Merciless Charity: A Charity Styles Novel (Caribbean Thriller Series Book 1) by Wayne Stinnett Page B
Authors: Wayne Stinnett
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don’t like crowds.”
“Same with us,” Savannah said. “It’s just me and my daughter, Flo. She’s over on the beach, looking for clams.”
Savannah was older than Charity first thought, by probably a decade. Tall and slim, with broad shoulders and a deep tan, she had naturally blond hair streaked by years of sun and water. Dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a lightweight white long-sleeved top, she was taller than Charity by a few inches, even in bare feet.
“Care to come aboard and get out of the sun?” Savannah asked. “I just put some beer in the cooler up on the fly bridge.”
Not wanting to seem uncordial, Charity accepted, and the two women stepped over the gunwale and climbed a short ladder to the covered sundeck. Besides the captain’s chair, there was ample seating and reclining room for several people.
Savannah handed Charity a cold beer from the cooler, then sat down on the full recliner aft the captain’s chair, stretching her legs out and nodding toward the recliner opposite. “Have a seat, Gabby. I like to sit up here, where I can see better. Last night’s sunset was spoiled by a storm out over the Glades. Tonight should be better.”
Charity sat down and relaxed a little. “Where are you from?” she asked casually.
“I’m originally from Beaufort, South Carolina. But since Flo’s first birthday, this boat and wherever we anchored has been our home.”
“Is Flo short for something?” Charity asked, already guessing what it was.
“Family tradition,” Savannah replied with a grin. “Mom and Dad are Madison and Jackson, my sister’s name is Charlotte and now we have Florence.”
Looking out to port, Charity could see the beach on the far side of the island and the little girl wading in the shallow water collecting clams. She surmised that the fly bridge was Savannah’s favorite spot so she could keep an eye on her daughter, more than to watch the sunset.
“Your boat is beautiful, Gabby,” Savannah said after taking a long pull on the cold beer bottle. “Looks like an Alden design.”
“It is,” Charity replied, keeping to her slight Cuban accent. “She was built in 1932, but recently refitted. I love this old trawler of yours.”
“Thank you. It’s a Grand Banks forty-two-foot Classic. Also, refitted recently. My husband and I split up several times, but for some strange reason, I always went back to him. The last time was just after Flo was born. While he was out sowing his oats again, I packed up and went home to my folks. Dad gave me Sea Biscuit and said if I stayed away from the asshole for a year, his words, he’d do a complete refit. I did, and when the divorce was final, Flo and I moved aboard and hoisted anchor. I don’t think I could ever go back now. What about you? Ever married?”
“No,” Charity replied. “A couple of boyfriends, nothing serious. I thought one might be the right guy, but he died several months ago.” She regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth.
Savannah sat up and looked deeply into the younger woman’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Gabby.”
“It is alright. Perhaps one day, maybe.” Then, changing the subject, Charity asked, “Where are you heading?”
“We just returned from the Bahamas,” Savannah replied. “We’d been cruising there for two years. Now we’re heading to the Keys. Maybe look up an old friend or two.”
The faraway look in Savannah’s eyes told Charity that the old friend was a long-lost lover. “When were you last there?” Charity asked, sipping her beer.
“It’s been a long time,” Savannah replied. “Late 1999, but still hurricane season. My sister and I were on our way to Key West in our dad’s boat. We’d hired a captain, so we could just enjoy the cruise. Char ended up skipping out on me, so I decided to send the captain home and stayed over in Marathon for a while. Nice place, with friendly people. I wound up having to take refuge deep in the Everglades during a
“Same with us,” Savannah said. “It’s just me and my daughter, Flo. She’s over on the beach, looking for clams.”
Savannah was older than Charity first thought, by probably a decade. Tall and slim, with broad shoulders and a deep tan, she had naturally blond hair streaked by years of sun and water. Dressed in a pair of well-worn jeans and a lightweight white long-sleeved top, she was taller than Charity by a few inches, even in bare feet.
“Care to come aboard and get out of the sun?” Savannah asked. “I just put some beer in the cooler up on the fly bridge.”
Not wanting to seem uncordial, Charity accepted, and the two women stepped over the gunwale and climbed a short ladder to the covered sundeck. Besides the captain’s chair, there was ample seating and reclining room for several people.
Savannah handed Charity a cold beer from the cooler, then sat down on the full recliner aft the captain’s chair, stretching her legs out and nodding toward the recliner opposite. “Have a seat, Gabby. I like to sit up here, where I can see better. Last night’s sunset was spoiled by a storm out over the Glades. Tonight should be better.”
Charity sat down and relaxed a little. “Where are you from?” she asked casually.
“I’m originally from Beaufort, South Carolina. But since Flo’s first birthday, this boat and wherever we anchored has been our home.”
“Is Flo short for something?” Charity asked, already guessing what it was.
“Family tradition,” Savannah replied with a grin. “Mom and Dad are Madison and Jackson, my sister’s name is Charlotte and now we have Florence.”
Looking out to port, Charity could see the beach on the far side of the island and the little girl wading in the shallow water collecting clams. She surmised that the fly bridge was Savannah’s favorite spot so she could keep an eye on her daughter, more than to watch the sunset.
“Your boat is beautiful, Gabby,” Savannah said after taking a long pull on the cold beer bottle. “Looks like an Alden design.”
“It is,” Charity replied, keeping to her slight Cuban accent. “She was built in 1932, but recently refitted. I love this old trawler of yours.”
“Thank you. It’s a Grand Banks forty-two-foot Classic. Also, refitted recently. My husband and I split up several times, but for some strange reason, I always went back to him. The last time was just after Flo was born. While he was out sowing his oats again, I packed up and went home to my folks. Dad gave me Sea Biscuit and said if I stayed away from the asshole for a year, his words, he’d do a complete refit. I did, and when the divorce was final, Flo and I moved aboard and hoisted anchor. I don’t think I could ever go back now. What about you? Ever married?”
“No,” Charity replied. “A couple of boyfriends, nothing serious. I thought one might be the right guy, but he died several months ago.” She regretted saying it as soon as the words left her mouth.
Savannah sat up and looked deeply into the younger woman’s eyes. “I’m so sorry, Gabby.”
“It is alright. Perhaps one day, maybe.” Then, changing the subject, Charity asked, “Where are you heading?”
“We just returned from the Bahamas,” Savannah replied. “We’d been cruising there for two years. Now we’re heading to the Keys. Maybe look up an old friend or two.”
The faraway look in Savannah’s eyes told Charity that the old friend was a long-lost lover. “When were you last there?” Charity asked, sipping her beer.
“It’s been a long time,” Savannah replied. “Late 1999, but still hurricane season. My sister and I were on our way to Key West in our dad’s boat. We’d hired a captain, so we could just enjoy the cruise. Char ended up skipping out on me, so I decided to send the captain home and stayed over in Marathon for a while. Nice place, with friendly people. I wound up having to take refuge deep in the Everglades during a
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