If Not for You

 

Somewhere in the skies between Pittsburgh and the North Carolina coast, Dana convinced herself that she was having a case of nervous anxiety brought on by thinking about Jeff Satterfield and Blockade Runner Enterprises.

Once she finished with that problem, everything else would fall into place. Once she got that irascible man out of her mind, her life would go back to being the placid sea it had always been until the moment she met him.

Had it only been a year since she'd faced 'that man' and weathered those icy gray eyes and that bone chilling blast of anger?

How many times during that year had she called him and been told that he was out? He never returned her calls. When he had applied for another loan to do repairs on his schooner, a red flag had popped out on the computer.

Since Blockade Runner was one of her loan decisions for the bank, it was up to Dana to make sure the bank didn't lose out on their investment.

She could recall reading through the well-written proposal for the cruise that would take happy tourists through the waters Blackbeard the pirate had once frequented off the coast of North Carolina. The money was right. The plan was well thought out. The man was an experienced ship's captain with references from one of the world's biggest luxury cruise lines.

When she'd visited the operation a month after the loan approval, the Blockade Runner's owner had been rude, arrogant and impossible to handle.

He was of the opinion that since the bank had loaned him the money to start his cruise business, they should back off and let him run it. Dana had done her best to explain that she wanted to help him. Jeff Satterfie­ld had intimated that she shouldn't let the door hit her on the way out.

The result was a stalemate. Satterfield had stalked away to his boat. Dana had waited in vain for him to return, finally flying back to Pittsburgh.

Her report was written very differently. She didn't know how to admit that she had let the man beat her because she couldn't stand to see those swaying masts or that moving water.

The Ellers were originally a sailing family that had settled down and founded a bank to help other sailing families make a living from their trade. The elder members of her family were all born with seawater in their veins. The family tradition had bypassed Dana.

Then there was that other thing.

It was something she'd tried not to think about but it still lurked in the back of her mind.

Jeff Satterfield had kissed her.

Oh, it had been a mistake. Both of them had acknowledged that fact. He had apologized politely and she had assured him that it was nothing.

It had all happened innocently enough. She had arrived at the start of his birthday party. He had mistaken her for someone else. Who, she was never quite clear about afterwards.

But when he had walked into the office and seen her waiting, he'd slid his hands over her eyes from behind and told her to guess who.

"I'm waiting for Jeff-"

"Lucky guy," he murmured near her ear, pressing against her back lightly.

He'd turned her to face him and before she could speak, he'd laid his mouth on hers.

When she thought back on that moment, she knew it shouldn't have been something that stayed with her for the year. She should have simply put it out of her mind.

She wasn't unattractive, she considered logically. Men had made passes at her before.

Still, it wasn't the fact that he'd kissed her that bothered her. It was her response.

At first, she'd been too stunned to protest. Every thought flew out of her head and her brain shut down at their retreat.

By the time she'd registered what was happening, she'd found herself standing on tiptoe. Her arms had been wrapped around his neck, their mouths fused as though he was breathing the breath of life into her. She'd dropped her briefcase without realizing it while they were pressed intimately together.

Another man, Jeff's partner, Mattie, had interrupted them before a troop of well wishers had stormed in for his birthday party. Then Mattie had introduced them.

Dana had been intensely embarrassed by that steamy embrace from a stranger. The crowd had separated them but not before she saw the look of shock and amazement that had passed his rugged features.

Jeff had looked at her with those stormy eyes from across the room. The intensity of his gaze had scalded her. Even while his friends were congratulating him and making jokes about his age, he had been looking at her.

The scent of his aftershave had been on her hands and the fresh air and salty tang of the sea had lingered in her senses. It had all happened so quickly. She hadn't had time to think. But she was honest enough to concede that she had been embarrassed . . . and aroused.

She hadn't told Branden about the kiss. It had seemed childish. What would she have said? A man I've never met kissed me and made me forget everything except his hands and his mouth on mine?

She and Branden had a good relationship. She trusted him. He trusted her. They were right for each other. Their careers were headed in the same direction.

But she hadn't felt right since she'd realized that she was going to have to fly down to the coast and deal with that man again. It might have been a year since she'd seen him last but his face was as vivid to her as if she'd been there yesterday. That scent of his aftershave still clung to her and the feel of his lips on hers still haunted her.

The whole thing was ridiculous! She sounded like she was infatuated with the man. In reality, he'd made her look like a fool. She dreaded the confrontation she knew was waiting for her. It had taken her weeks to get over her last encounter with Jeff Satterfield.

It was the thought of failure, she told herself. It wasn't that stupid kiss. She was too mature, too professional to let something like that bother her.

True, it had bothered her for a short time. It had embarrassed her that she had kissed a stranger so . . . passionately. Even thinking about her response made her uncomfortable.

But it wasn't the kiss!

She was a good judge of character. She had never had to withdraw her recommendation for a loan. She was proud of that fact. Marine Bank of Pittsburgh had never lost money on any of her accounts.

For the first time, she had cause to doubt that rock steady composure and level headed sense of judgement. It was only natural that her hands were a little shaky and her stomach felt uncomfortably tight at the thought of letting everyone down.

Solving the problem, at least in the confines of her own mind, Dana pushed the image of 'that man' from her thoughts.

She thought about Branden and decided that they should set a date for their marriage. After a three year engagement, it was time to make it permanent. The timing would never be better.

She yawned and closed her eyes, picturing everything in her mind. They would have a lovely wedding, possibly the following year. In the spring. They would have at least two smiling children who were well mannered and intelligent. A boy and a girl. They would have a beautiful house and a successful life. And they would be enormously happy together.

But in her dreams, as she slept restlessly on the short flight, they were married on the slippery deck of a high masted schooner. Her nemesis was performing the ceremony.

"Hold on," Jeff Satterfield told her, "it's going to be a rough ride!"

Dana reached for Branden's hand, but a wave had washed him overboard. Her beautiful white wedding dress was soaking wet and clinging to her. She looked down at the frothy sea for some sign of her fiance, but the tide had taken him.

He was gone. The gray sea was empty. When she looked back at Jeff Satterfield, his eyes were the same color as the water. He held out his hand to her and she shook her head, jumping over the rail herself before he could reach her.

The cold, rolling water was coming up in her face and she was starting to gasp for air, when the pilot announced that they had touched ground in Wilmington, North Carolina.

"Rough ride?" the woman beside her asked as the plane taxied in for a landing. Her child was still asleep on her lap.

Dana shuddered and nodded her head.

Half an hour later, she walked through the airport, past the luggage carousel. She carried her only bag.

She didn't need more than that to do her job. The sooner she reached the Blockade Runner's office and faced Jeff Satterfield, the sooner she could be on a plane bound for home.

Back in time for dinner with Branden and making plans for the rest of their lives together. The perfect ones. Not the ones that involved schooners and jumping into the water.

It was after noon when she walked out into the warm coastal sunshine. The difference in climates was immediate. In Pittsburgh, it was coming to the end of the long winter, but it was still cold. Her heavy coat was suffocating as she left the plane in Wilmingto­n.

On the milder coast of North Carolina, spring was already in full bloom. The warm ocean breezes drifted across the new green leaves. Red tulips, her mother's favorite, danced gaily in the wind outside the airport. Bright yellow daffodils held their heads proudly.

Dana dropped her briefcase on the sidewalk outside the main terminal building and took off her coat. Her gray suit had made the trip without a wrinkle. Careful shopping, her mother had always told her. That was her travel secret. She touched a hand to her hair, but the well-cut style was in place, despite the wind that whipped around the building.

Taking a deep breath, Dana was prepared to meet the enemy.

A few feet away, a yellow taxi swerved close to the sidewalk and a tall, unnaturally thin man eased himself out of the cab. "Need a ride, ma'am?"

Dana looked at the cab. It had definitely seen better days.

The man lit a cigarette, coughed a little, then smiled down at her.

"I need to get out to the docks, but I need a ride back later," she told him, making up her mind. "How much?"

He looked her over quickly, as though assessing how much she could afford to pay. The smoke from his cigarette blew across the space between them, drifting in the breeze.

"Thirty dollars. But you buy dinner if we stay past four."

It was high and she knew it. The man was dressed like a scarecrow and driving a car that seemed destined to fall apart. And he was taking advantage of her. But there was no sign of another cab being offered and taking a cab would be faster than renting a car.

"Great." She nodded, tossing her coat in the car as he opened the door. He put her case in beside her and climbed behind the wheel, obviously not at home with wearing a seatbelt.

"Where to?" he asked, looking at her in the rearview mirror. His head grazed the ceiling.

"Front Street," she answered dourly, fastening her own seatbelt. "Jeff Satterfield's place. Blockade Runner Cruises. Do you know it?"

"Sure." He shrugged. "He's got a nice little operation out there."

With an effort, Dana kept herself from nervously fingering the patch behind her ear. Just the mention of the sea was almost enough to make her turn green. It was too late to turn back.

"Goin' out with him?" he asked. "Chartered?"

"No." Dana shook her head vehemently, swinging her neat auburn cap of hair. "No. Just business."

"Used to go shrimpin' with his father," the driver told her, using one lean hand to guide the steering wheel, almost lying back in his seat. "Jeff's a good boy."

A good boy? Dana turned her head to look out the window, watching the long stretches of marshland pass on the nearly deserted road. Thinking of Jeff Satterfield as a boy was too much a stretch for her imagination. A demon. A madman. Maybe a rudely independent fool. Surely that face had never been young and innocent!

There was a frightening intensity to the long reaches of lowland and the level boundless sweep of water. It was as though it would be all too easy to be dragged away. Nothing seemed to end and yet everything could be swallowed up and gone forever.

"Is it much further?" she asked, just to say something, anything.

"Not too much," came the nondescript reply.

"Are you driving the speed limit?" she wondered. The car appeared to be barely moving along the road.

"Been drivin' this road near forty years. I'll get you there."

Great, she thought but didn't reply out loud. But will it be sometime today?

She recalled the Blockade Runner's offices being in the historic district along the river. It was a picturesque area with cobblestone streets and antique wooden structures. Roughly hewn by sea breezes, the shops and offices faced the waterway, creating an elegant atmosphere.

When the driver had circled the block twice without any luck finding a parking place, Dana asked him to stop and let her out.

"If you could come back in an hour," she suggested hopefully.

"Sure thing." He nodded and winked. "Think that'll be enough time?"

"More than enough." She hauled her briefcase out of the car with an impatient hand. She was at a loss about her heavy coat, however, hating to drag it with her.

"I'll just bring it back when I come," he suggested.

"Won't you be picking up another fare?" she wondered.

"Nah." He laughed. "I'm retired. I try to limit myself to one a day. You're it."

"Okay." She smiled a little at his words. It wasn't just the view that was blurred around the edges in that place, she thought. The people were a little hard to define as well.

Dana thanked him, made sure he was wearing a watch and started up the walk that ran along the Cape Fear River.

Fishing boats vied with launches that offered to take passengers across the river. A sign, marked down from six dollars to four dollars, offered shoreline sightseeing cruises on a small boat that was painted bright red and black.

Dana reached the Blockade Runner's office, clutched her case a little tighter, then pushed open the door and walked inside.

It was a working office; a little chipped at the edges, a little worn and dirty. The money lay in the cruises leaving the deep harbor of Wilmington, however, not in the decor of the office few travelers would ever see as part of their journey.

"Excuse me." A man walked past her carrying a box filled haphazardly with papers.

"I'm looking for Jeff Satterfield," Dana said as he passed her, recognizing him. It was Mattie Ames.

"Not here," the man, dark haired, his face a mass of tanned wrinkles, told her bluntly.

Dana fumed. If they thought they could put her off again, they were going to be disappointed.

A young girl was talking on an old black telephone. Her long hair was dark brown and slightly curly and her eyes, when she looked up at Dana, were sky blue.

"Can I help you?" she asked, pausing on the phone and in the middle of her Seventeen magazine.

"I'm Dana Eller. I'm looking for-"

"Jeff." The girl flashed her a quick smile.

"Yes." Dana smiled. "I don't think we met last year."

"Probably not. I'm Penny Satterfield."

"Satterfield?" Dana was visibly surprised.

"His sister. He's not here." Dana counted to ten. "Where is he?"

"Down at the Runner," she replied evenly.

"How do I get there from here?" Dana asked persistently.

"Oh. Well. . . "

"Look, Penny," Dana began, ready to do battle.

"Somethin' wrong?" the man she'd passed coming into the office stopped and asked.

"I need to talk with Jeff Satterfield." She attempted to keep her tone as neutral as possible. "I've just flown down from Pittsburgh and I'm not going to go away without seeing him! He can't continue to hide from the bank if he wants to keep going as a customer. Surely he can see that?"

"Sure." Mattie shrugged, grabbing another box. "I can take you down there."

"What?" Dana demanded on a weak note, some of the wind spiked from her sails.

Mattie started towards the door, a box on his hefty shoulder. "You can ride down with me." He walked across the street to where an old pick up truck was parked. After depositing the box he'd carried from the office into the back, he held out a dirty hand to her.

"Mattie Ames." He smiled. "Jeff's assistant."

Dana felt her face heat up as she remembered the man breaking up their embrace. She had only seen him briefly after that desperate moment, not really enough time for an introduction. She put her hand in his.

"Dana Eller, Marine Bank of Pittsburgh. I remember you. Can't we wait here for Mr. Satterfield?"

"He won't be coming back to the office for a few days," Mattie told her calmly, his face as unruffled as a windless sea.

Dana was prepared for that treatment. "His loan will be recalled if he doesn't talk to me. He won't get the money to fix his boat."

Mattie shrugged. "That's part of the problem. Jeff's had to give up this office as of today. We're just cleaning everything out."

Dana bit her lip, her stomach tensing. "So, he's-"

"-moved his office to the Runner." Mattie nodded as though it was the most natural thing in the world. "I'm taking this stuff down there right now."

"Maybe we could meet somewhere?" she suggested hopefully.

Mattie shook his head. "He can't leave the Runner right now. Between moving everything and working on those engine repairs-"

"All right." She swallowed hard. "All right. I'll ride down there with you."

"Okay. If you're ready-?"

"I'm ready," she determined, hoping her anger and her sea sickness patch could sustain her. "Let's go."

The old red pick up truck went no faster than the taxi she'd taken from the airport. They crawled down the streets, turning along side streets when Mattie had the urge. He was a determined and well-informed tour guide, pointing out the old governor's house, telling her the ghost stories associated with the naval war memorial.

"Wilmington was just about the only Confederate port to stay open during the war between the states, you know, " he said, one arm crooked out the window, smiling at her.

"I didn't realize," she returned politely.

"Yeah, the Yankees couldn't ever shut her down. That's where the blockade runners came in. They brought in food and contraband that couldn't come in any other way. Fastest ships in the world."

"That's why you choose the name for your company?" she encouraged, glad at least to have someone talking to her. The last time, they had acted as though she had the plague.

"Jeff was always fascinated with them," he explained. "His family goes back that far here, and on the barrier islands. Have you been out there yet?"

"No," she admitted quietly. "Water-"

"Yeah," he recalled, "you and water don't mix so well."

The sun glinted off of the river, turning the horizon to gold. There was heavy water traffic. Tall sailing ships maneuvered around freighters and ferries, smaller passenger boats carefully making way for the larger vehicles.

Dana cleared her throat and looked away from the hypnotic sight of the water to her companion's face, "Is Mr. Satterfield taking out a cruise tonight?"

"Nope." Mattie turned right and proceeded down the tiny side street. "Until we have that engine up to the mark, the best we can manage is around the harbor."

"So you've had a serious loss of income?" she wondered, trying to keep her mind occupied with those things she could understand.

Mattie shrugged and laughed easily. "I don't keep up with that stuff, Miss Eller. Jeff and I went fishin' one day. He says to me, "Mattie, want to start a cruise business?" and I said, "Sure."

Dana laughed. "That simple?"

"That simple," he confirmed.

"Have you known each other a long time?" she questioned, watching the white gulls spin around a tall church spire.

"All our lives," he answered, bringing the truck to an unexpected stop. "Here we are."

Dana looked out of her window and there was the Blockade Runner. It was nudging the side of a wide dock, the letters, freshly painted in black, on her shining white hull. Even though she'd read the specifications on the craft, it was much bigger there in the dark water than she'd anticipated. It was like a small floating house. The big sails were lashed at the masts, the brass fittings shone in the afternoon sun.

It was a beautiful piece of craftsmanship. The lines were smooth and flowing as the water that would carry it. An observation that Dana suddenly realized that she could never have made before that day.

She felt her stomach tense as she watched the craft bob up and down in the water. She stepped out of the truck fearfully, putting her feet down carefully on the wooden dock.

The wood was washed gray with sun and water, wet from a small, late morning thunderstorm.

She stood, not moving, watching the river and the boat beside her, feeling the movement of the dock. The wind blew through her hair, feathering it lightly against her neck. From overhead, a few gulls played, calling into the wind.

"You okay?" Mattie asked as he walked past her to the back of the truck and picked up a box of files.

The movement broke the strange spell that had engulfed Dana. She shook her head. Everything was fine. It took that long for her to grasp the importance of what she was, or rather wasn't, experiencing.

She wasn't sick. She clutched her case to her side, tightened her grip on reality and slammed the truck door shut.

"I'm fine," she assured Mattie with a bright smile.

While she could feel that rolling sensation in the pit of her stomach, she wasn't actually getting sick. Without the seasickness patch, she knew she would be running for the tree line at the end of the dock.

Mattie wavered uncertainly. "Uh-that's great. Jeff should be around here somewhere."

"Let me help you," Dana offered, grabbing a smaller box from the back of the pick up and following him to the boarding plank.

There was a bad moment as she was crossing the less than reassuring plank that connected the boat to the dock. She looked down into the water swirling between the dock and the boat and was uncertain. But she put one foot in front of the other. Her grasp was white knuckled on the box of paper, her brief case firmly on the top.

"Jeff!" Mattie called as he hit the deck an instant before her.

There was no reply. Mattie ducked his head down to pass under the doorway that led into the cabin area of the boat.

Dana followed him, looking around herself at the tidy berths through the other open doors. The furniture was simple, but adequate. The whole place smelled of salt air and lemon polish.

"Jeff?" he called out again.

Dana felt her temper beginning to rise. If this was some game they were playing- "Down here!"

She finally heard an unmistakable voice. Jeff Satterfield.

"What's goin' on?" Mattie asked ahead of her.

"I think I might have found the problem," Jeff answered with a laugh. "Where's Ms. Eller? Did she make it down to the dock or did you have to leave her on the hill?"

"Jeff-" Mattie tried to warn, putting down his box.

"I've seen a lot of people get seasick in my time, Mattie," Jeff continued, "but that woman turned three shades of green just looking at the water! I don't think she can chase me down here!"

Dana slammed down the box she held, shaking the small desk she abused.

"Jeff." Mattie sighed.

Jeff stopped on the stairs coming up from the engine room. He wiped the grease from his hands and looked up. He met Dana's angry eyes with laughter that died quickly from his face.

"It looks as though everything's here," Dana said, glancing over the computer and boxes of files in the office. "Suppose we get started?"

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