She scoffed. “You got closer to a real shower than anyone else, with that ride through the water back at the dock.” She frowned. “I meant, how’s your arm and shoulder?”
Reese settled into the steady tilt of the boat as the mainsail flapped above him. “The arm’s sore, but the shoulder’s not bad. What’s wrong with the boat?”
“I have no idea. I hate boats. I’m just glad the Advil I gave you is kicking in.” She turned back to Byron. “I wish I had some ice for him…or anything other than Advil, Tylenol, and Imodium AD.”
“How are you?” asked Libby as she knelt next to Reese. A wave rocked the boat, and she fell against the cable railing along the deck. She grunted under the impact and shot a glance over her shoulder at Tony, who had the helm. He looked green.
Reese glanced between Tony and Libby as he got to his feet. “I feel better than your nephew looks. He doesn’t have his sea legs, does he?”
Libby smiled. “Byron and I were the sailors of the family. It’s not his fault he’s my landlubber sister’s child. He’s only been with us a few days since we left Portsmouth,” she explained. Libby touched his right arm in the fresh sling. “Does it hurt much?”
“My arm?” Reese asked. He inhaled the clean ocean air. “Hurts less every minute I’m out here.”
Libby smiled. “You remind me of Byron twenty years ago…”
“I’m not that old,” a rough voice croaked.
“Byron!” Libby squealed. She turned and dropped to her knees beside her husband. Her hands went to his face, and her fingertips brushed his cheeks. “Oh, Byron, I was so scared—don’t you ever do something so stupidly heroic again!”
He grimaced and closed his eyes. “We’re under way,” he observed.
Reese checked his watch. “Have been for about three hours, I’d say.” He glanced at the horizon and squinted west toward the setting sun. “Heading south-southeast.” He leaned over the railing and judged the speed of the boat.
"I'd say we’re doing…two, maybe three knots?"
Byron grunted and squinted at Libby. "What's he doing here?"
“Byron Alexander Jennings,” she said in a voice that would have been perfect for scolding a child, “I couldn't leave them. The people that shot at you, the people that did this," she said as she gingerly touched his face. "They were hunting Reese and Jo. I couldn't just leave them there on the dock to fend for themselves. Besides, Reese is a sailor, and you’re in no condition—“
“Says who?" Byron growled. He tried to sit up, but his eyes rolled up and he eased himself back to the deck with a groan.
Jo rushed to him and rolled him over on his side.
"What are you doing?" called Tony from the helm.
"If he has a head wound, we probably shouldn't be moving him," Libby warned.
"He moved too fast, dadgum it," Jo muttered. "I'm getting ready for when—“
Byron threw up on the deck, his body convulsed by spasms.
"You did this to yourself, you old fool," Libby scolded. "We need to keep him stable then, right?" she asked.
Jo nodded. "Ideally, yeah. I don't want him up and moving around for at least a couple days. If we can do that, then I think he's gonna be okay…this is a good sign, that he wanted to get up so soon."
"Fine,” Libby said, “if you'll help me, we can get the old fool down into the main cabin. It's quiet and dark down there—he can get some rest and we’ll handle the ship."
"Boat," Reese gently corrected. "A ship is much bigger than this."
Libby turned and smiled at Reese. "Now you sound like Byron twenty years ago." The smile faded from her face. "He learned a long time ago to stop correcting me."
Reese swallowed and nodded. "Yes ma'am."
Tony snorted at the helm. "Now you sound like me."
After much consideration, Reese, Jo, and Libby managed to drag Byron down the short steps through the midships hatch. The sailboat wasn't the biggest in the world, about the same size as Reese’s own, so he had a general idea that the main cabin would be directly ahead, just past the cramped galley. They dragged Byron in and laid him on the twin bed.
As Jo and Libby fussed over Byron, Reese stepped back out into the galley and got his bearings. Tiberia had enough space for three or four people to sleep comfortably. The main seating area in the galley had been converted into a bunk for Tony. The little table folded up and out of the way to provide a walkway, and Reese found a coffee maker, mini fridge, and small cupboards at least partially stocked with food. It wasn’t a lot. No wonder they’d stopped in Boston to resupply.
Directly across the main walkway that led from the midships hatch was a small radio room. Reese smirked. Room was a bit of an overstatement, as there weren’t any walls to block it off from the galley. It was more of a nook. But it contained enough radio gear, charts, and equipment to tell Reese that Byron was a serious blue water sailor, despite the diminutive size of his boat. Reese nodded in approval as he flipped through the charts. It looked like Byron and Libby spent most of their time sailing off New England—he found charts for Nova Scotia, Maine, New Hampshire, and Massachusetts.
Reese wanted to know how much fuel they had as well. If they’d been underway for a few hours, there was no telling how much fuel Tony had expended, especially as Tiberia currently towed a second sailboat. Reese nodded to himself. He had to find out what the deal with that was, too.
Satisfied that below decks was shipshape, Reese exited through the hatch and climbed the short ladder
