don’t hire thieves,” he shot back at her. “Just because we aren’t making a big haul doesn’t mean there are crooks aboard. Besides, we just found some gold. We should be celebrating, not arguing.”
“You don’t have to yell, I hear you just fine.”
“You’re not acting like it.”
Kate rubbed at the headache that was waiting behind her forehead. “I’m sorry. You know I love you.” Then she heard herself and made a choked sound. “Time machines are real.”
Her brother gave her a shocked look. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just time lagged.”
He began to look worried.
She smiled crookedly. “Remember when you’d yank my ponytail and I’d yell at you?”
“Yeah?”
“And then you’d somehow work the conversation around to me apologizing for having gotten the ponytail in your way?” she asked.
“Sure. It was fun, then,” he said rather wistfully.
“Maybe for you. I got tired of always being in the wrong.”
“I love you, Kitty. That hasn’t changed.”
She let her forehead bang lightly against his shoulder. “I know. It’s the only reason I haven’t killed you. Come on. Let’s watch Grandpa and the handsome Brit go at it.”
“Handsome? That arrogant son of a bitch?”
“Part of that is the situation,” she said, not knowing why she bothered to defend Holden. “Part is cultural. You’re used to a relaxed island atmosphere and he is used to a right-and-tight city.”
“Culture, huh.” Larry yawned and said, “I thought he was just a prick.”
“That, too. I suspect it’s the lead item in his résumé.”
She could hear her brother’s laughter following her as she climbed the steep stairway up to the main deck. The sound helped her ignore the terror gnawing at her soul, memories of the night she had bolted up the stairs like her heels were on fire.
But there was no fire, only storm and the ravenous sea.
Don’t think about it, she told herself. It won’t do any good. It will just get in the way of helping the family.
I really wish they had waited for me before they signed that awful contract. Oh well, spilled milk and all that.
She climbed the ladder up to the wheelhouse, reading the words that her grandpa had painted between the steps long ago and repainted every year since.
ANYONE CAN HOLD THE HELM WHEN
THE SEA IS CALM
— Publius
She half smiled. The saying was so like Grandpa. Whatever the sea threw at him, he overcame. Whatever it gave up to him, he spent. Whatever it took from him, he mourned. But not for long.
It was an outlook Kate was still trying to master.
She hesitated before knocking on the steel door of the wheelhouse. The porthole, which as usual was opened for air circulation, reflected sunlight in blinding flashes that kept time with the lazy swells rocking the ship.
So calm. So beautiful.
So deceptive.
Larry’s voice drifted up behind her, telling divers about the new area of concentration.
Kate knocked briskly on the gray door. “Grandpa, it’s me.”
“Come in, Kitty darling. I’ll be yours in a moment.”
Though he was a second-generation American, the lilt of County Cork curled around the words like a hug, telling her that he was in a good mood.
Finding gold will do that for you, she thought, and pushed the door open.
The wheelhouse was still a time-dulled stainless steel and lacquered teak, old and new materials mixed together with an eye to function rather than fashion. A sonar screen burned with brilliant blue, red, and yellow, mapping the bottom, which changed as the Golden Bough shifted lazily on anchor. The coiled line of a communications handset hung near the wheel like a corkscrew snake. Another screen lay beneath a light blue cotton shirt.
“I see you’re still keeping all your displays clear,” Kate said as she pulled the shirt away and hung it on the chromed hook behind the door. When she turned back, she realized that she had revealed a screen displaying a satellite relay of current weather overlaid
“You don’t have to yell, I hear you just fine.”
“You’re not acting like it.”
Kate rubbed at the headache that was waiting behind her forehead. “I’m sorry. You know I love you.” Then she heard herself and made a choked sound. “Time machines are real.”
Her brother gave her a shocked look. “Are you okay?”
“Fine. Just time lagged.”
He began to look worried.
She smiled crookedly. “Remember when you’d yank my ponytail and I’d yell at you?”
“Yeah?”
“And then you’d somehow work the conversation around to me apologizing for having gotten the ponytail in your way?” she asked.
“Sure. It was fun, then,” he said rather wistfully.
“Maybe for you. I got tired of always being in the wrong.”
“I love you, Kitty. That hasn’t changed.”
She let her forehead bang lightly against his shoulder. “I know. It’s the only reason I haven’t killed you. Come on. Let’s watch Grandpa and the handsome Brit go at it.”
“Handsome? That arrogant son of a bitch?”
“Part of that is the situation,” she said, not knowing why she bothered to defend Holden. “Part is cultural. You’re used to a relaxed island atmosphere and he is used to a right-and-tight city.”
“Culture, huh.” Larry yawned and said, “I thought he was just a prick.”
“That, too. I suspect it’s the lead item in his résumé.”
She could hear her brother’s laughter following her as she climbed the steep stairway up to the main deck. The sound helped her ignore the terror gnawing at her soul, memories of the night she had bolted up the stairs like her heels were on fire.
But there was no fire, only storm and the ravenous sea.
Don’t think about it, she told herself. It won’t do any good. It will just get in the way of helping the family.
I really wish they had waited for me before they signed that awful contract. Oh well, spilled milk and all that.
She climbed the ladder up to the wheelhouse, reading the words that her grandpa had painted between the steps long ago and repainted every year since.
ANYONE CAN HOLD THE HELM WHEN
THE SEA IS CALM
— Publius
She half smiled. The saying was so like Grandpa. Whatever the sea threw at him, he overcame. Whatever it gave up to him, he spent. Whatever it took from him, he mourned. But not for long.
It was an outlook Kate was still trying to master.
She hesitated before knocking on the steel door of the wheelhouse. The porthole, which as usual was opened for air circulation, reflected sunlight in blinding flashes that kept time with the lazy swells rocking the ship.
So calm. So beautiful.
So deceptive.
Larry’s voice drifted up behind her, telling divers about the new area of concentration.
Kate knocked briskly on the gray door. “Grandpa, it’s me.”
“Come in, Kitty darling. I’ll be yours in a moment.”
Though he was a second-generation American, the lilt of County Cork curled around the words like a hug, telling her that he was in a good mood.
Finding gold will do that for you, she thought, and pushed the door open.
The wheelhouse was still a time-dulled stainless steel and lacquered teak, old and new materials mixed together with an eye to function rather than fashion. A sonar screen burned with brilliant blue, red, and yellow, mapping the bottom, which changed as the Golden Bough shifted lazily on anchor. The coiled line of a communications handset hung near the wheel like a corkscrew snake. Another screen lay beneath a light blue cotton shirt.
“I see you’re still keeping all your displays clear,” Kate said as she pulled the shirt away and hung it on the chromed hook behind the door. When she turned back, she realized that she had revealed a screen displaying a satellite relay of current weather overlaid
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