper tattoo on his bicep and yelled, “One super-deluxe combo basket, two sweet teas.”

  At least he ordered something I like. And paid for it. She stepped onto the deck and spotted Jake facing the seawall where a beater fishing boat was moored.

  His fingers drummed on the picnic table, his eyes slits above an anchor-hard jaw.

  Rachel slid onto the wooden bench across from him.

  He coughed and glowered at her as if it were her fault she’d caught him brooding.

  Okay, so there were worse things than an emo boss.

  Jake pierced her with his eyes. “Sail?”

  Everything rode on this answer. She took a deep breath. “My dad taught me and my brother to sail. I was the one who caught the bug. I have a Sunfish stowed on a friend’s lawn on the Indian River. Sail every chance I get. I’ve piloted a Catalina 27 a couple of times.” If he was looking for big boat experience, she was screwed. “When you learn on a small boat, you have to grasp wind dynamics to stay out of the drink. It makes you a better sailor.” Her voice went up at the end as if she doubted her own theory.

  The grouper-tattooed guy plunked a heaping basket of seafood in the middle of the table with one hand and set down Styrofoam cups with the other. He wiped thick fingers on his starched apron. “Enjoy.”

  The aroma made her mouth water.

  Jake bit into a piece of fish and cast his eyes toward the awning shading them. A moan of pleasure escaped as he chewed.

  She twisted curls up off her neck to let the breeze off the Intracoastal dry the sweat as she popped a scallop into her mouth. She sat back to savor the Dolphin’s magic and Jake’s improved mood.

  Jake sprinkled the basket, and salt danced on the grease paper. “Why do you want to crew on The Smyrna Queen?”

  Rachel gazed at tiny whitecaps the wind kicked up on the water. “I want to taste the salt spray on a long tack. I want to live the ocean’s moods—summer squalls, flat as glass without a breath of wind, even the big blows. I want water between me and—New Smyrna Beach.” She wished she could bite back the words. Jake didn’t need to know she was running.

  Jake cocked a brow.

  Don’t ask.

  He shrugged and leaned his elbows on the rough wood of the table. “The Smyrna Queen is a sixty-eight-foot ketch. She was built thirty-one years ago, according to her plumbing fittings.”

  Rachel stared at the pale hair curling on Jake’s forearms, willing him not to notice how desperate she was. “How big is your crew?”

  Jake flattened his lips. “Two. Captain, first mate.”

  “Two people can sail a sixty-eight-foot boat?”

  “I billed the cruises as ‘hands-on,’ so we’ll get help from the guests. Besides, I rigged her to be sailed by two people when necessary.” Jake wiped his mouth and tossed his napkin onto the table. “The Queen’s booked through the end of the year, mostly five-day vacation cruises starting two weeks from today.”

  “You filled your cruises in this sleepy little town? Amazing.”

  “I majored in marketing.”

  “I majored in boredom.” The defense mechanism to hide her dyslexia and lack of college kicked in before she realized she’d spoken, and she cringed.

  Jake’s fingers drummed again on the planks of the table. “Does crewing bore you?”

  “I haven’t been this wowed since an accordion player marched up the center aisle at church.” Had she come down with Tourette’s? If she didn’t put a lid on her sarcasm, she’d sabotage the interview.

  Jake’s eyes iced over. “Another church girl.”

  She lifted one shoulder. Her stomach quivered with panic. After all her lip, would she lose the job because she’d grown up in church? That was almost laughable. If anyone was a poster-girl for bad choices, she was.

  Jake stared at her as if she were a rotting fantailed mullet.

  She squirmed on her bench, feeling like he could see inside her. See that she’d let her innocence go too easily. That she’d never recover the five-and-a-half-year-old who pressed her gooey, newborn brother in chubby arms against her Cinderella T-shirt.

  He blew out a breath. “Fifteen wannabes bailed over the phone when they heard cooking was part of the job. What about you?”

  “I have a shoe box full of yellow ribbons from 4-H cooking competitions.”

  “Yellow?”

  Take it or leave it. She was trying to shove her way out of something she shouldn’t have flirted with in the first place. But if Jake wouldn’t be shoved….

  He shifted on his bench. His eyes darted around the deck and the tiki bar. The door banged behind a man with a white ponytail and an earring hooked through the brown leather of his ear.

  “All the bunks are rented out except for my cabin.”

  Rachel’s gaze snapped to Jake’s. “So, if I want this job—” Across the deck two teens she recognized from the high school plunked down. Rachel lowered her voice to a whisper. “I have to sleep with you? I thought I’d heard all the lines from B―”

  “I’m talking about a job—nothing more.” His eyes darkened to granite. His look said she’d sprouted cystic acne and two hundred pounds. “You’d have to share a small cabin with me, but you would have your own sleeping area and as much privacy as possible. Do you want the job or not?”

  Well, o
kay, then, as long as we understand each other. But he’d made her mad. “I told you on the phone I wanted the job.” She forced the hard edge out of her voice. “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  He let out his breath. “If I hire you, you’ll need to plan the week’s menu, grocery shop―”

  “I think I know all the steps in cooking.” What was with her passive-aggressive mouth? This job would give her a clean start. But part of her clawed for Bret.

  He eyed her. “I’ll let you know about the job.” He stood, tossed bills on the table for the tip, and walked away.

  She watched his back lumber around the corner of the building, a wrestler leaving the mat. All the air released from her lungs. Who had pinned whom?

  Chapter 2

  Rigging thrummed against each mast in the steady wind. Rachel glanced over her shoulder and down the pier. Did the sun catch on the bumper of a moving car? Her hand went to the silver heart on a chain around her neck. She shaded her eyes and squinted through the bobbing boats out to the blacktop.

  The chain dug into the flesh on the back of her neck.

  No. Bret probably didn’t even know she’d quit at the high school.Why would he come after her? She swallowed the disappointment stuck in her throat and continued walking out the graying boards of the dock.

  Beyond, clouds raced across the Intracoastal.

  She scanned the boats lining the pier for the Smyrna Queen. There. Her eyes stopped at bold black letters on a freshly painted aqua hull four slips ahead. She took a step closer. Then two. Was she really going to do this? Her duffel’s cord knifed into her shoulder, and she shifted the bag. If only it were as easy to dislodge the still-raw sin inside her.