Read Online Making Waves by Lorna Seilstad - Free Book Online Page B

paint brush and a jar and passed them to Mark. “Brush this glue on the first piece, and then I’ll help you set the other on top of it.”
    “And this is teaching me how to sail?”
    “Nope.” He started to walk away. “It’s telling me if you know how to learn.”
    Mark turned to Marguerite and murmured, “This is your fault.”
    “Hey, you wanted to do this. Don’t blame me.”
    “Well, maybe I’m un-wanting to do it.”
    A surge of panic made her heart race. “Mark, you don’t want to quit. You’re just getting started.”
    “I’m telling you, if he tells me to mop the floor . . .”
    She leaned close to his ear and hissed, “Then you’ll do it with a smile on your face. You want to learn to sail, right?”
    Marguerite glanced at Trip, who had begun work on the skeleton of a vessel, and sighed. He might have tousled, sunkissed sandy hair, warm hazel eyes, and to-die-for dimples, but he didn’t know a thing about teaching a twelve-year-old boy.
    Mark dipped the brush in and slathered a thin layer of the acrid glue over the flat surface.
    “Not like that.” She took the brush and meticulously applied it to the sides of the mast, keeping the layer thick and even.
    “What do you think you’re doing?” Trip marched across the room toward them. “I told your brother to do this.” He pulled the brush from her hand and gave it back to Mark. “Take about half that glue off.”
    “Off?” she squeaked.
    “When we clamp the pieces together, all that extra glue will seep out.” Ignoring her, he spoke only to Mark. “Lesson one. If you don’t know something, ask.”
    And if you want him to know something, tell him .
    Trip watched Mark remove the excess glue, then pointed to the far end of the mast. “Now, we’re going to put one half of the mast on top of the other. Whatever you do, Mark, don’t drop it. If it cracks, we can’t use it. I’ll lift my end and you lift yours, on three.”
    Trip counted aloud and the two of them lifted the heavy piece of wood. Mark strained beneath the weight.
    “Do we need to put it back down?” Trip asked.
    Mark shook his head, but as they reached the other half of the mast, his step faltered. The board slipped from his fingers and landed in place with a thud. Trip’s brow creased in a scowl.
    “I’m sorry. I couldn’t hold it any longer. It was too heavy.”
    Trip laid a hand on his shoulder. “Lesson two. If you can’t do something, then say so. There are no heroes on the water.” Moving to a barrel, he reached inside, pulled out a set of wet leather straps, and tossed them in Mark’s direction. He wiped his hands on his white cotton shirt, leaving a smear of water. “Now, tie these on the mast every two feet. As they dry, they’ll clamp the wood together. And don’t let your sister help you. Tomorrow, when the mast dries, the real fun begins.”
    “And until then?” Marguerite asked.
    “You go home.”
    He had to be joking. They’d been there only an hour. What about sailing? “Home? But I thought . . .”
    The corners of his mouth curved. “Lesson three. Here, I do the thinking.”
    Marguerite whirled and stomped away, afraid to say another word. Outside the boat shop, raw fury burned inside her. How dare he take their money, use Mark in the shop like a hired hand, shout at her for helping him, and then send them off after only an hour with no boat instruction whatsoever.
    She climbed on her bicycle and pedaled away, vaguely aware of Mark calling to her. Maybe she’d been wrong about Trip Andrews. There had to be other instructors on the lake. Ones better suited to work with me – I mean Mark .

    Legs pumping like a freight train, Marguerite rode off into the distance. Trip chuckled from the doorway. Her brother would never catch her now. Maybe the work wasn’t what they had expected, but he figured they’d be back. At least, she would. Fierce determination shone in those crystal blue eyes, and the spark he saw in them, as she ran her hand