Part 12 (1/2)
Both she and Lincoln wore orange life vests, although she noticed that Lincoln had unfastened his so that he'd look cool. He hadn't wanted to wear one at all, but Matt had said they weren't leaving the harbor until everyone had on a life jacket, only Matt had called them something else, a set of initials that sounded like BVD but probably wasn't.
The boat was gorgeous, all gleaming wood and sparkling white paint and s.h.i.+ny bra.s.s fittings. Quite a step up from Rufus's smelly old rowboat with the outboard motor that hardly ever worked. This was what Annabelle thought was called a pleasure craft. If only she and Lincoln could be going on a pleasure trip. But they weren't, so the wonders of the boat were lost on both of them, which was a shame.
Before they'd left the dock, Annabelle had stored the groceries she'd brought in the boat's tiny kitchen. Matt had called it the galley, so she would try to remember that. And the tiny bathroom, not much bigger than the one in the airplane they'd flown in eleven years ago, was the head. She thought, considering what it was mostly for, that the name was backward.
Their sleeping arrangements would be tight. She'd get the only real privacy-both Matt and Lincoln had insisted she take the little s.p.a.ce in the bow, the one sleeping area with a door. The other two beds in the main cabin doubled as bench seats during the day. There'd be no sleeping in for Lincoln, not that she thought he would with his sister missing. Annabelle didn't think any of them would sleep much, but they needed the beds in case someone was ready to drop.
Annabelle didn't care about the close quarters. She'd put up with a lot worse during her years in the Hollow. And although she wondered if Matt minded being crammed in cheek-by-jowl with a strange woman and her teenage son, she didn't really care if he minded or not. By being business partners with Nick, he'd put himself right in the middle of this mess of trouble, and she didn't plan to let him wiggle out of his responsibility.
Now that they were moving out into open water, she needed to focus on Genevieve and establish a mental connection. If she didn't achieve that, she wouldn't be able to tell Matt which way to go once they left the harbor. Lincoln would be a help with that, too. He didn't like to admit that he had a touch of psychic power, but he did. Besides that, he had a powerful bond with his sister.
Lincoln unhooked his earphones and dangled them around his neck. ”This is an awesome plan, Mom. I'm glad you talked this Matt guy into renting the boat and going out to look for Gen.”
”Call him Mr. Murphy, Lincoln.” ”But he told me to call him Matt.” ”I know, and I'm telling you to call him Mr. Murphy.” ”Don't get all mad at me, just because you're worried bout Gen, okay?”
She glanced at him, but he wasn't looking at her. Instead he was staring at the boat's wake, and his jaw was set that stubborn way that reminded her of Granny Neville.
Nothing would be served by the two of them barking at each other.
Yet she didn't want him calling Matt Murphy by his christian name. He could dye his hair any color he wanted, wear T-s.h.i.+rts with mouthy sayings on them, pierce his ears, and let any music he wanted filter through those earphones. He could do all that to his heart's content, but none of hers would be disrespectful to his elders. I am worried about Genevieve,” she admitted. ”I m you are, too. But we will find her.” He continued to study the churning water. ”Yeah, I hope it's soon, though.” nnabelle wanted to reach up and touch his cheek, right where a little downy growth had started coming in. But he wouldn't appreciate that, so she didn't. ”Me, too. Lincoln, about what you should call Mr. Murphy, I-”
Lincoln's sigh of protest was loud and dramatic, like most of his behavior in the last couple of years. ”If it bothers you that much, I'll call him Mr. Murphy, but he's pretty cool, and he's gonna be all. Why are you calling me Mr. Murphy? That makes me feel old. And I'll be all Don't blame me. My mom made me call you that. He is old, of course, but I don't think I should be the one reminding him about it.”
She smiled a little at that. If she hadn't been so weighed down with worry, she might have laughed. She thought Matt was a fine-looking man, very much in his prime. He had the sort of handsome face that she'd learned to steer clear of.
If she hadn't desperately needed his help, she wouldn't have had a thing to do with Matt Murphy. With those big brown eyes and great smile, he was much too pretty, and she'd promised herself never to fall for a pretty face again. But all Lincoln saw was a guy with a touch of gray in his hair, a guy on the far side of forty, which made him old and creaky.
”I'll take the chance he'll feel old when you call him Mr. Murphy,” she said.
”Annabelk,” Matt called above the sound of the boat's motor. ”Could you come here a minute, please?”
”Be right there!” She turned to Lincoln. ”Want to come with me while I see what he wants?”
”No, that's okay. I'll just stand here and concentrate.”
This time she couldn't resist putting a hand on his arm, even if he was four inches taller than she was and thought he was too cool for hugs from his mama. ”Are you concentrating on Genevieve?”
”Yeah.” He glanced down at her. ”You know when we first moved here, and Gen used to play hide-and-seek with me?”
”I don't remember that.”
”Probably because we quit playing. I always found her right away, so she got all bent. She couldn't find me, but I could always find her.”
Annabelle squeezed his arm. ”That's nice to know. You concentrate.”
”I will. I'm listening to that Harry Connick Jr. garbage she likes so much.”
”You are Annabelle liked that music herself, but Lincoln always said he wouldn't pollute his ears with it.
”Yeah. It sucks, but maybe it'll help me think of where she is.”
”Thank you, Lincoln. You're a good boy.” Before he could see the tears in her eyes, she turned and climbed up the stairway to where Matt was. That part of the boat, where Matt steered, was called the helm. Annabelle liked learning new things, but she would rather be learning under different circ.u.mstances.
Matt had one hand on the wheel and the other fiddling with the dials of whatever instruments the boat had. He wore the kind of wire-rimmed sungla.s.ses she'd always liked on a man, and a blue golf cap with ”Ha.n.a.lei Bay Resort” embroidered on the front.
”We need to talk about something,” he said.
He was going to bring up the bad weather. She braced herself to hold her ground. ”What?”
”The Coast Guard just notified me that they plan to postpone the air search because of the weather. In fact, the weather may interrupt most of the rescue efforts until the storm blowing in pa.s.ses over the islands.”
Annabelle took a deep breath. ”I wasn't putting much store in their help, anyway.”
He motioned to the swells ahead of them. ”Besides that, they've issued a small craft warning.”
”We're not so small. This is the biggest boat I've ever been on.”
He flicked a glance in her direction. ”Trust me, we're still considered small.”
”We're not going back. I don't give a care what the weather is doing. We can't go back.”
”Hang on. I didn't say anything about going back. I just wanted you to know. We have Lincoln with us.”
She turned and looked down at her son bobbing his head in tune with Harry Connick Jr. Surely she wouldn't be expected to risk Lincoln to save Genevieve. ”Are we in danger yet?”
”Not yet.” Matt leaned over the wheel and peered at the clouds. ”But we need a plan. We're headed toward Maui, but I think maybe we should put in at Molokai instead of going all the way to Maui. I should be able to make it there before the water gets too rough.”
”I need to ask Lincoln.”
Matt's jaw dropped. ”Excuse me?”
Too late she realized that wouldn't make any sense to him. Even explaining might not do any good. She had to be careful how much she talked about intuition and psychic connections, or Matt would take her right back to Oahu and call the men with the b.u.t.terfly nets. ”What I intended to say was, I need to ask Lincoln if he wants us to go back to the harbor or not.”
Matt shook his head. ”You need to decide that for him. A fourteen-year-old won't know whether it's safe to go on. They think they're invincible.”
”I meant whether he feels seasick.”
”Oh.” Matt looked nervous. ”Uh, do you feel seasick?”
”No.” And even if she did, she'd wouldn't let a little thing like that stop her. ”Let me go check on Lincoln, though.”
”Listen, if you think there's any chance that he's gonna get seasick, then I think we should take him right back to the harbor. Matter of fact, maybe we'd better all go back. The storm will probably pa.s.s over in no time, and then we can-”
”Never mind about Lincoln getting seasick, then.” She began to panic at the idea that he might seriously think of turning around. ”Just head toward Molokai.”
”Look, we're closer to home than to Molokai, and I don't want to be fighting through heavy seas with your kid puking his guts out down below. For all I know both of you are p.r.o.ne to seasickness.”
”We're not. And Lincoln will be just fine.” She wished she'd never brought up the subject. Come to think of it, her stomach was feeling like she'd just eaten a spoiled batch of crawdads.