Unfamiliar Waters Read online

  Garrett reached for his hat and plopped it onto his head, his eyes hidden behind sunglasses. With so much glare off the crystal clear water, he could damage his eyes, and he didn’t want that. All he wanted was peace, and he was getting that in spades.

  Garrett went to his cooler, dug out a soda, and popped it open before grabbing a sandwich. He’d figured the sail to St. Lucia was about ten to eleven hours, and he had three or so more to go. Then he could figure out where he’d head from there.

  “This is the life,” he said to no one. A gull zoomed overhead, following him, a sure sign he was approaching land. It dipped and soared over the water and probably contemplated how to swoop in to steal Garrett’s sandwich. “This is mine, you flying rat,” he teased as the gull kept up with him. It was comforting, like having a silent companion, someone else with him who didn’t require his constant attention or for him to talk.

  Land grew on the horizon as he skimmed over the water, the wind picking up, carrying him faster than he expected. Not that he was complaining. Garrett navigated to the leeward side of the island and found a secure, deserted-looking cove to anchor the boat, then went belowdecks. Out of the sun, he sat on one of the benches to decide what to have for dinner.

  Garrett ended up having a fried pork chop, along with cold fruit and veggies. It was perfect, and when followed by a beer or two and a nap in the shade as the sun slid beneath the horizon, his weary mind could almost forget what he’d had and lost.

  He found he had cell service from his position, so he made a call to Jilly. “Hey, sister,” he said when she answered. “Greetings from St Lucia.”

  “You didn’t sink,” she teased. “How is the boat?”

  “Nice. I was expecting a tub, but it’s not very old, sleek, and beautifully appointed. I snagged it after a last-minute cancellation. The bed is really nice.” He nearly said David would have liked it… well, once he’d gotten over his seasickness. Still, David had never been one to let anything stop him, and if Garrett had suggested a trip like this, he probably would have gone to make Garrett happy.

  “I know…,” she said softly.

  “What do you know?” he asked too harshly and way too quickly.

  “That you still miss him. Hell, I know that you haven’t slept in the room the two of you shared since he passed away. You try to act all tough, but I know that losing David ripped you apart. But, big brother, it’s time you pulled yourself together and stopped this aloof, strong-man asshole demeanor and figured out how you are going to live the rest of your life.”

  Garrett sighed. “You don’t take it easy on a guy, do you?” Not that he would have expected her to. Even when they were kids, Jilly had dished it out as well as she took it. Jilly got even… and when she did, you knew it. That girl had the patience to watch a turtle marathon.

  Jilly laughed like a supervillain. “Never have, never will. It’s my job—just like it’s yours to point out when I’m being a pushover. And now that I’ve given you a kick in the butt, I’m going to hang up and try to make up for being grouchy to my husband.”

  “You go on. I’m going to go scrub out my brain rather than think about what that entails.” He laughed as he ended the call. There was still enough light to see, so Garrett changed into a bathing suit, lowered the rope off the back of the boat, and slid into the water to cool off.

  Garrett loved how salt water felt like liquid velvet on his skin. He didn’t swim, exactly, because darkness fell quickly, and when it did, there would be nothing for him to see by. Instead, he hung on the edge of the boat, just letting the water flow around him luxuriously. More and more stars came out, and eventually he climbed up to lie on the deck in the warm evening air, looking at the billions of stars that split the night and the meteors that shot across the sky.

  “If you can hear me, David, I miss you,” he said into the darkness before picking out a single point of light. When he was a kid, his grandmother had told him that all the people we love turned into stars when they passed on. He knew that wasn’t true, of course, but it was a lovely thought, so he picked out a star for David. “I don’t know why you had to leave me, but I’ve been total shit since you did. I don’t like anything or anyone.” He sighed and lay still, wondering if he could somehow hear David’s voice on the wind.

  Now he was descending into some kind of bad Nicholas Sparks romantic drivel. “I know you’re gone and this is just me talking to myself, but that doesn’t mean I don’t miss you and that I don’t want you back.” He closed his eyes as a wave of grief reared up. For months he’d held firm, building huge, thick walls to try to keep it out, but this time his defenses were down, and it broke over him like a tidal wave. Garrett rolled onto his side and heaved, yelling his grief and pain out into the blackness and over the water. “You were too fucking young, and we should have had decades together.” He grabbed for the towel and plastered it to his eyes to catch his tears and keep them from showing. Even enveloped in darkness, he didn’t want to be seen like this.

  Garrett lost track of how long he lay like that, eventually dozing off. He woke to discomfort and went below, turning on the lights to find his way. Garrett hung up his wet things in the tiny bathroom and went to bed. He fell asleep on top of the covers and didn’t wake until a beam of sunlight shone on his face. He’d slept—at least that was an improvement, and it hadn’t required six beers or three or four shots to lull him into dreamland.

  He lay in bed, the boat rocking, water lapping the side. Then he got up and ate a cold breakfast before deciding to move on. He had plenty of provisions, so he didn’t need to dock, and the open water called to him. After eating, he checked the weather and set a course for Martinique. He’d already made arrangements for a berth there for a few days, so off he went, back out into the huge blue expanse, his heart a little lighter and his outlook maybe a little brighter. After all, it was always more beautiful after a storm, and maybe that included the emotional kind as well.

  AFTER NOON, clouds built to the east and the wind picked up. Garrett checked his timing and bearings, set the wheel, and added additional sail to pick up speed. The radar showed some sort of storm heading his way, though it could be possible for him to outrun it.

  The two islands were only twenty-five miles apart, so no more than three hours out of St. Lucia, he should be spying land at any time. Garrett scanned the horizon and his GPS as he sped over the water. The waves picked up with the wind as the storm drew closer. Most Caribbean storms were small and mainly dumped rain, but this one must have some oomph. It didn’t appear to be big, but it was packing some wind.

  With still about an hour to go by his calculations, he spied land off to the west. Rather than questioning it, he headed that way.

  The island was small, definitely not Martinique. The chart listed it as Montessa. Not that he’d ever heard of it. Didn’t matter, though. The clouds drew closer and closer to the water as he approached the north side of the island. He found a break in the reef and slipped into a small cove. The water instantly calmed, and he breathed a sigh of relief. After dropping anchor, he lowered the sails and stowed them away, then closed all the windows, as well as the access hatch. He wasn’t sure exactly what he was in for, but when the rain hit, it was torrential. The boat rocked side to side, but not badly, and he stood under shelter, setting out some clean buckets to catch the fresh water.

  After the thunder and lightning passed, Garrett stripped down, grabbed a bar of soap, and washed himself off, letting the rain rinse him clean.

  Once done, Garrett went inside, dried off, dressed, and made himself dinner, listening to the rain pound the roof of the cabin overhead. The batteries were charged and he’d used very little the night before, so he settled on the bed to read, passing the hours quietly until it was time to sleep.

  Sometime in the night, the storm passed, leaving behind quiet, and again Garrett slept soundly. He hadn’t dreamed, at least not that he remembered.

  In the morning, other than being wet, the boat was fine. He
ate a cold breakfast and then ventured onto the deck. He stood, scanning over the island for any signs of habitation. He saw nothing but thick vegetation and a small lagoon nearer to shore. He thought he might explore it and moved the boat closer inland. With no one around and a sandy beach, he figured it was safe for a swim ashore to have a look around.

  Garrett dressed for the water and sun in his suit and a solar shirt before venturing back out. He’d planned to jump off the side of the boat for the swim to shore, but when movement near the beach caught his eye, he paused on deck.

  A man stepped out of the trees, blond and tall, sun-kissed, wearing a pair of shorts and a gray T-shirt that he pulled over his head as he got closer to the water. Garrett watched the gorgeous creature move with unusual grace before stopping, and knew the minute the man spotted the boat—he stopped to look and then waved. Garrett waved back, still just watching and wishing he had his binoculars. The man waded into the water as though looking for something, then dove, swimming strongly when he came up before diving again, surfacing with a large conch shell. He paddled to shore, looked it over, then dove back into the water and came up without it.

  This time when he broke the surface, the man waved again and motioned him over. Garrett contemplated only a minute before diving into the water, heading straight to shore. After all, some god of the water didn’t beckon him every day of the week. Even as he swam, Garrett wondered if he’d imagined the whole thing. It wasn’t until he stepped out of the water and the man approached that he was sure he was real.

  “Hi,” he said brightly. “I’m Nigel, Nigel Martin.”

  “Garrett Wreckley. I got caught in the storm last night and found the cove for shelter.” He looked around again. “Do you think the owner will mind if I stay here?”

  Nigel smiled and shrugged. “It’s okay. He isn’t going to mind, since it’s me… well, sort of. But it’s fine. No one is going to know you’re here. As long as you don’t tear up the reef or harm my friends under the water, it will be okay.” He flashed perfect teeth, a gorgeous smile, and had eyes bluer and with more sparkle than the bluest water.

  “You live here? Alone?”

  “Yes, I live here, but no, not alone. There are others. Our house is on the other side of the island, but I come over here because of the shells. I like to think of this as my own private beach.” He grinned and led the way around the cove to where a stream flowed out of the trees and over the sand into the waves. “There’s a waterfall up there and a path next to it. If you follow the path, you come to my home. That route takes a while, though, so I prefer to follow the stream.” He stepped into it, and so did Garrett, the cool water a contrast to the warmer Caribbean. “It comes from the rain and flows down the hill.” Nigel sat on the sand, drawing his knees upward. “Where did you come from?”

  “Originally Baltimore. I rented the boat in Barbados.” Garrett sat down as well. “Do you like it on the island?”

  Nigel shrugged. “This is the only home I’ve ever really known.”

  That shocked Garrett a little. Nigel had to be twenty-two or so. What kind of life had he experienced if he’d spent much of it on a lonely island? “Who else is here?”

  “My aunt and brother, as well as Fairfield. He’s sort of our caretaker and helps us all with anything we need. There’s also a small village on the far side of the island with about fifty people, I guess. Fairfield has a boat that he can take to other islands, but he always goes alone.”

  That sent Garrett’s curiosity through the roof.

  “Fairfield says there’s nothing there but greedy people, and he’s always happy to be back. Jules and I spend our time together mostly. Jules is my brother.” Nigel smiled again. There didn’t seem to be an ounce of guile in this guy, and yet what he said made no sense. Why hadn’t he ever wanted to get off this island? And what kind of aunt keeps her nephews cooped up? Still, it wasn’t any of his business.

  “Do you come to this side of the island often?” Garrett asked, absently digging his hands in the sand, letting it sift through his fingers, because who in the hell wouldn’t want to be close to this magnetically attractive man? The way Nigel looked at him was intriguing, and Garrett wanted to be looked at by Nigel for as long as humanly possible.

  “It’s great swimming over here, and I can dive for shells. I collect them.” Nigel seemed so pleased.

  “Where do you keep this collection?”

  Nigel pointed. “Out there. I find them and make sure they’re okay, but I keep the collection in the water. They aren’t really mine, of course. They belong to themselves, just like I do, but I keep an eye on them.” He jumped to his feet before Garrett had a chance to think too much about that. “Wanna see?” He was already walking toward the water.

  “I didn’t bring a mask,” Garrett said, wishing he had thought to grab snorkel gear before he’d dived off the boat, but it hadn’t occurred to him that he would meet a man-god with a shell collection beneath the water.

  Nigel tossed Garrett his. “I already know where they all are.” He grinned and jumped into the water. Garrett put on the goggles and went in after him.

  The bottom of the lagoon was covered in white sand, with coral rocks dotting the seascape, along with bits of seaweed. Shells rose up from the smooth bottom like hills, and when Garrett surfaced, Nigel told him about each one. “That’s Zeus, he’s the oldest and biggest. Athena is nearby, along with Aphrodite and Poseidon.” He demonstrated on his hands to show their positions. He laid out a map in the air, and when Garrett looked again, he saw each and every one. “Mercury and Perseus.”

  “What do you do with them?” Garrett asked. “Do you eventually eat them?” Conch was a delicacy in some places.

  Nigel shook his head. “Not these. That’s why I keep them here. My aunt likes conch chowder, so she would eat them if she found them, but I don’t. So I bring them here to save them. Otherwise there would be none left.”

  Garrett treaded water as small waves rolled past. “Are they gone on the rest of the island?”

  “No. But a lot less. I bring my friends here, and they have babies and make more friends that spread out. I’m the only one who comes here, so they’re safe.” He seemed proud of himself, and Garrett supposed Nigel had every right to be.

  Nigel swam back to shore, and Garrett followed. They sat once again near the stream in the shade of a coconut palm. “How long will you be here?” Nigel asked after a few minutes of silence.

  “I don’t know. There’s no place I need to be.” God, it was peaceful. Tropical breezes blew through the trees, rustling the fronds, and Garrett would be happy to stay here forever. He sat up and tugged his shirt over his head before lying back down on the sand, then closed his eyes for a few minutes and just let himself be.

  When he opened his eyes, he found Nigel looking at him, watching him, with naked desire in his eyes. It had been a long time since Garrett had seen that kind of unashamed longing without a hint of caution.

  “You’re a very handsome man,” Nigel said softly.

  “Thank you.” Warmth spread through him at the admiration and heat radiating from Nigel. Damn, it was heady being admired and ogled like that. Not that Garrett intended to do anything. The last thing he wanted was to pop the bubble of an innocent, and all indications were that Nigel was as innocent as they came. “Do you have friends here?”

  “Like Sancho Panza and Don Quixote? No. There is no one here to be friends with like that.” Nigel turned away, staring out to sea. “There is just Jules and me. He is my friend and also my brother, but it’s not the same.”

  “No, I suppose not,” Garrett said as a bell rang somewhere, the sound carried on the wind.

  “I have to go.” Nigel jumped to his feet. “I’ll be back. Will you stay?” He was already heading toward the break in the trees that formed the path.

  “Yes. I can stay for a few days,” Garrett agreed. This was as quiet a place as any, and the view was spectacular.

  “Okay. I will be back later.”
Nigel waved and disappeared down the path.

  Garrett watched him go, blinking a few times. With Nigel gone, the only indication he’d been there at all were his footprints in the sand, and many of those were already disappearing in the tide. This whole encounter could have been part of his imagination if it wasn’t for the lingering heat that stayed behind, and the small pile of shells near the edge of the beach that Nigel had been gathering when he’d first arrived.

  Garrett got up, grabbed his shirt, and pulled it back on before walking into the waves, swimming back to the boat, and climbing on board once again. He changed into dry clothes and hung the wet ones out, then went inside to get something to eat. He sat topside in the shade and found himself watching the path just in case Nigel returned. Garrett barely tasted his food or paid attention to what he did. A gull actually snapped the last bite of bread from off his plate. Not that he cared.

  He wondered when Nigel would return and hoped it would be soon. He kept peering out the small windows to see if his visitor had returned. But he didn’t… and Garrett continued to watch.

  Chapter 3

  GARRETT WATCHED for Nigel for much of the afternoon, beating himself up the entire time. On one hand, he wanted Nigel to return so he could see him again. Yet part of him hated how much he wanted to see Nigel, because it felt like he was giving up some of David, and he wasn’t ready to do that. Every day he felt David drifting farther and farther away, his memories growing rounder and less sharp, so he held on to them as hard as he could. Garrett hadn’t longed for a man since he’d met David. And he certainly hadn’t sat on a boat, or anywhere else, watching and waiting for someone to appear.