Hatteras Blue (38 page)

The sea took it back. Leaning, he watched it drop away, glittering and winking. The golden sparkle grew faint, grew green, drifting downward through slanting rainbowed light.

It was gone. "Hell," said Aydlett.

"We're better off without it, Shad. Come on, she's starting to go."

Hirsch, after a last look around, stepped over the splintered teak and settled in her seat. Aydlett swung himself down after her, a coil of line round his elbow and hand.

"Ready, there, Bernie? Ready, Shad?"

"Ready, Tiller."

"Let's cruise."

Aydlett popped tabs on three Millers and passed them out. Galloway pulled a few yards away, the motor humming. They watched as the sea lifted, sniffing at the deck.

It ran its tongue across the canted forecasde and nipped at the cabin windows.

It swallowed the anchor for the last time.

With a bubbling sigh
Victory
lifted her skirts. Swaying rows of seagrass, a pale line of barnacles like a chorus of tiny startled mouths. Her rudder swung to one side, tapped to the other, as she rolled for the last time, showing them for a moment the two bodies lying side by side on deck, intertwined like sleeping lovers.

Together, silently, they toasted her.

When she was gone Galloway put his hand over his eyes for a moment. Then he straightened in his seat, looked at the compass, and turned his head from side to side for the wind.

"Shad, see if you can get that tarp up. With luck and this breeze behind us, we should pick up Hatteras Light sometime tomorrow."

'To." The waterman crawled forward, spun a swift fisherman's bend into the bullnose.

"Tiller."

"Yeah, Bern?"

"I'm—I'm sorry I screwed up. Trusting Ruderman. Straeter, I mean."

"We both made mistakes, Bemie. Mine cost Jack's life this time. And Clifton's, and Mercy's—"

"No! Bad reasoning!
They
killed your cousin and the others, Tiller. Not you."

"I guess you're right."

"I'm glad you turned it down," she said, from close behind him. Her hand came over his shoulder. "I'm glad you turned it all down. I know how much the old Galloway wanted it. But I knew you'd win."

He considered for a little while, then
reached
up. He held her hand for a long time, feeling the warm pressure of her fingers. "I'm glad too."

After a moment he added,
"Bemie?"

"What?" "I don't know if this is the right time to say this. I don't know how bad hurt I am, for one thing."

"Is it about you and me?"

"Yeah. Come on, help me out."

"No."

"No?"

"No. I mean, the answer may be yes, but you've got to ask the question yourself."

"Uh-huh. Well, do you think you'd like to—when we get back—do something together?"

"That's not the right question. Try again."

"Shit! Goddamn it!" He banged his fist on the hollow fiberglass. "Okay. It's like this. We argue. We fight. But when things get rough, like in the storm, like today, suddenly I realize I need you. When it gets hairy, there isn't anybody else I'd rather have beside me." He glared at her. "I think that means something important. It means, I want you in my life. Maybe it won't work, maybe we're too different—but I want to try. You want that?"

She looked at the sea for a long time. The sea that had swallowed so much. Had it swallowed the old Galloway too? Then she remembered his face, when he'd let the gold go.

Yes. That was down there too. She tightened her hand on his. "Tiller."

"What?"

"That was the right question. At last. And I have the right answer, too."

"Get your lips off her, Galloway, you old goat," called Aydlett from the bow a moment later. "We're rigged! You people ready to sail?"

Together, they set their backs to the wind.