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Authors: C. S. Lakin
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from hypothermia before they could make it to land. Davis
cringed. If there was anything he hated, it was cold, icy water.
And he was not a good swimmer. Sure, he’d been an all-around
athlete in high school—basketball, football, soccer. But never
swimming. He peered over the bow of the boat. Cynthia huddled
beside him.
Her voice was hesitant. “Hon, why are we
doing this?”
Davis wrapped his arms around her and cradled
her. “Trust me, darling—this is going to be a great weekend. And
I’ll look after you, you know that. Anytime you feel uneasy or left
out, just tell me, okay?” Cynthia nodded. “That’s my girl,” he
said, stroking her hair.
After they boarded, the boat pulled away from
the harbor. Sherpa stationed himself at his master’s feet. They
cruised by beautiful wood and glass homes sequestered in woods that
grew to the edge of the water. Boats tied to private docks swayed
in the swells. The shore seemed within touching distance. Davis
pictured his sailboat rigged up, catching the wind on a warm summer
day. Barbecuing on the beach while watching for whales.
“Look at these fancy houses. I bet they cost
a fortune,” Dick said. “Maybe I’ll get a place up here
someday.”
“Who lives out here? Are these all retired
people?” Millie asked, wiggling on the hard, vinyl bench.
The boat rocked and lurched with the swells.
Davis gripped the side rail. He felt a little relief, noting the
stack of life jackets stuffed under the bench. The image of
floating bodies from the “Titanic” movie fueled his
imagination.
Mac steered the boat away from the island and
headed toward a narrow passage. “Used to be. Now a lot of city
folks are moving in with their fax machines and computers and home
generators.” Another island loomed on their right. Whitecaps
crested the waves. The wind blew salt spray into their faces as the
boat continued at a slow, steady speed. The vessel lurched and sank
into troughs as the swells grew higher. Mac paid close attention to
his course. “Normally this channel is full of traffic. But not this
time of year. And not in this weather.”
He looked over at Della, whose face was pale.
“You all right, miss? If you need to upchuck, it’s better over the
edge than in the bucket.” He pointed to the railing and just the
suggestion was enough. Della gripped the railing and leaned her
head over as the boat plowed forward into the wind.
“Just a little bit more, and we’ll make the
turn. It’ll quiet down noticeably.” Mac kept his eyes on the water.
“People come up here to sail, kayak, thinkin’ it’s so calm and
sheltered between the islands. But they don’t understand how
treacherous it is. These currents run up around five knots and
they’re forced through these narrow passages like a funnel. You
gotta know what you’re getting into up here. Lotsa folks been swept
away. I seen it.”
Dick stumbled over to the captain. He
couldn’t hear anything Mac said with the wind battering the
boat.
“Used to be a lot of piratin’ in the old
days. Now all the rich people’ve bought up these islands. They’ve
got a private airstrip over there—that’s where Miss Carmichael
flies in and out. But they’re isolated out here. Have to bring in
water. The power goes out all the time. Have to boat to Crane
Island to get supplies. No doctors or hospitals. Most of these
folks are used to the city life. They get out here and they fall
apart.”
“How long has Lila had her place? You see her
a lot?” Dick asked. He desperately wanted to know what she was
really like. He never bothered to get to know her in college—but,
who knew she’d make it big?
Mac shook his head. “Maybe a few years. Was a
huge operation, shipping all that fancy stuff in. But, from what I
gather, she’s not here much.”
Dick yelled over the whistling wind. “We went to college with her.
We gave her her first chance to act.”
“Ain’t that something,” Mac said.
As they approached the
cringed. If there was anything he hated, it was cold, icy water.
And he was not a good swimmer. Sure, he’d been an all-around
athlete in high school—basketball, football, soccer. But never
swimming. He peered over the bow of the boat. Cynthia huddled
beside him.
Her voice was hesitant. “Hon, why are we
doing this?”
Davis wrapped his arms around her and cradled
her. “Trust me, darling—this is going to be a great weekend. And
I’ll look after you, you know that. Anytime you feel uneasy or left
out, just tell me, okay?” Cynthia nodded. “That’s my girl,” he
said, stroking her hair.
After they boarded, the boat pulled away from
the harbor. Sherpa stationed himself at his master’s feet. They
cruised by beautiful wood and glass homes sequestered in woods that
grew to the edge of the water. Boats tied to private docks swayed
in the swells. The shore seemed within touching distance. Davis
pictured his sailboat rigged up, catching the wind on a warm summer
day. Barbecuing on the beach while watching for whales.
“Look at these fancy houses. I bet they cost
a fortune,” Dick said. “Maybe I’ll get a place up here
someday.”
“Who lives out here? Are these all retired
people?” Millie asked, wiggling on the hard, vinyl bench.
The boat rocked and lurched with the swells.
Davis gripped the side rail. He felt a little relief, noting the
stack of life jackets stuffed under the bench. The image of
floating bodies from the “Titanic” movie fueled his
imagination.
Mac steered the boat away from the island and
headed toward a narrow passage. “Used to be. Now a lot of city
folks are moving in with their fax machines and computers and home
generators.” Another island loomed on their right. Whitecaps
crested the waves. The wind blew salt spray into their faces as the
boat continued at a slow, steady speed. The vessel lurched and sank
into troughs as the swells grew higher. Mac paid close attention to
his course. “Normally this channel is full of traffic. But not this
time of year. And not in this weather.”
He looked over at Della, whose face was pale.
“You all right, miss? If you need to upchuck, it’s better over the
edge than in the bucket.” He pointed to the railing and just the
suggestion was enough. Della gripped the railing and leaned her
head over as the boat plowed forward into the wind.
“Just a little bit more, and we’ll make the
turn. It’ll quiet down noticeably.” Mac kept his eyes on the water.
“People come up here to sail, kayak, thinkin’ it’s so calm and
sheltered between the islands. But they don’t understand how
treacherous it is. These currents run up around five knots and
they’re forced through these narrow passages like a funnel. You
gotta know what you’re getting into up here. Lotsa folks been swept
away. I seen it.”
Dick stumbled over to the captain. He
couldn’t hear anything Mac said with the wind battering the
boat.
“Used to be a lot of piratin’ in the old
days. Now all the rich people’ve bought up these islands. They’ve
got a private airstrip over there—that’s where Miss Carmichael
flies in and out. But they’re isolated out here. Have to bring in
water. The power goes out all the time. Have to boat to Crane
Island to get supplies. No doctors or hospitals. Most of these
folks are used to the city life. They get out here and they fall
apart.”
“How long has Lila had her place? You see her
a lot?” Dick asked. He desperately wanted to know what she was
really like. He never bothered to get to know her in college—but,
who knew she’d make it big?
Mac shook his head. “Maybe a few years. Was a
huge operation, shipping all that fancy stuff in. But, from what I
gather, she’s not here much.”
Dick yelled over the whistling wind. “We went to college with her.
We gave her her first chance to act.”
“Ain’t that something,” Mac said.
As they approached the
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