The day was perfect. The blue-green ocean waves crashed on the shore. White puffy clouds crossed the aquamarine sky. On the horizon the faint haze of the morning fog was departing.A light breeze blew across the harbor just as Gallant walked into the boatyard. He saw Alaina standing at the end of a pier–her gaze fixed on the sea. She wore a white halter and tan shorts. Her hair was pulled back in a ponytail, tied with a yellow ribbon. He stood for a minute, content to witness the scene.
He had the feeling that they were starting a new adventure and wondered whether she felt the same,but he was afraid to ask anything that might disturb the delicate balance between them. He had the feeling that they were starting a new adventure and wondered whether she felt the same, but he was afraid to ask anything that might disturb the delicate balance between them.
Alaina’s yawl was at the end of the pier. They climbed aboard and began unfurling the jib sail. He leaned over and pushed the helm over.
The fifteen-meter yawl Haven clawed her way down the bay–away from New Kauai–toward the small deserted islands to the east. As the boat left the bay behind, the seaward breeze picked up. A westerly wind laid her over as she responded to Gallant’s hand at the helm. The blustery summer wind sang in his ears as the boat pitched forward and then rolled as a wave broke against her hull. Haven and the sea synchronized into a thrashing rhythm–pitch–roll–pitch–roll, while in the distance several other small craft ran before the wind. He savored the majesty of the vivid sunlight and writhing seas, but even so, today he was distracted by Alaina’s delicate silhouette as she stood at the mast grasping the rigging while her streaming blonde hair acted as a telltale.
“Alaina,” he yelled over the gusty weather–beckoning her aft. She smiled, and balancing herself against the swaying motion of the deck, she made her way to the cockpit. She sat sideways to him–her knees tucked under her, a gay expression on her face.