West Wind (4 page)

With this, Rose bowed her head and tears fell
silently into her lap.

"Grandmother; I'm so sorry."

"You read the newspaper clipping about the
fire? Why do you think they died and I didn't? Don followed me that
night and they fought. I got between them but they pushed me away.
I must have fallen and hit my head. I blacked out and, to this day,
I don't know how the fire started. The police said a kerosene stove
had been knocked over. The next thing I knew, I was in the boatyard
and the building was on fire. I saw Don running back in, calling to
Derek. Then, the roof collapsed and I never saw either of them
alive again.

"It's so strange to tell it aloud. For
thirty-five years, I've replayed the scene in my head. Not a day
goes by that I don't think about Don, and about Derek, and how my
foolish, selfish heart killed them both. How could I forgive
myself?"

Sabrina let out a deep breath. "My God,
Grandmother. All these years, the burden you've been carrying."

"It's mine, child. I've none to blame but
myself."

"It was an accident, Grandmother. You didn't
start the fire."

"If I hadn't been unfaithful, if I hadn't
been with Derek that night, they wouldn't have fought and the fire
wouldn't have started. They would not have died. Those are the
facts, Sabrina."

"Does my father know?"

"I'm sure he does. He was fifteen then,
almost a young man. He read the papers; he knew Derek's family. At
the funeral, Faye West, Derek's wife, was hysterical, screaming
that it was my fault, that I was a whore and a murderer. I suppose
that Norman figured something was wrong when I grabbed his hand and
we ran for the car. I never returned. I kept driving until we
reached New York. Soon, I bought this house and moved to Eaton.
Norman returned to school. We never spoke about it."

Sabrina rocked back and forth in her chair,
her arms crossed over her chest.

"It must have been a nightmare for you."

"It still is."

* * *

That evening, Rose suffered another mini
stroke and was rushed to the emergency room. Sabrina paced the
hospital hall, biting her lip and brushing away tears.

At the sight of Shirley Piper, she nearly
collapsed.

"How is she? Is she going to be alright?"

"It's not a serious episode, but like I told
you, these TIAs are leading to a major stroke."

"It's my fault," Sabrina wailed, her hands
shoved into her jean's pockets.

"Don't be ridiculous," Shirley said. "Your
grandmother has enjoyed being with you. I've never seen her so
happy."

"No, I mean today, I … she … we were talking
about my grandfather and it brought up bad memories. I should never
have spoken to her about him."

Shirley patted Sabrina's arm. "Honey; you're
here to be with your grandmother through the good and the bad. You
both need this time. You're not to blame for the tiny blood clots
that move through her brain. Those are the cause of her strokes,
not talking to you about the past. Why don't you go in and see her?
She's awake and asking for you."

"Thanks, Shirley."

With a deep breath, Sabrina opened the
hospital door. Blue-tinged neon light bathed Grandmother Rose. The
clear vinyl tube attached to her nose hissed as it fed oxygen into
her bloodstream.

Rose's eyes opened and she rested her dreamy
gaze on Sabrina.

"Hello. I suppose it happened again?"

"Yes. I'm worried about you. I'm so sorry. I
should never have brought up the past."

"Nonsense. It's never far from my mind. I am
actually relieved that you know. You're my confessor now."

"Grandmother, I don't want to hurt you."

"You can't, Sabrina. By the way, you never
told me your plan."

She cringed. "It's nothing, really."

"Tell me. I need the diversion."

Sabrina squirmed uncomfortably. "I don't
think it's a good idea. I've already changed my mind, anyway."

Rose sighed. "Tell me."

"All right. I was thinking about finding
Grandfather's first boat, if it still exists, and buying it. If I
have something he created I could feel a connection."

Rose's eyes flew open. "How amazing."

"I told you it was a bad idea."

"Indeed, I think it's a wonderful idea. I've
often wondered what happened to all those boats. They were quite
popular, although the run was short. Your grandfather was a genius,
and his boats were beautiful."

"Then you don't mind?"

"Not at all. I wish I'd thought of it. It's a
lovely idea."

Sabrina smiled tremulously. "Thank you,
Grandmother."

Chapter Three

The gaff-rigged sail of the catboat filled as
it slid gracefully from its mooring on the Warren River in Rhode
Island. Soon, the teen tacked back and forth in five-knot
winds.

"She's beautiful, Jay. Just like the day my
daddy bought her for me," the boy's father said, emotion making his
voice crack. "Brady's been pestering me for a boat of his own, and
I'm glad you talked me into restoring her instead of buying a new
dinghy."

Humbled, Jay shoved his hands in his jeans
pockets. "You're welcome, Sam. We enjoyed working on a classic
Marshall, and the Sandpiper is a nice little boat."

Melinda's eyes filled with pride, and she
hugged her husband.

"You don't think it's too much for him, do
you," she asked Jay. "Are you sure he can handle it?"

"Catboats are very stable thanks to their
wide beam, Melinda. He'll do fine in these winds, but I wouldn't
let him go out in anything above fifteen knots. At least, not until
he's a bit more experienced. Swimming is a great teacher. Just make
sure he wears a life jacket and stays on the river," he said.

"I can't wait to sail her," Sam enthused.
"Thanks again," he said, shaking Jay's hand.

"You're welcome." Jay looked at his watch.
"Well, I have to lock up now. He's sailing it home, right? You want
us to deliver the trailer?"

"Yes; that'd be great. We're going to keep it
at the dock for the summer, so just leave the trailer by the
garage."

"Right; I'll have Brett drop it off later.
See you, folks," he said.

Walking back to the boatyard, Jay whistled
under his breath. Sam was a good customer. As commodore of the
local yacht club, he often referred Jay's boatyard to its
membership.

In the two years he and Brett operated the
Warren Boatyard, they kept busy, but busy wasn't enough. They
wanted the big, dramatic restoration jobs that brought national
attention and mentions in popular sailing magazines. The yacht club
had plenty of members and many aging sailboats.

Brett looked up from the rope he'd been
splicing. "How'd it go?"

"Perfect. Thanks for giving their son lessons
last week. You should have seen their faces. I swear, they almost
cried watching him sail off into the sunset."

"Makes it worthwhile, doesn't it?"

Jay patted the folded check in his T-shirt
pocket. "That and four grand."

* * *

A weekend spent searching the Internet gave
Sabrina's spirit a boost. It turned out that the Zephyrus was now
considered a "Classic Plastic," and enjoyed a cult following. She
learned that Classic Plastic is another way of saying a well-built
fiberglass boat, and that West Wind-designed Zephyrus had timeless
appeal. She found several photographs of the double-ended
daysailer, each identified by hull number. An advanced search
yielded nothing about Hull Number One, her quest.

She drove downtown to Sullivan's, the local
bookshop, but found in its place a new store named East of Eaton.
She appreciated the shop's name, a play on words and homage to John
Steinbeck's classic novel "East of Eden."

She pushed open the heavy oak door and
entered a bibliophile's wonderland. Her eyes filled with views of
rows upon rows of new bookcases. A staircase wound its way up to a
cafe. The aroma of fresh ground coffee beans and chocolate chip
cookies assaulted her senses. As she let the door close, she
glimpsed a customer behind her. Too late, she shot her arm to hold
the door open and instead struck the man in the shoulder.

"Oh, excuse me," she murmured, then froze at
the sight of her girlhood crush.

Robert Hall glanced at her with impatience,
then paused. "Sabrina?" he asked. "What brings you to Eaton?"

She flushed and fumbled with an apology. "Oh,
so sorry. Robert Hall? It's been years since I've last seen you.
Rose had a stroke and she's in the hospital. I'm here to take of
her."

"I'm sorry to hear that," Robert said,
stepping aside to allow yet another customer in the store. "Will
she be alright?"

Sabrina chewed her bottom lip, twisted her
head away hiding eyes bright with unshed tears. Robert watched as
she shrugged, the simple gesture heart wrenching.

"Let's step over here," he said, his hand
light on her elbow. He led her to a quiet area of the shop,
shielding her from curious customers' view with his broad
shoulders.

Not wanting to speak about Rose, afraid she
would lose control and cry, she lifted her chin and asked, "How are
you, Robert? Did you finish law school?"

He recalled the gangly girl from his summer
job at the local rec center. "Yes. Do you still play tennis?"

Sabrina rolled her eyes and shook her head.
"No, sorry. Your lessons were wasted on me."

"Where do you live now?" he asked, studying
the exotic, beautiful woman.

"I have an apartment in Baltimore where I run
a small financial business," she said, watching as Robert looked
over his shoulder at the woman at the front counter. He nodded
once, as if in silent agreement with her.

Sabrina assessed the woman, noting her
delicate beauty even from half across the store. Unruly, dark brown
hair crowned her oval face; dark brown eyes watched her
curiously.

"Is she your girlfriend?" Sabrina asked,
inclining her head.

Robert fastened his dark eyes on her and
flashed a grin. "No, that's Erica Moore. We're business
partners."

"So you own a part of this bookstore?"
Sabrina asked, surveying elegant, expensive yet practical
furnishings. "Why am I not surprised?"

He looked at his watch, already withdrawing.
"I have a client in a few minutes, but I would be honored if you
would have dinner with me while you're in town. Are you free on
Friday?"

Sabrina's eyes widened. Robert Hall asking
her for a date? Well, dinner. Her lips parted as her breath
hitched. "It depends upon Rose. How she's doing by then. Why don't
I give you a call later this week?"

Robert pulled a small silver case out of the
inner pocket of his expensive suit coat and withdrew a business
card. Using a slim Cross fountain pen, he scratched a note on the
embossed card. "Here's my cell phone number if you can't reach me
at the office," he said, holding out the card.

As Sabrina reached for it, he cupped her
hands. Leaning forward, he brushed a soft kiss upon her brow.
"Again, I am sorry Rose is ill."

A bit stunned by his closeness and sudden
attention, Sabrina could only lift her head and nod. He squeezed
her hands gently, then let her go. Whether it was small-town
friendliness or something more, Sabrina's knees nearly buckled. She
busied herself tucking the business card into her back pocket. She
watched as he approached the woman at the counter, spoke for a
minute or two, then patted the woman's hand. One again, he reached
into his suit pocket and this time extracted some folded documents.
He placed them on the counter then left the shop, but not before
glancing across the stacks to Sabrina. She flushed as he caught her
eye.
Busted
, she thought. Pretending she hadn't been
watching, she lifted her hand in a gesture of farewell.

Frozen with indecision, Sabrina looked at the
bookcase in front of her. Why was she here? What was it she
wanted?

A few moments later, the shop owner ambled
over and extended a hand in greeting. "Welcome to East of Eaton.
Are you looking for anything in particular?"

Sabrina blinked a few times, as if clearing
her vision. "I'm looking for books on sailboats."

Erica pointed towards the back wall. "There's
not a lot on that topic since we're a mountain town, but I do have
a couple. They're in the sports and recreation area."

Sabrina thanked her and wandered in the
opposite direction. Eventually she made her way back to the sports
section and perused the book titles. There were a couple of
illustrated books on tying knots, another book on trailer sailing,
and yet another on fixing old boats. She picked up the ubiquitous
yellow-and-black, how-to manual for "dummies" and leafed through
the pages. She opted for the handyman book and the how-to manual,
then browsed her way to the popular paperback novels. She pulled a
couple bestsellers off the shelves, piled them on her growing stack
of books and headed for the cash register.

This time, a petite elder woman worked behind
the cash register. Her nametag identified her as "June Duval." She
beamed at Sabrina as she placed the books on the counter. The shop
owner, Erica, wandered over while June Duval rang up the sale.

"I see you found a few books," she said,
glancing at the titles.

Sabrina nodded. "Yes, thanks. You're right,
there's not much on sailing but I did find a couple novels since
I'll be in town for awhile."

"Robert tells me your grandmother is Rose
Windham. I hear she's in the hospital. I hope it's not
serious."

Sabrina frowned, her eyes bright again with
unshed tears. "I hope so too," she whispered. She nodded her
thanks, accepted the paper bag of books and quickly exited the
shop.

On her drive home, she thought about
crushingly handsome Robert Hall. She felt a thrill of excitement at
the idea of dinner out with him. Did he know of her schoolgirl
crush? Would he be flattered or feel harassed?