Music in the Night (10 page)

"I'm a good sailor, too, Cary Logan. You've said that yourself."
"Yeah, I have, but you don't do it enough to be a good teacher," he explained. Daddy liked that and laughed. Then he grew serious.
"If you take May along, I don't want her in the
Sunfish
while you're teaching him, Cary."
"Of course not, Dad," Cary said.
Even though the
Sunfish
was only big enough to seat two, May was so small, we usually took her with us when Cary and I went sailing. I had already promised her she would be part of our picnic.
"May and I will sit on shore and watch them, Daddy. Don't worry."
He grunted, which was as close to an approval as we would get.
"The weather looks promising," Cary said. Daddy agreed and that was all that was said about it. I was too excited to keep it all bottled up. May sat in my room as I planned the picnic. My hands moved with my thoughts as I paraded back and forth, listing the things we would bring and the food I needed to prepare.
"Maybe I should make shrimp salad. Cary loves my shrimp salad. We could barbecue though, couldn't we? Should we do hamburgers or grill some lobster? We'll need salads and oh, I should make my lemon cake, don't you think? Robert is going to be so surprised when he learns what a good cook I am. What?" I asked May when she started to sign. "Oh, games. Yes, we'll bring something for you and I to do while they're out in the
Sunfish.
No, I'd be too embarrassed to let him see my drawings, May. We'll bring Chinese checkers, okay? And Cary's Frisbee. I'm worried about what I should make talk to Mommy about it tomorrow. No, let's go talk to her now," I said and reached down for May's little hand. She flew up to her feet and followed behind me as I went downstairs to talk with Mommy.
On Saturday morning as Mommy and I packed the picnic basket, Cary grumbled at us from the breakfast table.
"I don't know why we're not just having sandwiches and cranberry juice like we usually do," he said. "This isn't exactly the Blessing of the Fleet," he added with a laugh. He was referring to an annual event on the Cape when boats were decorated with pennants and priests lead a procession from the church. Everyone dressed up and there was very elaborate food and drink,
"Just like a man," Mommy said, "complaining and mocking until he sinks his teeth in and then he quiets down like a church mouse at sermon."
I laughed and Cary turned crimson.
A little over an hour later, Robert arrived. He was dressed in a pair of new sneakers, khaki pants, and a crisp white shirt. His preppy sailor outfit was topped off by a jaunty sailor cap. Cary, who wore a pair of torn shorts, and was barefoot and shirtless, laughed.
"What do you think we're sailing, a yacht?" he joked. "No, but I thought I'd get into the swing of things," Robert replied, undaunted by Cary's ridicule.
"And you look very nice, Robert," I said. I was wearing a pink sundress over my bathing suit and thought that Robert and I looked like the perfect couple.
"Sailing's work," Cary followed sternly. "You're going to mess up that pretty-boy outfit."
"That's all right," Robert said. "It's not like I have many chances to wear these clothes. Hey, what's all that?" he asked, nodding at the big picnic basket.
"She made
^-
a feast," Cary said.
"Gee, Laura, you didn't have to go all out like that, but thanks!" Robert said.
"Let's get started. We're missing some good wind," Cary said gruffly, obviously eager to change the subject. May carried our towels and Robert offered to carry the blanket.
The weather was with us: A gentle breeze barely nudged the foamy white clouds along the azure sky. South of us, the sea was already peppered with sailboats.
"Looks like a perfect day for sailing," Robert commented as we trekked over the sand toward our dock.
"Oh, and you know what a perfect day for sailing is?" Cary shot back over his shoulder.
"Me? I know as much about sailing as I do about . . . nuclear physics," Robert replied. "I don't even understand how you get the boat to move."
"The wind gets the boat to move," Cary said. I could tell his mood was already softening and I smiled to myself. Cary was in his glory, talking about the things he loved the most: sailing and boats. "You set the sail at a ninety-degree angle to the longitudinal axis of the boat, keeping the power of the wind on the sail's back surface. That's called running before the wind. In sailing off the wind, the sails are set at a forty-five-degree angle from the axis of the craft. This way, the wind exerts a pulling rather than pushing action, understand?"
"I will when I see it, I guess," Robert said, smiling at me. Cary glanced back.
"This won't work if you don't pay attention and concentrate," he said stiffly.
"I will," Robert promised. "Sorry."
"The wind flows at a great rate of speed along the forward surface of the sail, creating an area of lower pressure ahead of the sail. Understand?"
"Yes. I mean, aye, aye."
Cary shook his head.
"I must be crazy."
"He's paying attention, Cary," I insisted.
"We'll see."
"I just don't understand why the wind doesn't turn the boat over if the sail is at a forty-five-degree angle," Robert said. Cary stopped walking and turned.
"It would if the hull were perfectly flat. Every sailboat has a fixed keel that acts as a flat longitudinal plane to prevent the boat from moving sideways," Cary explained, illustrating with his hands.
"Oh. But if we're moving with a forty-fivedegree angle, how do you get the boat to go in the direction you want it to go?" Robert asked Cary's eyes filled with that glint of pleasure he always had when talking boats. I was glad Robert was asking questions.
"By sailing on the wind, a sailboat makes a course about forty-five degrees away from the wind direction. First you go to the left and then you go to the right, zigzagging. It's called tacking. You should know the terms so you'll know what I mean when I show you and tell you to do something. Corning about means shifting from one tack to the other. We'll do it with the rudder, pointing the bow up into the wind and then away from the wind on the opposite tack, or steering away from the direction of the wind until the sails fill from the other side."
Robert nodded, but I could see he wasn't clear on what Cary was explaining.
"In fore-and-aft rigged vessels--"
"Fore-and-aft?"
"You don't even know what that means?"
"I think I do. Is fore the front?"
"Great."
Robert smiled.
"In fore-and-aft rigged vessels, this maneuver is called jibing, and in square-rigged it's called wearing. If we start to lose control, I'll say we're broaching, understand?"
"Lose control?"
"It can happen," Cary said dryly.
"What happens?"
"We turn over and you fall into the sea and mess up your fancy outfit," Cary said, turned, and walked on. Robert looked at me.
"Don't worry, he won't let our boat turn over," I said. "He hasn't ever."
"That's reassuring," Robert remarked and we followed with May at our side.
May and I set the blanket out on a nice flat spot in Logan's Cove while Robert and Cary launched the
Sunfish. I
had brought along Daddy's binoculars so we could watch them from shore. I knew that once Cary had boarded our boat and set sail, he would be all business. He was really a very good instructor and expert at reading the wind.
They went back and forth, the
Sunfish
bouncing over the waves and looking as if it was running smoothly each time. When I gazed through the glasses, I saw Cary lecturing, pointing, and adjusting, directing Robert to make this turn and that, explaining as they went along. Even so, a few times, they did come close to capsizing when Robert was at the rudder and controlling the sail.
May and I played a few games of Chinese checkers, searched the beach for interesting seashells and waded out along the jetty of slippery rocks, searching for tiny crabs. The terns flew around us and followed us everywhere, especially when we returned to the blanket. They knew about picnics, anticipated crumbs, and eyed us cautiously.
Nearly two and a half hours later, Cary brought the
Sunfish
around and headed for Logan's Cove. They beached where we had set up our blanket. Robert's clothes were soaked, but he looked exhilarated.
"How did he do?" I asked as they made their way up to us.
"Fair to middling," Cary said without much enthusiasm.
"It takes lots of practice," I said. I looked closer at Robert's face. His cheeks and forehead were beginning to look sunburned, but the back of his neck was the reddest, deep crimson. "Oh, Robert, you should have worn some sunblock. You're going to be hurting tomorrow."
"Yeah, I'm going to regret not putting any on. I feel crisp as burnt toast," he said. He gazed at Cary. "How come you're not burnt?"
"I've been out there so long, my skin's used to the sun," he said. "Anyway, I'm starving. Let's eat," he added.
May and I took out the food and as we ate, Robert described his sailing lesson, revealing that Cary had been screaming, "You're broaching!" more than half the time, "I think I finally got the hang of it toward the end, huh, Cary?"
"You're getting there," Cary said. "Actually,"
he
reluctantly offered, "for a landlubber, you didn't do too badly."
"Thanks," Robert said. He was practically beaming. "You're not so bad yourself for an old sea dog."
"Old sea dog, huh?"
"You
are
a bit bowlegged," Robert kidded.
I laughed.
"I am not." Cary stood up. "Am I, Laura?"
"Only just a little, Cary," I said hesitantly.
"Is that so? Well, I've got perfect balance on or off land," Cary bragged.
Robert laughed.
"Want to find out, big shot?" Cary challenged. Robert glanced at me.
"Cary, no," I said.
"He's the one who claims to be perfect," Cary said. "What's your challenge?" Robert asked.
"Ever hear of Indian wrestling?"
"Sure. I'm the Eastern United States champion," Robert bragged.
"Will you two stop? We still have dessert to eat. Sit, Cary," I ordered, pointing to his spot on the blanket.
"We have to earn it first," Cary taunted. "Champ?"
Cary took his stance, his hand out. The object was to pull the opponent so far off balance that he fell. I knew Cary was very good at it, probably from doing balancing acts on boats during heavy seas.
Robert jumped to his feet. May laughed and clapped her hands in anticipation.
"You're going to mess up that sailing costume even more," Cary warned.
"We'll see."
"Will you two stop?" I pleaded. My heart began to pound. Whenever egos came into question, especially masculine egos, there was always trouble.
Robert grabbed Cary's hand, took his stance, and the struggle began. Both were strong. Their forearms bulged and their shoulders strained. Robert surprised me with his balance and I could tell Cary was amazed as well. He had thought he would make short work of Robert. t th nearly toppled the other and then Robert faked a thrust forward and pulled Cary so hard, Cary lost his footing and fell face forward, unable to catch hi n self before he fell face first into the sand. When he pushed himself up, his cheeks were blistered with sand, as were his chest and legs.
"And still champion of the East Coast, Robert Royce," Robert cried, holding his hands high. May laughed. Cary's eyes met mine and I knew this was not going to end well.
"Let's have a rematch," he demanded.
"You'll have to speak to my manager," Robert said, nodding at me.
"Cary, please, stop. Let's have dessert."
"I don't need dessert. Come on. You were just lucky, Royce," Cary declared. He took his stance and held out his hand. Robert looked at me. I shook my head but he shrugged.
"I can't pass up a challenge," he said. "I have my fans to consider."
"Great." I slammed the basket cover down and sulked as they started their struggle.
It went as before, both nearly toppling the other. Cary was much more intense this time, his determination twisting his mouth and filling his eyes with fire. Once again, Robert made a good feint, only this time when he pulled back, Cary fell forward onto him and the two of them toppled to the sand.
"Tie," I cried, happy it was over, but they didn't let go of each other. The test of strength continued on the ground. Robert laughed and Cary tugged his arm, pushing him back to the sand. In response, Robert clutched Cary's ankle and pulled him to the sand. Then the two of them grappled, turning and twisting, one over the other.
"STOP IT!" I screamed. I stood up. May did, too. "If you two don't stop, I'm leaving."
They grunted, neither relinquishing his hold on the other. The struggle continued. I grabbed May's hand and she looked back over her shoulder as I pulled her away. I marched over the beach and back to our house, leaving the two muscle men grunting and groaning in the sand.
Thanks to their stupid male egos, what could have been a perfectly wonderful afternoon was ruined. Mommy and Daddy had gone to town, so I didn't have to answer any questions. Instead, I went upstairs to my room, May trailing along, wondering what had gone wrong.
"Boys!" I signed angrily. "They can be such idiots. They were getting along so well and now this. I'm tired of it. You're lucky. You still treat boys as if they had cooties."
"Not anymore, Laura. I like a boy in my class," she confessed.
"Don't tell him," I advised. I was feeling so bitter and angry. I seized my latest needlework and sat by the window jabbing the needle in and out of the cloth.
A short time later, I saw Robert and Cary, They weren't walking side by side until they reached the house. Then they stopped and spoke to each other quietly.
"Thanks for ruining the picnic," I hollered out the window. The two looked up.
"We were just fooling around, Laura," Cary claimed. "Why did you run off like that?"
"You weren't fooling around. You're both just two idiots," I declared. "I don't care if I do anything with either of you again."
"Laura," Robert pleaded. "It was just . ."
I folded my arms and sat back so neither of them could see me. I didn't hear them come into the house and I didn't hear Robert drive off, but I held my curiosity on a tight leash and didn't look out the window.
They're planning something,
I thought, and suddenly heard the two of them singing beneath my window. To the tune of "My Darlin' Clementine," they sang, "We are sorry, we are sorry, we are sorry for what we did. We feel lost and gone forever, oh our darlin' Laura Logan." They repeated it until I stuck my head out and saw the two of them, now with their arms around each other's shoulders, gazing up at me.