Making Waves (25 page)

Only of you
. Trip felt a prick in his heart.

Deuce headed toward the steps. “You’re going to have to work a lot harder to beat those rich boys from Spirit Lake. That skipper runs his boat like the insides of a clock. You could learn a thing or two just watching him.”

“Sure, Dad.” A lump formed beneath Trip’s Adam’s apple, and he swallowed. “I take it you aren’t coming with me.”

“Not tonight. Maybe another day. I’ll save you some supper.”

Trip leaned against the workbench. “Thanks. See you later.”

Perched on the deck rail like crows on a fence, Lloyd, Mel, Max, and Harry jumped up when Trip arrived. It would have made him laugh if he wasn’t still so irritated with his father.

“What are you all doing just standing there?” he barked, swinging onto the deck of the
Endeavor
. “Let’s get this boat in the water.”

His crew cast knowing glances at one another. Making his way to the mainsail, he kicked a bucket out of his way. It hit the starboard side with a clunk.

Harry swung under the boom. “Okay, out with it. Is it the girl or your dad? Something’s got you all hot and bothered.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

Sure, his father had let him down once again, but he was used to that. He laid that particular burden at Jesus’s feet so often he wondered if the Lord got tired of hearing from him. The niggling feeling that his father had a point irritated him more. He’d been an idiot today. He didn’t have time to court a lady, entertain one, or even console one, and with the race days away, he certainly couldn’t afford the undeniable distraction Marguerite Westing posed.

“I bet she looked pretty in her swim costume.” Harry checked the halyard. “What color was it? Red or blue?”

“I don’t know.”

“Now who’s lying?”

Trip scowled at his best friend. “Blue.”

“And?”

“And she did look pretty.” What was he saying? She’d looked spectacular. Her hair, the color of straw in the sunlight with red streaked through it, had been done up with little ringlets around her face and down her neck. And her eyes. How had she found a costume that matched them so perfectly? But all that was nothing compared to the way she ate her sundae. Did she have to do everything with so much passion?

Trip ordered Mel to cast them off, and soon they sailed under full sail at a good clip.

“So did you take her on the toboggan slide?” Harry asked.

“Do you ever stop?” Trip pressed the tiller to port. “You’re as bad as a gossipy old lady.”

Lloyd adjusted the jib. “Why don’t you make it easier on yourself and just tell him what he wants to know?”

Trip sighed. “After we went on the toboggan slide, we got ice cream. We listened to the band play a song or two, and I took her back to her camp.”

“Did you meet her parents?” Mel grabbed hold of the lifeline and leaned outward to counterbalance the heeling ship.

“Did she like the toboggans?” Max joined his brother.

“No to you, Mel, and yes to Max.” Trip pushed up his shirtsleeves. “Lloyd, don’t you have a question?”

Lloyd tugged on his navy cap. “What kind of ice cream?”

“Are you kidding? Why do you want to know that?”

He shrugged. “Why don’t you want to tell me?”

“Good grief. We each had a strawberry sundae.” He turned toward Harry. “Okay, is everyone done with their interrogation?”

“Almost.” Harry shifted positions to be closer to the others. “Are you going to see her again?”

Trip turned the boat but didn’t announce that they were tacking.

Harry ducked when the boom suddenly came across. “What do you think you’re doing?” He quickly secured the swinging arm.

“Sorry, I forgot the warning.” A stupid, mindless, rookie mistake that he couldn’t afford to make. The main reason he shouldn’t have even gone today. Too much was at stake.

“All you had to do was say you didn’t want to answer instead of sending me into the drink. You may be falling for her, but I’d prefer not to fall off the boat because of her.”

“I’m not falling for her.”

Harry chuckled. “Hey, Lloyd, you think lying can be contagious?”

“Methinks he doth protest too much,” Max teased.

Trip silenced them with an angry stare he’d learned from his father. “All this talk is distracting. We’ve got a race to win.”

The crew grew quiet for a while, but gradually conversation resumed. He didn’t mind as long as he and Marguerite weren’t the main topic of discussion.

Harry plopped down beside him. “Listen, mate, you deserve to win the regatta, and you deserve to win the girl.”

“I don’t want to win the girl.”

“Whatever you say.” Harry pushed up his shirtsleeves. “But take it from a gambler. There are more important games in life to win than that regatta.”

“I don’t play games with a lady’s affections. You know that.”

“I know, but sometimes it’s hard not to.”

Trip wiped his brow with his sleeve. Was he playing a game with Marguerite? He didn’t want to hurt her any more than she already had been. If she hadn’t lied to him, maybe he’d take a chance on her. But she had, and that made just one more reason he shouldn’t see her again.

“I can’t be distracted right now with the race coming up. I’m supposed to see her tomorrow, but I’m going to send word in the morning that I can’t make it. You saw what just happened. I almost got you knocked off the boat.”

“It’s your choice.” Harry stood up. “Just remember you don’t have to lose one to win the other. Your father’s voice is in that head of yours so bad you don’t even realize that you deserve to win both.”

Deserve Marguerite? He could take that either way. Maybe God was smiling on him, or maybe He was having a good laugh at his expense. Whichever it was, finding out would have to wait until after the regatta – if even then.

Right now, the regatta was everything, and he refused to let his father down. Not this time.

After locking up the club, Trip tried to sleep. Juggling thoughts of Marguerite and the regatta, he attempted to lay them at the Lord’s feet, but somehow he kept picking them back up. Marguerite had gotten to him like a bad case of poison ivy. And the rash was spreading. He could feel the itch creeping into his heart. This morning, when he’d told Marguerite about her father’s gambling, she’d looked so devastated that he ached for her. How well he remembered the desire to do something to stop Harry from his downward spiral, but being paralyzed to do so. Was she sleeping any better tonight than he was?

Suddenly he shot out of bed. What if . . .

He scrambled back into his clothes and jammed his feet into his boots. Not bothering with a hat, he hurried outside. On the dirt road behind the boat shop, he perched on an enormous log in a grove of trees and waited. Bats circled above him, screeching eerily, searching for their nightly dinner. A bright, moonlit night made it easy to recognize the men who passed on their way to the gambling den, including her father, but thankfully there was no sign of Marguerite.

Maybe he’d been wrong. She was a smart woman. He’d made it clear just how dangerous Clyde Stone’s gambling parlor was. Besides, what could she accomplish by following her father?

Just as he was about to return home, he spotted her. Dressed in a dark shirtwaist and skirt, she’d obviously planned this little venture. She kept to the side, probably hoping the trees would hide her.

He shook his head in disbelief. She actually planned to go exactly where he’d told her she shouldn’t. What if he hadn’t come out tonight and spotted her? Fear gripped him with a raw terror that turbulent lake waters never produced.

His emotions somersaulting from fear to anger, he crossed his arms over his chest. When she neared, he’d grab her.

It would scare her senseless, but she deserved it.

18

Shifting shadows made Marguerite’s nerves tingle. Moonbeams bathed the path. Cicadas whirred and crickets chirped. She stifled a shriek when a raccoon darted across the road in front of her. Maybe she should return home. Now that she knew where her father was headed, the drive to solve the mystery was gone.

Still, loyalty drew her down the lane. If she could just reach him, talk to him, he would stop this insanity.

As she glanced at the boat shop, guilt washed over her. Even though she hadn’t promised Trip to stay away from the gambling hall, she felt deceitful all the same. She dismissed the thought. Trip had no claims on her. He’d been kind enough to help her keep her mind off this ordeal, but it didn’t mean he had any intentions toward her personally. The decision to follow her father was between her and God.

She jumped at a cracking branch and placed her hand to her heaving chest. Her heart thundered beneath it. She took a deep breath and whispered, “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil.”

A hand shot out from a clump of trees and clamped over her mouth. Pulled against a solid chest, she fought and kicked. One of her blows landed solidly on her capturer’s shin. The man grunted but didn’t release her.

“Marguerite, it’s me,” he hissed in her ear. “Trip.”

He held her until he felt her relax, then let her go. She whirled to face him and fired a booted foot at the other shin.

Yelping, he grabbed the injured leg. “What was that for?”

“For scaring the wits out of me.”

“You? How do you think I felt when I saw you walking up the road, going to the place where I specifically warned you not to go? What do you think you’re doing?”

His anger, laced with concern, warmed her in a strange way. “Why are you here?”

“I had a sneaking suspicion you’d try to do exactly what you’re doing. And now you’re going back to where you came from.” He grabbed her arm and pushed her forward.

She dug her heels into the earth. “No, I’m not! I’m going to stop my father.”

“Don’t you understand?” His voice softened, but he didn’t release his hold. “You can’t stop him. He has to do that for himself. And Marguerite, I’ll throw you over my shoulder and haul you home before I let you go there.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

“You think so?”

She didn’t have to see his face to know he was glaring at her. He would do exactly what he’d said, and he’d enjoy humiliating her the entire way. How could she make him see that her father needed her?

She blinked back the burning tears in her eyes and twisted her arm free. “What difference does it make to you what I do? Why do you care?”

“I just do.” He took a step closer. “I don’t want to care, but I do.”

Heart flapping like the wings of a bird, Marguerite tipped her face up to him. “But he’s my father.”

“And you don’t want to see him hurt.” He cupped her cheek. “I know.”

A single tear slid down her cheek onto his callused hand.

He nudged her chin up with the pad of his thumb. “But Marguerite, I don’t want to see you hurt either.”

He bent, so close they seemed to breathe together.

Time froze. Then he brushed her lips with a feather-soft kiss.

Chaste, quick, but oh so sweet.

He pulled back but still held her face. “So now will you let me take you back to your camp?”

Before she could answer, he yanked her into the cover of the trees and pulled her down into the brush. Trip touched his lips to her ear. “Shhh, someone’s coming.”

The approaching form ran past them in seconds, pumping his spindly arms hard and covering the distance in remarkable time.

Marguerite grabbed Trip’s arm. “That was Mark!”

“The boy’s fast.” Trip paused. “You’re going to want to follow him now, aren’t you?”

She could hear the scowl in his voice. “If you let me go with you, I promise to do exactly what you say.” She felt Trip stiffen. “Please, don’t make me go back to camp. You know I can’t. I’d just have to lie and promise to stay put, then sneak off after you left.”

Releasing a long breath, he studied her face. “Why is it so hard for me to tell you no?”

She nibbled on her lower lip. “I’ve heard I have that effect on people.”

“I know I may regret this, but if we’re going to catch him, we’d better hurry.”