Sailing In Style. Dana Mentink
Southern California beach. Not to be daunted by a little thing like weather, he’d erected an enormous umbrella over the picnic blanket, sheltering the bouquet of purple peonies. Roses were for ordinary women, not a one-of-a-kind, breathtaking creature like Piper. The storm came, and with it, high tide.
Piper did not.
Soggy flowers. Sputtering candle. A single text. I can’t. I’m sorry. It’s over.
He understood the finality in the text, the truth she had been trying to communicate for weeks and he had steadfastly refused to hear. That night, mixed with the shush of the storm and the pounding of the waves, he’d finally heard. He’d handed over his heart to a woman who didn’t love him. Not enough, anyway.
He’d stayed until the tide had come to claim the sodden bouquet. He’d let the ocean have the ring, too, hurling it out across the sea until the band of gold lost itself in the moonlit sparkle of the waves.
Rosa’s expression was searching. “The hurt is still there. The love isn’t.” She paused. “Is it?”
He searched his heart. “No, it’s not.” His love for Piper had died a slow and painful death that night on the beach and during the insane week that followed. “I’m over it. When I thought I saw her...it surprised me. That’s all.”
“Okay.” She kissed his cheek and stood, checking her phone. “Pike’s texting me. I’ve got to go.”
“Is Baggy okay?”
She laughed. “Yes, Cy. The strange, dog-like creature to whom you refer is being picked up by Aunt Bitsy from the babysitter’s as we speak. I’m sure he’ll be fine staying with Bitsy and Dad at their place while you work on this project.”
“Are you sure? Baggy’ll be confused to be away from the Pelican. He’s sensitive. He’s got issues.” Well-deserved issues for a wildly unattractive canine abandoned in a paper bag before Cy’s timely rescue.
“Yes, I’m sure. When we get back he’s going to be eating steak and lobster every night.”
“Lobster is too rich. It will upset his stomach. And as for steak, I think Baggy might be turning into a vegetarian, like me.”
“I don’t think so.” She laughed as she headed for the door. “And I was kidding about the lobster. Besides, we’re all on a bread-and-water diet until our business is more established.” She paused. “Call me, you know, if anything comes up with Dad?”
“Nothing will come up. He’s better. Hasn’t lost his train of thought once.” Cy sat up. “He’s going to be okay.”
She frowned. “Did you read the article I sent you?”
“Didn’t have time, but the doctors don’t know everything. I’m going to teach him about flooring—something new. They say learning new things can nearly reverse situations like that.” He hopped to his feet and retrieved a napkin from the floor.
“No,” Rosa said quietly. “They don’t, Cy. You can’t wish this away.”
They’d lost their mother to alcoholism, and he’d lost Piper. He wasn’t about to lose Pops. “Well, the diagnosis might have been wrong.”
“Cy...”
He flashed her a smile. “Let’s not talk about it now. Pops is going to be fine. Go on your honeymoon and have the time of your life.”
Rosa looked as though she wanted to say more, so he planted a kiss on the top of her head and walked her to the door.
“All right.” She leaned her head on his shoulder. “Love you, brother, and I’m glad you’ve got your head on straight about Piper. I’m sure you just imagined seeing her, but in case she does turn up...”
“I know. Run.”
He did another dozen push-ups after she left, feeling the waves of confusion dissipate. Deep down, he was excited to be able to resurrect the stately history of the historic boat. He’d always known that the past made the present, in buildings and in people.
And what did Cy’s own past say about his present? He was resilient, losing his mother and abandoned by his father before he hit sixteen. He was perilously softhearted, he’d been told, having been adoptive parent to no fewer than six dogs, one turtle, an angsty chicken and three cats over the years. Most of all, he was buoyant. Imagining the ocean glittering with moonlight, he knew he could not just rise above this situation but ride the waves to a place better than the present one. Flexible, easygoing, happy-go-lucky.
All right, Cy. Full speed ahead.
With his mind at rest, he rolled onto his back on the reception room floor, and slept.
* * *
PIPER BRINDLE DIALED HER uncle’s number. It was late, but she knew he’d be up. “It’s me, Uncle Bo. We just finished rehearsal.”
“‘Cowards die many times before their deaths; the valiant never taste of death but once,’” he said into the phone.
“Julius Caesar, act two, scene one.”
“Scene two.”
She sighed. Since she’d announced at age seven her intention to be an actor, her uncle had made it his life’s mission to school her in every noteworthy play written since the invention of ink.
“Right, scene two. How’s everything there?” She pictured him sitting in front of his tiny television in the worn apartment they’d rented on the outskirts of Tumbledown. He hadn’t had much choice but to come along when she’d gotten the part in the play that would soon be showing every Friday night and twice on Saturdays. They’d had to sell their family home down south to cover her mother’s legal fees. And here they were nearer the prison where her mother was incarcerated.
“I’m watching Wheel of Fortune.”
“Don’t you have to be at work soon for the night shift?”
“Not tonight.”
Her uncle had a job shuttling people from the airport to their various beachside destinations, and he’d managed to hold it down for six weeks—a triumph. But something in his cheerful tone set off warning bells. “Is everything okay?”
“Stop fussing, Piper. You sound like an old mother sheep we had on the farm next to our hotel when I was a kid. Always bleating.”
Biting back irritation, she checked her watch. “We’re done rehearsing and the stage is cleaned up, but I’ve got one more thing to do tonight, and then I’ll come and sleep there since you’re not working.” And it was lonely, sleeping in her tiny room on the River King, truth be told. “I’m starving. Should I pick something up?” She calculated the contents of her wallet. Top Ramen it would have to be.
“I’m cooking.”
He was the most enthusiastic failure of a gourmet chef she’d ever known. “What are you fixing?”
“Daube de boeuf and coq au vin.”
She smiled. “Mac and cheese again?”
“You got it.”
“Okay. I’ll be there as soon as I can.”
“Piper,” he said after a moment’s hesitation. “We should...talk.”
A clammy feeling settled in her stomach. “Why? What? Is it Mom?”
“Your mother is perfectly fine and getting along with the inmates. She would tell you to stop fussing, too.”
“So what is it, then?” Was he going to be arrested?
“I’m just running off at the mouth, is all. Thinking about the things you’re missing, working so hard.”
“It won’t be for long.” A little flame of excitement leapt up in her heart.