A Change of Plans (13 page)

T
HE SUN
had just begun to lighten the horizon when I woke, bleary-eyed after my middle-of-the-night watch. Maria still slept, so I slid off the netting, trying not to wake her. When my feet touched the remaining water on the deck, I shivered and hurried through it.

Braedon sat in the captain’s chair, documents spread on the instrument panel, the binoculars hanging around his neck.

Feeling a little awkward after the previous night, I glanced over his shoulder. “Found anything that might help us?”

“Nothing yet.” He let a map drop onto his lap. “We may be okay if we’re rescued soon.”

I scanned the vast expanse of empty ocean again and took a deep breath, overcome with a feeling of insignificance. “What if that doesn’t happen?”

He gathered the papers into a stack. “We have more food than water.”

As soon as he mentioned the water, my throat went dry.

Braedon glanced over to where Jimmy’s body lay covered. It would be exposed to the full sun soon. “We won’t be able to keep his body aboard if we’re out here very long.”

Tears swelled in my eyes. I hadn’t wanted to consider that.

He reached a hand out for me. I stepped back. If we managed to survive this, I could never tell Jimmy’s parents that not only was he dead but we had dumped his body in the Pacific.

Braedon stood and took me by the shoulders, forcing me to look at him. “We have to be practical.” He tilted his head toward Maria’s resting form.

I regarded her for a moment. He was right, but I hated it. She needed to know what would happen. I sniffed. “She’s going to have a hard time with this.”

Braedon gave me a quick hug and released me. “I think we all are.”

I needed to think about something else and glanced up to where the sails were tied to the mast. “Do you know anything about actual sailing?”

His eyes followed mine. “Some.” He looked at me. “You?”

“Nothing.”

Braedon let out a deep breath. He considered the rigging again. “We need to find out if those bullets did any damage.”

He set the stack of paperwork neatly aside and put a flare on top. I woke Maria to take the watch while Braedon unlashed the sail. We painstakingly searched it, finding only one bullet hole. The mast had been hit a handful of times but seemed intact.

He wiped the sweat from his brow and sat in the captain’s chair. “Until last night, I’d never sailed a multihull before. The rudders worked fine through the storm. All we need now is to harness the wind.”

The hot sun had given me a headache, and my stomach rumbled. “And figure out which way to go.”

Braedon gave a soft grunt as he poured over the map again. “We need to go west.”

Something nagged at my memory but slipped away. I touched his sleeve. “Can we really make it back?”

A cloud blew across the sun as his eyes met mine, the shadows making his expression inscrutable. I could imagine him wearing this face when he spoke with the family of one of his patients ... and didn’t want to tell them the truth. My shoulders drooped under the weight of everything we had been through.

We were going to die.

CHAPTER 13

U
NTIL THAT
moment, I hadn’t realized how much confidence I had put in the man before me, and now he was signaling that he couldn’t save us. My entire body turned cold.

He put one hand over mine and cupped my cheek with the other. “There’s always hope. We
can
beat the odds.”

I leaned my head into his palm, wanting to believe him— needing to believe him.

Maria jumped onto the deck, and I pulled away.

Braedon regarded her with a frown. “You okay?”

She looked awful, but she nodded.

He moved to the cooler and pulled out three lunch boxes. After handing me one, he sat by Maria.

In a flash, I knew what he was planning, and I jumped to my feet. A sick feeling stabbed my stomach, and I set my box down. I couldn’t be here when he told her. The knot in my throat told me I would be no help.

“I’m going to wash up before I eat.” I grabbed the bottle
of liquid soap by the portable toilet and looked at him over my shoulder.

His eyes were reproachful as he mouthed ‘Thanks.’

When I returned, Maria was crying over her sandwich, her eyes red and swollen. Braedon’s didn’t look much better.

“I need a wash,” he said, rising from his seat as I approached.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered.

“I can tell.” He practically grabbed the bottle of soap I held out to him from my hand.

“I just thought—”

“What? That since I’m a doctor, I was trained to handle all the crappy bad news jobs?”

“No, I ....” Yes. I had assumed that very thing, but I was also honestly sure I would have made it worse.

“Thanks for nothing.” He pushed past me.

When he returned, I pointed at the portable toilet. “Speaking of crap ....” I paused, waiting for some sign of humor. He gave none. Fine. “We need to empty it. Soon.” I couldn’t help a slight gag.

After we dumped it, we decided not to put it back, simply tying up a couple of large towels to have some semblance of privacy. I took the next watch while Braedon and Maria napped. I hated the sense of being alone while they slept. It made me feel small and helpless. The fact that it was Elle’s towel flapping in the increasing breeze around the toilet didn’t help.

Staring at the cloudy horizon and trying to listen for the sound of an airplane gave me a headache. It did beat the night watch, when I had strained my eyes hoping to see a distant light. Both were better than thinking of Jimmy’s lifeless body or worrying about Elle and Jori.

When they woke, Maria took the watch while Braedon and I checked the lines for the sails.

He shielded his eyes as he examined the sun’s position midway between its peak and the horizon. “That’s the way we need to go.”

Maria put down the binoculars. “I heard if you’re lost at sea, you’re supposed to just drift and let the current take you where people can find you.”

Braedon squinted at her. “That’s fine if the current will take you where you want to go.”

She jumped to her feet. “How do you know it won’t? Why do you just assume I’m wrong?”

Braedon’s eyes narrowed, the veins in his throat pulsing. He stabbed his finger toward the sun, his words barely understandable through his tight jaw. “Does it
look
like we’re drifting that way?”

Maria moved closer, her fists clenched, her jaw working. She was going to lose it. Alarmed, I jumped between the pair, raising my hands to keep them apart. I pulled out my teacher voice. “Let’s look at this calmly. See the way the water—oh!” The memory that had been playing hide and seek in my mind finally showed itself. I grabbed the map and turned it so both of them could see it. “Look here. The ocean in this area has a circular current, kind of like an oblong hurricane. Braedon’s right. This current will take us away from American Samoa.” Maria gave me a crusty look. “How do you know we’re not in the part that would take us west?”

I ground my teeth. Had I been this horrible after Jace died? “The current that flows west is above the equator. If we’d gone that far north, I’d have been able to see the North Star last night.”

“Whatever.” Maria curled her lip. “No surprise you’re
going to agree with
him
.” Without another word, she stomped over to Jimmy’s body. She jerked to a stop, her hands going to her mouth and nose. Turning, she hurried back, not taking another breath until she reached us.

Braedon and I exchanged quick glances, and my stomach dropped. “Is it time already?” I asked.

“No, it’s not time!” Maria glared at us. “Why are you in such a hurry to dump him?”

Her unfair accusation irritated me but must have really pricked at Braedon’s raw nerves because he spun on her. “Why are you in such a hurry to pick a fight?”

Maria made an obscene gesture and ran to the trampoline, muttering in Spanish. I didn’t want a translation.

I rubbed his arm, hoping to calm him. “Anger’s the third phase in the grief cycle.”

He jerked away. “I don’t need a clinical analysis.”

With a sigh, I glanced toward the girl. “Why is she mad at you?”

Braedon blinked, his throat working. When he spoke, his voice was rough. “Because I couldn’t save him.” He turned and went over to Jimmy’s shrouded body.

My eyes burned at his unexpected show of emotion. I hurried after him. “But that’s not your fault.”

The smell of rotting meat brought me to an abrupt halt. Choking, I covered my nose and mouth and stepped behind him, peeking around at Jimmy’s covered body.

Braedon looked to the back of the boat. I turned to see Maria watching us, tears running down her cheeks, her lips trembling. Braedon extended an arm out to her, but she shook her head. “Maria,” he called, “how bad do you want us to let him get, lying there in the sun?”

“All right!” She jumped to her feet, arms straight and rigid by her sides, hands clenched.

He continued to hold out his hand to her. I thought he would have to go ahead without her, but then her shoulders drooped, and she slowly reached out to take his hand. Once she clung to it, he took mine with his other.

“Maria, do you want to say anything?”

Crossing herself, Maria said something in Spanish. Braedon bowed his head, and I said my own silent prayer, taking shallow breaths and trying to ignore the stench.

I needed a different memory of Jimmy—not like this and not him lying pale and bleeding. Him on the stage at the end of the song, the audience screaming its approval. I hummed the descant Braedon had written. His eyes darted to me, and he took up the melody.

Still humming softly, he released our hands and took one end of the shroud. Maria and I grabbed the other, stumbling as we carried Jimmy to the edge of the boat and dropped his body into the water. Maria spun and dashed to the rear of the catamaran.

I turned into Braedon’s chest, keeping my eyes on the water. With his arms around me, we stared as the body drifted away.

“I wish ....” I coughed, rubbing at the cramp in my throat. “I wish we had coordinates to give Jimmy’s parents. I’d want to know where my son was buried.”

Finally, Braedon dropped his arms and nodded toward the sail. “You ready to get to work?”

I blinked and shook my head, feeling that to just move on would be disrespectful.

Braedon’s voice was soft. “It will help to distract us.”

With a sigh, I followed him to the corner of the deck. He
took hold of the rope while I grabbed the corner of the sail. “Was that stuff about the currents true?” he asked.

I frowned. “Of course. I spent a lot of my spare time last winter studying the locations on our itinerary. I thought it would help me decide which places to visit.”

Braedon checked the direction of the little SOS flag at the top of the mast, looked at the sun again, and adjusted the sail before doing the final knot. The catamaran jerked a little in the light breeze, and the sense of purposeful movement made my heart jump. Maybe Braedon was right. Maybe we would beat the odds.

I followed him back to the captain’s seat, where he steered the catamaran toward the setting sun and tinkered with a small gray box on the console. Letting go of the wheel, he paused as though waiting for something. When the catamaran didn’t shift, he gave a hint of a smile.

“This thing has cruise control?”

Now he did grin. “Looks like the captain jury-rigged an autopilot. Powered from the solar panel, I think.”

Later, after using our makeshift restroom, I reached over the trampoline toward the water to rinse my hands. A large and distinctive shadow flashed by.

I lurched back and scurried away from the edge. Three forms zigzagged underneath my feet.

“Lyn?” Braedon asked from behind me.

I pushed against the netting and flew off the trampoline, crashing into him. He caught my shoulders, and we fell back, landing in the settee with a thud.

“What is it?”

“Sharks,” I gasped.

With a low curse, he gave me a gentle push, freeing his legs
from underneath me and rising. He peered at the trampoline as he helped me to my feet.

A wave of nausea squeezed my stomach. “Do you think they
ate
Jimmy?”

“It’s possible,” Braedon whispered, his face pinched. “They may have been drawn here when we threw the toilet overboard.”

We had dumped Jimmy’s body in shark-infested water. The pain in my gut magnified and my stomach convulsed. I flung myself toward one of the buckets, dropping to my knees and retching. Braedon knelt beside me and stroked my hair until it stopped. Weakly, I leaned against him. “Do you think they’ll go away when no more food shows up?”

“We can hope. I’m hardly an authority on shark behavior.” He reached over and grabbed my half-full water bottle, handing it to me.

I took a swallow, wishing I could rinse away the image of sharks eating Jimmy along with the bitter taste in my mouth. From the corner of my eye, I noticed Maria sitting in the shade, using the binoculars to check the horizon. She mustn’t know.

T
HE WIND’S
picking up. Wake me if it gets too strong,” Braedon told Maria when she came to take the watch from him. “I don’t want to risk stripping the autopilot’s gears or capsizing.”