Liars and Fools (17 page)

I stopped, the chain dangling from my hands.

I had no idea what came next. I hadn't thought beyond this moment.

In the end, I let out sixty feet of anchor chain. I reversed to make sure the anchor was properly set, digging itself securely into the sandy bottom. Then I turned off the engine and just sat there, teeth chattering and my whole body vibrating with each convulsive shiver.

Dad would be beside himself. He'd call Joni. He'd guess I'd gone there. When Joni said she hadn't seen me, he'd try Abby's house.

They'd all be freaking out.

Maybe the marina would call Dad and tell him the boat had been stolen.

He'd know it was me.

I felt a sickening tidal wave of guilt break over me. This would be Dad's worst nightmare. I knew that was true. And as angry as I was at him—about Kathy, about him not letting me sail, about his insistence on
moving on—
I knew I couldn't do this to him.

I took one last look around me and breathed in the peacefulness of the gray water and the white sand and the windswept bluffs glowing golden in the morning sun. Then, still shivering, I headed back up to the bow to pull up the anchor.

Time to go home.

twenty-one

By the time I was halfway back, I was starting to get scared. The wind kept building until it was blowing hard—not gale force, I didn't think, but awfully close. The sea was starting to heap up into large swells, and the wind was blowing spray off the tops of the waves and into the air. It had clouded over too. In every direction, the sea and sky were gray and threatening.

And I was so cold. My jeans, sweatshirt and thin fleece were no protection from the icy wind.
Eliza J
was heeled well over, waves rushing across her bow and spraying over the dodger. I'd already dropped the mainsail, so we were sailing with the jib alone. It wasn't very well balanced, but I was scared to go up on the foredeck without Mom to take the helm and robin stevenson hold us on course, and I didn't know how to set up the autohelm to steer the boat for me.

I was going to have to do something though. I should have the storm jib up, probably, instead of barreling along with the full jib. I eyed the foredeck: it was at a thirty-degree angle, and every few seconds a wave sent an icy sheet of water sluicing across it. The thought of inching across it, hanging on to the rigging with one frozen hand and trying to change sails with the other…what if I slipped? I didn't have a life jacket or a safety harness.

Jennifer wrote her own ticket.
Was that what people would say about me if I didn't make it back?

The wind howled through the rigging, and a sheet of airborne spray sliced toward me right over the top of the dodger. I gasped as the icy water hit me, soaking me from head to foot and filling my sneakers before it swirled away down the cockpit drains.

I wasn't sure if it was more dangerous to try to change the foresail or to leave it up.
If in doubt, reduce
sail
, Mom always said. But leaving the relative safety of the cockpit and venturing onto the heaving foredeck seemed suicidal.

And I was so cold.

Through the companionway, I could see the radio, and for a moment I considered calling for help. But Mom had always said sailors had to be self-sufficient, that most people who called Mayday could have solved the problem themselves if they weren't so conditioned to depend on others. And besides, if I called for help, there would be no possible way to sneak the boat back in the marina and keep this trip a secret. Everyone would know that I had tried to sail alone and failed. I hated the thought.

“Mom!” I shouted. “Mom! If you are out here, please help me! Tell me what to do!” My voice was hoarse, and my teeth were chattering so hard my words sounded stiff and strange. “Mom! I need you!”

All I could hear was the wind. What was I doing out here? I pictured Dad waking up and looking for me; Joni answering the phone, morning coffee in her hand; Tom trying to be reassuring; everyone panicking when they realized the boat was gone.

I was crying now, in painful gasping sobs, and my hands were so cold I could barely hold on to the tiller. I let go, burying my hands inside my jacket to warm them.
Eliza J
turned away from the wind, her jib sail whipping across the deck and backfilling. We were drifting now, pushed along by the wind and current, no longer even pointing toward home.

“Help!” I shouted. “Someone, please help me! Please!” The wind snatched my words away and drowned them in the tumble of waves and spray.

I felt more alone and more frightened than I had ever felt in my life. The whole situation seemed unreal. A nightmare, only I knew I wasn't going to wake up.

I didn't want to die out here. I suddenly remembered Dad saying he couldn't imagine what Kathy had gone through, losing both her partner and her child:
I don't think I could survive that
, he'd said.

I wondered what my mother had felt in those last minutes or hours after her boat hit the reef: whether she had wished she hadn't gone on the trip; whether she had felt guilty about leaving me; whether she had thought she would be rescued or realized that she was going to die. Whether, like Kathy had said, she had felt regret.

And I stumbled to my feet, climbed down into the cabin and picked up the radio.

It seemed like a long time before help came. The coast guard had relayed my call, asking any boats in the area to lend assistance.
Eliza J
didn't have a
GPS,
and I hadn't been plotting our course, so I could only give a rough guess at where I was: halfway between Sidney and Victoria, a mile or two offshore. I huddled in the cockpit, clutching the mike and checking in with the coast guard every few minutes, and scanning the sea for another boat.

Dad was going to kill me, I thought, but I was too scared and cold to care. I just wanted to go to sleep.

“Fiona!” Someone was shouting at me. “Fiona! Ahoy,
Eliza J
!”

I struggled to sit up. A pale blue powerboat was coming up alongside: the man from the next slip at the marina.

“Can you hear me?” he shouted.

“Yes.” I nodded.

“I'm going to throw you a rope. Cleat it securely at the bow. Can you do that?”

I nodded again. A few seconds later, a coil of rope landed beside me in the cockpit. I picked it up and crawled forward, inching my way up to the foredeck. I couldn't remember the man's name. Mom liked him. She used to tease him:
When are you going to get rid of
that stinkpot and get a real boat?

My hands were so numb. I fumbled with the rope, trying to wrap it around the cleat, but it kept slipping from my fingers. It was like trying to tie a knot while wearing a baseball mitt. It took me a couple of minutes, but eventually I managed to wrap the line around the cleat in a figure-eight knot. I nodded to the man on the powerboat that I'd done it.

“Go down below and call me on seventy-two,” he shouted.

I dragged myself back to the cockpit, down the companionway steps and into the cabin. It felt like a long, long way, and I kept forgetting what I was supposed to do next. Sleep. I just wanted to sleep.

“
Eliza J, Eliza J
.”

I picked up the radio and fumbled for the Transmit button. “I'm here.”

“I'm going to tow you in,” he said. “It's not far. You almost made it back, you know.”

“Okay.”

“Take off your wet clothes and wrap yourself in whatever dry stuff you can find. Can you do that?”

I nodded.

“Fiona! Can you do that?”

“Yes. I can do that.”

“Okay. Call me when you've done it.”

I stripped off my wet things. My whole body was trembling, and my hands were so numb I could barely use them. Hypothermia, I told myself. You're hypothermic
.
I looked around for something to wrap myself in. When Mom and I used to sail, we had all kinds of stuff down here—blankets, sweaters, jackets, food, games and books. But now the boat was empty. Sold.

I stood there for a few seconds, naked, trying to force my frozen brain to think. Something dry. I opened the big storage locker under the port berth and pulled out the genoa sail in its big canvas bag. It was our sail for light winds: red and white striped and enormous. And dry. I dumped it onto the cabin floor and wrapped it around myself, over and over and over. I pushed
Transmit
. “Done it.”

“Good girl,” the man said. “Now hang in there. We'll be back before you know it.”

I was still curled up on the cabin floor, wrapped in my sail, when
Eliza J
was towed alongside the marina gas dock. Voices were calling my name: Dad. Joni. I struggled to sit up. The boat rocked as people stepped on board.

“Fiona.” Dad's face appeared in the companionway. All I could think was how odd it was to see him on the boat. I couldn't even remember the last time he'd been on board. It had been years.

“What on earth…? Where have you…? We've been beside ourselves with worry. When I woke up…” His words spilled out, all broken up.

I remembered the car in our driveway. “You and K-K-Kathy?” My teeth chattered.

He stared at me, his face flushing from white to angry red. “Is that what this is about? Kathy spending the night? Fiona, you could have been—”

Joni caught up to him and put her hand on his shoulder. When she does that, it's like she's breathing calmness right into you. I could actually see Dad sort of slow down and take a deep breath. “Fiona,” he said, “this is really none of your business, but just listen to me a second. Kathy came over because she'd had a big fight with Caitlin and Caitlin ran off to spend the night at a friend's place. Kathy was upset and needed a friend.”

“All night?”

He shook his head. “She'd had a few drinks. I didn't think she should drive, so she stayed. In the spare room, although that is none of your business either.”

Ugh. I didn't want to think about my dad being with anyone. I didn't even want him to think I was thinking about it.

“I can't believe you took the boat out. You could have drowned. Anything could have happened. What were you thinking?” Dad's voice shook.

“Peter, that can wait. Look at her. She's shivering. Fi, honey, your lips are blue,” Joni said.

Over her shoulder, the man from the powerboat appeared. “Here. Sweater and track pants. They're mine, but they'll fit you better than that sail.” He dropped the clothes beside me on the floor. “And a hot-water bottle.”

“Thanks.” I hugged its warmth to my chest. Even through all the layers of sail, it felt so good it made me want to cry.

“Are you naked under there?” Joni asked.

“More or less,” I said, embarrassed.

“Can you manage?”

I nodded, and they all stepped off the boat and waited on the dock while I fumbled my way into the clothes, which dangled from my wrists and bunched up around my ankles. Their owner was probably a foot taller than me. I could hear Dad and Joni thanking him and him saying it was no trouble, no trouble at all.

For him, maybe. Now that I was safely back at the dock, I was starting to wonder how much trouble
I
was in. Still shivering and holding the water bottle against my chest as if it was a shield, I made my way out to the cockpit to face my dad and Joni.

Dad's arms were folded, his jaw tight. “And now would you like to tell me where you've been?”

I started to cry. I couldn't help it. My words came out hiccupy and broken up, my teeth still chattering. “I sailed. To Sidney Spit.”

“You sailed all the way to Sidney? By yourself? Fiona, that's…that's…”

“The sort of thing Jennifer would have done.” Joni's voice was soft.

“Exactly.” Dad was practically shouting. “Dangerous. Ill-considered. Impulsive.” He shook his head, and a gust of wind blew his long strands of hair right off his bald patch and held them standing straight up like a sail in the wind. “Irresponsible. Completely irresponsible.”

I scowled at my father. He hardly ever talked about Mom, and now he sounded like he was mad at her. “She was not irresponsible.”

“If she wasn't irresponsible, she'd still be here,” Dad said. “Obviously it's just as well that I sold the boat. I can't believe you'd do something so stupid. So
dangerous
.”

My tears dried up instantly, and I felt myself harden, my spine stiffening, my anger closing around me like a protective shell. “It wasn't dangerous,” I said. “Anyway, if you were so worried, you should have asked Kathy. Surely she could have used her psychic powers and told you I was fine.”

“Don't start,” he said. “Come on, Fiona. Let's go. Kathy is waiting at home—at our place—in case you showed up there.”

Kathy is waiting at home.
I sat down in the cockpit. “I'm not going home if she's there.”

“Don't be ridiculous, Fiona. You are in enough trouble already.” Dad reached out his hand toward me. “Come on. Don't make this worse.”

I wondered if Kathy was going to move in with us. I didn't think I could stand it if she did. I'd run away. I turned away from him and looked out at the water. I knew I was being childish, but I didn't care.

“I won't come,” I said, still with my back turned. “I won't ever go in the house if she's there. I'd rather be dead.”

There was an awful silence.
Dead, dead, dead
. I wished I could reach out and snatch the word back. I didn't mean it.

“Damn it, Fiona.” Dad raised his voice. “Let's go. Now. I'm not kidding around.”

What would he do if I just sat here in the cockpit and refused to get off the boat? I wrapped my arms around myself and tried to stop shivering.

“Peter.” Joni spoke firmly. “I'll take Fiona to my place and get her warmed up. You go home and let Kathy know that Fiona is all right. I'm sure she's terribly worried.”