ve many
either. Well, not here in Seattle. The only friend I ha一ve is
on vacation sunning herself in St. James on the west coast
of Barbados.
I ha一ve a sudden pang for Kate. I miss my roommate
more than I thought I would when she left. I hope she
changes her mind and comes home with her brother Ethan,
rather than prolong her stay with Christian’s brother Elliot.
Christian and Mac hoist the mainsail. It fills and billows
out as the wind seizes it hungrily, and the boat lurches
suddenly, zipping forward. I feel it through the wheel.
Whoa!
Whoa!
They get to work on the headsail, and I watch
fascinated as it flies up the mast. The wind catches it,
stretching it taut.
“Hold her steady, baby, and cut the engines!” Christian
cries out to me over the wind, motioning me to switch off
the engines. I can only just hear his voice, but I nod
enthusiastically, gazing at the man I love, all windswept,
exhilarated, and bracing himself against the pitch and yaw
of the boat.
I press the button, the roar of the engines ceases, and
The Grace soars toward the Olympic Peninsula, skimming
across the water as if she’s flying. I want to yell and
scream and cheer—this has to be one of the most
exhilarating experiences of my life—except perhaps the
glider, and maybe the Red Room of Pain.
Holy cow, this boat can move! I stand firm, grasping
the wheel, fighting the rudder, and Christian is behind me
once more, his hands on mine.
“What do you think?” he shouts above the sound of
“What do you think?” he shouts above the sound of
the wind and the sea.
“Christian! This is fantastic.”
He beams, grinning from ear to ear. “You wait until the
spinney’s up.” He points with his chin toward Mac, who is
unfurling the spinnaker—a sail that’s a dark, rich red. It
reminds me of the walls in the playroom.
“Interesting color,” I shout.
He gives me a wolfish grin and winks. Oh, it’s
deliberate.
The spinney balloons out—a large, odd elliptical shape
—putting The Grace in overdrive. Finding her head, she
speeds ov
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