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.The psychiatrist’s words spoke in her head: “Face your fears.Face your troubles.You’ll find out how strong you really are.”Not strong.Not strong at all.“Did you say something?”Amanda stood beside her.Payton shook her head as Edward finished the prayer.“Thank you Lord.Amen.” Murmured amens, and everyone shook hands, wishing each other good luck.Payton took another step backwards.The air was cloying, heavy with something above and beyond the heat of the day.It wasn’t something palpable, or even definable in words.Something was wrong.So why did everyone act so normal? Was she the only one who could feel it?Feet thumped down the dock heading for individual sailboats.Aden appeared on Payton’s left.“Nervous?”“A bit.”“Try not to worry about Claire.She’ll be fine.”Payton stopped at the tip of Zephyr’s bow and ran her hand along the polished surface.“Thanks for the support,” was all she could think of saying.He kissed her cheek and patted her on the behind.“Happy sailing.”MaryAnn giggled from Zephyr’s deck.Aden was undaunted.“Just sail ’er like you did with me and you’ll do great.Maybe you’ll even beat us.”“You can bet on that,” MaryAnn called.“Bet, you say?”Payton moaned.“We’re not wagering on our first run in a new boat.”“Come on, live dangerously.”MaryAnn stuck out a hand to help her aboard.“Good luck!” Aden strode away, his footsteps silent in the boatshoes.Payton checked the riggings.MaryAnn bent over the rail and cast off the mooring lines, then turned the key and the motor chugged to life.Payton knelt on the deck as they headed to the starting line.They passed Diplomat; both Aden and Brighton tipped their caps.Aden hollered, “It’s not too late to lay down a bet!”Payton groaned, but it was erased by the sound of the waves swooshing against the fiberglass.“Got the stopwatch and compass?” MaryAnn shouted.Payton reached inside her shirt and pulled the silver chain from which hung the requested items.She dangled them so MaryAnn could see.Not only would Felicia time the race from shore, but each individual boat ran their own times, later comparing leg times, water and wind conditions against previous races.Payton unfurled the sail in her charge, hauling hard on the lines, feeling the familiar bite of rope on her palms.Aden had been right, she felt better already.The wind caught in the white fabric, sounding like thunder.Memories roared through her brain: Cameron hauling on the mainsail ropes, his powerful muscles rippling from shoulder to spine.Uptilted face serious, brilliant green eyes squinting into the sun, jaw tense.Payton let the wind dry the pair of tears as Zephyr’s bow cut through the water.Now wasn’t the time for nostalgia or regrets.She inched the sail up a little more, trying to gauge the wind and currents and distance to the starting pin as the boats lined up.Timing had to be perfect; Zephyr could not reach the committee boat before the starter gun sounded.It echoed down the lake.Their timing was off a bit.The gun cracked.073 seconds before they hit the pin.Valuable time lost already.A flood of adrenaline rumbled through her veins.The race committee gave thumbs-up to Zephyr.Payton raised the jib sail to its fullest point and tied off the line.The wind was strong and the craft fairly flew atop the choppy waves.To their port side, Aden and Brighton both worked to maintain course and increase speed, as did the crew of a Chaumont boat on the starboard side.Exhilaration throbbed against Payton’s ribs.She held tight to her perch and let adrenaline overwhelm all thoughts.“Wind change SSE!” MaryAnn shouted from her spot beneath the mainsail.Payton adjusted the jib accordingly.“Another boat starboard, be ready to luff off!” MaryAnn hollered.Diplomat approached rapidly, its hull cutting through the water like a hot spoon through ice cream.The sound of it sent a rush of memories crashing inside Payton’s head.MaryAnn’s voice became Cameron’s.Zephyr became Ace.The warm air blew with the chill of a Minnesota spring, the scent of fresh pine became factory smoke, Lake Ontario the Mississippi.“Racing is like sex,” Cameron always said.“Reading winds, adjusting to currents, anticipating your boat’s needs is just like making love to your woman.” At this point he’d put his hand on her breast, flick a thumb across her nipple then roll the pert nub between his fingers.“Pilot her unerringly around the first pin,” he’d add, and do it again.MaryAnn bent forward, the boom rode over her back, and the boat headed crosswind toward the second pin to the northwest.The distance across the bay would be 2.3 miles [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]