COMING SOON

Chapter 1

              It was a breach in protocol. Still, without breaking my stride, or acknowledging the scowling receptionist, I zipped through the outer office and pushed open the door to the Prime Minister’s chambers.

              Rollins removed his glasses. “You know. Lila sits out there for a reason.”

              I chose not to respond with the obvious answer.

              “And I don’t see a meeting on my calendar.” The Prime Minister frowned, glancing at his opened agenda.

               “We do now. And if there is any truth to this, we have a problem.” I dropped the newspaper onto his desk.

The Prime Minister fumbled for his readers buried beneath the paper, flipped it around, and read the Miami Tribune’s headline.

Neo-Nazi Cell Alleged to Originate from Undisclosed Bahama Location

            He fluttered his hand toward the chair in front of his desk. I smoothed my skirt and perched on the edge. During an exceedingly long pause as he scanned the article, I studied black and white photographs from an earlier era that covered the walls. I recognized Nassau’s Bay Street, the straw market, the Government house, the larger-than-life statue of Queen Victoria, the bustling harbor, and unpaved streets with a mix of cars and horse-drawn wagons. Men, white men that is, in wide-brimmed fedoras and business suits, appeared to oversee it all. Prints from the 1940s was my guess. I daydreamed about life when the Duke of Windsor was the Royal Governor, and the Black majority lived in the segregated British colony under white minority rule. As I recalled, the Duke of Windsor, and Wallis Simpson, his eccentric American wife, were alleged to be Nazi sympathizers. Interesting. Could this give any misguided relevance to neo-Nazism in the Bahamas today?  The rustle of the paper brought me back to the present.

            Rollins hadn’t looked up but I took a deep breath and continued my prepared remarks. “Ever since you appointed me the Bahamas’ Minister of Tourism, I’ve worked to prove the islands are a safe vacation and cruising destination. These hate-mongers could create an environment hostile to boaters and vacationers, and I hardly think Bahamians would welcome white supremacists.”

            Rollins straightened the already neatly stacked papers waiting for me to quit telling him things he already knew. “You don’t need to make this your problem. You only have two months of your term left, and you already said you don’t wish to be reappointed.”

            “That’s true, but I’m not about to let some crappy, sloppy journalist undo the work I’ve done. After that incident on South Andros, I’ve had my work cut out convincing tour companies, charter boats, and cruise lines to return to the islands.”

            “And you’ve done a remarkable job.”

            “Thank you.”

            Rollins swiveled in his chair. “So, what do you propose?”

             I tucked as rogue curl behind my ear. My unruly hair never stayed where I wanted it to. I blamed it on the humidity. “I want to investigate whether we do have a neo-Nazi cell operating out of one of our islands.”

            “It seems to be in your DNA to investigate trouble. And, if I don’t help, you’ll do this anyway, right?”  

            “ I’d rather call it journalistic curiosity.”  I watched as he fiddled with his glasses.

            “If you need a cover, you can look into those cruise ships anchoring near various Out-Islands. Now that the cruise ships are back, their presence is stirring up lots of controversy with the environmental groups. It will make a sound reason for you to flit about. I’ll make a seaplane available.”

            This wasn’t as hard as I expected; still, my foot jiggled against the hardwood floor. “I have a better plan.”

            “You know, I am Prime Minister, here.”

            I ignore his sarcasm. “I want to be less conspicuous—simply sailing the islands as an American tourist, not as Mary Katherine Edwards, esteemed Member of Parliament.”

            “I think I know where this is heading.”

            “I wonder where Wind Chaser is right now.”

            “That, I can tell you. Captain McDowell will dock later this morning at Nassau Harbor Club to let off his charter,” Rollins answered.

            That surprised me. “You keep track of charter boats?”

            “Not usually, but my younger brother and sister-in-law are onboard. Visiting from Pennsylvania. He’s a doctor in Philadelphia,” he said proudly. “They fly back tomorrow, and I’m meeting them tonight for dinner at Graycliff.” Housed in a legendary colonial mansion and tucked away from the glitzy cruise ship docks and casinos, Graycliff was the only five-star restaurant in Nassau. “A perfect ending for their trip, don’t you think?” Rollins continued.

            I plastered on my social smile, one I had perfected while being part of the political arena, but I didn’t want to discuss restaurants or his brother’s success. I resumed my request. “I want to charter Wind Chaser. It'll save money, and I already have experience crewing for Carter."

            Rollins opened his mouth to protest, but I had hatched my plan before I burst into his office. Finally he asked, “Are you sure you’re ready to be back on that sailboat?”

            I stopped my wiggling foot, crossed my arms, and stared. I wasn’t really sure, but I answered, “Would I ask if I didn’t think so?” It had been nearly two years since I parted with Captain Carter McDowell and his boat. This was the past, but I knew it wasn’t over. It never would be. To lose a sibling is tragic, but to lose your twin cuts off a part of yourself. While Carter wasn’t responsible in any way, he remained a painful reminder.

            Rollins ran one hand over his tightly-kinked gray hair. “Well, I don’t know if he has another charter lined up, but call him and see what you can work out.”

            “I’d rather surprise him. Can Lila call and say you want to charter for another week? Maybe your brother wants additional time onboard.”

            “Well, this is pretty irregular.”

            “Great.  I’ll be on the dock this afternoon,” I stood abruptly, reaching the door before he could change his mind.

*  *  * 

            Carter clicked off his cell phone and turned to his mate. “That was the Prime Minister’s office. He wants to book another week.”

            “His brother’s coming back?”

            “No. Just one person. Must be some visiting VIP. Are we ready?”

            “God, no. Sheets and towels are still in the laundry, and we’ll need additional provisions.  What time do we expect him?”

             "Four. He must know Nassau; says he wants to go to the Poop Deck for dinner. I’d like to have cocktails onboard first, but you should come along. It’ll give both of us time to get to know him.”

            “Where does he want to go?”

            “Don’t know that either. Guess that will be dinner conversation.”

* *  * 

            Just before four, I slipped out of the black limousine at the marina, duffle slung over my shoulder. I could see Carter in the cockpit of Wind Chaser, but before I even got close, the mental details of my favorite captain were sharper than my eyes; hair styled by the wind, lean, tanned body, the saltwater smell of his skin, the tilt of his head as he scanned the horizon, and the confident way he moved with the boat as though he’d been born to it. I felt an amalgam of emotions; excitement and eagerness, but also anxiety and apprehension.

            From the finger pier alongside, Wind Chaser, I took a deep breath to keep my voice steady and called, “Permission to come aboard.”  I slipped off my shoes and stepped onto Wind Chaser’s teak deck without waiting for Carter’s response. “Bad you. You said you’d call when you are in Nassau. I heard you were here, so I decided to surprise you.” His nearness did nothing to slow my heart. I dropped my bag, wrapped him in a hug, and planted a kiss.

            Carter stepped back. ‘You look great.”

            “Great? That’s it?” While he faltered I suggested terrific, dazzling, alluring.

            “Okay, those too.” Carter smiled as he pushed sun-streaked hair out of his eyes. “I intended to call. But this will be a quick turnaround.  I have a charter arriving any time now.” Carter looked at his watch.

            “Wait no longer. Here I am.”

            “You’re my charter?” Shock registered in Carter’s voice.

            “In the flesh. You still need that first mate?”

            Carter was clearly uncomfortable, but not nearly as much as I was when I heard footsteps on the companionway stairs behind me. I turned as a leggy young woman emerged from the boat’s main cabin dressed in very short shorts and tight tee-shirt, gripping a tray with sweating glasses and what looked like Bahama Mamas, the standard welcome drink. She looked as surprised as I was. “Well, well.” I was staring.

            “This is …” Carter stammered.

            “I remember.” The bottle-blond. “South Andros Beach Club. You were crewing for Senator Coggins on his mega yacht.” I grabbed a drink from her tray. “It’s Willow, right?”

            “Yes, and you’re Kat,” Willow replied. 

            I hadn’t expected to ever see her again, and certainly not on Wind Chaser.  It wasn’t like me, but I couldn’t think of any substantive conversation so I entertained myself drawing patterns in the condensation on my glass. Finally, Carter filled the silence.

            “I’ll put your duffle in the aft cabin.”

            “Thank you.” I called after him, “I’d like a little time with you to discuss our itinerary.” That wasn’t all I wanted to discuss. “Can we head to the Poop Deck? Willow can join us, in say, a half-hour?”

*  *  * 

            Carter was glad they had to walk single file along the broken sidewalk facing the fast-moving traffic on Bay Street. As he watched her back, he found he was unsure of himself. He had imagined meeting up with Kat again in a hundred different ways but none included while there was another woman on his boat. He didn’t know if he wanted to throw Kat down on a bed and rip off her clothes or throw her overboard without a life jacket. She stirred up all kinds of emotions from the joy of having her back at his side to anger at her sometimes rash and unpredictable behavior. But when danger lurked, she was as reliable and steadfast as his Rocna anchor. She was the force that made him move beyond his self-doubts and guilt, but she could be a real pain in the ass. Time had passed, and he still didn’t know what he wanted from their relationship. She was a difficult person to be in love with. And now there was Willow. Willow didn’t aggravate him the way Kat did, she was consistent, but on the other hand, she didn’t move him to be more than he was. He needed time to process Kat’s unexpected appearance.

*  *  * 

On the Poop Deck’s open balcony overlooking the harbor, the isinglass shades were rolled up, letting in a soft breeze. Once seated, I was itching to ask Carter if they were sleeping together. I still had time to change my plans, but that didn’t seem the best way to start.

            We both watched the tourist boats and jet skis racing through the harbor, rocking every sailboat at anchor. Once my wine appeared, along with Carter’s beer, I finally asked, “How are you doing?” This was more than a polite conversation starter, and Carter knew it.

            He held my gaze. “Most days I’m good. But then out of nowhere, there’s that sucker punch to the gut. Sometimes I’m afraid I’ll forget Becca and Claire, and other times, I wish I could.”

            Carter glanced at the harbor than back at me. “Sorry. That was a bit heavy for our first meet-up after such a long time.” He held out his glass. “Cheers. I’ve missed you. Now. What are you up to, and how can I help?”

            I produced the Miami Tribune from my backpack. “I want to find out if there’s any truth to this.”  I forced myself to sit quietly while he read.

            “Where do you want to start?” Carter asked.

            “First, tell me how you happen to have Willow onboard. And are you going to let her go since I’m here?”

            “Are you asking if I’m sleeping with her?”

            Carter knew me too well, but before I could answer, he continued.

            “We met up after I returned from Cuba. I had torn my shoulder when I slipped on the wet deck trying to manage the sails in strong winds and couldn’t single hand. I needed crew and she needed a job. And no, I am not sleeping with her. I offered her a position for two months, and I plan to keep my word. Is it a problem?”

            I was partly relieved. Carter wouldn’t lie to me. If he had a tattoo, it would be an anchor with one word. Trustworthy. I slipped an ice cube from my water glass into my now lukewarm wine. “Well, I’m not sure. She’s German, isn’t she? How do we know her attitude about Nazis? She could interfere with my investigation.”

            “So any German is suspect?”

            “Come on, Carter. I’m still a reporter. I’ll follow the leads, but it would help to know where she stands. Figure out how much to share with her.”

            “Then let’s discuss it over dinner when Willow’s present.”