West Wind (15 page)

"I'll give you two minutes."

She frowned at his ultimatum. "Hmmm, You're
not going to make this easy for me, are you?"

He shook his head. "One minute."

"Boy, talk about pressure," she quipped
nervously. "Be serious. This is the rest of our lives we're talking
about."

"Thirty seconds."

"If I decline?"

"Then you can find someone else to fix your
boat."

Her eyes widened. "You do fight dirty. Okay,
why not? Let's do it. But I'm going to tell the kids how you
twisted my arm. Wait a minute; you do want children, right?"

"A dynasty."

Chapter Eight

"Rose took that well," Sabrina said, looking
out the window, studying topography that swung back and forth from
forested mountainsides to rolling farms with corn fields. They were
on the highway heading back to Rhode Island and the Zephyrus.

Jay didn't respond as he focused on changing
lanes. Although traffic was light on I-80, he refused to relax. Too
many yellow warning signs warned of stray deer. So far, he hadn't
seen any but the too-frequent cautions made his jaw clench. The man
who once dared ocean crossings on small, leaky sailboats was
nervous about deer. In his mind's eye, he saw the huge Cadillac
plow through a herd, their bodies exploding in torrents of blood
and guts, just like the carcasses he'd seen along the highway. He
shuddered involuntarily.

Sabrina noticed. "Are you okay?" She placed a
concerned hand on his thigh.

He nodded curtly, refusing to look away.
Instead he constantly scanned the sides or the roadway. He swung
the large car around yet another mangled corpse and couldn't resist
a quick glance. Sabrina saw panic in his eyes.

"Deer don't generally wander onto the road
during the day. They mainly come out at dawn and dusk, when it's
time to feed," she said, casually adding, "We probably won't see
any."

After two hours of silent, tension-filled
driving, they neared the state line where Pennsylvania gave way to
New York. Before they crossed the Delaware River, they stopped at
the small town of Matamoras to stretch their legs, use the
facilities.

At the rest stop, Sabrina fed dollar bills
into a soda machine. She looked over her shoulder as Jay stepped
out of the men's room. "Do you want something to drink?" Not
waiting for a response, she fed another dollar into the machine.
"Water? Or soda?"

Jay ambled over to her, viewing the choices.
He punched a button, waited for it to clunk down into the opening.
Then he twisted the cap, released the carbon dioxide and drank
thirstily. He tossed the empty bottle into a waste bin. He hadn't
spoken a word except for the occasional grunt all morning.

Sabrina frowned, then opened her bottled
water and drank. She stepped outside into the early afternoon
sunshine and rested against the fender of the Caddy. Jay followed
and pulled the keys from his jean's pocket.

He walked to her side and opened the door.
Sabrina ignored him, calmly sipping water. He waited a few seconds
then thumped the door shut. Not sure what to say, he stood silent
and still.

Sabrina arched an eyebrow. "You know, if
you're already regretting asking me to marry you, why don't you say
so? Instead of giving me the silent treatment."

Jay looked right and then left, anywhere but
at her.
Probably checking for eyewitnesses
, Sabrina
thought.

He shoved his hands into his pockets and
stepped closer, straddling her. He looked at his boots before
looking into her eyes.

"I'm not regretting anything," he said
huskily. "I don't want anything … anyone … to ruin it."

She understood now. "Anyone? As in Faye?"

He nodded, then pulled his hands out of his
pocket and slid them up and down her arms. In a conciliatory
gesture, he tugged her into a loose embrace. Although it seemed as
if he were comforting her, she knew he was asking for reassurance.
For her promise that nothing Faye said would change the way she
felt.

"She can be … difficult," he warned.

Sabrina placed the water bottle on the hood,
then curved her arms around his waist, gently caressing his back.
Her cheek rested against his chest, the worn T-shirt soft against
her skin. She closed her eyes and inhaled the delicious scent of
soap and sweat. "You intoxicate me," she said, sniffing
appreciatively. "If you think I'll let anyone get between me and
this," she said, rubbing her cheek against his heart, "you have
another think coming. I won't be intimidated. She doesn't scare
me."

"She's demanding. Possessive."

She tipped her head back to look into his
troubled eyes. "You belong to me now. How's that for possessive?"
Her heart beat erratically at the claim, praying he wouldn't pull
away.

He didn't. He smiled indulgently, then kissed
her softly.

"Let's hit the road. We can be home in a few
hours if we beat rush hour traffic."

* * *

But they didn't. Traffic built up as they
neared Connecticut so they stopped for a late lunch in Danbury.

Sabrina ordered the Italian restaurant's
house special: ravioli. "This is so good," she gushed. She speared
a stuffed pasta shell and held it out for Jay to try.

While he chewed, he nodded thoughtfully.
"Almost as good as mine, but I'm not sharing."

"I figured as much," she said, then
aggressively snatched a slice of his gourmet pizza.

She bit into the slice of
pizza and hummed. "We should stay here
and wait for dinner."

"Need to get home," he said tersely.

She
looked at him through lowered lashes. "By the way, what will we do
about living arrangements? I live in Maryland."

Jay
shrugged as if it weren't an obstacle. "Move in with
me."

"Just like that?" She snapped her fingers.

He
nodded warily.

Sabrina's expression hovered between careful consideration and
cartoonish overplay. She scrunched her lips, rubbed her chin and
rolled her eyes. Then her face relaxed and she looked at Jay
lovingly.

"Okay." She stole another slice of his pizza. "There's lots of
rich people in Rhode Island and I'm sure they'll want my financial
advice."

Chapter Nine

Faye paced the small kitchen, a cigarette
smoldering between her claw-like fingers. Jay sat at the old
Formica table and watched her, his face stern.

She stopped abruptly and turned to him. "I
can't believe you'd betray us," she snarled.

"Grandma, there is no us. Only you and me.
We're the only ones left."

"The family! Your grandfather. Your poor
mother! All dead because of Rose Windham and now you're going to
marry that whore!"

Jay stood, the chair falling in his haste.
"She is not a whore."

"She's a whore! Just like her grandmother! I
can't stand to look at you. Get out of here!" Her last words rose
to a screech as she pointed towards the door, the forgotten
cigarette dangling from her fingers. She angrily threw it into the
kitchen sink, then picked up the closest thing -- a jelly jar --
and threw it at the wall. It shattered and strawberry jam slid down
the plaster, puddling on the floor amid shards of glass.

Jay was familiar with her hysterics. From the
age of twelve, when his mother killed herself overdosing on heroin,
he'd lived with Faye, endured her volatile temper, her rages, her
insanity. At sixteen, he ran away and learned how to support
himself. He found ways to make money, crewing on yachts out of
Newport during the summer and working construction during the
winter. He earned his high school diploma at night school and put
himself through college.

He knew her anger would escalate, that more
household items would crash and break around him. It's why she
chose to live in the same old house, ignoring the constant state of
disrepair. She surrounded herself with cheap, pitiful belongings
that she could destroy at will. She refused to become attached to
anything or anyone. Except Jay.

Now a man, he was the image of his
grandfather. Tall, auburn hair, insolent gray-blue eyes, his
freckles nearly obliterated by the sailor's tan. And just like his
grandfather, he was leaving her for a Windham whore. She howled in
frustration and opened a cabinet door. Skinny claws hooked around
drinking glasses and she slammed them to the floor.

Jay stalked out of the house and headed for
his truck. Faye would break and bash as long as he remained, almost
as if she did it for him. He drove down the long, dirt driveway,
leaving the decrepit bungalow in his rear view window.

Inside, Faye heard the truck's engine roar to
life, wheels spin. She plunged her fingers through her lank, gray
hair and screeched. Slumping against the sink cabinet, she slid to
the floor, wrapped her bony arms around her knees and cried, great,
heart-wrenching sobs of fury. He was gone.

* * *

Jay couldn't go back to the loft; couldn't
face the tenderness and concern he knew he would find in Sabrina's
arms. He didn't deserve it. Once again he hurt his grandmother. He
parked at Maude's and went inside the welcoming dark bar.

He sat on a stool and ordered a draft.

Maude ambled through the dining room, a
stained apron encircling her large waist, a damp dishcloth tossed
carelessly over one shoulder. She paused at the bar and looked at
Jay.

"Little early to be drinking, ain't it?"

Jay raised his head at her gruff words. He
didn't answer; just lifted the heavy glass mug and drank.

Maude moved a little closer, peering in the
dark at Jay's hair. "What you been doing?" She raised a hand and
brushed his head. Jay jerked back involuntarily. "You're covered in
glass."

"It's nothing," he growled.

Maude stared steadily, then nodded.
Hummmph. That dink grandmother of his is on another
rampage.

Everyone knew about Faye's temper and
destructive ways. Not only had the townsfolk called the law on her,
but some suggested the boy be removed for his own protection. But
the boy took care of that himself, running away from home. Why he
ever came back, why he continued to put up with the insane old
woman, nobody knew. But he had and he kept her house from falling
down on her head, despite her. He replaced the dishes and the
furniture she broke, paid all of her utilities, had groceries
delivered so she wouldn't have to go into town.

And still, she treated him the same way she
treated her husband before the fire took his life. Same way she
treated her daughter. Nobody was surprised when the forlorn girl
grew into a rebellious teen and sank into a world of drugs. It was
her only escape.

The entire town knew Faye West was batty, and
they kept their distance. The only one who couldn't seem to accept
it was her grandson. Still loyal despite her abuse.

Maude barked at the barkeep. "Get him the
usual." Turning towards Jay she said, "If you're going to drink,
and it looks like you're here for awhile, least you can do is eat
something."

Then she ambled away, pushing through the
swinging kitchen door.

* * *

Sabrina paced the small apartment.
Occasionally, she pulled the cell phone from her pocket, checking
to see if she had somehow missed his call. She punched in his cell
phone number and listened to it ring. It went to voice mail. "Where
are you? Are you alright? Please call me."

They arrived in Warren late the night before
and went straight to bed. Wrapped in each other's arms, they
whispered stories from their childhoods. Some were funny, most were
sad, but at least they talked. Something they had forgotten to do
much of the past week.

"This is insane," Sabrina said, her voice
hushed in the dark. "We haven't known each other but a week." She
rolled to her side, looking at his profile. "Tell me this isn't
insane."

"Believe me," he assured her. "I know insane
and this isn't it." He curled a hand around her neck and pulled her
mouth to his.

In the morning, she hid under the covers and
pretended to sleep, hoping he would make coffee. He did, then
brought a cup into the bedroom. Leaning against the built-in
dressers he sipped. "I know you're faking," he informed her.

Sabrina pulled the sheets down and sniffed.
"Did you make me a cup?"

He gestured towards the door with his coffee
cup. "Nope. Going to have to get up, get it yourself." Then he
settled back and watched as she stretched, climbed out of bed and
searched for her panties. Giving up, she picked up one of his
T-shirts, smelled it, then shrugged. She pulled it on and it fell
to her knees. Walking past him, she spotted her underwear. "Oh,
there they are." She plucked them from the windowsill and stepped
into them.

She nodded towards the kitchen. "Okay, show's
over. Let's eat breakfast."

Once she settled with a cup of coffee, she
looked through cabinets and the refrigerator, peering into the
bright, nearly empty cavern. "I think we have the makings for
omelets," she said, pulling out a plastic bin of cheese and
smelling it.

She put it on the counter behind her and
extracted a carton of eggs and a container of butter. In the
cabinets, she found a can of ham and a small container of sliced
mushrooms. "Ta-da!"

"Tell you what, Merlin. You make breakfast;
I'll go take a quick shower."

"Fine, but eggs cook quickly. You better be
out here in five minutes or I'm starting without you." Her stomach
growled.