Windward Whisperings (18 page)

Another week flew by like a blur. Less frantic on a Saturday morning, the kitchen smelled of
freshly ground beans. Coffee brewed in the pot. Kitzie had made French toast, and Garrett was
pouring orange juice. It was the day of the regatta, and she ate with gusto.

To get out of the way of two tumbling fur balls, the big one intimidated by the little one, they
moved to the living room. Garrett looked particularly sexy and dangerous, dressed in shorts and
boat shoes. Before she could stop herself, she moved close to him. “Before we—”

His lips came down on hers hard, obliterating her last words. He pulled her into his embrace,
and she forgot to tell him to bring a pullover. The regatta would last until late afternoon. It’d be cold
on the water. The kiss went long and deep, coffee mingling with warm lips and hot bodies. The feel
of Garrett’s erection pressing on her ignited a fire.

When their lips finally broke apart, the question must have been in her eyes because he quickly
responded, “We’ve got time, babe.”
He took her hand as he lowered himself down on the sofa. One tug had her falling onto his lap.
She braced her fall to avoid contact with his tender arm. His lips met hers again. He held her close
with one hand, while the other played with the strands of her hair. He laced his fingers through it
until he cupped her head and dipped her low. She fell back against the sofa cushion, and he followed
her down, kissing her again, his lips and tongue giving and taking pleasure.
He slid his hand down her blouse, and buttons came open. She felt the cool air caress her skin
before hot fingers skimmed over the lace of her bra. Underneath, her nipples awaited his touch.
When he finally pushed aside the material, he didn’t disappoint. His fingers teased and tempted. He
whispered in her ear what he wanted from her. “Open your legs.” His urgent command and the way
he spoke with authority while pulling off her shorts and panties made her tingle like a wildcat. “Want
me?”
“Yes, I want you.”
“Good. I’m still making up for lost time.”

Lost time, did he say?
She’d assumed he’d remembered the regatta because of his nautical attire.
But he dressed casually on most weekends. He’d spoken with Leviticus that morning and had a lot
on his mind. She had no idea if he’d show for the race and sent him a text, “Got2go LuvU.”

Coral and Brent would be at Woody’s. They’d grab a bite at Woody’s. She could order Garrett
something to go. If he arrived while they were getting organized, fine. If not, they’d have to shove
off. The start of the race was ten miles from the harbor.

Tense and mechanical, she set a yellow jacket and whaler hat on the bed. Under it, for good luck,
she’d wear a vintage black blouse that had belonged to her Parisian grandmother. She ran her fingers
along embroidery, accents of red, and then slipped into it.

Not wanting her hair to blow in front of her face, she smoothed it into a ponytail. She tied it
with her mother’s red crocheted ribbon, another lucky charm. She stepped into white canvas pants,
pulled on socks and shoes. Nervous, her hands shook when she tied the shoestrings.

When she arrived at the wharf, Coral, in full sail gear, stood cozy with Brent. They sipped the
same fountain drink.
“How about lunch?” Kitzie came up behind them and hugged their shoulders. “Doesn’t look
like our other crew member can make it.”
“We can handle it,” Brent said.
Coral tilted her head toward the shore. “Woody brought us a box lunch. We stowed it.”
“That was really sweet. I’ll run up and thank him.”
“Woody had to leave, had some business to attend to. He was with that detective,” Coral said.
“There’s water bottles, everything.”
“Did he say what was going on?”
“No, he just said, ‘Good luck. Practice your start.’”
“Guess we should get out there.”
To save time, Kitzie used the diesel to the starting line. They rigged the sails on the way. Very
little talk was necessary once they arrived. Brent was on the jib, Coral took care of the main. The
start was an imaginary line between two buoys.
Half listening, Kitzie heard Brent count fifty boats. Coral was comparing the regatta to a horse
show. “Horses are beautiful creatures, and seeing so many together is pretty. There’s something
beautiful about sailboats, too.”
“I like the look of a fleet when they’re at the same angle.” Brent adjusted a heavy purple SFSU
sweatshirt over yellow shorts and looked around. “Spectator boats are out.”
“Yes, you’re right.” As Kitzie looked about, she set her stopwatch for ten minutes. Her mind
was on getting a perfect start.
Coral was talking to Brent about the right away advantage of a starboard tack. “It’s when wind
hits the boat on the right side. Port is the left side. Boats on a starboard tack have right of way
except for those on a starboard tack and leeward.”
The judges’ boat fired the first cannon, and Kitzie clicked on her stopwatch. The start cannon
would fire in ten minutes, and she wanted to cross on a starboard tack under full power.
On a port tack, she headed downwind from the starting line giving way to other boats. She
looked at her stopwatch. At precisely five minutes,’ she yelled, “Tacking.” She heard her crew’s
response of “ready.” Kitzie turned the boat about through the head of the wind, knowing it would
slow them. Through the luff, Brent sheeted out the jib. Now on a starboard reach, both Coral and
Brent adjusted sails and moved to the high side. At full speed, Kitzie heard the cannon. Some boats
were over the line before the cannon went off and were immediately disqualified. Just where she
wanted her,
The Windswept
was bunched with the top ten.
Coral’s job was watching out for leeward boats through a big plastic window in the main. “Coral,
alert me if you see a boat on a port tack, too. I don’t want to ram anyone.” Kitzie felt all collisions
should be avoided even if she had the right of way. After all, she wanted to win friends and sell sails.
Looking to the west, the ocean was boundless. The wind was brisk. For the next two hours, they
had their jackets zipped all the way up. They rounded the buoy. Soon after Brent had the spinnaker
filled with wind.
On the last leg of the race,
The Windswept
was third, about six boat lengths behind two boats.
The boats ahead were sailing close together and trying to steal each other’s wind. The two
forerunners and
The Windswept
had a substantial lead over the boat in fourth place. “If we hold this
position, we’ll be finalists. I’m good with that.”
Brent was bent down, peering under the spinnaker at the two boats in front. “Did you see that?
The spinnaker on the leeward boat fell in the water, and the other boat ran over it.”
“They’re getting stuck.” Coral stepped across the cockpit to take a look.
Brent said, “They’re cursing each other out.”
Kitzie had seen races turn savage. She heard angry voices over the water. “They should work
together to untangle themselves. Otherwise, they’ll both end up last.”
She turned her attention to boats behind her. With her eye on the finish line, she headed straight
for it.
The wind was picking up, she guessed fifteen knots. Coming from their stern, it gave her a huge
advantage over the two in front. Every split second, she watched veins of wind, called cat’s-paws,
and veered into each gust. The Vectran sails accepted a full range of mast bend.
The Windswept
flew over the finish line, first in fleet. She saw smoke before the cannon sounded.
“That’s music to my ears.”
Brent said, “That spectator boat is taking pictures. Smile, Coral.” He waved.
Kitzie felt the wind blow over her, as strong and right as the afternoon sun.
She turned toward Landings Beach, and the spectator boat followed them. “Brent and Coral,
move to the high side. The photographer will zoom in on your faces. He’s from the Landings Beach
Beacon.”
All the way to Woody’s Wharf, her crew was as excited as she was. While they took down sails
and put the boat away, Kitzie invited a reporter aboard. “Would you like to interview the crew on
The Windswept
? They’re experts.”
She smiled, knowing Coral and Brent would be featured in the local paper. She shed her heavy
yellow windbreaker. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted Garrett.
He jumped onto the foredeck and made a slight motion of his head, a kind of apology.

Channel Islands race.’”
“Congratulations.” He was pained by his stupidity, forgetting. “Leviticus had received a phone
call from Cherry Sixkiller. She’d pinpointed Bud Logan. I’m surprised you’re speaking to me.”
She laughed. “Maybe if you were aboard, I wouldn’t have been able to think as clearly.”
“Thanks for the compliment.” He took both of her hands in his. “That blouse, you look like a
painting.” Even if he hadn’t known, he’d be able to tell she’d been on the water that day. It was her
glowing skin and her hair in tiny ringlets. Held with a red knit tie, black tresses slipped out.
She looked different, was different. She acted more like the Kitzie he’d known before.
Do I look
like I care?
Yet, she was more beautiful than ever. She knew what she wanted. She did what she liked.
And, she was forgiving.
When she looked up at him, he saw her warm dark eyes.
He finally remembered how to talk. “Will you walk on the beach with me?”
She stood on her tiptoes and kissed his lips. The boat rocked. “I’d like to see the stars come out.
It’s going to be a clear night, Garrett.”
Hearing her say his name changed the rhythm of his breath.
She locked the cabin, dropped her keys into her messenger bag, and moved across the cockpit.
He held her waist while she stepped from boat to dock. He followed until they walked side-byside on the boardwalk.
Taking hold of her hand, they walked along vintage shops contained in the old cannery. He
indicated a path at the edge of the waterfront. “Landings Beach is a crazy place if you think about it.
The peninsula is isolated, and there’s a lot of history.” He looked out to sea and then up at the
towering bluff behind them. “Did you ever hike up to the mine shaft?”
“Never. I always make out a face, as if the mineshaft stares down at me. I guess I believed my
parents’ warning that it was dangerous.”
“The town has some weird history. Nana talked about the evil there.”
“Massive and unbridled was how my mother described it.” “There was an attempted murder,
and it had to do with something in the mine. Leviticus told me. Cherry Sixkiller’s daughter was
involved. Her daughter’s time is up at a juvenile facility.”
“For her daughter’s sake, Cherry needs to clean up her lifestyle.”
“That would take some doing.” He hadn’t realized the beach was rocky. “Guess this isn’t a
walking kind of beach. It’s a sitting beach.” He felt proud of himself for saying something casual and
light when he felt none of those things.
“The rocks are too sharp for sitting. We can stand.” She looked up at him and smiled.
“That’s fine because I like standing here with you. How did Coral manage today, I mean with
her missing foot?”
“Very well. She may start racing their family’s boat. I heard her talking about it with her
boyfriend.”
“That’s nice.” He put his arms around her and pulled her close.
“What were you doing today? Besides meeting with Leviticus, was there another stockholders’
meeting?”
“Yes. Naiad needs a permanent CEO replacement. I suggested they look at someone inside the
company. I have more reports to prepare over the weekend.”
“Maybe I should move out of the cottage, give you some thinking space.”
“I’d never ask you to leave. Babe, I’m no good at this. Never leave.” He listened to the ocean,
the creaking of nearby rocks, and the peaceful, lapping water. “Do you want me to suffer?”
“No, I don’t want you to suffer. I want you to be sure. I gave you my heart once. Don’t take it
away again.”
“I won’t. Let’s celebrate with dinner and dancing.”
“You learned to dance, did you? I’d like to see that, but I’m bone-tired.”
“Could you go for Chinese take-out?”
“Great idea, and I know you’re good at the horizontal mambo.”

They’d made love, wrestled, and laughed until midnight.
She slept, but he could only drift. He lowered his head to her pillow, feeling her breathe. The
flutter of her eyelids brushed his chest. He felt her breasts against him and kissed the top of her
head, wanting more but leaving her alone.
He thought about the clarity of her vision, the risk she’d taken. The brave woman was
exhausted.
A work opportunity had brought him back to a place he’d longed to be. In high school, she was
the most sought after, yet she hung out with him. He considered his view of her back then. Popular,
wild, and rich, but maybe it was skewed by his imperfect teenage perspective and faulty memories. It
was before she was impacted by unbearable losses.
He didn’t want her to learn her parents were murdered. Bud had confessed to driving the barge
that killed them. Biltmore set it up, a worse crime.
He wanted to sleep, but the raucous chirping of birds at four irritated him. He wouldn’t have
noticed if he hadn’t been wound up. He was sorry for the way he’d treated her.
He could emotionally disappear, he knew that. He let his schedule and his flaw of stubbornness
run him. He’d behaved like a bastard. At six, they both awoke to Thor’s incessant barking. “That
dog is ruining our Sunday morning.” She headed for the bathroom.
Smelling smoke, he moved to the east window. “There’s a fire on the bluff. Come and see.”
She rushed to the window and standing with him, took in the sight of billowing crimson just
below a stark black relief of the old mine shaft. And, then he looked further down. “It’s coming
from the Boatworks, this side of the Pacific Coast Highway.”
He dialed Louie, told him to drive to the John Wayne Airport and to charter a helicopter. He
reminded him to bring the paper, proof of permission to land at Naiad, already signed. Required by
the FAA, it was necessary for a lease agreement. No, there weren’t wires around Naiad. “You’ll have
to avoid a fire. Get a chopper with doors and air conditioning.”
Next he phoned the security guard at the Boatworks with orders to keep the lot clear for a
temporary heliport. He listened for a moment and then turned to Kitzie. “The guard didn’t have to
open the gate. The fire department broke their way through.”
“There’s so much wind. The Santa Ana’s come out of the east. If the blaze spreads, the
peninsula will be in trouble.”
Sirens pierced the air. Fumbling, they threw on their clothing. Shoes and cell in his hands, he
fished for his keys and flew down the stairs. At the back door, he keyed the code for the alarm
system and hit off. He dove out the back door and brought his car up. Leaving the car running, he
rushed inside to get her.
His heart swelled looking at her. With a catnip mouse, she was coaxing Snowball into his carrier.
A leash was attached to Thor’s collar. Her mind was operating on survival level, he knew. She
worried their pets couldn’t make it on their own.
They sped toward a smoke-shrouded sunrise. At Naiad, the security gate lay flat on the ground,
and he bumped over it and parked. He hopped out and ran around the car.
Getting out, she accidentally rammed his knee. “Sorry.” She held Thor’s leash in one hand.