Strait of Juan de Fuca, USA

Canada seemed a long way off. There was no way he could make it until dinnertime or even drinks with the competition. He had full access to the galley but going below deck now was out of the question. It would be best to avoid contact with the boss and work his way back to the snacks he knew would be stashed for the on-deck crew. 

The twins kept an eye on the spinnaker and the wind held steady, making it easy work. More serious racers would be busy with slight trim modifications to eke out optimal results but that was too much to expect from a couple kids in their early teens, especially when they had no chance of improving their place within the fleet. 

“Hi, girls. I didn’t have time to review your lesson this morning before the race. Since it’s slow now, let me say a few things. Nadia, you’re quick to think things through and decisive. You handled that unexpected jibe like a pro.”

Nadia smiled at the compliment. Her frosty demeanor had melted away during the day’s lesson, but this was the first smile that didn’t look sinister. 

“Sydney, you are careful. I can see you don’t make many mistakes. Being calculating before committing yourself is a gift. They say patience is a virtue and you’ve got that, and you apply it to your sailing. A perfect example is when you maintained the starboard tack around the navigation buoy. What did you think of that buoy?”

Sydney’s eyes got wide, and she giggled. “It was huge, and I didn’t want to hit it.”

“No, and you didn’t. You considered which way the current was moving and holding that tack was the right move. Both of you have unique and complementary strengths. Keep learning all you can. Allow your dad to share his skill with you, and you’ll have a lot of fun with sailing.” He glanced into the bulbous, light blue sail the girls tended. “That’s a beast of a stretch of canvas. You should be proud that your dad trusts you with it.” 

The deck remained flat and easy to walk on. Hank squatted a few feet from Marshall with no need to steady himself against anything. He expected Marshall’s personalized greeting. Forming a gun with his fingers. This time he didn’t pull the imaginary trigger, just held Hank at gunpoint. A good-natured smile accompanied the gesture even though the black-gloved hand made it look more ominous. 

Hank put up his hands. “You got me, Marshall.”

Having the last name Gunn ensured he would identify who the kinesthetic people were. Marshall was one. From experience, he knew it would never get old and unless something drastic happened, the greeting would never change. He had gotten used to it long before slumming with the Marines, but they took it to new heights. Until one day he was greeted with what his friends called the Gunn Salute, and it went wrong. When the Marine saw Hank, he formed the imaginary pistol and fired the imaginary round. Only this Marine discharged his actual weapon at just the right moment. The loud report was unexpected. It sent Hank, and a couple others to the dusty earth. The real bullet penetrated harmlessly into the sand and the offender thought it was the funniest prank in the world… until confronted with a line of duty investigation. That episode put an end to the gesture within his unit.

 “Marshall, I wanted to take a minute and encourage you. From what I’ve seen”—Hank looked at the trimmed mainsail with satisfaction—“you trim sails better than me and you excel with the technology. With a couple of years of experience, you could be a tactician on any boat, in any race. If you need guidance, look me up.” 

He tapped his temple, making the race appear with all its activity, and walked past Irina to stand behind her, well out of any field of view she might need. “You have a good sense at the helm. It’s natural.” He looked straight ahead and estimated the finish line at a mile.

Irina allowed the words to settle and responded, “Thank you.”

“I saw it this morning during the lesson. At first, I thought you were more interested in sun worshiping than being part of the crew. But then I noticed you taking it all in. Observing the sails, feeling the wind on your face. You were sensing the water as the boat danced along.”

“You’re observant.” She blushed.

“So much of sailing is native and cannot be taught. You have the instincts and feel when it’s right.” 

She moved her head around, checking the course, then her posture relaxed, and she turned toward him, smiling. “Are you going to come to my birthday party?”

“I haven’t been invited.”

“You will be. Daddy adores you.”

“That’s not the impression he left me with.”

“You don’t know him well, do you?”

“We met for the first time yesterday.”

“That’s what you think.”

“What do you mean by that?”

“Nothing. Have you met Jen yet?”

“You mean the tall blond ninja who moves like a ghost through the ship?”

“Yes.” She lifted her glasses and looked at him out of the corner of her eyes. “That would be the one. Do you like her?”

“I wouldn’t know. Do you get a commission for matchmaking?”

“I don’t need a commission. I get an allowance.” She giggled. “Jen’s a great girl. I think she’s your age. What are you, thirty?”

“Close. I’m twenty-eight. So, when’s your birthday party?”

“Tomorrow night. Guess how old I am.”

“You’re turning seventeen.” He regretted saying that. Willy had shared insider information for his own reasons. Hank shouldn’t have known the answer to her question. He fell quiet and looked straight ahead. 

She looked angry and said, “Hah. I guess your age as a couple of years older and it's no big deal. But you guessed a year too young. You’re in big trouble, mister!” She let go of the wheel and pretended to go after him with her fists clenched. Her theatrical punches pummeling the air a few times until Hank backed away and he laughed at the lighthearted attack.

“What’s that all about?”

She grabbed the wheel with both hands and returned her attention to sailing. “Do you promise to tell the truth?”

“Sure.”

“Who told you how old I am.”

“Willy.”

“I knew it. Uncle Willy doesn’t want me to grow up. He lied to you. This will be my last party with my high school friends. Next year, I’m going to college. Well, nobody knows it yet. It’s not”—she removed both hands from the wheel and made air quotes—“public knowledge.”

“Uncle Willy?” Hank inquired. Amused, he had pegged him as the overprotective uncle.

“He’s not our real uncle. But he’s family.” She added, “You better be careful. Daddy collects strays.” 

His stomach growled again, and he let the comment pass. “Most every boat I’ve sailed on keeps a stash of food within easy reach of the helm. Any idea where I might find something to eat?”

“Oh, brother. Men are all alike. That one there to your right.” She didn’t bother pointing.

He opened the medium-sized hatch to find a basket. An arrangement of fruit, wrapped cookies, and protein bars filled the compartment. He grabbed a banana and a chocolate chip breakfast cookie.

“That’s it, guys,” Irina shouted. “Good race. Douse the chute. We’ll get them next time.” She lowered her voice. “Ava, as soon as the twins bring in the spinnaker, take over the canvas. You’ve got the helm.” She let go of the wheel, took her glasses off, and squinted at Hank. “Drinks are in the fridge. Next one down.” Without another word, she walked away. 

“Do you want to take the helm?” Hank asked Sydney as she approached him. “Steering is a good use of a sailor’s time.” Nadia followed her twin until she got to the snacks, then grabbed an orange and slumped onto a cushioned bench which ran just behind the steering stations.

Sydney moved behind the large carbon composite wheel near Hank. “Ava, I have the helm,” she said.

“The boat is yours, Miss Sydney,” the computer said. 

Ava continued through the typical information transfer of changing helmsman. This included course, wind speed and direction, wave height and swell intervals, predicted weather and time to sunset. “Thank you, Ava,” Sydney said.

Her politeness made Hank smile. Olin led the charge for civility, always treating Ava with respect. He told Hank he had seen too many people allow their callus interactions with an unfeeling computer create bad interpersonal habits. First, you stop saying ‘please’ and ‘thank you.’ Before long, it crosses over to friends and family and being rude gets easy. Ava’s exceptional presence made it natural to treat her as an important member of the crew, which she was, and Hank fell into line with the rest of the family. 

“Nadia, stop it!” Sydney said.

“Stop what?”

“You know what I’m talking about. Stop throwing the orange peels overboard.”

“You want me to put them in the compost bin? That’s ridiculous,” Nadia said with a scowl.

“No, it’s not. That’s what we’re supposed to do. It saves the planet,” declared Sydney. 

“It does not.”

“Does too. I’m telling Dad.”

“Go ahead. He’ll agree with me.”

“Will not.”

“Well, baby Einstein, what happens after you put the peel into the compost bin?” Nadia challenged. 

“It composts.” 

“You mean it rots.”

“It turns into soil,” Sydney said.

“What do you think happens when the peel goes into the ocean?” 

“It floats and looks like garbage.”

“Until it sinks and turns into—wait for it—soil,” Nadia said, folding her arms in satisfaction. 

“It does not!” Sydney said.

“I say it does,” Nadia pushed on. “Plus, this way it doesn’t take a truck burning fossil fuel to take it to a composting plant to be ground up and left to rot and then another truck to take it to where the farmer can use her tractor to add it to the soil where the rains wash it into the river… just to end up back here in the ocean again. I’m saving the earth more than you are.”

“Nadia, I’m the skipper right now and I make the rules. Throw it into the compost!” Sydney ordered with a pout. Then asked, “Ava, who’s right?”

“I’m not programmed to determine that.”

Nadia said, “Don’t ask Ava everything. You’ve got a mind. Use it.”

“Well, I’m not convinced.”

“What, that you have a mind?”

The banter between the sisters amused Hank, but he decided it was time to change the conversation to preserve the peace. “Do you guys race often?”

Sydney spoke up. “Dad has us race as much as we can. Sometimes in the GalaxSea.”

“Sydney doesn’t want to mention the Optimist class races. We do that every weekend for about three months each year. She didn’t do so well.” 

“I didn’t mention it because we’re done racing dinghies. Next year, we’re moving up. We each got a new Laser Radial for our birthday.”

“That’s a great opportunity. Lasers are a blast to race.” Hank encouraged.

“Irina raced hers until she was fourteen. She finished fourth at the worlds,” Sydney bragged.

“Then she capsized and almost died,” Nadia added.

“She did not.”

“Call it what you want. She’s not the same person.”

“Nadia, just stop it. You’re such a jerk sometimes.”

“I liked the debate on orange peels better,” Hank interrupted.

There was a moment’s pause, a knowing glance, and then together the girls said, “We’re sorry, Hank. It won’t happen again.” Then they both clapped twice in unison and laughed.

“That’s scary,” Hank said. “Do you guys go all nuts like that often?”

“It works,” she said.

“Every time,” agreed Nadia.

“What works?” Hank asked.

Sydney explained, “Mrs. Abernathy at school suggested we make up a chant to help change the mood when we fight. It only works when someone else points it out.”

“That’s because when we’re alone, I always win,” Nadia teased.

“Of course, you do, dear sister,” Sydney said. “Hey, Hank, did Irina try to set you up with Jen?”

“Not exactly, but she asked if I liked her.”

“Do you know how Jen became Daddy’s favorite security person?”

“I figured Willy held that title. He’s always around. I’ve only seen Jen one time.”

Sydney cleared her throat and began in a low voice, like the kind reserved for campfire stories and spooky tales. “Uncle Willy is family. Jen is the professional bodyguard.”

Nadia moved forward and sat on the other side of Hank.

They both pushed closer but still gave him space.

“Why don’t you enlighten me?”

“Are you sure we should tell him?” Sydney said, raising the stakes.

“Sure, we can tell him,” Nadia said. “If Jen doesn’t want him to know, she’ll just cut his head off.” She leaned over and drilled her bony elbow into his ribs and said, “Just kidding.” 

Sydney began, “Anyway, it all started two years ago, right after Irina’s birthday. Everybody said she was sixteen going on twenty-one. She was a real problem. Mom and Dad would yell at her, and she would yell at them all the time. She was getting good grades in school, and she thought that’s all they should care about. Mom and Dad wanted her to only hang out with kids they approved of. We have some rules other girls at school don’t. One of them is never go anywhere without security. 

“Irina decided that Mom and Dad’s rules were stupid, and she would break them all the time. It started with her ditching security after school and going to Mary’s.”

“Mary’s brother is so cute!” Nadia interrupted.

“Anyway, it didn’t take long to find her and when she got home, they had a big yell-fest. They grounded her. It sucked to be anywhere near any of them. Nadia and I stayed in our room and did our homework. A week later, she disappeared, and security couldn’t find her. All heck broke out.”

“You can say hell. It’s not a bad word. It’s in the Bible,” declared Nadia.

“It scared everybody. They found her phone at Seattle Center, sitting right on a bench. Nobody saw anything unusual. Uncle Willy called the cops, and I think Daddy called the FBI. Everybody was crazy. Mom and I couldn’t stop crying. Even our dog Max hid. Nadia was the only one that couldn’t care less that her sister was missing—abducted, raped, or dead!”

“You’re such an ass, Sydney,” Nadia said.

 “Just wondering if you were listening,” Sydney cheerfully commented. “Anyway, they didn’t find her. You will not believe this. She came home on a Metro bus! She waltzes right into the house like nothing happened and went up to her bedroom. Nobody saw her, because everybody that wasn’t out looking for her body was in the kitchen making calls. Can you believe it? About an hour later, she came downstairs to get something to eat.

“One minute Mom would hug her and the next she was throwing stuff at her. Dad got all quiet and mad. I’ve never seen him like that. Anyway, he fired the whole security firm and put Uncle Willy in charge of pulling together a private team.

“Of course, she was grounded after that, but Irina had made up her mind to escape. A few weeks later, even while they were installing new cameras at the school, she skipped out of second period. This time, she left her phone in Mary’s purse. Mary used Irina’s phone and texted Uncle Willy at noon and told him she was talking to some friends in the girls’ locker room and would eat lunch between classes.

“He got suspicious. Irina had never left him such a long text. It was Jen’s first day at work, so he had her check it out. Ten minutes later, she comes running out of the locker room with Mary by the ear. She threw her right into the SUV. A teacher ran behind yelling, ‘Unhand that child!’ The teacher tried to grab Mary out of the car and Jen pulled her back in and yelled, ‘F off!’”

“You’re so full of it,” Nadia interrupted.

“Hey, this is my story, and I’ll tell it the way I want.” Sydney didn’t wait for another interruption. “Jen interrogated Mary in the car, made a few calls from Irina’s phone, and figured out where she was. Just like that, she figured it out! They drove into the University District with Mary bawling the whole way. Jen broke down the flophouse door.”

“More like she opened the unlocked door to the frat house,” Nadia said.

“She rushed through the house with her gun drawn and checked each room until she found Irina. Alone with a thirty-year-old tattoo artist.” 

“That part is true,” Nadia confirmed.

“Jen holstered her gun and walked up to the jerk. Looked him in the eye and said, ‘This girl is very underage, and her daddy is very well connected. We could get a restraining order, but we don’t do that. It’s going down like this: If you ever have contact with her again—lights out. Forever is a long time!’ Then she punched him, broke his nose, and punched him again with an uppercut. Knocked him out cold.” Sydney boxed the air and retracted the uppercut before she continued.

“Jen wrapped her arm around Irina and escorted her out of the house with dozens of onlookers. She put her into the back seat with Mary. Irina starts to yell, and Jen convinces Willy to ask Daddy for a helicopter. Next thing you know, Jen takes Irina away. Uncle Willy doesn’t know where they are, but he trusts Jen. Daddy doesn’t know where they are, but he trusts Willy. Mom doesn’t know where they are and she’s swearing at them both in Italian. Anyway, nobody sleeps that night and morning comes and no word. 

“Then we hear a helicopter land outside. Both Jen and Irina look like heck. Irina runs up to Mom and Dad, hugs them, and cries, ‘I’m so sorry.’

“From that day on, Irina’s been different. She went from teenage skank to little Miss Proper in one day. Can you believe it? Anyway, she still has the bit of ink tattooed on her left forearm. Daddy told her she could have it removed, but she said, ‘I want to keep it as a constant reminder to stay away from that dark place.’”

Sydney pulled up the sleeve on her forearm, pointed and declared, “I’m getting one like it when I’m old enough.”

“I can’t believe we’re related,” Nadia said, rolling her eyes. “You haven’t even told the best part of the whole story.” She leaned into Hank’s space and whispered, “Nobody knows what happened after they got on the helicopter. Jen and Irina have a secret blood pact. They are tight, and nothing leaks out. Willy claims he knows all about what happened that night, but I have my doubts. Our family has plenty of secrets, but that one is the best kept.

“Yep. Crazy, huh? Someday I think Irina will be someone great. But for now, at least I have one sister I get along with.” Sydney stood up, took her water bottle, and squirted it across Hank, hitting Nadia. She dashed off to get a head start and Nadia launched in behind her. They both squealed as they headed for the companionway.