Read Online Girl at Sea by Maureen Johnson - Free Book Online Page A

gleaming, ladder-like heated towel rack was large enough to accommodate the thickest towels available. The centerpiece of the bathroom was a bean-shaped tub with a dozen or two gold jets around its side and base. It was large enough for two people and encased in folding glass panels.
    There was a slight bulge on the side, presumably to give visitors a place to sit or a place to set the wine bucket. A gold-colored, wide-mouthed showerhead extended straight down from the ceiling, like some heavenly trumpet poking into the scene to announce that this . . . this was the bathroom spoken of in the beginning, and yea, it was good.
    “This is for me?” she asked. “This room?”
    “I know you came a long way to see me,” he said. “I know what you think. I wanted you to be happy.”
    This was just weird. It was a nice thought, being given the nicest room on the boat and the shiniest of shiny boat bathrooms. But it was still a boat far, far from home, a boat that he could never have afforded. Clio felt her head get fuzzy and unfocused. It had been a very long day—her night had disappeared sometime during the flight and the time changes. And there was no phone or computer in this room.
    “What do you think of the Butterfly ?” he asked. “She’s named after you, after all.”
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    “What?”
    “Clio,” he said authoritatively, “is the name of a family of sea butterflies. Sea butterflies are beautiful, colorful creatures.”
    “I thought I was a muse,” she said. “The history muse.”
    “You’re also a sea butterfly.”
    “Which is what?” she asked.
    He bounced at the knees a little and looked a little frustrated.
    She knew she wasn’t giving him what he wanted—daughterly praise about his toy—and it was starting to irritate him. That’s what he had expected. She could see it clearly. He had thought that the second she saw his yacht, everything would be good between them.
    But Clio wasn’t biting. She walked over and sat on the bed, bouncing on it a few times. Like the carpet, it was sproingy in an expensive way.
    “I’m kind of tired,” she said. “And how do I call home?
    Where’s the computer? Aidan had one. Is there another?”
    Now he looked annoyed. He walked around the edge of the room, touching the tiny round light fixtures in the ceiling.
    “We need to get stuff on board,” he said. “I’ll get you a phone.
    We need to talk anyway. Get yourself settled and meet me on the dock in twenty minutes. I’ll bring over your suitcase.”
    When he was gone, Clio flopped backward, letting the deep down comforter envelop her. She closed her eyes. Her eyelids ached for some reason. This bed was nice, and if she just kept her eyes closed, she would fall into a deep sleep and none of this would bother her.
    She forced her eyes open and pulled herself up off the bed, out of the door, and back down the narrow stairs. There was a 65

    lot of activity on the back deck, with things being passed up. She retrieved her suitcase from the thick carpet of the living room and dragged it along. The spiral staircase was really only wide enough to allow one person, and not even that large a person, to pass. It was also quite steep. She had to prop her bag in front of her, hoisting it step by step, adjusting it each time the stairs turned. After a few steps, she realized she couldn’t let go of the bag for a moment or it would fall on her.
    Five minutes later, she was still only halfway up and swearing not so lightly under her breath, when she had the feeling that someone was watching her.
    Aidan was leaning in the galley doorway, holding a large plastic file box.
    “You seem to be having a little trouble,” he said, not making much of an effort to conceal a smile. Once again, she was struck by his bright eyes.
    “No,” she said. “It’s going really well.”
    “Want a hand?”
    “I can manage it.”
    “Your dad asked me to tell you you’re supposed to meet him outside.”
    “Can you tell him I’m