Perri O’Shaughnessy - Breach Of Promise

Genevieve stood next to Nina, watching Paul and Winston recede as Nina steered Matt’s boat away. “You’re going to tie him up?” she said.

“Just maintaining the peace,” said Paul. “You said he was upset.”

“I don’t believe this.”

“Tell me,” Paul said sternly, “where the goddamned rope is.”

Looking unhappy or uncertain or both, Genevieve finally said, “I think there’s some inside that hatch Win’s lying on.”

“Paul, be careful,” said Nina, waving and steering the Andreadore to the southwest. She waited until they were far enough away not to cause a wake and swamp the other boat before accelerating away.

She could see that he was trying to move Winston’s dead weight to one side, but the big man flopped around, ungainly as a marlin.

Nina and Genevieve covered a couple of miles in blessed silence, Nina just delighted to be going home and feeling tremendously relieved. They had Winston. Now he could explain. He could dispel this cloud of doubt about her case. They were about halfway to the resort before Genevieve said, “Oh, damn. Damn, damn, damn!”

“What is it?”

“I forgot to tell him to pick up the picnic basket,” she said.

“That’s no problem,” Nina said. “I promise I’ll get my brother to rescue it for you tomorrow.”

“You don’t understand!” she cried. “I took off my rings and put them in it. My mother’s wedding ring is in there. I can’t leave it. Someone might get there first!”

What the heck. She would rather be near Paul anyway. Paul had Winston, so they had nothing to worry about on that front. The island wasn’t far off their route.

“Calm down,” said Nina. “Let’s go get it.” She turned the Andreadore north and aimed for the narrow sliver of green lake in the distance that heralded the opening to Emerald Bay.

Rising about a hundred and fifty feet above the lake’s surface, Fannette Island sat in the middle of Emerald Bay like the important central jewel in an exquisite pendant. On the first visible piece of it, on the northeastern end, heaps of granite boulders were topped by the stone teahouse. The descending clouds had leached the color out of the pines. The landscape, always rugged but usually softened by sparkling waters and sunlight, held a different beauty in the blues and grays of late afternoon, brooding in its solitude out there in the middle of the swirling waters.

Nina had decided to relax into the event, let things take their course. They had nothing to fear except perhaps Matt’s unreliable boat, which had behaved admirably so far, and the unpredictable weather, which threatened, but did not deliver, rain. The island must be magnetic, she thought, because even out here, in this disquieting atmosphere, she could feel its tug. She wanted very much to hop right out of the boat and climb to the top of the little hill, to sit in the teahouse and take in the view from the top. However, the cold lake below, deep with melted snow, frightened her a little. She would come back on a sunny day later in the season when the lake had heated up, with Matt and Andrea and the kids. Bob would love finding the way up the ridge to the teahouse.

“We have to go around to the other side,” Genevieve said. “To the cove. Here, why don’t you let me steer? I know the way better.”

“No, thanks,” Nina said. She felt responsible for Matt’s boat, and she knew pulling in close to the rocks in the cove in this kind of wind might be nasty.

Rocking and rolling against the stiff waves of an unruly lake, the Andreadore was taking a beating. Genevieve would not shut up, and kept up a nonstop stream of chatter that had the effect of making Nina very nervous.

Within a minute, they caught sight of the tiny cove that offered the only safe harbor for a boat.

“We can’t get in, Genevieve,” Nina said. “See that?” She pointed to the twisted tree that marked the island’s most southern point. “I’m sure there are rocks jutting under the water there. The wind’s up too much. It’s just gotten too choppy.”

“Just get in a little closer, Nina,” Genevieve said, practically hopping with impatience. “I’ll jump in and swim. I did it once already, you know.”

Nina stared at her. “But the weather is really getting bad now, Genevieve. No, it’s not worth risking Matt’s boat.” She scanned the bay. “Where the hell is Paul?”

Gusts of strong wind battered the little boat, and they rocked like kids on a wooden horse, holding on wherever they could.

Mist had settled over the island and over the two women, and the constant drone of the motor had by now numbed Nina to the point where she could barely hear Genevieve, even when she shouted.

“If you’re so nervous, let me take the boat in closer, Nina,” Genevieve said. As Nina’s nerves went, so their voices had risen. Genevieve grabbed the wheel, nudging Nina out of the way with a heavy swing of her hip. “I grew up with boats.”

Nina, taken off guard by Genevieve’s vehemence but unable to decide how to bring order to this unbalanced state of affairs, stepped away from the wheel. “You’re going to sink us,” Nina said, watching as the boat moved wildly in, heading for rocks. “Watch out to the left! Ahhh…!”

No more than ten feet away from the edge of the island, near where the yellow kayak had been pulled over the rocks and onto the sand, Genevieve slowed the engine to its lowest speed and turned to face Nina.

“You calm down,” she said. She had to shout to be heard above a sudden gust of wind that now howled around them. “Everything’s going just fine.”

Nina lunged for the wheel. Any control she had had long since jumped ship. “I’m getting us out of here.”

Genevieve kept her hand clamped down. “No, you’re not. Don’t be such a chicken. Let’s stick to the plan. I’m going in.” She steered with one hand. “I’m going to freeze unless I’ve got something dry,” she said, and while Nina watched, she bundled a sweater with a towel and tossed them onto the sandy beach just beyond the edge of the cove. Her hair blew back from her face. She was wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and absolutely nothing else.

“There’s one other thing,” Genevieve said.

But Nina had a question first. “Genevieve?” she said, and for just a moment, the wind let up and she achieved a kind of passionate clarity of concentration. “Genevieve, where’s your hearing aid?”

The rope had not been in the hatch under Winston at all. After conducting an intensive search, Paul located it bundled amid the life jackets, under the plastic cushions on the seats at the front of the boat.

Feeling only a little foolish, he tied Winston’s slack hands in front of him. Then he tied his feet to one of the seats, tight enough so that he was satisfied Winston would go nowhere without his help. The big guy wasn’t playing possum. He was unconscious.

Fleetingly reminded of his days as a cop, where taking prisoners was an ordinary event, and everyone was dangerous until proven otherwise, Paul reached for the starter. Where was the key? It didn’t take him long to remember how quick he had been to rush Genevieve off the boat. She must have had the key in her hand, or in a pocket.

He would call for help, he thought, then moved on to the picture of his and Nina’s cell phones tucked neatly away in the glove compartment of his car.

Cursing, he looked for a manual. Of course, rental boats had radios. But that would have been too easy. The radio sputtered, offered a short pessimistic weather report, and before Paul could figure out exactly how to dial out, died with a whimper.

Well, if you could jump a car, he thought, a boat ought to be a snap. He hadn’t entirely wasted his years as a cop in San Francisco. He set about managing it.