It had been really tough to get through the whole day without breaking down and begging Buck to spill what was on his mind, but she’d managed.
And now?
At last.
Monday.
Bobbie felt like she could breathe again as she stood on the deck of her boat and the sun sent its first tentative rays over the horizon.
She walked over to remove her mainsail cover, and saw that her brothers had already dropped off the two large crates of beer they always sent north with her. She doubted, however, that they’d been up this early. They’d probably left it sometime in the wee hours of the morning, after drinking at one of the local bars, and before they’d gone to bed.
That was fine with her. She never liked seeing her brothers’ faces, especially on her day off. The pair always managed to sour her mood, and after her stress-filled weekend, Bobbie didn’t need any more angst thrown her way.
Quickly stowing the cases below where she’d already put the food for tomorrow’s menu into the specialized, compressor-based-cooler she’d had installed, she went back above to give her thirty-foot sailboat, theSmall Dream, a quick safety check before engaging the motor and puttering her way out of the harbor.
Bliss.
Bobbie took her first, sky-reaching stretch of the day after setting her sails. This was her happy place. This is where she loved to be. The ocean wiped away all her worries. Pitting her skills against the sea always kept her focused, even if thiswasn’tthe boat of her dreams.
Did she hate her little sloop? Hell, no. She actually loved it. It gave her freedom to sail, and it got the job done, which is all she could ask for at the moment. She supposed she should be grateful to her brothers for helping her finance theSmall Dream.
With Drew owning the family house outright—it having been left to him, the oldest, by their absent parents—he’d actually and magnanimously used it as collateral on her behalf. Three years after she’d lost her first boat so egregiously, he’d cosigned the papers for theSmall Dream.
All good for now. But what nobody knew, was that she’d been squirrelling away money for the five years since her catering business had opened, saving up for an actual racing boat that would get her, once again, back into competitions; her first love, one that ran far deeper than food-prep.
Bobbie looked forward to the day when she’d finally have enough cash for a healthy down-payment. Then she’d find the right craft, which she’d already determined she’d call theBig Dream.
Luckily for Bobbie—who was fast approaching her thirty-third birthday—a sailor was never too old to compete in many of the races held in and around Maine, and if she could place well in a number of them to prove her worth, her eventual goal was to qualify for and compete in the OSTAR. It was by far the best, single-handed Trans-Atlantic race there was, at least in Bobbie’s opinion. And even though it didn’t offer a monetary prize, competing in it held more bragging rights than almost any other race, which was exactly what she wanted.
The OSTAR ran every four years, and the race this year had already been completed in May. Which was fine. Bobbie wasn’t ready. She hoped with every fiber of her being that she’d have everything in place to compete in the next one.
But right now…
With the wind filling her sails and the sun shining down brightly, she set the wheel’s auto-pilot for the trip that had become so very familiar to her, and finally at her ease, she let her mind wander.
A huge sigh escaped as she lay back on the cushions of the cockpit, staring at the blue sky above. The winds were good today, brisk, and out of the southeast. That meant her sailing time would probably only be about eight hours, getting her to the private dock in New Brunswick around three this afternoon.
Not nearly long enough, as far as Bobbie was concerned, but even after she’d docked and unloaded, having a whole afternoon and evening to herself in the guest house her client kept open for her, wouldn’t be a hardship.
The logistics for such a fine day—without any weather-challenges, unfortunately—refused to take up much of her brain, and her thoughts kept returning to Buck.
Okay. She might as well face her ill-advised reflections. Maybe she could work him out of her system.
Number one. Was Buck serious about wanting to clear the air? And if he was, was it time to forgive and forget? Could Bobbie even manage that? Sure, fifteen years had passed, and she was in a much better head-space now. But what Buck had done had been unconscionable. She’d had her whole life planned out, and he’d single-handedly, in one night, ruined those dreams.
Bobbie still didn’t understand his motive, so many years later. And that was puzzle-piece number two. Had Buck been jealous of her sailing skills? Had it been a joke gone wrong?Had he been trying to prove something to somebody? Had he accepted a dare?
She definitely deserved answers to those questions, but it wouldn’t exonerate Buck’s role in those heinous acts. Still, maybe hearing things from his perspective, straight from his mouth, would make it so she could move on.
But…
Shehadmoved on. Hadn’t she?
Withouthimat her side, of course. Also without anyotheremotional support, and only the smallest bit of financial aid that her brothers had oddly stepped up to give. At least that was something. More than she’d gotten from Buck.
She owned her own boat, albeit with the bank possessing the larger share. She ran her own, successful company—again with loans—that supported her, and paid some sweet dividends to her brothers. She had a cute little apartment she rented, where she no longer had to kowtow to her older siblings.
That raised a snort.
