charts and maps as they headed into the cluster of San Juan Islands.
Her plan was to drop him off in Chinook Harbor, spend the night on the boat, then, as soon as the storm passed, sail around the tip of the island to Deception Lodge, an antiquated resort her father wanted to restore. Making camp in a potential Montgomery Inn bothered her a little; the lodge still belonged to her father and as long as she was seeking shelter on Montgomery soil, she wasn’t truly free.
“But soon,” she muttered as she spied a few lights winking in the distance, lights that had to be on Orcas Island.
“But soon—what?”
She shot him a look that told him it was none of his business, and was about to turn inland when she spotted the buoy bobbing crazily ahead.
“Watch out,” Adam commanded, but the sea swelled under the boat like a creature climbing from the depths. “Marnie, you’re too close!”
Panicked, she checked the gauges. “Too close to what!”
CRACK! The Marnie Lee trembled violently, and for a second Marnie thought the boat was about to split apart.
“Damn it, woman, get out of the way.” Adam shoved her aside and threw open the door.
“You can’t go out…” Her voice was carried away by the cry of the wind.
“Just steer the boat, for God’s sake!”
Horrified, still trying to set the Marnie Lee back on course, she watched as Adam tied a rope around his waist, then worked his way around the bow, rain beating on his head, his hands moving one over the other on the rail. He paused at the starboard side, leaned over, then braced himself as another swell rolled over the deck, engulfing him. Marnie’s heart leaped to her throat. She saw the lifeline stretch taut. Her stomach lurched as the wave retreated and Adam, drenched, still braced against the force of the wave, appeared again.
“Thank God,” she whispered, her throat raw, “Now, Drake, damn your stubborn hide, get below deck and dry out.”
Another torrent of water washed over the deck and once again Adam vanished for a few terror-filled seconds. This time, when the water receded, he moved along the rail again before disappearing on the stairs.
She guided the ship by instinct; she’d learned sailing from her father years before. But all the while her nerves were strung tight, her ears cocked to the door.
Nearly ten minutes later, Adam returned to the bridge, dripping and coughing saltwater and glaring at her as if she were responsible for the storm. “There’s a crack in the hull—a small one on the starboard side, on line with the galley,” he said. “Not a big gash, but it’s not going away. You’re taking on water—slowly. I used some sealer I found downstairs, but it won’t hold, at least not forever.” His eyes were dark and serious. “You’ve got to turn inland.”
“But there’s no port for miles.”
“You don’t have a choice. The island’s close enough. Just head for land. We’ll worry about a harbor when we get closer.” He picked up the microphone for the radio and started to call the Coast Guard, but Marnie flipped the switch, turning off his cry for help.
“We’ll make it ourselves,” she said, refusing, in her first few hours of freedom, to give up any small bit of her independence. “Besides, I think the storm’s about over, the rain’s stopping.”
“Did you hear me, Marnie?” he demanded, ignoring her assessment of the situation. “Rain or no rain, sooner or later, this boat is going to sink like a stone. And we’re going to sink with her.”
“But not for a while. Right?”
“Unless we hit something else.”
“How long do we have?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Ten minutes? Twenty? Two hours?”
“Hell, I don’t know, but you can’t take a chance like this!”
“Why not?” she demanded, cranking hard on the wheel and checking the maps of the area again. They weren’t far from her destination, the point where Deception Lodge was sprawled on high cliffs over the ocean. If
Her plan was to drop him off in Chinook Harbor, spend the night on the boat, then, as soon as the storm passed, sail around the tip of the island to Deception Lodge, an antiquated resort her father wanted to restore. Making camp in a potential Montgomery Inn bothered her a little; the lodge still belonged to her father and as long as she was seeking shelter on Montgomery soil, she wasn’t truly free.
“But soon,” she muttered as she spied a few lights winking in the distance, lights that had to be on Orcas Island.
“But soon—what?”
She shot him a look that told him it was none of his business, and was about to turn inland when she spotted the buoy bobbing crazily ahead.
“Watch out,” Adam commanded, but the sea swelled under the boat like a creature climbing from the depths. “Marnie, you’re too close!”
Panicked, she checked the gauges. “Too close to what!”
CRACK! The Marnie Lee trembled violently, and for a second Marnie thought the boat was about to split apart.
“Damn it, woman, get out of the way.” Adam shoved her aside and threw open the door.
“You can’t go out…” Her voice was carried away by the cry of the wind.
“Just steer the boat, for God’s sake!”
Horrified, still trying to set the Marnie Lee back on course, she watched as Adam tied a rope around his waist, then worked his way around the bow, rain beating on his head, his hands moving one over the other on the rail. He paused at the starboard side, leaned over, then braced himself as another swell rolled over the deck, engulfing him. Marnie’s heart leaped to her throat. She saw the lifeline stretch taut. Her stomach lurched as the wave retreated and Adam, drenched, still braced against the force of the wave, appeared again.
“Thank God,” she whispered, her throat raw, “Now, Drake, damn your stubborn hide, get below deck and dry out.”
Another torrent of water washed over the deck and once again Adam vanished for a few terror-filled seconds. This time, when the water receded, he moved along the rail again before disappearing on the stairs.
She guided the ship by instinct; she’d learned sailing from her father years before. But all the while her nerves were strung tight, her ears cocked to the door.
Nearly ten minutes later, Adam returned to the bridge, dripping and coughing saltwater and glaring at her as if she were responsible for the storm. “There’s a crack in the hull—a small one on the starboard side, on line with the galley,” he said. “Not a big gash, but it’s not going away. You’re taking on water—slowly. I used some sealer I found downstairs, but it won’t hold, at least not forever.” His eyes were dark and serious. “You’ve got to turn inland.”
“But there’s no port for miles.”
“You don’t have a choice. The island’s close enough. Just head for land. We’ll worry about a harbor when we get closer.” He picked up the microphone for the radio and started to call the Coast Guard, but Marnie flipped the switch, turning off his cry for help.
“We’ll make it ourselves,” she said, refusing, in her first few hours of freedom, to give up any small bit of her independence. “Besides, I think the storm’s about over, the rain’s stopping.”
“Did you hear me, Marnie?” he demanded, ignoring her assessment of the situation. “Rain or no rain, sooner or later, this boat is going to sink like a stone. And we’re going to sink with her.”
“But not for a while. Right?”
“Unless we hit something else.”
“How long do we have?”
“How the hell should I know?”
“Ten minutes? Twenty? Two hours?”
“Hell, I don’t know, but you can’t take a chance like this!”
“Why not?” she demanded, cranking hard on the wheel and checking the maps of the area again. They weren’t far from her destination, the point where Deception Lodge was sprawled on high cliffs over the ocean. If
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