Up Too Close

by Stein, Andrea K.

  “Not my business?” René raged.

  The entire crowd gasped.

  CeCe wouldn’t be silenced. “It’s my body and my future and I made it clear I’d go with you across the Atlantic and then we’d go different ways. You didn’t need to know.”

  René whirled on their audience. “Show of hands. Who thinks it is my business?”

  A few men, a few women, raised their hands tentatively.

  CeCe pushed him aside. “And who thinks it isn’t?”

  More women than men raised their hands, but Father Lusco’s hand shot up. CeCe had the majority.

  “So,” CeCe said forcefully, “now that you know, what are you going to do?”

  “I can’t do anything, right?” René said. “You and I are done, so it’s pretty clear, what I want or say doesn’t matter.”

  René felt his throat closing, but he’d be damned if he was going to show any sign of how much his heart hurt. It felt like the worst of lies, and she’d been mad at him after the football game? She didn’t have the right.

  Before he knew it, he was on the warpath, wanting to hurt CeCe. “But I will say this …how can you keep the child of such a monster? Whenever you hold your baby, you’ll know his father tried to kill you.”

  Another gasp from the crowd. Many of the women raised fists at him. Many of the men nodded in approval.

  CeCe lifted her chin, but tears shone in her eyes. “You say you love, but if I stayed with you, would you help me raise another man’s baby? After all, the baby is part me.”

  Their eyes locked and the audience leaned forward to hear the answer.

  René felt the pressure to say the strong, manly thing, to beat CeCe, to win. “I’d never raise the child of Jerome Carrothers. Any other man, maybe, but not him.”

  The tears CeCe had been fighting broke free and trailed down her cheeks.

  “And that is why I didn’t tell you.” She dropped the mic and stomped across the room to where Mika stood, grinning. This time she feinted with her left first, making him flinch, then slammed her right into his gut. When he doubled over, she plucked his keys from his pocket and fled the hall.

  Women shook their heads at René, while men came forward to congratulate him.

  But not all the men.

  The Zarco, standing with his arms folded, gave René such a withering look, his heart shrank to the size of a walnut in his chest. A blackened, rotted walnut.

  What had he done?

  He’d betrayed the woman he loved to win a completely meaningless public fight.

  Of all the useless, stupid things he could’ve done, he’d confirmed CeCe’s worst fear.

  Was it too late?

  He dashed after her, into the empty streets glowing from the mist and moisture of the night. A cold moon shone down and turned every surface silver.

  In the distance, he saw a Zarco truck pull away and disappear into the darkness.

  CeCe. Leaving him forever.

  Without thinking, he sprinted toward her. He’d run all the way to Zarco’s if he had to. He had to get to CeCe, to apologize, to fix things. He would love CeCe’s baby like he loved her, completely.

  Like Chienne, like the Tourbillon, nothing in the world was perfect and to wait to love something perfect would mean he’d live his life alone.

  No, he’d love them all with their cracks and with all their many problems.

  If only he could get to CeCe. If only she’d stop to listen to his apology. If only …

  He ran faster.

  * * *

  CeCe pulled into her father’s driveway and realized she’d stopped crying.

  In a way, she had never felt so calm. She and René were over. She felt so light now. It was like she’d been anchored to the lie, but now she was free.

  She touched her belly.

  “Hello, little man. I know you will be a boy, and I know I will love you. Yes, your father was a troubled man, but you won’t be. You will know what is precious in this world, and it won’t be your little boy ego. You will grow to a man.” She remembered how her father had stood back to let her fight her own battles. “If I am lucky, you will grow up to be like your grandfather. The Zarco.”

  She slammed the door to the truck and knew exactly what she needed to do.

  Her time in Horta was over. Time to continue her journey alone. Yes, it would be dangerous, but if there was ever a good season to be out on the Atlantic, it was now. And she’d spent her entire life sailing. She could do another few days.

  But first. She walked into her house and the dogs swamped her. She pushed through wet noses of the Dobermans to find Chienne wagging her tail. “Well, my friend,” she said. “I have to go, and I know, I should take you along, but in the end, you belong to René and his family. So I will let him take care of you. Will you take care of him?”

  Chienne whined as CeCe pulled her close. “He loves you. I saw his painting along the harbor. He was taking care of his family, and I may not be now, but you are definitely a part of his family. You and the Tourbillon.”

  A final slobbery dog kiss and CeCe pulled away.

  After gathering supplies, she left the dark house behind and hurried down the path.

  It seemed fitting she’d make her escape in her mother’s sailboat. It was a quick four days to Porto in Portugal. She’d get to her final destination in plenty of time for her next job. And then her life would be the same as usual. Her life could continue as if she’d never met René.

  His final, hateful words echoed through her, but she could ignore them. She knew her baby was fine, and if René didn’t want any part of them, he could go fuck himself.

  The sun brushed gold across the eastern sky as she sailed away from Horta. The pain and embarrassment of the night before had scoured away her doubts and fears.

  Never in her life, ever, had she felt so free as when the wind caught the sails of her little boat and sped her away toward the open ocean and Portugal.

  * * *

  René hated every time he forced his exhausted lungs to keep him walking. He’d forgotten how far the Zarco home was from the main town of Horta. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have run off. But it was too late.

  He checked his father’s watch. It was nearly dawn. Thinking of his father, René knew he had not only let CeCe down, but he had shamed his family.

  Finally, he rounded a bend and saw the house. He took off sprinting, his feet sore and his lungs raw. He sped past the truck and threw open the door. “CeCe!”

  The dogs all took up a howl, and nails clicked toward him followed by barks and dangerous growls. Chienne led the pack. She galloped out the door. René barely had time to close the door to avoid being torn to pieces by the Dobermans.

  Instead of biting him, Chienne barked, and something about it. Something. René had to laugh. He’d watched badly dubbed re-runs of Lassie growing up, and he could swear he was having a Jimmy-is-in-the-well moment.

  The old Portuguese water dog came forward and carefully took hold of the cuff of his pants, pulling at him, and trying to get him to follow her.

  The minute René took a step, Chienne bolted and ran into the dark, toward the ocean.

  Of course, towards CeCe’s boat.

  René limped after the dog, crashing through the brush, forcing his weary body onward.

  Every second seemed like an eternity. He had to fix things. He had to let CeCe know how he really felt and make it clear, the baby was innocent of the sins of his father. And yes, René knew, it would be a boy.

  He reached the edge of the cliff overlooking the secret cove. The sun’s light broke over the horizon, making him squint.

  A small boat, sails swollen with wind, pushed out into the Atlantic.

  CeCe was gone.

  He was too late.

  René fell to his knees. Chienne came close and licked his face, but it wasn’t a friendly gesture; it was to get his attention.

  Looking into the eyes of his grand-mere’s dog, he knew what he had to do.

&nbs
p; Chienne barked as if guessing his thoughts.

  “We’re going after her,” René whispered. “God help me, but I won’t lose her. And I know exactly who will want to help us. Even though she’s hurt, I know she’ll do everything she can to bring our little family back together.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Day Thirty-Four

  0500 Monday, May 16

  Horta Harbor Marina

  René stared up at Tourbillon and gripped a hammer, his knuckles white with tension. She still perched on the rollers used to pull her up into the marina yard.

  He’d researched the web for hours on how to keep a leaky old wooden boat afloat. There weren’t a lot of suggestions, and the few he’d found were scary. But he didn’t have a choice.

  He couldn’t get the memory out of his head—watching CeCe’s little boat sail away from the cove and into the morning light. Chienne’s barking had echoed his own desires to call to her.

  Now, he could barely concentrate for the wild imaginings overtaking him. A pregnant CeCe alone. Headed for Portugal - a 1,076-mile trip. Yes, he could buy a plane ticket to get to Porto but his grand-mere had made him promise he wouldn’t abandon the boat. Besides, René wanted to be on the ocean, ready to help CeCe if she needed him.

  He forced himself to quit thinking about all the possible disaster scenarios and proceeded with the most common-sense fix he’d found. The metal fastenings holding together the wooden planks had to be pounded down hard to pressure the seams together as tightly as possible.

  Of all the jobs he’d had over the years, shipbuilding was not one of them. He’d always relied on being handed clean, smooth-running yachts. And most of those ships had come with seasoned, professional crews.

  But this was different. The Tourbillon was his home. And CeCe and Chienne were his family.

  René fastened a tool-belt onto his waist and rolled a ladder to the old ship’s side. He decided to start pounding amidships and quickly realized he had a problem. Tightening the metal fittings was a two-person job. As soon as he pounded from below, inside the hull, the fittings loosened on the outside. He raced back and forth a few times before giving a primal scream and pitching his hammer to the ground.

  A light tap on his shoulder interrupted the torrent of French obscenities he spewed into the air.

  He whirled and there was Mika. René drew back his fist, fully intending to flatten the bastard for what he’d done. But then René’s anger-clouded vision cleared, and he realized her brother pushed a trolley with the most mondo-sized marine battery he’d ever seen.

  “You’re going to need this,” Mika said, parking the battery near Tourbillon. “That old ship is going to take you straight down to the graveyard of the Atlantic if you don’t keep pumping out the bilge with this.” Mika patted the cover of the huge battery.

  He ducked his head and mumbled, “Zarco made me promise to help.” He raised his head and stared directly into René’s eyes. “I’m sorry if I threw a wrench between you and CeCe, but you’re the one who screwed yourself when you said you didn’t want the kid.”

  “Saying those words was the biggest mistake of my life,” René said. “But I can’t take them back. I just have to do the next best thing. I have to catch up to her and make her see how much I love her …and the baby.”

  The rumble of wheels on the dock interrupted Mika and René’s conversation. Augie and Hélder pushed a huge cart loaded with stacks of plywood and several mysterious-looking cardboard cases. The Zarco followed.

  “What is all that?” René asked when they rolled to a noisy stop at Tourbillon’s side.

  “When a man’s life is sinking into the ocean, he needs his family,” Zarco said, pounding his chest. “We are your family now,” he added, and spread his arms to include his sons.

  René stared at CeCe’s clan, his mouth open. “Why?” he finally managed.

  “Because from now on, my daughter and my grandson are your responsibility.” Zarco moved to René’s side, crushing him in a bear hug.

  “If you want to help CeCe and the baby,” René said, “then come aboard and pitch in. We don’t have much time to get poor old Tourbillon seaworthy.”

  They set up an assembly line to load the repair materials aboard, with Augie handing up plywood and boxes to Mika mid-ladder while René took over on the deck and stowed the items with Zarco’s help.

  At one point, René bounced one of the boxes a few times, trying to guess what was inside. “What the hell’s in there?” he asked.

  “The one thing a sinking ship can’t be without,” Zarco assured him.

  “Which is?” René asked.

  “Duct tape,” CeCe’s father said. “Now show me where this ship leaks.”

  For the next few hours the work went quickly. Augie and Mika continued pounding and tightening the plank fasteners while Zarco and Hélder held plywood over areas of suspected leaks and René splayed multiple layers of duct tape, sealing around the edges.

  When they were finished, Zarco stood back and cocked his head, eyeing the temporary patches. “Those should slow down the leaks, and with the pumps and the spare battery, you might just make it to Porto.”

  “Might?” René said. “What about CeCe? What will happen to her if I can’t catch up to make sure she makes it to Porto?”

  “CeCe?” Zarco gave a huge belly laugh and slapped René hard on the back. “In high school, she placed in the top three of the ISAF Youth Sailing World Championship. Twice. In a 420 dinghy. She’s not going to come to harm on her mother’s twelve-meter sloop.”

  Great, René thought. CeCe had never revealed she was a world class sailor. But then she’d never told him about the baby either. He was in love with a woman of mystery. He’d never know where he stood. He didn’t care.

  He knew his own heart. And his heart screamed for him to get to CeCe as soon as possible or lose her forever.

  * * *

  After three days at sea, CeCe was tired, but in a satisfying way. She sat clipped in at the wheel of her mother’s sloop, Anda, and watched the changing patterns of spidery puffs of cumulous clouds speeding past.

  She’d trimmed her sails to a broad reach and estimated they wouldn’t need to be changed until at least a hundred miles before landfall, since Porto was northeast of Horta. That’s where the winds changed and became northerly.

  With the steady southwest winds she’d caught off Horta, the trip would take a little more than a week. She’d pace herself, sneaking a short nap here and there throughout the day so she wouldn’t have to leave the helm for huge chunks of time.

  Single-handing was a risky business, since keeping a 24-7 watch was vital. But she also knew her baby would need as much rest as she could manage along the way.

  Her poor little boy would have to grow up an independent soul without a father, but she swore she’d make it up to him. Who knew? Maybe she and her mother could turn the little guy into a sensitive man when he grew up.

  Then reality set in. Once Zarco knew he had a grandchild, no power on earth would keep him away. Sensitivity was not in her father’s vocabulary, but she did have to admit Father Lusco seemed to have accomplished the impossible. Undeniably, her father had mellowed.

  She had no idea what made her think the small life swimming in her womb was male. However, she dreaded the thought of raising a daughter. What in the hell could she teach her about men?

  So far, CeCe had been a complete failure at that part of her own education, despite growing up surrounded by the most macho men on the planet. The realization made her laugh out loud.

  She shuddered at the thought she’d been tempted to throw her lot in with René, another macho man. She’d stopped just in time to keep from falling headlong over the precipice.

  CeCe stood and stretched before retrieving a pair of binoculars from the storage lazarette. She spent a long time examining the horizon for any faint sign of sails, or a freighter. Then she turned on the autopilot, set her phone alarm for thirty minutes, and sank down onto t
he long stern cushion for a quick nap.

  * * *

  René knew he was hours behind CeCe. His only hope was the Tourbillon’s longer length and superior sail area might help him catch up to the woman he loved before she disappeared into the streets of Porto. And out of his life.

  Chienne leaned against his leg while he stood at the wheel. She looked to him with trusting eyes, yipping occasionally for a rub behind her ears or on her belly. Now that she’d accepted him as a suitable partner, she was insatiable.

  Or was she sucking up to him only because she knew he was her best chance of being reunited with the blonde goddess she’d adored for hundreds of miles at sea? Somehow, René tended to believe the latter. But every time René pet the dog, he would murmur, min älskling, the words Chienne loved to hear.

  With the mondo battery Zarco had donated, René had rigged all of the pumps and backups for continuous pumping out of the bilge through two hoses lashed over the toe-rail. The sound was deafening, but much preferable to the alternative.

  The Zarco men had made short work of getting Tourbillon back in the water. They’d sealed all the leaks they could find with a circus-like assortment of temporary fixes: Plywood, copious amounts of duct tape, wood plugs, a huge waterproof tarp slung beneath the bow like an oversized diaper, and everywhere interior dark blue cushions were interspersed with glowing orange life jackets. All were punched into any nook and cranny where leakage might occur and duct-tape wallpapered to the bulkheads.

  Even if the ship sank, René mused, there would be a trail of floating debris so huge, the coastal rescue mission would have no difficulty spotting where they went down.

  He kept a ditch bag handy near the life raft on the deck with his emergency beacon EPIRB and spare jugs of water. His marine radio tucked into his belt at the ready in case he had to call for help.

  As CeCe’s dad and brothers had finally helped him launch Tourbillon and push off from the dock, Zarco had shouted across the water, “Don’t come back without your family.” He gave René a gruff salute and wave before he and his sons linked arms and walked back up the dock.