“So…” he says awkwardly, shifting to his other heel. “Should we start now?”
“Right!” I blink, taking a big step back and throwing my gaze to the floor. “Sorry.”
But as I’m gathering my things to go, I catch another glimpse of the blinking map behing Caleb.
“We’re pretty close to Narara island, right?” I ask him.
“Not too far—it’s about twelve miles north of here. Why?”
I pause, the seed of a hairbrained idea forming in my mind. The Warrens are decidedly out of touch in every sense of the word—with Jules and me, with the environment, and with most operative aspectsof real life.
But maybe, instead of sitting on the moral high horse Jules is so sick of, there’s something I can do about that.
“No reason,” I say in as innocuous a tone as possible, “but I do have one more question.”
“Sounds dangerous.”
Caleb smiles slyly, and I shove down the flutter that blooms in my stomach.
“As a captain,” I start, “if you were dealing with a particularly difficult guest, what would your strategy be to… steer them in a more favorable direction? Hypothetically.”
When Caleb was still hot runner and I was still blissfully ignorant of the chaos about to ensue, he said something about feeling like a glorified babysitter. Yet the Warrens treat him like some kind of superhero. Maybe he has some insight on how to deal with them that I haven’t quite figured out yet.
“So, we’re talking about you, here?” he asks rogueishly.
I narrow my eyes at him.
“Very funny.”
Caleb furrows his brow, and for a moment, I don’t think he’s going to answer. But he takes one long stride towards me, nearly closing the distance between us, and lowers his voice.
“Hypothetically,”he says, “I’d never let them think I was criticizing or corralling them. I’d gently guide them towards the safest decision, while making them think it was their idea.”
“You wouldn’t kindly ask for what you wanted?” I ask, moving my eyes from the map to the stubble on Caleb’s chin. My fingers tingle imagining what it would feel like to run them across it.
He shakes his head.
“Or appeal to reason?” I ask.
“Especiallynot that.”
I nod, a (likely ill advised) plan taking shape. Joanna’s Marine Conservation Center is the perfect excuse to expose the Warrens to something actually meaningful, and it’sright here.IfI can somehow get Arthur and Patricia to go to Narara, maybe, justmaybe, I can get them to think about something other than themselves for a change.
Instead of judging them and whining about their behavior, I can actually do something about it. And, as an added bonus, put some physical distance between myself and Caleb.
“Caleb—"
“What’s crackin, all?” Jim’s familiar voice interrupts, and I practically jump out of my pajamas. He sidles up beside us carrying a tub of what I assume are walkies in need of repair.
“Stella, you’re up late! Captain showing you how to handle his rig?”
I try to smile, but pretty sure the expression on my face is closer to that of a preschooler in her first-grade picture.Smooth. Just please don’t let Jim make any more references to Caleb’s “rig”…
“I was just showing her some maps?—“
“I was just leaving?—”
Caleb and I declare unconvincingly at the same time. Jim looks back and forth between us, bushy eyebrows raised.
