Somewhere on St. Thomas: A Somewhere Series Romance (23 page)

“You hungry at all, Mrs. McCallum?” A gruff, but kindly voice.

Belatedly, I realized I was Mrs. McCallum. I peeked sideways out from under the hoodie at a large, bald-headed dude I dimly remembered meeting up on the deck.

“Uh. Freddie, is it?” His name came back to me by some miracle. His smile was kind and welcoming, not mocking or disrespectful. I began to relax a little.

“Yeah. I’m the steward. That means I’m in charge of meals and supplies at sea. Need anything special?”

I thought of my messy situation and how I wished I had a panty liner, but didn’t yet feel comfortable asking him to buy me some tampons for the inevitable monthly either. “Can I give you a list or something?”

He beamed as if it genuinely made him happy that I’d thought of that. “Great idea.”

“Thank you for asking if I needed anything. I got a little sick down there. Do you have any crackers?”

He was solicitous and gave me a roll of Ritz Crackers and a ginger ale and insisted on accompanying me to the top deck.

The wind smacked my cheeks immediately, blowing away the last of the champagne cobwebs and Dramamine hangover. I gasped at the expanse of cobalt-blue horizon, the scudding whitecaps, the vast acreage of dazzling sails. I felt euphoria sweep over me as I spotted the dolphins again, leaping ahead of the ship.

“Ruby. You’re feeling better, I hope?” Rafe was approaching me from the helm area at the back of the yacht. I saw Sven, one of the sailors who’d helped at my dorm, had taken the wheel, and he lifted a hand in a friendly wave.

No one was mocking me. Or if they were, I wasn’t going to know it. I relaxed a little further.

I hopped up onto the deck, the roll of Ritz in one hand and the ginger ale in the other. “Freddie was so nice. He had just the thing for my tummy.”

I saw Rafe nod and smile at Freddie’s large, shiny pate poking up from below like a gopher checking the weather. Rafe’s approval seemed to make Freddie happy, too, as the big man grinned and gave me a thumbs-up before disappearing below.

I pressed into the wind shadow of Rafe’s body. “I was worried everyone would know what we were doing and…it would be embarrassing.”

I felt him chuckle, and his arms around me felt like the best thing in the world. “They are really happy for me, Ruby. They’ve all been my friends for years. Yeah, I got a little shit for your age at first, but once they got a load of you in that wedding dress, nobody did anything but congratulate me.”

“Ha,” I said, and snuggled my face into his parka. “I’m sorry I was such a bitch. After. You know.”

“You’ve got a right to be disappointed. I was, too. I’ve been racking my brain for how we could have gone about it differently, but I guess we can just chalk that up as beginner’s bad luck.”

I tipped my head to grin at him, and he bent and kissed me.

“So, where are we going?”

“Charleston, South Carolina. There’s a lot to see and do there. I thought we’d put in for a few days, let the guys go home to see their families. And we can spend some time together. Alone.”

“Cool,” I said, as if my cheeks weren’t on fire. “Hey, shouldn’t I be oriented on emergency procedures in case we sink or something? Tell me more about the boat.”

He obliged, showing me the lifeboats and describing the various alarm and other systems, and talking me through an evacuation.

“She’s a sailing yacht, so she can go under sail or power, whatever we need.” He was clearly proud of the
Maid
and how far she’d traveled. “The
Maid
has some real miles under her belt. She’s been around the world one full time now, and I’m hoping to make it twice.”

“How long to get to Saint Thomas?” I asked, already worried about being back in Boston by September.

“Actually, we’re going to fly out of Charleston,” Rafe said. “September, not May, is the best time for the route from Charleston to Saint Thomas, and it’s a long haul. I don’t want to put you through that right away, especially with the way you got sick this afternoon.”

“I love you!” I exclaimed, my grin huge. Somewhere inside, while I was excited to be on the
Maid
, I had also been worried. I had sailed a bit around the islands growing up, but never anything serious. I wasn’t at all sure I had the stomach for a long voyage, though anything Rafe loved so much, I would to try hard to enjoy, too.

“That was a good call, then,” he said, drawing me back against him, resting his chin on my head as we looked off the bow at the dolphins, gulls, and the green coast of whatever state it was we were passing. “I want this to be fun for you. After all, it’s our honeymoon.”

“I still can’t get used to you being rich,” I said. “But it actually doesn’t change anything. Except I won’t be worrying as much.”

“And you don’t have to work in the dining hall anymore.”

“Hey! It wasn’t a bad job. Especially when I was Juliette.” I tilted my head and batted my eyes at him. “So I guess I’d better call Shellie and tell her she has to get another roommate next year. And Sam.” My stomach pitched a bit at the thought of Sam.

Rafe kissed the crown of my head. “We haven’t talked about next year, but I assumed you were continuing at Northeastern. I don’t mind parking in Boston during the year, and maybe I will look at an art history program. We own a house in town. It’s rented out, but we could reoccupy it.”

“Only now you mention we own a house in Boston,” I said, frowning. “But I like how you said ‘we’ own it. I was worried you didn’t want to wait for me to finish my degree to continue sailing around the world.”

He turned me in his arms. “Ruby. What else would I want to do but see my wife fulfill her dreams for herself? While I do the same for me.”

“I don’t deserve you,” I said suddenly, my eyes filling. “What did I ever do to deserve you?”

“It’s not about deserving,” Rafe said. “It’s about finding the person you’re meant to be with.”

I put my ear on his heart, leaned against him, and sighed for a long moment as the sun set.

We went down to the dining room and had a great dinner with the guys. I didn’t feel uncomfortable anymore as they told funny stories about Rafe: the time he’d got his tattoo, which apparently was just a claw to start with, “And a hideous one, too.”

That time in Chile when he’d decided to leave his money and ID behind on one of his “I’m going to make it on my own” quests and had disappeared for days. Sven had bailed him out of a jail, after he’d been arrested for public indecency from peeing against a statue of the Madonna, which he hadn’t recognized in the dark.

Then there was the time Rafe had come back to the
Maid
after meeting me on Saint Thomas.

“He said he’d met the woman he was going to marry,” Freddie said. “‘She’s an angel,’ he said, ‘with the hair of a devil.’” They all busted up, including me.

Rafe pulled me to my feet. “On that note, we’ll see you all in the morning.” To their credit, no teasing followed us out.

Back in our cabin, Rafe seemed oddly withdrawn.

“Can I take a shower?” I asked.

“Of course. Unfortunately, it’s not big enough for two,” he said. “I’ll go after you.” He’d sat down at a desk area that efficiently folded open as part of the built-in furniture. He had a stack of ledgers stashed inside and seemed to immediately immerse himself in his project.

In the small metal surround, I washed briskly, keeping my hair in a pile on top of my head because it didn’t dry well at night, and reflected how already the ceaseless movement of the ship was beginning to feel soothing to me, a new normal that reminded me, somehow, of being a small child held close to my mother.

Rafe went in after me, and I found a book of maps to study while he showered, trying to figure out our route. He came out wrapped in a white terry-cloth robe and resumed his seat at the desk. I got out and snuggled against Rafe in my yellow robe.

“I’m willing to give it another go if you are,” I said against the nape of his neck.

“Hell, no, love,” he said without looking up. “You need at least a couple of days to recover. Platonic snuggling only.”

I was shocked at the stab of rejection I felt. It went straight south and throbbed there in reproach.

I snorted. “You obviously don’t know the Michaels family. You fall off the horse, you get back on. Skin your knee, you keep going. Bad sexual experience? No problem. Keep doing it until it feels better.”

“You forget.” He turned to grin at me, an old-fashioned fountain pen in hand. “I do know the Michaels family. One of the reasons I like you so much.”

I was suddenly curious about the pen. “Is this where you would write me letters?”

“Yes.”

I felt a sudden heat, thinking of his letters, picturing him sitting here, writing me. Now that we were finally together, it had begun to feel prophetic somehow, destined, and yet at every stage I knew how fragile our relationship had been.

I knew. I’d lived through the last year without him.

“Will you read me ‘First Night’? I have it in my suitcase.” That love poem he wrote me in February had brought me all the way out to San Francisco to see him at spring break, a wildly reckless move on my part. That poem was when I’d begun to fall in love with him.

“Really, Ruby?”

I pulled the battered old case out from under the bed, fumbled with the zipper, and took out the topmost letter, a little fuzzy around the edges from folding and refolding. “Here.”

He looked at me, and I saw a shine of moisture in his eyes. His voice thickened. “I don’t know if I can read it to you out loud.”

“Come to bed and read it to me,” I said. And I dropped the robe.

He stood up and dropped his robe, too, and we climbed into the wide bed together with the stars and moon flashing on the ocean outside the portholes. The sound of the ocean a foot away was like the sound of blood rushing through my veins as he read to me.

First Night

She comes to me in ivory

Not white, because she’s Ruby

Even the skin of her secret places

Is a tawny shade of pale

Peppered with nutmeg freckles I want

To spend a lifetime counting.

She offers herself

Abundant and strong, sweet as honey and tangy as mango

And I use my tongue to worship her.

Every inch.

Every cranny.

Every place that’s never seen the sun or

Known the touch of a hand.

Nothing is hidden from me, nothing is off-limits as I make her mine.

She’s never known what can be felt and discovered, and every place I take her

I mark it mine

I take and I own

With kisses. With my hands. With my mouth.

With all of my body I worship her.

I teach her what has always been in her to feel.

I touch the nub of her pleasure until she explodes in cries of delight

And I’m surrounded

By her perfume

She’s the garden of my delight.

Only when she’s boneless and begging

Will I move into her, sliding into that tight glove

Made for me alone

I’ll take that “jade gate” by storm

I’ll make it so good for her

She’s ruined for anyone but me

Because this is only the first night

And there will be an eternity more.

I was crying by then.

We both were.

He reached over to draw me to him, kissing me, and it was like the very feeling of hope. He stroked me gently, and he stroked me hard, unleashing a melody I felt like I’d always known that could be released only by him.

This time, when he eventually rose and entered me, it was a little tender but full of a pleasure I couldn’t articulate except with sighs and kisses, and even a few tears, my eyes on his, a part of me still waiting for the pain, the burning.

But it never came. Instead, I found myself moving with him, rising up to meet him, our motion echoing the cleaving of the ship through the sea, something ageless and eternal about it, and yet unique. Us, only us, in this moment, in this place and time.

“Okay?” he asked, still moving slowly, but I could see the strain of being gentle in his shoulders, in the cords of his neck. That reckless daring rose up in me—the same daring that made me climb a tree, try a flip, and get on a plane for San Francisco. I wrapped my legs tight around his hips, pushed myself up against him with my arms, and bit his nipple.

“Give it to me like you mean it,” I said, and he did, and I swear it just got better and better. And then he flipped me over.

“Oh, this ass,” he whispered. “I need to write a poem just about your ass.” He bit it, just lightly, and shivers of anticipation rippled over my body.

“I like poems,” I panted, as he shoved a pillow under my hips and hefted me up. I could already feel myself bending and melting to open for him, and I wished we had a mirror so I could see it all going on. But I also felt another quaver of apprehension. The Captain was so very big.