Slowly, Christian eases The Grace out of her berth
and toward the marina entrance. Behind us, a small crowd
has gathered on the dockside to watch our departure.
Small children are wa一ving, and I wa一ve back.
Christian glances over his shoulder, then pulls me
between his legs and points out various dials and gadgets
in the cockpit. “Grab the wheel,” he orders, bossy as ever,
but I do as I’m told.
“Aye, aye, captain!” I giggle.
Placing his hands snugly over mine, he continues to
steer our course out of the marina, and within a few
minutes, we are out on the open sea, slap into the cold
minutes, we are out on the open sea, slap into the cold
blue waters of Puget Sound. Away from the shelter of the
marina’s protective wall, the wind is stronger, and the sea
pitches and rolls beneath us.
I can’t help but grin, feeling Christian’s excitement—
this is such fun. We make a large curve until we are
heading west toward the Olympic Peninsula, the wind
behind us.
“Sail time,” Christian says, excited. “Here—you take
her. Keep her on this course.”
What? He grins, reacting to the horror in my face.
“Baby, it’s really easy. Hold the wheel and keep your
eye on the horizon over the bow. You’ll do great; you
always do. When the sails go up, you’ll feel the drag. Just
hold her steady. I’ll signal like this”—he makes a slashing
motion across his throat—“and you can cut the engines.
This button here.” He points to a large black button.
“Understand?”
“Yes.” I nod frantically, feeling panicky. Jeez—I
hadn’t expected to do anything!
He kisses me quickly, then he steps off his captain’s
chair and bounds up to the front of the boat to join Mac
where he starts unfurling sails, untying ropes, and operating
winches and pulleys. They work well together in a team,
shouting various nautical terms to each other, and it’s
warming to see Fifty interacting with someone else in such
a carefree manner.
Perhaps Mac is Fifty’s friend. He doesn’t seem to
ha一ve many, as far as I can tell, but then, I don’t ha一
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