June 16. On Friday morning, they departed Chincoteague Island, raised the sails, and continued south. It would take two to three days to reach the next port in Wilmington, North Carolina. Despite the heat wave, they couldn't have asked for better weather conditions, and it appeared as though their trip down to the next port was going to go smoothly.
Joey took the tiller and Pacey's compass while he sat back on the bench seat next to her with his fishing pole. "I think you should be the entertainment this afternoon," he said. "You sing, right?"
"A little," she replied, curious as to where this was leading.
"Dance?"
"Only when forced," she snarked, smiling at him.
He baited the hook. "Okay so, you don't sing or dance much. Do you tell jokes?"
Her brows knitted as she threw him a look. "Not really. Isn't that your department? And as you can see, I'm a little busy to sing or dance or tell jokes. You tell me a joke."
"What, and ruin my quest to catch us some lunch? I have to concentrate here. I think I'll just watch you instead." He cast his reel over the starboard side and gazed back at her, his blue eyes sparkling in the sunshine. She smirked at him. Then he tilted his head from side to side as if debating. "Okay, well… I've got some dirty jokes. You wanna hear a dirty joke, Potter?"
She felt her face grow warm, and her stomach fluttered. "Sure."
Pacey grinned. "Okay. Um… Okay. After telling his wife he was working late at the office, a man took his secretary to a hotel for some wild sex. On the way home, he noticed a love bite on his neck and started to panic. What was he gonna tell his wife? Walking in the door, he was greeted by his dog. In a moment of inspiration, he dropped to the floor and pretended to fight off his loving, affectionate dog. Holding his neck with one hand, he walked into the living room and exclaimed, 'Honey, look what the dog did my neck!' His wife jumped up from the couch, ripped open her blouse, and said, 'That's nothing. Look what he did to my tits!'"
Joey started laughing. "Oh, my God."
"I have plenty more. Here's another one. During a staff meeting in Heaven, God, Moses, and St. Peter concluded that the behavior of President Clinton had necessitated the creation of an eleventh commandment. The three worked long and hard in a brainstorming session to settle on the wording of the commandment so that it carried the same honor and dignity as the other ten. After many revisions, they finally agreed on what it should be: 'Thou shall not comfort thy rod with thy staff.'"
She snorted and threw her hand to cover her eyes. "That is so stupid, Pacey," she said, giggling.
"I didn't say the jokes would be smart, Jo. I said they'd be dirty."
She held onto the tiller while Pacey fished, and they laughed and talked for the rest of their journey. It was close to three o'clock in the afternoon when they lowered the sails outside Virginia Beach, and although it took a little while, they found a large marina where they could dock inconspicuously.
It was a beautiful, clear day. Although very hot, there was a strong breeze coming off the ocean. The beach was jam-packed with vacationers seeking escape from the oppressive heat, sitting beneath their umbrellas flapping in the wind, with their sand chairs, colorful towels, and coolers. Once in town, she walked with Pacey to WebCity, a public cybercafé, and logged onto an available computer. There was no email from Jen, but Bessie had finally written her back.
"It sounds like you're having a blast, Jo. I'm glad you're staying safe and being careful and taking your time. You don't need to race down to Key West. Enjoy the sights. The B&B has quite a few guests this week, which has kept us busy. Between cooking breakfast here and seeing to any repairs or other odd jobs around the place and working at the Leery's restaurant at night, Bodie is going to run himself ragged. I don't know how he does it. He loves it, though. 'There's nothing wrong with hard work,' he says. He told me to say hi and that he loves you. Alexander is great and he misses his Aunt Joey. He asks for "Jo-Jo" every day.
So, I ran into Mrs. Witter at the grocery store on Wednesday, and apparently, she had no idea you were with Pacey on his little voyage south. You should've seen the look on her face. It was as if she'd smelled bad eggs. I've never understood the Witter's, and we're talking going back to the days when I was in school with Doug. I know Mom and Dad sure never cared for them. I just remembered something… It was many years ago, but one time Pacey's dad came to the Ice House after we'd closed up for the night looking for him. I was in the kitchen with Dad, and Pacey was back there with us. He'd knocked on the door right after Dad had locked it, but he let him in and gave him something to eat. When we overheard John Witter asking Mom if Pacey was there… I don't think I've ever seen anyone look as scared as Pacey did. And not like a kid's regular 'whoops, I'm in trouble now' kind of way. I mean, he was TERRIFIED, Joey. Of his own father. Dad immediately left the kitchen, and he and Mom told him that Pacey wasn't there. At first, I was shocked they would lie to Mr. Witter. He's the sheriff! But when we stopped at the Leery's house to drop Pacey off and pick you up, Dad said Mr. Witter had clearly been drinking and in this case it would've been wrong to tell the truth. Not exactly sure what that was about, but it obviously wasn't good.
Where are you now? I hope everything is still going well and that you're taking care of yourself.
Love,
Bessie"
She glanced over her shoulder at Pacey, sitting down on a leather couch and watching the TV that was mounted on the wall. Frowning, she turned back to the computer screen and hit the reply button on her sister's email.
"Bessie,
It's such a beautiful sunny day. We overheard some people saying it was supposed to start raining heavily tomorrow or maybe the next day, but it certainly isn't raining here yet. I'm in Virginia Beach now. I can't believe how hot it is! Yesterday we were in a place called Chincoteague (I have no idea how to pronounce it) and Pacey grabbed my hand and we ran down the beach and straight into the ocean – fully clothed! We got soaked and I didn't care. Somehow Pacey manages to act first and think later, almost always meeting with success, whereas my carefully planned, cautiously executed maneuvers always leave me stagnate with inertia or consumed with regret. He's teaching me to live in the moment and experience life, instead of just watching it happen with a cynical wit to mask my fears and insecurities. Have I mentioned how amazing he is?
I don't have much time to write because we've got to get back on the boat soon. Pacey is in kind of a hurry to get out of here so we can make the next port before it starts raining, and he still wants to go to the market and then has to find a bait shop to get some more fresh lures. I also need to stop at a thrift store to pick a few more things to wear. The clothes I bought on the Vineyard don't exactly fall into the fashionable category, nor are they particularly designed for comfort in this kind of heat. I don't think I can wear jeans anymore. It's way too stifling.
I wonder why Mrs. Witter would react that way. Maybe because she disapproves of him being alone with a girl for months? Or do you think it's personal? Like, maybe she doesn't like me for some reason? I don't exactly see her all that often, but whenever I do, she's always been polite. Weird. I do remember Pacey spending a lot of time at the Ice House, and I do remember the reason being whatever was going on at home. It's so strange. I've known him since I was six years old, just as long as I've known Dawson, but sometimes it feels like I've only just found him. The more I get to know him, the more I realize there's so much I don't know about him. Like how he really feels about his father or why he never talks about it. Sure, he makes jokes alluding to things… but I know that's just his defense mechanism for covering up how he really feels. I want to know him better. I want to understand him. Most of all I want us to share his pain together so he's not in it alone. Do you know what I mean?
I hope things are going OK with the B&B. I can't wait to see you and Bodie and Alexander and tell you about all the wonderful, crazy things we've seen so far. I'm sure there's much more to come. I'm taking lots of pictures!
I gotta go now. Email me soon, OK?
Lots of love,
Joey"
She then signed out of her email and logged off the computer. "Pacey," she said, standing up from the desk.
His head turned from the television screen and he smiled. Coming over, he took hold of her hand and they walked out of the café.
The air-conditioning was a god send. He sat on a bench in the thrift store while Joey went around the women's section picking out clothing, throwing denim shorts and tank tops over her left arm. When she stepped out the dressing room, she peeked at him. His breath caught in his throat. His heart stuttered. He had no idea where the tomboy had gone. In front of him stood a woman, slender and feminine. She looked achingly lovely in a blue sundress with some sort of floral pattern that left her slim shoulders bare, hugged her breasts and waist, then flowed loosely down over her hips and stopped below her knees. She looked as if she belonged on a tropical island.
He gazed at her, his eyes widening in appreciation of her in the dress. "What do you think?" she asked softly, and gave him a look of uncertainty. "I know it's not my typical…" The sentence trailed off and she shrugged.
"You're beautiful," he said, his voice husky as he looked her up and down.
Joey smiled, her cheeks turning red. "There are a couple more just like it, in different colors and patterns. May as well get them, especially since the price is decent. It's only gonna get hotter the further south we go."
He nodded, eyes wide. "You sure got that right, Fräulein."
After one last stop for ice cream, they went back to the boat. Once she was unmoored from the dock, he drove the True Love out of the harbor and raised the sails when they reached the open waters of the Atlantic. He soon positioned the boat a few miles out from shore, ideal for fishing, and lowered the sails. "Well, First Mate," he said to Joey, glancing at his watch; it was almost six o'clock. "We have about three and a half hours until nautical twilight ends and we have to anchor for the night. You keep watch while I catch us some dinner."
He went down into the cabin to grab his fishing pole and the live bait container from the mini fridge, quickly returning. Joey watched him in appreciative silence while he baited the shrimp onto the hook, careful to avoid hooking it through its black spot and killing it. He lowered the rod and smiled at her before turning and stepping out of the cockpit. Then he cast his reel over the starboard bow.
It wasn't long before there was a tug on his line. The tug was strong enough to make the pole quiver. He waited until the tug became an extended pull that bent his pole into a bow shape. He tightened his grip on the rod, adrenaline pumping through his veins. He began to reel in his catch slowly, pausing every few seconds to make sure the fish was still there.
The fish came up fighting with every ounce of its energy. It splashed and writhed in protest of being forced towards the surface and having its meal disturbed. He could tell from the splashes and the tension on the pole that he'd caught a big one, and pulled the fish up out of the ocean. The sun gleamed off its silver body. He'd caught a bluefish.
He brought the fish in closer, its fighting becoming weaker every second. It felt as if it weighed seven or eight pounds and looked almost two feet long. It was the biggest fish he'd caught so far on their trip. He smiled, his chest filling with self-satisfaction at the accomplishment. Yet his delight at catching the fish diminished with the sudden thought that Dawson wasn't there to share his moment. He had no hope they'd ever have moments like these again.
"Wow, Pacey! That fish is huge!"
Turning, he glanced at Joey, smiling at him excitedly. He smiled in return, thoughts of Dawson fading away just as quickly as they'd come forward. "Indeed, it is. Too huge for us. We don't need that much." He removed the fish from the hook, taking extra care to avoid the spiny dorsal fin. He held it up by the mouth and inspected it. "It's a beauty, Jo. Too beautiful to eat, and too beautiful to have its day ruined."
He gazed at it a moment before tossing it back into the ocean. The fish floated lazily for a moment until it realized it was free and then quickly disappeared to safer parts of the water. After watching it swim away, he baited his hook again and cast the line back into the water to see if he could get lucky a second time. Some time went by, and then he caught a smaller black sea bass. "Now that's what I'm talkin' about," he said, reeling it in.
Once he'd gutted and cleaned the fish in a pail of water, he threw the remnants over the side of the boat. With a cutting board in his lap, he sat in the cockpit and prepared the fish while Joey looked on. He held onto the fish head with his right hand, made a cut just below the gills, and drove his pocket knife straight down to the tail. He folded the skin back, cut the meat clean off the skin, and then did the same to the other side.
After they raised the sails again, getting a move on, he carried the cutting board with the two fish fillets down to the galley to cook them. Half an hour later, he returned, lifting the serving tray into Joey's hands before he climbed out of the cabin to join her. Sitting down beside her, he watched her glance down at her plate and smile appreciatively. "This looks really good. I can't believe you cooked rice, too."
"Rice is easy," he said, shrugging, and then watched with bated breath as she forked her pan-seared fish and lifted a piece to her mouth.
Joey's eyes went wide. "Oh, my goodness," she said after swallowing her first bite. "Pacey. You could order this in a restaurant. Seriously. It's delicious. People would pay good money to eat this well. I could never cook like this."
He let out the breath he'd been holding and smiled, his insides warming at her approval. "Sure, you could. Fish is honestly not difficult. Black sea bass is tasty, in general, but all it takes is olive oil and butter, a little salt and pepper, and some shallots, capers, and lemon. That's it. There's really nothing to it, and it cooks up real fast. You could do it easily."
"I don't know about that, Pace. Anyway, I prefer to have a man cook for me."
He laughed, leaning over to kiss her cheek. They then finished their meal in companionable silence. As they closed the distance between the True Love and the coastline, the sun set and the sky darkened. Stars twinkled brilliantly above them. Around nine o'clock, he checked their position and saw they had crossed state lines into North Carolina and must be approaching the Outer Banks. They lowered the sails and anchored the boat a mile from shore as the last of the light was starting to disappear over the horizon.
Once he'd brushed his teeth, he went above deck to bathe. He walked over to the port side of the forward bow, pulled off his T-shirt, shorts, and boxers, and jumped in the ocean. The water was cool but it felt refreshing. Floating at the surface, he closed his eyes and indulged in the moment, letting the ocean caress his skin. However, it wasn't long before he was shivering, and he pulled himself back onto the boat.
After drying off with a towel and pulling on a tank top and loose pajama bottoms, he sat down beside Joey on the cushioned bench in the small eating nook. She looked so sexy in her pajamas, her dark brown hair falling over her shoulders. The top she wore revealed the delicate skin over her collarbone. Lower still, it clearly outlined the perfect shape of her breasts. He forced his gaze somewhere else. Moby Dick was on the table. "You reading?" he asked.
She smiled sheepishly. "Would you read to me?"
"Sure."
Opening the book, he flipped to the first page of chapter one, and began to read aloud. He spoke clearly, taking his time, becoming absorbed. Joey's warm body snuggled against him, and she'd giggle at the different voices he created for the characters. When he finished the first chapter, he closed the book.
"Thank you," she said. "I love the sound of your voice."
His heart swelled. When she was silent for several moments, he looked over and saw her staring ahead. He followed her gaze to the wall calendar that hung on the opposite side of the cabin. "Tomorrow we'll have been on the boat a full week," he told her.
"Tomorrow is my parents' wedding anniversary," she said. "June 17, 1972. They got married so young. I can't even imagine. That would be crazy these days."
"Yeah. Things were probably different back then."
A wistful look came over her face. "You know what I miss the most?" she asked. "My parents were really good together. They'd dance around the living room whenever their wedding song came on the radio. In the summertime, they'd sit on the front porch and talk long into the night after they thought me and Bessie had gone to sleep. During thunderstorms when the cable would go out, she'd read to him while they shared a bowl of popcorn on the couch."
He was touched by her memories. "That's really sweet, Jo."
"I feel bad about it, too," she said.
"Why?"
"My parents were very lovey-dovey—always kissing, always hugging, always touching. I used to tell them to stop, and I'd get so embarrassed. One time I overheard my dad whisper something very dirty in my mom's ear and I was mortified for weeks. I couldn't even look them in the eye. Like, it was burned into my brain. It still is. Ugh." She closed her eyes, shaking her head as if shaking the memory away. "But now… now I'd give anything for them to have stayed that way right up until the end. What my dad did to her…"
Frowning in sympathy, he reached across the table and held her hand for a moment.
Joey hesitated, but then continued. "It's just… My mom sacrificed a lot for my dad. She didn't apply to college, even though she could've, just to stay in Capeside and be with him. Then she married him before she'd even turned twenty. She was going on twenty-two when she had Bessie. My mom was smart and beautiful and talented. She could've done so much more with her life. She had so many dreams—art school, starting a bed and breakfast. But she loved my dad so much that she put her dreams on the back burner. He was her entire world, and then he ripped her life apart."
Silence filled the cabin. He didn't know what to say, so he said, "I'm sorry, Jo."
"Lesson learned," she said, shrugging it off. "That's never going to be me."
"It won't be. You have a bright future ahead of you. You're going to do amazing things with your life. I know it."
She gave him a warm smile and leaned over, kissing him softly. "You turn," she said.
His brows furrowed in confusion. "My turn for what?"
"To talk! I told you some stuff, and now I want to hear your stuff."
"You don't wanna hear my stuff, believe me."
Joey pursed her lips and threw him a pointed look. "But there's so much about you I don't know. We were never that close… well, not in the same way that me and…"
He nodded. "Dawson were." They could've been if she'd allowed it, he thought.
"…Yeah." She frowned slightly, but then she slid closer to him, her eyes blazing, full of tenderness and affection. His mouth went dry and he swallowed as her soft fingers brushed lazily up and down his forearm. "There's so much I don't know, Pacey," she murmured quietly. "I want to know everything about you."
"Okay," he sighed, and gave her a slight smile. "Well, what do you wanna know? Fire away."
She thought for a moment, her eyes roaming over his face, before her gaze settled on something and she stared. She reached up with the tips of her fingers and traced them lightly over his right cheek. "How did you get that scar?" she asked.
He touched his face self-consciously, trying to push the memories away that were suddenly assaulting him.
"I didn't mean to imply that it's horrible or anything," Joey assured him. "I'm just curious."
His stomach tightened. He didn't want to think about it. He didn't want to recall the details. "Long story."
She smiled sweetly. "I'm in no hurry. Besides, Pace, it's gonna be you and me on this boat for three months. We have time for long stories."
"It's not a story you wanna hear, Jo," he said, almost pleading. It certainly wasn't a story he wanted to tell.
"How are you going to tell me what I want or don't want to hear?" Her brow arched. "I do, Pacey," she pleaded right back. "Tell me."
Leaning over and putting his elbows on the table, he forced his gaze away from hers and spoke slowly. "My dad and I were on a weekend fishing trip with some of the guys he works with." He stared down at the table. "There was an accident."
Joey slid closer along the bench until their legs were touching. "What kind of accident, Pacey?"
His stomach was in knots. Momentarily, he considered lying, considered regurgitating the same old tired explanation he'd used whenever someone had brought up his scar, but he knew he couldn't lie to Joey. He didn't have it in him. "An accident involving my drunk dad and a beer bottle."
"Oh, my God," she breathed, her hand moving to grip his arm. She stared at him. "You say accident, but… it really wasn't an accident, was it?" He couldn't meet her eyes. "Oh, Pacey. When did this happen?"
"The summer after eighth grade." The memory was now fresh in his mind, vivid. "I made the terrible mistake of accidentally beating my father at darts, besting him in front of his deputies and their sons, and then paid dearly for it later that night."
A sorrowful expression crossed her face. She took his hand in both of hers. "Is that the only time something like that happened?"
He wouldn't look at her. "It was the only time with a beer bottle. He avoided my face most of the time—it'd be too noticeable and lead to too many questions."
"Oh, Pacey." Joey sniffled beside him. "I'm so sorry. That's… I can't… I don't know what to say. There aren't words. How awful. I wish I had been there for you."
Finally turning to look at her, he saw her eyes had filled up with tears. "But you were." Her brows knitted in confusion. "Those nights you let me sleep on your bedroom floor. So, you were there for me when I needed you."
She pouted, her eyes brimming over. "I didn't know that was happening—"
"No one did."
"But I wasn't there for you in any kind of real way, I wasn't there to help you."
He lifted his hand and brushed away her falling tears before caressing her cheek with his palm. "You are now."
Her arms came around his shoulders and she hugged him tightly. He felt her tears on his neck. This was why he didn't want to tell her any of this shit. "Please don't cry, Jo."
"How can I not cry, Pacey?" Her voice was thick with emotion. She choked out a shaky breath. "The thought of someone hurting you… Your own father… I can't…" She kissed his neck, his ear, his hair, his temple. Then she suddenly pulled out of the hug and looked at him. Her gaze was intense, and he thought he saw something like fierce indignation in her tear-filled eyes. "Pacey… does your dad still hurt you? Is this still happening?"
"He hasn't laid a hand on me since the night the Ice House burned down."
A look of realization dawned on her face. "You punched him. I remember."
Pursing his lips, he nodded. "I punched him, yeah. All it took was for him to insult a girl I loved for me to finally fight back. He'd hit me earlier that night, and I did nothing. I could never fight for myself. Andie, I could fight for. He hasn't touched me since." He grabbed her hands. "You can't tell anyone, Joey. I mean it. Not Bessie or… or Jen or Dawson. Nobody."
She stared. "Dawson doesn't know?"
"No, he doesn't."
"But how is that possible, Pacey? He's your best friend. Didn't he ever suspect?"
"Dawson has always been too busy trying to turn his life into a movie to open his eyes and face reality."
Shaking her head, she frowned. "You should tell him, Pace. You should tell the Leery's. They'll help you. I know they will."
No one could help him, not really. "Joey, no one can know. No one."
"But Pacey… it's not right, what he's done to you. It's criminal! He shouldn't be the sheriff. He shouldn't wear a badge."
"I don't want to rock the boat, Jo. Please understand. I only have one more year. Just one more year, and then I can get away from him and from Capeside for good. I don't want anything to mess that up. I want to get through this last year unscathed. And I don't even live with him anymore. So… it's nothing to worry about now."
She shook her head, clearly unhappy with his response. "Does Doug know about this? I mean, if I had a big brother, and my dad was hurting me…"
There were times over the years when he'd asked himself the same question, many times he'd wondered. But he knew Doug, probably better than anyone. He may be a jerk sometimes, but he was always trying to look out for him. His brother cared about him, in his own dysfunctional way. "No, he doesn't know. The physical side of it didn't start until after he'd moved out of the house, and my dad never hit me when anyone else was around. No one ever saw it happen."
"What about your mom? Your sisters?"
"My mom knows, yes, and Gretchen. That's it. And now you."
Joey looked dumbfounded. "Your mom? What does she do? Does she do anything? Try to stop it?"
He ran his fingers over the cover of Moby Dick. "My mother is a functioning alcoholic with no regard for me as a person. She fed me—well, most of the time—clothed me, made sure I had what I needed for school, gave me an allowance until I got a job, lets me use the car almost whenever I want to, etc. etc. etc. I guess you could call that support, in a way, but… I'm pretty sure that's all out of obligation, though. I honestly don't know. She's never treated me badly, exactly, but she's never cared that my father does. I spent my life hearing my dad and brother tell me what a loser I am, that I'm a lost cause, a screw-up. She's never said those things to me, but when they do, she's all, 'that's okay, honey, I'll be there to help you when you screw up, so don't worry.' Like… thanks, Ma."
He shook his head, sighing. "I can't figure her out. My dad is an immature, abusive asshole. His dad is an asshole. I'm sure my grandpa's dad was an asshole, too. But I cannot for the life of me explain my mother. I can cope with my dad, but her indifference to my suffering… Somehow it feels worse than any bruise or broken bone. That stuff heals. The way my mom makes me feel? That never goes away."
"It feels like she betrayed and abandoned you?" Joey said quietly.
"Something like that, yeah." It felt as if a weight was being lifted, just hearing someone finally put his feelings to words, feelings he'd never been able to express before. "And that's the reason I don't talk about her, Jo. And why I don't really talk about my dad much with you, either. You used to say things to me in the past, like, 'well, you're lucky to have a mother and father at all,' and I never knew how to explain to you that sometimes it's better to grow up without your parents than it is to grow up with parents like that."
She chewed on her lip. "Well, I don't know—"
"Your mom got sick and it's a tragedy that she isn't here, but she loved you. She cared about you. Your dad messed up. He made mistakes, but he tried to be a good father. He's a better father than mine ever was. And he loves you. He messed up and made mistakes because he loves you. Some people… get desperate to save the ones they love and they make bad choices. That's far better than growing up knowing your parents don't love you. Trust me."
Joey laid her head on his shoulder, slid her hand down his arm until her fingertips brushed the back of his hand, caressing his skin in lazy circles. For some time, she remained silent, her fingers interlocked with his. "I wish we had said these things to each other years ago. I've known you my whole life, and there's so much I just didn't know… didn't see. We could've been there for each other."
"We are now. Maybe timing is everything." He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. He didn't want to be sad. He didn't want to think about this stuff. "Let's not end the night like this, Jo. Please? We had such a good day. Let's talk about something else, do something else." He got up from the seat, forcing his family from his mind, and then went over to the hammocks, taking them down from the hooks in the ceiling.
"Pacey, what are you—"
"You'll see in a minute." Then he walked over to the other side of the room and pulled the CD player out of a cabinet. "Let's dance," he said. "Put those lessons to good use. We wouldn't want to disappoint Miss Penny Pretty."
She snorted. "Pacey, all you have is Led Zeppelin. Speaking of which, we should get some more music at the next port."
Smirking, he took out a CD. "I'll have you know that Zeppelin can be very romantic." The disc was placed inside the player, he selected the song he wanted, and then turning to look at her, he said, "Get over here, Josephine."
Her eyes flashed and her cheeks flushed pink. She chewed her lip to fight a grin. Then she stood and came into his arms, placing one hand on his shoulder and the other in his palm, while he held onto her back. She inched closer and then their ribcages were touching. Their eyes met and held. She smiled, her knowing gaze sparkling up at him. He reached down and pushed the play button. Music filled the cabin.
They started to dance around the floor. The awkwardness and tension that had permeated their dancing during the week spent at the Starlight Dance Studio was gone. After a few turns around the small space, laughing as they spun, Joey pulled his head down and kissed him a slow, passionate kiss. His arms slipped around her waist and her arms went around his neck, her fingers brushing through his hair. He pulled her closer, until her breasts were against his chest and he could feel the pounding in her heart; he wondered if she could feel the wild beating of his own.
It felt as if every dream he'd ever had had come true, here with his arms around her and her lips on his. Meant to be and so right. Then the kiss deepened, and he stopped thinking, stopped having any thoughts outside the music in his ears and the feelings in his legs, in the pit of his stomach, and in his heart. Soft as velvet, potent as liquor, her kiss made his head spin.
He held himself on the brink of what was proper all the while Joey kissed him. He even stayed in control when she went soft and yielding against him, so he could feel all the curves of her body. But when she made the sound deep in her throat, that purring moan, he lost restraint. His hand traveled up the length of her back, his fingers slipping into her dark hair, while the other pulled her body tighter against him. His tongue caressed her bottom lip. She gasped. His tongue delved inside, sweeping over hers, drawing another one of those mind-numbing sounds from her throat. Lust-filled thoughts consumed his mind; he wanted her beneath him, naked, writhing, gasping his name. His groin tightened.
Then he stopped. Before things progressed any further, he forced himself to stop kissing her. He pushed her away gently, keeping his hands on her shoulders deliberately so they wouldn't wander, and tried to regulate his breathing. "It shouldn't have gone that far, Jo. I'm sorry."
She stood on shaking legs, eyes closed, breathing hard.
He traced her collarbone with his thumbs, the softness of her skin like silk, delicate. "I hope I didn't scare you, or make you uncomfortable," he said quietly.
Joey looked up at him, eyes connecting with his, and leaned into his touch. "Not possible."
He smiled and let his hands wander to the nape of her neck, his fingers brushing upward until they were in her hair. He felt Joey shiver at his touch, and his smile deepened. "I want to kiss you again, but it's probably not a good idea. At least right now."
She let out a breath, nodding her agreement. He slid his hands back to her shoulders, down her bare arms, and to her hands, entwining their fingers. "Let's get some sleep, Jo. We've got an early morning tomorrow."
Once the hammocks were hanging back up, they climbed in and quickly fell asleep.
He awoke to the alarm going off at six o'clock, stretched and got out of the hammock. Joey mumbled something but didn't wake. After he made some coffee, he left the cabin and went above deck. Mug in hand, he stood and waited for the sun to rise. The wind was blowing, and the air felt quite chill. The boat rocked merrily as waves splashed against the hull. He witnessed the first golden rays of light appear. The eastern skies soon cracked red, pink, orange, and gold beams on ominously dark clouds spreading from the southeast to the west. Then the sun rose slowly and steadily up over the horizon like a blazing red fireball.
The sight was beautiful, but his stomach tightened with anxiety as his dad's old adage went in circles round his mind: Red skies at morning, sailors take warning. If the saying proved true, they'd see some bad weather before the day was out. He wanted to make it to Wilmington as quickly as possible. Tossing the rest of his coffee overboard, he returned below deck.
"Joey, wake up," he said, nudging her arm while she still snoozed in the hammock.
She groaned. "Five more minutes, Pace."
He shook her again. "No, we really gotta get going. I'm gonna raise the anchors." She sat up and he helped her down from the hammock. "There's hot coffee in the galley."
Once he changed into a clean set of clothes, he left the cabin and began preparing for departure. He untied the sails, hoisting them. Keeping the boat about a mile from shore, the ocean began turning more gray than blue as the wind picked up. The storm gathered and black clouds obscured the sunlight. It wasn't even noon and the world was going dark. The waves that had been rocking earlier were beginning to churn up much more now. Nothing too rough yet, but more than he was happy with.
"Joey, go down and get on the radio and listen to the maritime weather report."
She disappeared below deck and a few minutes later she shouted his name. He thought he heard something like worry in her voice. Returning below, he found her with the radio. She stared at him, her eyes going wide. He swallowed and the knots in his gut tightened. "What did the weather report say?" he asked tentatively.
"A fast-moving tropical storm east of Georgia is now heading northward," she repeated, her voice becoming increasingly panicked. "It previously hadn't been expected to make landfall. Something about wind shear and being absorbed by a possible cold front preventing it from strengthening from a tropical depression to a storm, but something changed. Something about the Gulf Stream... I don't know. It's now expected to pound the beaches all the way up the east coast. It said from North Carolina to Southeast Virginia, major coastal flooding is expected. Um… and… multiple tidal cycles… with up to eight inches of rain… and… and forty to fifty mph winds with gusts up to 60 mph." She paused, swallowing. "Pacey, it said the storm center will make its closest pass over the Outer Banks by this afternoon. And something about…" She pursed her lips, trying to think. "Potential for life-threatening inundation? The Outer Banks are going to be hit the hardest."
"Shit," he breathed. "Okay, we have to get the boat to shore."
Quickly returning above deck, Joey followed him. "Should we have stayed in Virginia, Pacey?"
He chuckled darkly. "Yeah, maybe. But it sounds like Virginia is gonna get hit with it, too. So…"
"Yeah, but not as bad as down here."
"Okay, so maybe we should've listened to the news report sooner."
She gaped at him, her hands going to her hips. "You think?"
"Look, we'll be okay, Jo. Okay? I'll do everything I can to get us to shore before the eye of the storm passes over the Outer Banks." He heaved a sigh, trying to stay calm.
"Joey, hold the bow into the wind," he ordered, placing her hand on the tiller. He then loosened the main sail and quickly tied it to its boom at the second reef points. "We have to bring the boat in to shore."
He was hauling up the reefed main sail when the first serious gust of rain hit them. After donning his blue hooded rain suit and inflatable life vest, he took the tiller from Joey and told her to stay down in the cabin where it was safe. The wind caused the waves to grow to five feet very quickly. The water was an ominous dark gray. His father had told him many a time on their fishing trips about the dangers of getting caught by a wave amidships, broaching, and getting the boat swamped.
Watching the pattern of approaching waves and wind gusts, he waited for a relative lull and then pushed the tiller hard over, turning the sailboat before the wind. The True Love immediately sprang forward, pushed by the building wind, charged up the backside of the wave and down its face. And then the rain started to pour.
He called down to Joey below, "Where are we right now," and waited for her to check their coordinates.
"Um… we're right off of Nags Head, I think!"
"That's in the Outer Banks, right?"
"Yes!" she shouted.
Suddenly there was a flash of bright light instantly followed by a long, low rumble in the sky. Oh, no. He stepped away from the hatch and gazed out ahead.
"Pacey, was that thunder?!" Joey exclaimed from below.
"Yes. Yes, it was."
"I'm coming up there."
In the space of a drawn breath, gale force winds suddenly whipped across the True Love and tore at her exposed sails. Panic rising within him, he shook his head adamantly. "No! You're staying down there where it's safe! I'm not gonna let anything happen to you!"
She'd moved to the bottom of the steps and was staring up at him. He saw she'd put on the yellow rain suit and a life vest. "You need my help!"
"I'll be fine, Jo! I have this under control!" He hoped the hysterical pitch to his voice was only his imagination. He didn't know how the hell he was going to get them back to shore with the wind and the rain sending them careening in the opposite direction. At least he thought that's what was happening. He honestly didn't know which end was up anymore.
The storm unleashed itself upon the ocean, bearing down as if with the sharp teeth of a hurricane. Waves crashed against the hull, tossing loose objects around the cabin below. On deck, the sails flapped about in the wind and downpour. To verify their heading, he withdrew the compass Joey had gotten him last Christmas. The needle spun, as if confused about which way to go; the secondary dial that showed him where he should be wobbled, as if seasick.
The wind and current had veered them off course. He had no idea where the shore was. He had no idea which direction they were moving towards. He wouldn't be able to navigate until they made it out of the storm. Now he just had to concentrate on keeping the True Love afloat.
The bottom of the boat suddenly scraped hard against something. They were closer to shore than he thought, but they must've veered into a reef area, or maybe a wreck. Not good. He struggled to hold onto the tiller and the boom as the fury of the wind and the powerful waves fought to jerk the rope from his hands. It was no use. He couldn't do it by himself. Making for the hatch, he hopped down into the cabin. Water had begun to seep in below deck. Joey stood there, a look of terror on her face.
"I always thought I'd go to my grave never having said this," he told her. "But I wish my dad was here. He'd know what to do."
"Pacey, this is a little too Perfect Storm for me!" Then one of the windows shattered, glass flying everywhere, and she screamed. Gazing at the damage, her mouth fell open. "Was that a tree branch that just flew in here? I really don't want us to end up playing out a scene from Titanic, Pacey!"
"Do you wanna be Jack or Rose?"
She laughed as if in spite of herself before her face contorted with panic again. "This is not the time for your jokes!"
A huge wave crashed against the bow, and the True Love groaned and thrummed. The boat tilted severely, as if teetering on the edge of a cliff, before it swung back again. Joey was screaming and he lunged himself at her, grabbing hold of her to keep her upright.
Think, Witter. Think. What are we gonna do here? This was one situation he was determined not to fail. He'd spent his entire life screwing up, but that wasn't gonna happen this time. He was going to take care of this. He was going to make sure nothing happened to Joey. He was going to take of her… of them… and of the True Love.
Breathing heavily, anxiety plaguing his insides, he held her face with both his hands. "Okay, Jo… You and me are gonna go back up there. We're gonna have to bring her in together and save this thing. You were right. I need your help. We can do this."
She swallowed, closing her eyes for a second, and then she nodded. "Okay," she breathed shakily.
Together, they climbed up out of the cabin and returned above deck, the storm still raging tumultuously. "We have to turn into the wind and get out of the reef before we hit something and it destroys the boat," he shouted in an attempt to be heard. "Help me with the tiller!"
"What? Pacey, I can't hear—"
"The tiller! Come on," he motioned.
The tiller handle swung back and forth dangerously as he managed to grab it, and pulled hard to the right. The wallowing sailboat responded, crazily, and he was sure it was going to tip over. He screamed for Joey to hold on as he fought the tiller. A gust of wind from the other direction straightened them out in the water, and their near catastrophe was over as quickly as it had begun.
Joey then lent him her strength, and they both struggled to bring the tiller back to center. Between them, they managed to point the boat into the wind and raced forward with the current. Lightning flashes continuously ripped across the sky from one end to the other, and the deafening thunder intensified their fear.
"Won't the current take us further out from shore?" shouted Joey into the raging sky.
"It will, but we have to ride the current away from the reef first, then turn and go with the wind. That should bring us to the shore." He only hoped they didn't run aground but would worry about that later.
She shrugged helplessly. "All right, well, you're driving! But could you be a little more careful when you turn next time?"
"I'll try," he said. "But I'll need your help."
"Just tell me when," Joey said as she placed her hands next to his on the tiller.
He concentrated as he tried to gauge the current and the wind. He couldn't be sure, but it seemed right. "Now!" he yelled, and they both used all their strength to turn the boat in the direction of the forceful winds.
The weather continued to build, the wind blowing horizontal rain and pushing the waves up to ten feet. He and Joey were low in the cockpit as the driving rain stung their faces. The sailboat climbed each wave and raced down the face of the swells. He worked the tiller constantly to keep the boat before the wind. A broach in these conditions would be deadly.
He squinted in an attempt to see through the rain and spray running into his eyes, but there was near zero visibility. He glanced at Joey, who huddled beside him after refusing to leave him and go down to the cabin by herself. "We'll be okay," he said in a comforting tone, but wasn't sure whether he was trying to convince her or himself.
"Good because I really don't want to die a virgin," she snarked.
"We could take care of that right now, if you want." He smirked at her.
Joey stared at his hands firmly holding the tiller before glancing around at the storm raging all around them and throwing him a sarcastic look. "Then we really would die, Pacey."
Shrugging, he grinned. "Best way to go, in my opinion."
"Pacey… you know how much I love you, right?"
He thought he heard the fear return to her voice and she looked at him with what seemed like a pleading gaze. "Now don't start that, Jo! We're not going to die. You are not going to die."
Then she wrapped her arms around him and huddled closer, hiding her face against his shoulder.
Over an hour passed and eventually the wind began to abate. The storm had passed over and was now quickly moving north. The clouds to the south were starting to break up with rays of sunbeams shining through the ragged holes in the gray clouds. The wind died down to a slight breeze. He stood up and gazed about him in every direction. Land was nowhere to be seen.
He and Joey were soaked to the skin. Water was dripping from their hair. The storm had broken the week's heat spell, and Joey shivered slightly in the cool breeze. She huddled against him. They looked at each other, relief rising inside them, and laughed at each other's dripping, windblown state. Then Joey's face fell; she was clearly shaken up. She clutched him tightly to her, her face pressed against his.
"It's all right," he soothed, his hand going behind her head, stroking her wet hair. "We're all right. See, Jo? I told you we'd be okay."
She let out a shuddering breath and nodded before pulling away. Then he kissed her temple, her forehead. He knew he should try to lighten her mood. "And the most important thing here is that you didn't die a virgin. So, I call that a success."
She snorted and smacked his arm playfully.
Returning to the cabin, they found the state below deck nothing to laugh at. Anything that hadn't been bolted down was scattered and strewn about haphazardly. He saw the look on Joey's face and still wanted to at least try to cheer her up. "Look at this mess you made, Potter!" he teased.
"Me? I'm not the one who drove us into a storm, now am I?"
"Good point. I'll clean up down here. Take my compass and go back up. Keep us heading southwest so we'll reach the shore. Hopefully we'll end up somewhere close to Wilmington. We'll probably need to stay there a few days to repair the damages."
Silently, Joey left the cabin and returned to the cockpit. He set about straightening out the mess below. An hour later, he emerged from below deck to find Joey slumped beside the tiller, her head bobbing as she fought off sleep. He took the compass from her hand, carefully unthreading the chain from around her wrist and clutched fingers. He flipped it up and found she had done her job. Their progress, though slight because of the lack of wind, was all due southwest.
"Hey, sleepyhead," he said as he helped her up. "You should go down and take a nap. You'll sweat sleeping down there, but at least you'll be in the shade. Be sure to drink some water and eat something before you get in the hammock."
Joey mumbled her agreement and then descended into the cabin and climbed into the top hammock on her first try.
He then went about assessing the boat for any damages. Tying off the tiller, he climbed the mast to examine the sail where it tied to the boom. Using another long piece taken from the lead rope, he managed to raise the sail about a third of the way. The True Love responded immediately to the light wind gathering in it. At least that would gain them some speed again, he thought. Large tears ran through the lower part of the sail, so he couldn't raise it any higher. He took out his pocket knife and poked eyelets at the bottom to secure the sail to the boom. Returning to the cockpit, he sat beside the tiller, and waited.
A few hours after she'd gone below deck, Joey returned to the cockpit. He had his hand on the tiller, lost in thought. "Sorry I slept so long," she said. "You should've woken me. Can I get you anything? You hungry?"
"I'd like some spaghetti and meatballs. Do you think that's possible, or should I have put in my request earlier?"
"Hang on," she said, ducking back through the hatch and down into the cabin. "I'll have to check on the cook and the other kitchen wenches."
She soon re-emerged with a banana and a can of root beer. "The cook needed more notice, so it looks like this will have to do. Enjoy!"
He ate his banana and drank from his can of root beer while Joey took the tiller for a while. Just as the sun began to set, they spotted land at the western horizon. He went to the cabin to check their coordinates against the nautical chart. The land was most likely Cape Hatteras, or near it, and he knew they were only about three miles away from shore. He breathed a sigh of relief and emerged from below deck to lower the sails and drop anchor.
After turning on the above deck lighting, he and Joey retired below for the night. The mood was somber, quiet. He cooked up a quick dinner of bacon and eggs—thankful a few had miraculously remained intact inside the mini fridge—which seemed to improve her spirits far more than any joke or good-natured banter.
They took turns at the sink, brushing their teeth, and then he got into the bottom hammock and stretched out. Joey came over and put her hands on the hammock above him. Just when he thought she was going to hoist herself up, she hesitated and stepped back, gazing down at him. "Can I sleep with you tonight?" she asked quietly.
He swallowed, nodding. "Of course."
Scooting over, he made room for her and she got in the hammock and lay down beside him. He lifted his arm for a moment and she snuggled against him, her head on his chest, before holding her to him. Her hand slid over his stomach and hugged him around his waist. Minutes passed, and he then heard her sniffles, felt her chest heave with shaky breaths. He turned slightly to look at her. Silent tears rolled down her face. He wiped the tears from her cheek. It had been a long, exhausting, emotional day, not to mention the night before.
Turning to lay on his side, he kissed her eyelids, her brow, her temple, her cheek, and her tears soon subsided. He brushed her lips with his, kissing her softly. It wasn't long before his breathing slowed and he could feel sleep begin to pull him under.
"Pacey?" she murmured.
"Hmm?"
"You do know how much I love you, right?"
This again? He chuckled. "Jo, if you love me even half as much as I love you, then it's more than enough for me."
She snuggled tighter to him and kissed his ear. He pulled Joey closer, his arms wrapping around her, and their legs tangled. The gentle waves that rocked the boat and her warm breath on his chest lulled him into a deep, restful sleep.