Page 25 of Leather and Longing (Island Tales #3)

Chapter Twenty

Adam eased himself out of the passenger seat of Paul’s car and sniffed the air. The scent of the sea was much stronger than it had been at Steephill. Add to that the aroma of fish, and he had a fair idea of their whereabouts. When he caught the sound of running water nearby, he knew.

“We’re at Ventnor seafront.” Behind him was the cascade, a huge rock face that had been turned into a garden bisected by a waterfall, the path from the beach up to the main town winding around it. The Cascade had been around since late Victorian times.

“That’s right.” Paul locked the car.

Adam racked his brains as to why they’d come to Ventnor, especially this particular spot. There wasn’t much to do, save walk along the promenade. He knew there was a bar or two and tourist gift shops, but that was about it.

When he heard an engine in front of them, and some seafaring vehicle cutting through the waves, he stiffened. Judging by the sound, it was a small craft. Its arrival was soon drowned out by the noise of a car pulling up next to Paul’s.

“Here’s David and Taylor.”

The engine died, doors slammed, and Adam heard Taylor’s whoop. “Nice timing.”

“Paul, what are we doing?” It had gotten past the point of being intriguing. Adam wanted to know what was going on.

Paul was at his side in an instant. “My friend Eric has tied his RIB to the jetty. We’re going to step into it. I’ll be right here, okay?”

Adam’s stomach rolled over. “We’re going for a trip on a RIB?” The thought of bouncing over the waves made his throat tighten. A rigid inflatable boat, five passengers, and a bloody long time since he’d been out in something that small.

“No,” Paul told him. “That’s just the means of taking us out to the boat that belongs to Eric’s family.”

“Boat? What kind of boat?” Adam’s heart pounded and his mouth dried up.

Paul chuckled. “ Now you’re asking. All I know is it’s a big boat.

You can ask Eric when we’re on board. Doubtless he’ll have all the facts and figures at his fingertips.

” Footsteps beside them. “David and Taylor are joining us, and on board will be more of our friends: Shane, his twin Mikey, and another friend Jason. There were two more invited, but they couldn’t make it. ”

“So, eight in total.”

There was that chuckle again. “There’s plenty of room on board, trust me.”

Adam had questions. Has Eric invited me?

Will Eric be steering the boat? But he kept silent as Paul led him along the jetty, David and Taylor bringing up the rear.

The waves lapped at the jetty, a sound Adam always associated with his time skippering boats.

He’d visited a great many marinas during the last ten years.

Happy times.

“All aboard, gentlemen.” That had to be Eric. He had a cheerful voice. “Paul, you want to get in first and help your guest? I’ll lend a hand too.”

“Certainly. Cane first, please, Adam.” He handed it over. Paul moved away from him and then his hands were taken in a firm grip, Eric on his other side. “Carefully now.”

Adam stepped down into the RIB, the two men helping him to a seat in the centre. Paul returned his cane. “The boat is anchored out a bit farther,” he told Adam. The RIB dipped as David and Taylor clambered on board.

“And we’re off,” Eric announced in a gleeful tone.

Within seconds the RIB was bouncing along, and Adam felt the cool wind against his skin, the spray on his arms and cheeks. It had been too bloody long. Only a minute or so passed before the small craft slowed down.

“There’s a ladder at the stern, sir,” Eric told him. “Paul will climb aboard first and be there if you need him.”

“I’m Adam, not sir, okay?” Then he realised how brusque that had come out. “I’m sorry. Let me know how many rungs,” Adam replied, “and I’m good.”

“Shane, catch!” Eric called out. Adam waited as the RIB was moored to the stern of the boat. “Okay, lads, up you go.”

Paul assisted Adam to stand and move to the RIB’s side. Adam waited until Paul reached down to help him up. “Seven rungs, okay?”

Adam handed up the cane first, then felt for the first rung with his foot. Grasping a higher rung with one hand and Paul’s fingers wrapped tight around his other, Adam climbed the ladder and stepped down onto the deck.

“There’s wooden benching all the way around the deck,” Paul told him. “Sit down and once we’re under way, you can talk to Eric.”

Adam complied, his head reeling. Not for one minute had he suspected how his day would turn out, and yet there he was, on board a boat for the first time since losing his vision. Oh, he’d thought about it, dreamed of doing it again, but one day off in the future.

I can’t believe this is happening.

The wind wafted over his skin, and he breathed deeply, taking the fresh sea air into his lungs.

It had to be a dream.

“Would you care to join me at the helm, Adam?” Eric asked him, about five minutes after drawing up the anchor.

Adam grinned widely. “I’d love to.” He stood, knowing Paul was doing the same. “Paul, point me in the right direction and give me an approximate distance.” He couldn’t believe how great he was feeling, like he could do anything .

“Left toward the stern,” Paul informed him, “and roughly four feet until you reach Eric. The deck is clear of obstacles.”

“Thanks.” Adam tapped his way along the wooden deck until he felt a firm hand grasp his.

“There’s a step down, and then a bench to sit on,” Eric told him, gripping his hand tightly as Adam negotiated the step. He located the bench and sank onto it.

“Tell me about the boat, Eric.”

“With pleasure. She’s a Holman Rummer Class, thirty-five feet Bermudan yawl, constructed in 1960.

My Dad bought her off this Danish couple about five years ago, when they were moored up in Yarmouth.

They were checking out a fifty feet Duchessa motor yacht that was for sale and were keen to sell.

Dad fell in love with her at first sight. ”

“Where was she built?” Adam asked, stroking his hand over the wood surrounding the cockpit.

“Here in the UK. She’s got four berths below, a portside galley with a sink and gas cooker, and lockers port and starboard.”

“What d’you use to navigate?”

“Garmin 923 GPS.”

Adam nodded approvingly. “I bet she has lovely lines.” He stifled the sigh right behind his lips. He could envisage the sleek yacht, clear as anything.

“She’s a beaut, all right, and she steers like a dream. Want to try her for yourself?”

Adam froze. “Really?”

Eric chuckled. “Really. I mean, you’ve done this before, lots of times. Paul told me.” A hand to his upper arm. “Step right this way, Adam. The wheel is yours. I’ll be right beside you the whole time.”

Adam stepped up to the wheel, his hands at ten and two. He gripped the polished wooden surface, estimating its diameter to be about one meter. “What’s her top speed?”

“Around the seven knots mark, although I have coaxed more out of her.” Eric chuckled. “Just don’t tell my dad.”

Adam nodded. “Well, we shan’t be attempting to break any records today. Anything on the horizon I need to know about?”

“Adam, we’re in the English Channel, and there isn’t another vessel in sight. Go for it.”

Adam let out a sigh of sheer contentment and spun the wheel to port, the movement instinctual. “What’s our speed?”

“Three knots.”

He grinned. “We can do a bit better, don’t you think? Let’s open her up and take her to six knots.”

“Aye aye, Sir.” Adam loved the note of amusement in Eric’s voice.

He had no idea how long Eric allowed him at the wheel.

All he knew was, he was in heaven. A beautiful boat at his command, the sea breeze fresh and warm on his face, the feeling of salt on his skin.

Adam was feeling wonderfully, magnificently alive .

He knew this dream would have to end eventually, but until then, Adam let go and relished every single second of it.

Eric didn’t interfere, but let him get on with it as he changed direction, ordered a change of speed, and eased the yacht through the water with a skill he’d almost forgotten he possessed.

He was dimly aware of the chatter around the cockpit, but he let it wash over him, concentrating instead on enjoying the experience to the full.

“Ready to hand back the controls?” Eric asked him.

Adam exhaled, nodding. It had been glorious, but all good things had to come to an end.

Eric took the wheel from him and Adam retook his seat. “I can’t begin to thank you for today, Eric,” he said after a moment. “Firstly for inviting us aboard, and then for allowing me to steer. You have no idea what this has meant to me.” He was still buzzing from the experience.

Eric fell silent and Adam wondered what on earth he’d said.

After a while Eric spoke, his voice quiet, barely audible above the waves and the animated conversations of the boat’s occupants.

“I thought you knew. This trip out, you taking control of the boat—this was all Paul’s idea. All I did was say yes.”

Adam sat still, his mind processing Eric’s words. Paul had done all this? For him?

It was as if someone had delivered a punch straight to his solar plexus. He’d been an utter bastard to Paul from day one. He’d denigrated him, treated him like shit, fucked him and then walked all over him like he was a piece of dirt on Adam’s shoes. And what had Paul done in return?

Given him the best day he’d had in recent memory. Given him back his confidence, his belief in his own abilities. Shared his friends.

“Adam? Are you all right?” Eric’s voice pierced his reflections.

“Not really, no.” Adam sighed. Berating himself would change nothing. What was required in the circumstances was a heartfelt apology.

And there was no time like the present.

“Thank you again, Eric.” Adam grasped his cane. “If you’d point me in Paul’s direction, please.”