The traffic light turned. He accelerated smoothly, and for several minutes the noise of the engine was the only sound in the car. Then, speaking quietly, she said, “I would have pegged you for a Porsche.”
He kept his eyes on the road. “Me? Nah. I need something more practical.”
“For what?”
“Carting equipment.”
Her voice remained wary, but he sensed her eyes were turned toward him, which was a step in the right direction. “Don’t you have gofers to do that, or is that only with TV?”
“TV, mostly. We don’t have the need. But I wasn’t talking about the station. I was talking about my boat.”
She was silent for a minute. “What kind of boat is it?”
“A forty-six-foot Morgan.” He kept his voice low and slow. “She’s in dry dock right now, but I’ll be putting her in the water in another month. From April through November, she’s my home.”
“You live on a boat?” she asked, unable to conceal her enthusiasm.
He nodded.
“What’s it like?”
He thought for a minute. “Peaceful. You’ve been on the ocean, haven’t you?”
She nodded.
“Sensed that freedom?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Well, it’s kind of like that. It doesn’t matter how tightly you’re moored or how calm the tide, you still feel that lulling. And the sense of freedom is always there. You know that whenever things get tense, you can cast off. Even if you don’t often do it, knowing you can gives you a psychological edge.”
He stopped at another red light. Savannah was staring out the window again. “There are times,” she said in a distant voice, “when I’d give anything to be able to cast off, when I want to get away from everything, to run away.” Returning to the present, she sent him an awkward half-smile. “Irresponsible, hmm?”
“If I say yes, I condemn myself. Everyone feels that at times.”
She wasn’t so sure. There were people in the world without worries or responsibilities. Looking away again, she said, “When I was little, I was always zipping around. My energy level was incredible. Sometimes I’d lose control and run smack into whatever was in my path. But that was okay. I just had to stand up and brush myself off.
“Then I got my driver’s license, and I imagined the same thing would happen, that I’d get going too fast and lose control, only if I started colliding with things, I’d be in real trouble.”
She focused unseeingly on the scenery that, with the turn of the traffic light, was passing once more. “There are times when I feel that I’ve lost control of my life, that I’m on the verge of a huge collision. It’s like I’m on a slide; I’m steadily gaining momentum, and I want to get off, but I can’t.”
“Sure, you can.”
“No. There are commitments, responsibilities. I’m an adult. An adult can’t quit when the going gets rough.”
“I take it,” Jared said softly, “this is one of the rough times.” He glanced at her in time to catch her nod. “What happens during the easy times?”
She gave a high-pitched laugh. “I’m usually bored.” With a quick breath, she looked over at him. “Between the rough times and the easy times are the times I love. They’re the times when the challenge is there without the trauma. Thank God, they come most often.”
“You’re lucky. Some people can’t say that.”
“I know.” Her voice lowered. “Take your next right.”
They drove along in silence for several minutes, but Savannah didn’t mind that. Jared was still a comfort, a solid presence. He was someone separate from her career, separate from her past. He was an eye in the storm of her life.
Too soon, she directed him to the Vandermeers’ circular drive. At the front door, he shifted into neutral and asked, “Will you stay long?”
“That depends on how Will is. If he’s running around the house waving a gun, it might take a little longer to calm him down than if he’s just sitting in a chair tossing off threats.”
