Charlie St. Cloud Page 0,10
him to have a perfect view of the harbor.
Marblehead was definitely her favorite place on earth, a world unto itself. Sure, there were 20,377 people living on the peninsula, but it felt like a small town. Most folks had spent their whole lives here and never even thought about leaving. They were born at Mary Alley Hospital. They were raised on blueberry pancakes at the Driftwood and Joe Frogger cookies at the Rusty Rudder. They went to movies at the Warwick and got drunk at Maddie’s. They gathered at the Landing every December to watch Santa and Mrs. Claus arrive by lobster boat for the Christmas Walk. They married at the Old North Church and celebrated at the Gerry function hall. And in the end, when they sailed over to the other side, they were buried in Waterside.
But, much as she loved Marblehead, Tess believed there was more for her out there beyond the rocks. There was a world to see and, God willing, great love to find. Over the years, she had given a good look at every eligible guy in town, all seven of them. She had dated fellows from Boston to Burlington. But after a series of misses across New England, she knew she wasn’t going to find her Prince Charming or even a Regular Joe who would know what to make of her. So she was determined to venture beyond. Somewhere in Australia or New Zealand, she dreamed of meeting a dashing millionaire who spoke three languages, restored fifty-seven-foot classic boats, and was tall enough to twirl her around in her heels.
Her sea journey would take four months, maybe more, and to be honest, there were no guarantees she would ever make it back. Her mother seemed to know every case of a solo sailor vanishing or skirting death, like the Canadian who sank off the Canary Islands, escaped in a life raft with three pounds of food and eight pints of water, and survived seventy-six days.
“Hey, girl, you’re not getting any lighter up there,” Tink shouted from below.
“Sorry,” she said. “Just trying to memorize what everything looks like.”
Back on deck and out of the harness, Tess made for the cockpit, where she pulled out a clipboard with her checklist. This weekend trip was her last chance to make sure everything—absolutely everything—was shipshape. She would inspect the sails, autopilots, electronics, and survival equipment. Then she would take a few days off with her family and friends, and try to relax before the starting gun next week.
She could feel Tink’s breath as he peered over her shoulder at the list.
“You sure you don’t want me to come along?” Tink said. “You know, in case it gets lonely or cold out there.” He nudged her with a big paw.
“Nice offer, but I don’t need any more ballast onboard.”
“Who’s going to hoist you when the main gets stuck again?”
“I’ll figure something out,” Tess said. “Now tell me about that low-pressure front. What’s the deal?”
“It’s not good,” he said, pulling a computer printout from his pocket and unfolding it. In the sail loft, Tink was in charge of cutting and sewing. For the big trip, he was Tess’s go-to guy and meteorologist. He had worked in Bangor as one of those jovial TV weathermen doling out forecasts and cheer, but his broadcasting career ended prematurely. One night on the eleven o’clock news, he got fed up with a blow-dried, emaciated anchorwoman and called her a “skeletal gasbag.” No one disputed the characterization, not even the station manager, but Tink lost his job anyway. So he threw out his hairspray and makeup, moved to the North Shore, and went into sail-making and marine forecasting.
“It looks like a lot of low pressure coming down from Maine,” he was saying. “You can see the isobars on the back side of the depression.”
“That means more wind,” Tess said, grinning.
“Wish you weren’t going out at all, but you better head southwest and get ahead of the storm. Don’t want you to break anything on this boat before you have to.”
“See you Sunday, big guy.”
“Radio if you need me,” he said, going to the rail. “And remember, I’ll be pining away for you.”
“Pining away with a few hot dogs at tonight’s game?”
“I’ll have an extra one for you.” Tink jumped down to the dock as Tess turned the key, and the onboard engine rumbled. She put one fist on the throttle and was ready to push off when she heard a voice call out.
“Hey, sailor,” a