Page 13 of Restoration

“Can we go around it?” I peer at the screen he’s been studying that charts all the weather and wind advisories. I see the storm he’s referring to. “If it’s coming this way, we can just veer south for a while and get around it. Don’t you think?”

“Yeah, probably. But you said if we couldn’t find the island by tonight that we’ll have to turn around. If we change course that much, there’s no way we’ll get there by then.”

“Oh. Well. That’s okay. We’ve got plenty stocked up for an extra day or two. If we can avoid that storm, I don’t mind still trying for it.”

“You sure?” He looks up and searches my face.

“Yes. I’m sure. I know this is a good boat, but I don’t want to risk sailing through a storm. But if we can get around it, I’m on board for finding that island.”

He grins at me. “Okay. Thanks.” His brown eyes are softer than normal. I really have no idea what he’s thinking other than that he’s pleased I still want to go on this adventure with him.

***

THAT EVENING, I MAKEus sandwiches down in the galley, and I’m surprised by how strong the wind is when I come back up to the deck.

It’s been increasing in force all afternoon, but earlier it didn’t worry me. Now it’s blowing so hard I have trouble navigating the short route over to the helm with our sandwiches.

“This is crazy,” I say, speaking loudly to be heard over the wind and the waves. “Is it from that storm?”

“Yeah. We’re not sailing into it, but we must be getting some of the wind on the edge.” His hair is whipping all around his face, and there are faint shadows under his eyes. He still hasn’t shaved, so his stubble is dark and rough on the lower part of his face.

He didn’t take a break all afternoon because he wanted to keep watching the course of the storm. He’s got to be tired. He accepts the sandwich I pass him and takes a big bite without even glancing at it.

“Is everything okay?” I ask when he studies his computer screen again.

“Y-yeah. I think so.”

“What’s the matter?”

“I don’t know. That damn storm keeps changing course. We’re okay right now, but I really can’t tell what it’s going to do.”

He sounds mostly matter-of-fact—not urgent or panicked—but he so rarely worries about anything that his words trigger alarm bells anyway.

“So do you think we should give up on the island and just get away?” I ask him.

He hesitates, his eyes moving over the screen and his controls. “Yeah. We better. That storm is rough, and I’ve never tested this boat in bad weather.”

I let out a breath. Relief mostly. “Okay. Then let’s do it.”

As he’s starting to adjust course, I add, “I’m kind of impressed you aren’t all excited about sailing straight into a storm.”

He’s distracted for a minute, plotting a different course and turning the boat. But he mutters under his breath, “Never with you on board.”

***

THE NEXT FIVE HOURSare bad.

Really bad.

Absolutely terrifying.

Despite our changing course, the weather gets worse and worse. The storm has clearly shifted yet again and is basically moving right on top of us. Edmund never steps away from the helm for even a few seconds to stretch his legs or pee. I do my best not to distract him, but I don’t feel comfortable being anywhere but right next to him.

The water is so choppy that I’d get sick for sure down in my cabin, but mostly I need to be where I can see exactly what’s going on.

It’s not even seven in the evening yet, but the storm clouds are so thick that it’s almost pitch-black anyway. It started raining about an hour ago, so both Edmund and I are drenched. And I have to hold on to the support rail to not get blown overboard from the wind.

Even out on deck, I’m nauseated. I’m used to the rhythmic rolling of the boat, but it’s being buffeted around right now in wild and unpredictable ways. I desperately need a short space of calm to recover my balance and stabilize my center, but there’s not much chance of that happening anytime soon.

---