Treasure

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“Jake, everyone’s different. Sam and I were…I don’t know…two parts of the same soul. Neither one of us remembered a time without the other and he died suddenly—”

“A massive coronary’s about as sudden as you can get. Forty years of marriage, and Dad was gone within days. Is waiting a year too much to ask?” The one good engine rolled over, and the Mañana moved ahead. Jake closed the engine cover to douse the sound.

“I don’t think you have the right to ask anything from her. She gave you, Sam and your dad everything she had. Now it’s time to let her do what she wants. Anyone can see that your mother’s the light of Harold’s life. He’d drop anything to be with her.” Claire set her hands on her hips. “After all those years with Vic, doesn’t she deserve that kind of attention?”

His neck prickled defensively. “Dad loved her.”

“In his own way.”

“You may have practically lived at our house, but you didn’t see everything.”

As a next-door neighbor and somewhere in the middle of a family of eight, Claire had claimed the Rawlings family as her own quite early on. She used to say she got more attention in one day at the Rawlings house, than a week at her own. She’d do her homework at their house, claiming it was quieter. Watch TV in their living room, saying she and Sam enjoyed the same shows. She’d even spent weeks with them out on the boats in the summertime.

“Sometimes an outsider can see things best.” She paused, her mouth pinched with worry. “If your dad ever had the choice of time with Milly or heading off for a new wreck site,” Claire said, “which one did he always go for?”

“What’s your point?”

“The fact that you don’t get it.” Her frown deepened. “Jake, wake up. Your mom spent half her married life without the husband she loved. How happy do you think she was?”

While he’d been growing up, his mom had seemed cheerful and competent, despite raising two boys virtually on her own. The fact that she may not have been happy during that time confused and angered him, put a crack in his foundation. The type of crack he didn’t want to look at, let alone fix. He eyed the door, needing out of this conversation.

“She gave your dad the best years of her life,” Claire continued. “Let her move on.”

Wasn’t his surrogate sister a good one to talk? “Maybe it’s time you quit meddling in everyone else’s life, Claire.” And take a good look at your own, he added to himself.

Her surprised expression turned guarded.

He pushed past her and yanked open the engine room door. “What Mom does is her own business. She doesn’t need your endorsement. Or mine.” Jake reached his cabin and secured the door behind him. Mom unhappy. Was that possible?

He forced the useless musings out of his mind. This was no time for family or personal bullshit. He had more important things to think about, like figuring out if his engine had been sabotaged and, if so, who was behind it. He walked straight to the safe, analyzing the possibilities.

Time to take some precautions.

CLAIRE STOOD ALONE in the engine room, staring at the equipment and sundry tools clamped along the wall, trying to slough off the sting of Jake’s accusation. Milly wouldn’t think she was meddling in everyone’s business. Jake was a jerk, always had been. OEI’s entire staff would attest to that.

She took a deep breath and the truth bubbled to the surface. No, that wasn’t true. As brother-in-laws go, Jake was irreproachable, treating Claire like an integral part of his family. Steadfast and protective, Jake would bend over forward, backward and any which way he could for the people he cared about. Lately though, he hadn’t been himself, a man in need not used to needing. Maybe Ronny was right and she should cut him some slack.

She reached for the door, the boat rolled on a wave and a heavy pipe wrench swung from the wall. Claire, baby. Hand me that wrench. The memory of Sam’s deep, raspy voice filled her head. His image swam before her and loneliness engulfed her, the kind of loneliness that made her chest ache, made her want to curl in her bunk and sleep for a thousand years.

I don’t know how to be without you, Sam. I miss you. Your voice. Your laugh. The way you leaned your forehead against mine and looked into my eyes. The way your neck felt under my lips, my tongue. The sweet way you’d kiss my tummy every time we made love in case we’d made a baby. I wish we’d had a child. I’d have a piece of you. To hold.

Her hand flew to the gold chain around her neck, Sam’s chain, the one she’d given him for his eighteenth birthday.

I miss you. So does Jake. Sometimes I think he’s going to blow from locking up all that pain. And D.W., too, though he won’t talk about it. At all.

Oh, Sam, how D.W. misses you. Something funny’ll happen and we both laugh and turn to tell you about it. Instead, we’re looking at each other. Lost. His smile fades, and I can see it written all over his face.

Like it was yesterday, she could see them, standing next to each other. D.W., fair-haired and rangy, towering above Sam’s dark head and stocky frame. They’d been inseparable, at least for the summers when D.W. had lived in Florida with his dad. During the school years when D.W. went back to Texas to live with his mom, she and Sam had always felt as if something was off-kilter. Their three-legged stool had lost a leg. Like now. Only their other leg was never coming back.

D.W. Oh, Lord.

It just wasn’t fair! She was barely over thirty, in her sexual prime. She had needs and wants, natural and right. But D.W.? Could life get any crueler?

Closing her eyes, Claire hugged herself and her stomach grumbled loudly. She’d forgotten breakfast. Again. One flippered foot in front of the other, she repeated in her mind—it had become her mantra. There’d be company in the galley. Annie would be having lunch. If Claire could get her alone, it’d be a good time to dig out her story.

Jake’s admonishment about her meddling ways niggled at her conscience. “Oh, for crying out loud. Annie needs a friend on this ship. That’s all.”

CHAPTER FIVE

IN THE GALLEY, Annie helped D.W. and Ronny pile an assortment of meats, cheeses, fresh fruits, condiments and chips onto the table for lunch. They’d nearly finished with the task when Simon joined them, leaned over the sink and silently scrubbed engine grease from his hands.

Annie sat down at the table across from D.W. and followed his lead by throwing together a sandwich. After all the fresh air, she was starving. Ronny was about to take his first bite of his own concoction when Claire came in and asked, “Whose turn for a shift at the helm?”

“That’d be me.” Ronny jumped up and headed to the control room with his full plate of food.

Claire dropped down next to Annie. She grabbed an empty plate, but stared at the luncheon fare as if making her own meal required too much effort.

“Claire, honey, you got to eat something,” D.W. said.

“I know.” She didn’t move a muscle. D.W. took two slices of wheat bread, smoothed on a thin layer of mustard, slapped on several slices of turkey and finished it off with a few leaves of crisp, green lettuce. “Enjoy this fresh stuff while you can, Annie,” he said, breaking the awkward silence. “When it’s gone, it’ll be back to canned tuna, boxed mac-and-cheese and that god-awful powdered milk. I don’t think anybody ever drinks that swill. Don’t know why we stock it.”

Claire sniffed. “When you buy your own boat, D.W., you can stock the galley any way you please.”

“Can’t be soon enough,” D.W. mumbled before setting the sandwich he’d made in front of Claire. “Just the way you like it, so eat.” He went to work on his own lunch.

“D.W.?” she asked. “Do I butt into other people’s business?”

A chip caught in D.W.’s throat, and he coughed. “God, no, honey. Who told you that?”

“Never mind.” Claire picked up the sandwich and took a bite.

Annie hid her smile behind a glass of fresh, cold milk and took a swallow. Simon finally finished cleaning up, sat next to D.W. and hastily put together his own lunch. By the time Claire got around to her second bite, Simon had already wolfed down most of his food. He stood, dropped his garbage in the bin and left.

“He doesn’t talk much, hmmm?” Annie peeled a banana.

Claire poured herself some milk. “When I was a kid, Simon was the best uncle any kid could hope for. We played cards together, hide and seek, hangman. I turned thirteen, developed breasts and poof. He’s hardly looked at me since.”

“And he’s missing one fine sight, if you ask me.” D.W. smiled at Claire.

“No one did ask you,” Claire said, scowling back at him.

“As a matter of fact,” D.W. said, barely missing a beat with a wink at Annie, “I believe Simon’s missing two fine sights.”

Claire’s scowl deepened before she glanced past Annie and nodded toward the stern. “There he goes. Like clockwork.”

Annie spun around to find Jake, minus a shirt and the ever-present baseball cap, striding across the deck. In one swift and obviously practiced movement, he hopped over the rail and dove off the boat. She gasped and jumped up.

“It’s okay.” Claire laughed, grabbing her wrist to settle her back down.

“What’s he doing?”

“He gets antsy and needs to let off a little steam,” Claire explained. “Whoever’s at the helm reduces speed, and he swims alongside the boat until he burns out. Believe me, we’ll all be a lot happier for it.” She popped another bite of sandwich in her mouth.