Making Waves (15 page)

“Can you say that again?” she asked.

Trip cocked an eyebrow at her.

“I, uh, don’t think Mark got that last part. Did you, brother?”

“To be honest, I don’t think I got most of what you said, Mr. Andrews.”

“You’ll figure it out. Now, let’s go over it again.”

When Trip finished drilling him, Mark still understood only half of the terms. He tugged nervously on his plaid cap. “I’ll never learn all this.”

“Of course you will. It just takes time and practice.”

“That’s what Mrs. Johansen said about fractions, and I still haven’t got those down.”

“But I’m sure I’m a better teacher than Mrs. Johansen.”

Mark rolled his eyes, and Marguerite shot him a look of warning.

“Listen up, Mark.” Trip placed his hand on the mast. “This is important. If you hear ‘Boom coming across,’ duck.”

“The boom’s that arm thing coming from the mast with the sail attached, right?” He turned to his sister. “Marguerite, did you get that? Mr. Andrews, do girls duck too?”

“No, I believe my mother would insist I dip or bob.” Marguerite feigned a curtsy from her seat.

Trip flashed her a dimpled grin. “Your sister can call it anything she likes as long as she does it,” he said. “And another thing. Remember back in the shop what I told you about me doing the thinking? Out here that goes double. If you don’t know something, ask. If you can’t do it, say so.”

She recalled his lessons in the workshop and smiled. Trip Andrews was a better teacher than she’d credited him for.

“Yes, sir.” Mark nodded.

“Okay, untie that dock line from the cleat, and we’ll cast off.”

Trip kept the sail lowered until they’d cleared the other boats, then told Mark to hoist the mainsail. When its edge started to flap, Trip shouted for him to pull it a bit tighter. Immediately the sail billowed and the boat picked up speed. Soon it tilted to the starboard side, and Trip motioned for Mark to sit closer to the other side. “Do you recall on my boat how the guys positioned themselves on different sides to keep the boat from tipping too far? This one is so flat-bottomed that’s not likely to be a problem, but you can shift to either side to balance it better.”

Marguerite lifted her face to the wind. “This boat isn’t as fast as yours.”

“True. It’s not meant to be. You have to learn to crawl before you can run.” He turned the boat a bit to the right. “And mine better be fast if I’m going to win that regatta.”

“I heard you and Harry talking about that the other day.” She sent up a silent prayer that Trip wouldn’t become angry with her for eavesdropping, but her curiosity burned. “Why is it so important to you?”

Mark frowned at her. “Why do you ask so many questions?”

“Trip said if we wanted to know something to ask.”

“He said if
I
want to know something. He didn’t say anything about you.”

“Know-it-all kid. Does he get that from you?” Trip chuckled, glancing at Marguerite. “Mark, treat your sister with respect, and what I said goes for her too. Now that I know you really are listening to me, Mark, switch places with me.”

Marguerite’s jaw dropped. “Already?”

“I can do it,” Mark insisted.

“It’s up to you since you’re supervising his lessons,” Trip said, his dimples deep as craters. “Do you want him to learn to sail or to be a passenger?”

“Go ahead, Mark. If Mr. Andrews thinks you’re ready, then you must be.”

Her heart took residence in her throat as she watched her brother gingerly exchange seats with Trip. Shifting to the right, she could barely see her brother over Trip’s broad shoulders. Mark looked so small. What if he was too young to handle this? If he got hurt, she’d never forgive herself.

“Mark, take hold of the tiller. Get a feel for it. Turn a little to the right. That’s it. Good job.” Trip glanced at the sail. “We’re sailing with the wind about thirty degrees off our backs. That’s called sailing on a broad reach. It isn’t as fast as running, but it’s still a good clip.”

The power of the wind filling the sail propelled them over the slightly choppy surface of the water. Closing her eyes, Marguerite tried to imagine the thrill that she’d feel if the dinghy responded to her touch with a charm all its own.

“You’re hooked, aren’t you, Marguerite?” Trip asked with a lilt in his voice.

Her eyes popped open. “Pardon me?”

“You’ve got a love affair with the water.”

Warmth infused her cheeks.

Turning away quickly, he trimmed the sail and secured the line again. “I’m sorry. That’s hardly an appropriate thing to say to a lady.”

“No offense taken.”

“It’s just that I’ve seen it before. Be careful. You can end up doing anything to get in a boat. I just don’t want you to get too attached to it – being a lady and all.”

Marguerite stiffened. Trip had her pegged. Was he also trying to warn her?

“You know where you’re headed?” Trip asked Mark. “You can’t get anywhere in life if you don’t know where you’re going.” Trip turned and pointed to the docks near the streetcar turnabout. “Head that way.”

Mark yanked the tiller toward the starboard side. The boat jerked in response.

Trip frowned and covered Mark’s hand with his own. “Easy. Feel it in your hand through the tiller.”

Mark lowered his head. “I don’t know if I’ll ever get this.”

“You will. Give yourself some time. It just comes naturally to some folks, and others have to learn it. Hey, think about it this way – even Harry can sail.” Trip laughed.

Marguerite grinned when she saw Mark’s tense shoulders relax.

A few minutes later, the wind swept in, bending the trees on the shoreline. The boat leaned to one side. Mark groped for something to hold on to and, in the process, turned too quickly. Trip grabbed the tiller, put the boat back on course, and then sat on the far side of his seat. The craft righted itself.

Mark’s eyes widened. “What happened?”

“When the boat leans, it’s called heeling.” Trip held out his hand and tilted it sideways in explanation. “It’s normal, remember? Sometimes a sailboat can be nearly lying sideways in the water.”

Mark’s face paled and he pressed his fist to his stomach. “The water isn’t as calm as it was.”

Trip’s eyes searched him. “Mark, if you’re going to be sick, you need to say something.”

“I’m fine.” He pulled his hand away and took a deep breath.

“Sure you are. Let’s talk about something besides the water.”

Grateful for Trip’s attempt to distract him, Marguerite sat up and nodded. She considered repeating her question about the regatta’s importance, but Trip spoke before she had the chance.

“So, I’ve met you two and your father.” Trip swung around and straddled the middle seat. “Is your mother enjoying her summer at the lake?”

Marguerite and Mark shared a knowing look, and Marguerite giggled. “Not at all. You might say she’s here despite the lake. What about your mother? Does she like it here?”

“Apparently she didn’t.” His face darkened. “She ran off on Dad and me when I was five.”

“I’m so sorry.” Marguerite swallowed the lump in her throat.

“It wasn’t your fault. Dad said she could never be trusted. I’ll tell you one thing, Mark, the woman who I’ll take as a wife will be trustworthy in every sense of the word.”

His words pricked her heart. She winced inwardly. If trust meant that much to him, how would he react if he ever discovered her subterfuge?

Too late now. What’s done was done.

“You looking for a wife, Mr. Andrews?” Mark clenched his teeth and held his hand over his belly. “Or you got someone special already?”

“Why do you want to know?”

The dinghy bobbed in the increased wind, clearly doing nothing for her brother’s turbulent stomach.

“I’m just trying to keep my mind off how awful I feel.”

“Attaboy,” Trip said. “Well, I’m not seeking the marrying kind of special.”

Mark looked surprised. “You aren’t?”

“Maybe someday. Right now, well, let’s just say I’ve got more important things to do than worry about finding a woman I can trust.” His hazel eyes glinted like hard mica.

Marguerite turned her face away as disappointment fluttered within her. Had his mother’s desertion tainted his future that badly?

Trip leaned forward and took hold of the mainsail’s rope.
Halyard
, Marguerite thought.
I have to remember the correct
terms
.

As he lowered the sail, he explained that he was shortening it because the wind had picked up. He glanced at Mark. “We’re not too far out. Another five minutes and we’ll switch places.”

“I see girls giving you that moony-eyed look all the time,” Mark persisted. “Don’t you like any of them?”

Marguerite cringed. Why couldn’t Mark let this subject go? Couldn’t he see Trip was trying to change the topic?
Sure, Mark, he’ll tell you, a twelve-year-old boy, all about
the women aching to cling to his arm. All he has to do is
give them one of those charming dimpled grins, and they’re
putty in his hands
.

She dropped her head and studied the neatly coiled rope lying in the bottom of the boat.

Trip wound the halyard around a cleat. “I’m focusing on the regatta, but I do know some special ladies – one in particular.”

“Who’s that?” Mark asked.

Lord, this is Your idea, isn’t it? You’re putting all these
ideas in Mark’s head. Trip’s going to say he likes some girl
who’s away for the season or, worse yet, Laura Thompson. I
saw her making herself more than a little available the other
night to be a dance partner
.

Marguerite shook her head.
Good grief. What is wrong
with me? Trip doesn’t mean anything to me
.

“Well, as a matter of fact, I enjoyed dancing with your sister the other night.” He gave Marguerite a rakish grin. “But she’s already spoken for.”

Marguerite choked.
Me?
Her hopes soared, then sank like a bobber with a fish on the line. He thought she was with Roger.

The sailboat rode another swell and plunged suddenly.

Mark covered his mouth with his hand. “I think I’m going to be sick.”

Me too
.

10

Roger carried his mother’s parcels to store after store, telling her to buy anything she wanted. He enjoyed making her happy. His father certainly never had. For that reason, he always made time for his mother. So when she said she wanted to go shopping this morning, he cleared his calendar and ordered the carriage readied even though she insisted she could go shopping alone.

It would take time to make Marguerite as obedient as his mother, but he was certain a strong hand would help her learn her place. And once Marguerite learned to obey his wishes, she would discover just how doting and attentive he could be.

He fingered a silk scarf at the People’s Department Store accessory counter while his mother pondered embroidered handkerchiefs.

“It’s lovely.” She touched his arm. “You should select something for Marguerite. A lady likes little trinkets and gifts. It would show you’re thinking of her.”

“But what would I purchase?”

“That scarf would do nicely. Or what activities does she like? If you can get her a gift that encourages one of her hobbies, it would be especially thoughtful. A gardening hat, a lovely bound journal, that kind of thing.”

Hobbies? What did Marguerite like doing besides irritating him and doing things that no proper lady would? Still, she was beautiful, and the scarf in his hand would bring out the blue in her mesmerizing eyes. But was it the right gift to win her over? If he could win her heart, he could avoid the ugliness of his alternative plan.

The corners of his lips raised as an idea took shape. Perfect. He’d pretend to understand her unorthodox ways. His gift would say it all – how he planned to lavish gifts on her and how he couldn’t wait until she belonged to him.

“Are you ready to go, Mother?”

“Yes, dear.”

“Good. Then I’d like to make one more stop to purchase the kind of gift you suggested.”

Dropping to his knees in the bottom of the boat, Mark managed to lean over the side before losing all of the breakfast he’d eaten.

Trip slipped into the vacated seat and took the tiller. He passed Mark a canteen. “Feel better?”

Mark nodded and took a swig from the canteen. “Some sailor I am.”

“You’ll get used to it. The water’s a bit choppy this morning.” Trip tugged at the line controlling the boom. “Ready? Boom coming across.”

The warning registered, and Marguerite bobbed her head.

He grinned. “Good job. You remembered to duck.”

“And if I hadn’t?”

“You’d have had a nice swim. Wouldn’t that be a surprise?”

More than you realize
. The thought of being caught in her lie sent a bolt of fear through her. She cleared her throat. “What are we doing now?”

“We’re heading back.” He turned to Mark and gave him a hand up. “It’s time to learn about tacking.”

“Now?” Mark moaned, holding his head.

“Trip, he doesn’t look well.”

“We could dock, but it’s a long walk back.” He ruffled Mark’s hair. “Thought you were tough. Sometimes a man’s got to suffer a little to get a job done.”