Emma’s bed is made with one bag on top, along with her purse, zipped closed and lying on its side. There’s another duffel bag on the floor at the end of the bed. I open the single cupboard that looks the same as the one I share with Beth.
At the bottom, there’s a makeup case and a pair of New Balance tennis shoes. But no towels.
Chapter Fifteen
Present: Day Four at Sea
“We areliveon day four of our fabulous sailing trip to San Diego!”
Beth grips the dinette table with one hand to keep from falling out of her seat as she films Gigi. The seas were so rough that Beth gave up reading a few hours ago. I stand from the couch and stagger sideways on my way to the deck, nearly toppling onto the table in the middle of Gigi’s live stream.
Her heavily mascaraed eyes flick toward me. She returns her gaze to Beth’s phone when I recover my stance enough to stay upright.
Her nude-lipsticked mouth turns up into a smile. “The weather is insane. You guys can probably tell the boat is swaying. We’re in the middle of a storm!”
I hear Emma hurl into the toilet—again—as I climb the narrow stairway to the deck. Knowing she spent so much time on her grandparents’ sailboat as a kid, I was surprised to hear her throwing up this morning. When Beth said as much, Emma reminded her these open waters are much rougher than anything she experienced sailing around Sequim. When I push open the door, it flies out of my hand from the wind and slams against the boat. My hair swirls around my face as I close it behind me.
Yesterday’s sun is nowhere to be found. Instead, dark-gray clouds loom overhead, making it feel much later than five o’clock. I pull my hood over my head. When a wave pummels the boat, I’m immediately sprayed with salt water. The helm is unoccupied. I turn to the sound of Captain Nojan shouting orders at Adam from the middle of the boat.
“Hoist the storm jib,” the captain calls over the wind as he struggles to adjust one of the lines on the mainsail.
My gaze darts to the large swell rolling toward the boat and my heart leaps to my throat. I’m thrown onto the bench behind me as the wave hits the hull, spilling cold ocean water onto the deck and soaking my feet through my Converse. I pull myself up on the bench as thunder claps in the distance.
How the hell did I let Beth talk me into this?
Adam ducks low and moves from the foredeck to the cockpit, keeping one hand on the boat with each step. He unwraps a rope from a winch and tugs. “It’s not going, Captain.”
Nojan looks over his shoulder. “Release the furler line first,” he shouts, pointing behind Adam.
I watch Adam release the clamp on his left before he tugs again on the rope in his hand. This time, the rope gives easily. As Adam pulls, a small sail unfurls at the bow. A lump forms in my throat. His inexperience didn’t seem so worrisome yesterday when we weren’t in the bellows of gale winds. But now ...
Fear stabs my chest at the thought of my girls, who are probably sitting down for dinner with my sister right now, while I imagine what it would be like for them if I never returned home.
Once the headsail is up, Adam starts to wrap the rope counterclockwise, then stops himself before wrapping the rope in a clockwise motion twice around the winch. He gives it a tug. I haven’t said anything to the others about how I found Adam in Emma’s room yesterday, lying about replacing the towels. At the front of the cockpit, the captain eyes our stormy surroundings with a grimace, squinting as wind beats against his face, then turns back toward Adam.
“Get below deck!”
I tear my gaze from Adam and see that the captain is pointing at me.
“It’s not safe for you out here now!”
Captain Nojan grabs the mast as the boat tilts. As we dip to the left from a rolling swell, I slide against the bench on the wet deck. I manage to pry open the companionway door, but it flies out of my hand, smacking against the wall of the cockpit.
When I get below, Emma is out of the bathroom, sitting beside Beth and Gigi at the table, her face a pale green.
“How was it up there?” Beth asks.
I pull off my hood and look down at my soaked shoes. “Wet. And scary as hell.”
“I think we should go home,” Emma says as I sink onto the couch.
Gigi, who sits across from Emma and Beth, shakes her head. “The weather will calm down. It’s just a squall. It will blow by tomorrow, I’m sure.”
“What are we doing out here?” Emma asks. “This is miserable.”
I spot fear beneath the attitude on Emma’s stricken face. She’s terrified. And so am I.
“It’s fine,” Gigi says. “Sailboats are made for this kind of weather. The captain warned me we would hit some rough weather, but he assured me it won’t last long. I thought you’d be used to this after all that sailing you did with your grandparents.”
