Paradise Cursed – Snippet 9
“Erin! Don’t stalk away from me.” Hurrying to catch up, Dayna wished that for once she could’ve tamed her impatience. “We need to talk about this.”
“Stop meddling in what you don’t understand.”
“You’re my sister. It’s my duty to meddle when I see you hurting.”
“Paul is history.” Erin veered toward the leeward rail. “He’s forgotten. So there’s nothing to talk about.”
“Good riddance, but I’m not buying it. He was a jerk, sure, and I never understood what you saw… but you loved him.” The moon cast a shimmery beam on the sea and a soft glow on her sister’s face. Seeing the fear that replaced Erin’s anger, Dayna winced. “Anyway, you know that’s not what I meant.”
“I don’t want to talk about it.”
“Ignoring the fact that you have some sort of, I don’t know, clairvoyance, prescience—”
“That’s crap. I read charts, cards, a competence anyone can acquire. It doesn’t make me psychic.”
“I just don’t get why you’re so upset about it. You said the prediction that Paul would cheat on you came from delineating his astrological profile, exactly as you’ve done for hundreds of other people. Why were you so astonished when it came true?”
“It wasn’t a prediction. A profile is just a…an array of characteristics. Like you—pushy, persistent, mouthy, inclined to butt in where you shouldn’t—but you can learn not to act on your inherent buttinskiness. And right now would be a darn good time.”
“Carla’s accident wasn’t a characteristic. You saw it in her cards, but you’ve told me the cards aren’t specific about when, how, or exactly what will happen. Yet you knew, didn’t you? You told her not to go to work. And she didn’t, but she went to the mall, and tripped on the escalator. That’s why you were so upset, because you thought the danger would be in the building where she worked. The cards couldn’t give you those details. You saw it in a vision or a dream or —”
“Dayna! Stop.” Erin’s hands gripped the ship’s rail so tightly they looked like claws.
“Sis, I’m sorry. It’s just that I’ve seen the way you look when you wake up with one of your dreams, and it worries me. Maybe if you stopped fighting it so hard…” Dayna didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
“I know you mean well.” Her sister turned finally and looked at her—then her gaze flicked past, and she was staring over Dayna’s shoulder with an expression of pure terror.
“What?!” Dayna turned to look.
She saw nothing except the ship’s deck and rigging. No one was there. Yet her sister was shaking.
Excusing myself from the dinner table as gracefully as possible, I followed the Kohl sisters a few minutes after they exited the dining room. They had appeared to be distraught, and while I tried to steer clear of clashes among passengers, this might be one of the special cases I’d come to expect.
After a brisk stroll forward, nodding a greeting to other strollers, I found the ladies standing halfway along the port rail. It was Erin Kohl’s profile in the moonlight that grabbed my attention first, the fine straight nose, the sensual lips, then I noticed her rigid stance.
The two women stood squared off at each other. I advanced, donning my dispute-settling persona.
“Are you ladies all right?”
“My sister—”
“We’re fine,” Erin cut in, before Dayna could finish her sentence.
Erin did indeed look fine, more so in the soft glow of the moon, but Dayna’s young face was etched with the harsh lines of confusion and fear. I put a hand on her elbow.
“If someone was hassling you, I’d like to know. A member of my crew, a passenger…”
“Honestly, we’re fine,” Erin said.
I decided to drop it. Whatever the problem, it clearly was private, and privacy on a small ship was too easily compromised.
“Just remember, you can come to me with anything,” I said to Erin. Then to Dayna, “Will you be ready for duty at first bell?”
The girl looked at her sister, clearly worried about something. But like most youngsters, worry fell away with the prospect of excitement. When she turn her eyes at me they
beamed, transforming her whole face in an instant.
“Even sooner!” Red curls bounced as she bobbed her consent. “What time is first bell, exactly?”
“Five a.m. Report to First Mate Ayanna.”
“I’m on it!” Still beaming, she sketched a hasty salute and darted away.
In Dayna’s absence, the lightness of the moment faded.
“Five a.m.,” Erin said, a thickness in her voice that hadn’t been there a moment ago. “I didn’t realize we were on such a tight schedule.”
I smiled, vainly pleased to hear the subtle change that suggested she was as affected as I by the subliminal attraction we seemed to be sharing. Unlike crew, passengers provide an acceptable dalliance, since they expect shipboard romances to end as swiftly as they start.
“Don’t worry if you sleep in,” I said. “There’s another bell at six for breakfast.”
“And if I sleep until nine?”
“Then you’ll miss the best cinnamon rolls you ever put in your mouth. Yet there’s always eggs.”
A raindrop struck my face. Erin winced, and I saw a glint of moisture on her nose. Just a shower. Nothing to worry about, but I wasn’t eager to take chances. On the Sarah Jane, a heavy rainstorm could mean real danger.
“C’mon. You’ll be drenched.” Grabbing her hand, I dashed toward the cabin I’d seen Dayna enter.
“I thought this was the sunny Caribbean,” Erin said as we ran.
“Light rainfall for ten minutes or so happens most evenings about this time. Storms can be brutal, but they’re blessedly rare.”
At her door, she opened it and stepped quickly inside then turned back.
“Thank you for the escort. Guess I’ll see you at breakfast.”
When the door closed, I stood staring at it, still captivated by the magnetic tug of Erin Kohl’s subtle resemblance to Remi Babineaux and reluctant to break the fragile connection with a time long past, a time as invigorating and fulfilling as it was heartbreaking. Gentle raindrops continued to dampen my shirt, and I realized the hand that had clasped Erin’s wrist was closed tightly, as if to retain the remnant energy of her touch. I shoved my fist into my pocket. With another wary glance at the sky, I dashed back to join my dinner guests for dessert.
CHAPTER 8
Dayna heard the five a.m. bell and sprang awake. Forgetting she was on the top bunk, she swung her legs over the side and nearly fell when a loud metallic rap-ta-tap sounded on the cabin door.
“Everybody on the sheets!” someone yelled.
“Sheets?” Erin said drowsily. “I’ve got sheets, I’m on sheets…what’s…?”
“The lines, Sis. Ropes.” Startled fully alert now, Dayna heard the knock again, not as loud, probably at the next cabin. She jumped down. “They want us to help hoist the sails.”
“You’re kidding.”
“The Sarah Jane has twelve sails, over twenty-six thousand square feet of canvas, and I think we’re running short on crew.” She entered the head and closed the door.
“I didn’t sign on as crew,” Erin called. “I’ll sleep till the next shift.”
Not wanting to be late, Dayna had slept in the fresh clothes she planned to wear that day, but brushing her teeth seemed to take forever. Reading in the brochure about helping to cast off and sail, she’d worried it was just part of the color, the sales pitch. But this was real, and she didn’t plan to miss a thing.
“Sis, let’s move it,” she said, swatting her sister on the butt in passing.
Then she was out the door and savoring the awesome adventure she’d wheedled and bargained and jollied her way into. The sun had scarcely cleared the horizon but already the deck was alive with people, grabbing at lines. A southeast wind, about seven knots she guessed, blew her hair. Dayna didn’t know which way they were headed, but in any case the aft sail would be raised first. Sure enough, she looked aft and spied Captain McKinsey shouting orders as crewmen took up the lines and passengers scurried around to help.
Stepping carefully to avoid getting tripped among the uncoiling ropes, she looked around for the first mate. Ayanna was nowhere. Instead, she spied the second mate, Jase Graham.
“Pull!” she heard someone shout.
As Dayna drew closer, she decided Graham looked as if he’d had a long night with too many rum swizzlers. His face looked drawn, with purple shadows under his eyes.
“Dayna Kohl reporting for duty, sir. Did the captain—?”
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