Winter Storms (14 page)

He had been the centre of her world, she needed no one else, neither her mother nor her absent father. In her young dreams, she pictured them winning together and later, married with children of their own. But that terrible December day had changed everything; the life she had planned out wasn’t going to happen anymore.

Their small boat drew level with the harbour entrance and she stared at the ocean, its waves choppy under an increasing sea breeze. Grey shapes flickered in the mist above, crying out with the peculiarly mournful lament of a sea bird, and brief flashes from the lighthouse shone in the distance. They had come far, further then she intended.

“Do you want to take the tiller?” Daniel said.

“Not today.” But another day, she might.

“Going about.”

Carly ducked as the boom swung over and automatically sat on the opposite seat, it had been an easy move, one twist of her good leg did it.

“Home now,” he said.

Weak winter sun glowed from the water, Carly rubbed her cold hands together and pulled her hat down over her numb ears. Daniel swung the tiller to avoid a buoy, long muscular hands on the wood, a narrow white scar on his wrist. It was a rope burn, she remembered. What other scars did he have? Raising her head, she caught his gaze and excitement bubbled in her stomach like the water under the stern. With a bump, their dinghy hit the pontoon and Daniel tied it up, before reaching for her hand. She shivered at his touch.

“Shall I carry you again?” he said.

She shook her head, not sure she could handle him so close.

“I’m freezing,” she said, rubbing her hands. “Do you want to come back for a hot shower and drink?”

“Sounds great.”

“Separately.”

He smiled.

Carly locked the shop door behind them; the last thing she needed was a customer finding her in the back room with Daniel Edwards.

“You shower first,” she said.

With a click, she turned on the gas fire and took off her wet jacket. In the next room, the shower switched on and she had a vision of him naked under the steaming water. Hastily, she started to make tea and after a few minutes, the rattle of water stopped and Daniel strode out, wearing jeans and a jumper, rubbing her towel over his hair.

“Feels better,” he said.

Looking away, she pointed to the mugs.

“Make yourself at home, I won’t be a minute.”

Steam filled the shower room and she undressed, standing in a puddle of water left on the bathroom floor. The blast of hot water against her chilled body chased away the goose bumps and pouring shower gel into her hand, she rubbed it over her skin, flesh tingling under her fingertips. The fragrance of roses filled the room. Carly smiled; he would smell lovely.

Washing her legs, she circled around her thigh where the flesh was red and scarred with a piece missing. She never got used to it, even after two years.

Daniel was lounging on her sofa when she walked in.

“Warm?” he said.

She sat down beside him, knowing it was too close. “Yes, better,” she said.

His gaze travelled up her body and he shifted in his seat. Did he feel the same way she did? Tingling, as if a thousand invisible fingers were stroking her skin. With a clink, he put his cup down and grasped her hand, she tried to move away, but he held it tight, raised it to his lips and kissed it. She caught her breath at the soft touch, the brush of his stubble, then he gazed at her with an expression of desire that froze her muscles and left her with no escape.

He explored her mouth with his tongue, holding her so tight his heartbeat echoed in her chest. Unable to stop herself, she wove her fingers into his wet hair.

His hands moved across her shoulders and down to her breasts, thumbs stroking through the fabric. Her breath quickened. It was wrong, but she could do nothing about it. Raising her hands, she ran them over his upper arms and back, the wool of his sweater soft under her fingers, muscles tensing beneath.

With a gentle touch, he undid her buttons, brushing her nipples, which hardened and a jolt of pleasure, so sharp it was almost painful, shot down her stomach and between her legs. Catching her breath, she grasped his jumper, yanking it over his head. Underneath, he wore nothing and Carly traced her fingers across his chest, the muscular panel of a professional sportsman. A soft line of hair snaked down to his jeans and she followed it with her nails as he groaned. With a tug, he pulled off her cardigan. The room was bright and she wrapped her arms across her breasts, but he moved them apart.

“Let me see you, I’ve dreamt of you since last time.”

But not scarred as she was now, it had been dark then.

“It’s all right,” he said, softly.

This was Daniel, her best friend, there was nothing to fear. Her shoulders relaxed and she tilted her lips upwards.

“I like to see you smile,” he said.

His arms slid around her waist and traced up her spine, he eased down the cup of her bra to kiss her breasts and she groaned at the heat of his skin. He undid the clasp and her underwear dropped to the floor.

“Cold?” he said.

“A little.”

Daniel lowered his warm mouth to her breasts, closing his lips over her nipples. Pinpricks flashed across her skin and she gasped, desperate for him to touch her, knowing how much he wanted her.

“Come here,” he said and lifted her onto his lap, placing her knees each side of his thighs, facing him, his warm hands stroking down her bare back, fingers creeping under the band of her jeans.

“Does this hurt your leg?” he said.

It ached, but she shook her head then wiggled off his lap and stood in front of him so he could reach for her belt to take her trousers off. He breathed in and she closed her eyes. He hadn’t seen her leg before.

“Oh, Carly,” he said.

Smoothing his palms over her damaged skin, he trailed his fingers up the back of her thigh, down her hips, across her bottom. Tracing his hand back, he brushed the crotch of her knickers and then slid a warm finger under the material. She trembled, leaning against his knees as he stroked her labia and then used two fingers to brush her clitoris. Carly moaned and stripping off her pants, he slid his fingers slid inside her, spreading wide; she wiggled and they withdrew. Where had he gone? She opened her eyes.

He was taking off his own clothes, putting his mobile on the table. She stared, eyes wide open, at the perfection of his body, recognising old marks, learning new. He smiled, holding her gaze, as he fitted his naked buttocks against the cushions, penis hard and upright. Reaching out, he supported her hips so she could slide onto his lap, astride him, then he thrust up with a single hard push and she groaned, arching back, taking him inside her. Sweat gleamed on his shoulders and he thrust deep, hands tangled in her hair, pulling her against him. She tightened her knees to meet him, leg aching. Dismissing it, she rose up and down, waves of pleasure flooding her pelvis until she could take no more. Moaning, her hips bucked and she cried out, breathless, as he came hard inside her.

Soaked in sweat, panting, she curled up against him. If only they could stay like this forever, but her leg hurt, forcing her to move and she sat on the sofa, her back against him while he stroked her shoulders and she shivered.

“I think we might need another shower,” he said, as sweat trickled down her body and her legs gleamed, wet and sticky.

A rattle came from the shop door as a customer shook it, soft rain pattered on the windows and the glow of Christmas lights filled the room. Rising, she picked up her cane and stood in front of him.

“Shower?” she said.

They made love again under the warm water, her back against the tiled wall, left leg hooked around his waist, his hands supporting her bottom, suds of rose scented shower gel flowing down their bodies. She squirmed when he used the body sponge to stroke her skin, making her wet and dazed, their hair tangled together.

Dragging her clothes on, Carly lay beside him on the sofa, eyes closed, body aching, unable to believe what they had done and how much she wanted him again.

There was a loud knock on the shop door. “I must open up,” she said. “People will need last minute gifts, it’s Christmas Eve.”

“I’ll finish my shopping in the harbour shops. Will I see you later?” he said.

“Come to the flat tonight, we can spend Christmas Eve night together.”

He kissed her lips.

“Go!” She drew back, laughing.

With a click, he unlocked the door and spoke to the customer, telling them to wait for her. Reaching for her shoes, she pulled them on and hurried out.

Carly wrapped her coat tighter around her shoulders as sleet drove across her face. Daniel’s hand rested in a warm spot against her back. He wasn’t quite hugging her, but people still glanced at them and she resisted the urge to shrug him away. After spending Christmas together, mostly in her bedroom, she could hardly object, but she wasn’t ready for a public declaration, not when she still didn’t know if she could be with him. It would be hard to accept his job and she couldn’t ask him to take up another occupation. It would be a cruel thing to do, as if she was using his guilt against him.

Two fishermen strode past her, swinging bags and looking at her curiously. Their families must have stayed at home, but she wanted to see Liam off on his first day of a new job. Stepping forward, she peered over the edge of the harbour at the murky green water beneath, topped with a layer of scum and two floating crisp packets. She could look at it now without trembling, even if she didn’t feel ready to try sailing again yet.

“All right?” Daniel said, touching her shoulder.

She nodded, finding it comforting that he knew why she had peered over. A choppy wave broke against the bottom of the steps beside the rusting fishing trawler and she jumped. But she used to skip down those stairs without a second thought once, and going out in the boat with Daniel left her believing that she could, possibly, sail again. Shane had suggested visiting the doctor. However, she had a strong feeling that the answer to beating her phobia lay here in Haven Bay, that tablets and counselling wouldn’t help her regain the trust she had lost in the ocean, in Daniel and in herself.

Liam jumped off the fishing trawler and strode toward her, his face set and angry as he glared at Daniel.

“What’s he doing here?” he said.

“Come to see Steve, Ali’s husband off,” Carly said, stepping between them. Daniel had been patient so far, but she knew there was a limit to the amount of goading he would take, he only put up with Liam’s rudeness because of her. It was a shame; Liam used to look up to Daniel as the older brother he lacked, but she suspected now that he was jealous of Daniel, of his sailing ability, fame and money. Last night she’d tried to talk to Liam about it but her words had tailed off, because she had to consider whether she was so much different.

Now she separated the two men; today wasn’t the time for arguments, not with Ali behind, her face pale as she waved goodbye to her husband.

“Have you got everything, Liam?” she said.

“Yes,” he said. “All stored in my cabin. There’s not much room, but I’ll only be gone a week and I’ll be working for most of that time.”

“Have you got sea sickness tablets?”

He shook his head. “Come on, I’ve been on boats since I was tiny.”

“It’s different out in the Atlantic though,” Daniel said. “The waves can crash over your entire boat, spinning it around like a horse on a carousel.”

“How many fishing trawlers have you been on?” Liam said.

“I’ve been on a fair few lifeboats, rescuing people such as yourself.”

“Do you expect me to be grateful for that?”

“Liam!” Carly said.

Her brother leaned down to kiss her, glancing sideways at Daniel with narrowed eyes. “Take care, sis. Mick’ll be there if you need any help.”

“Don’t worry,” Daniel said. “I’ll look after her.”

“Nobody will take care of me, I’m quite capable of looking out for myself,” Carly said. She hugged Liam close. “You be careful, we haven’t got that new lifeboat yet.”

“You fill me with such confidence.” But he grinned and threw a small rucksack over his shoulder. “I’ll bring you back a mackerel.”

Carly wiped her eyes as he strode to where the
Sea Harvester
lay moored to the dock, its metal hulk strained with crimson rust and reeking of decomposing fish. She sighed, not wanting to imagine her brother striding the deck in the Atlantic gales, dressed in his yellow waterproofs, waves crashing across the deck around him. Long chains creaked by the gunwales, wrapped around the powerful turning gear that would lift the nets hundreds of feet from the seabed. Liam was an adult now though and had to make his own decisions; it was time for her to step back and let him live his own life. She just wished he hadn’t chosen to join the fishing fleet, especially not in winter.

Behind her came the sound of sobbing and she turned. Hands over her face, Ali wept, shoulders shaking and coat stretched tight across her bump. Everyone hoped she‘d go into labour over Christmas, but the baby seemed determined to stay inside. Steve stood beside her, holding her close, his palm resting on her belly, face strained and eyes half closed. He didn’t want to go either, but if he stayed behind, the trawler would be a man down, putting all the crew at risk.

“I’ll go over in a moment,” Daniel said. “Just let them have a few minutes to say goodbye, this is what she always dreaded.”

“It’s not a good situation,” Carly said. “Poor girl, the thought of giving birth must be hard enough, without having your husband in the middle of the sea. Will your mother go with her to the hospital?”

“Mum faints at the sight of blood. If Steve doesn’t get back in time, Ali will be by herself.”

Carly winced, a couple of years ago, she’d have offered to go with her.

“The trawlers have radios,” she said, doubtfully. “And first labours can take ages. The skipper won’t go out far, he’s a family man himself.”

“You know everyone here, don’t you? I feel like such a stranger now, so much has changed.”

“It’s you that’s changed,” she said, looking at his cashmere overcoat. “Have you spoken to Shane about getting back on the team? Now I’ve done what he asked.”