Caroline

CAROLINE

by

William Bumgarner

Caroline

Copyright 2012 by William Bumgarner

Smashwords Edition

All rights reserved.

No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, with the exception of a reviewer, who may quote short excerpts in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Any resemblance of the characters to any actual persons, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

Cover design by William Bumgarner

CHAPTER ONE

Erin Case was dying. Not from some insidious disease (although she might have argued the point) but from sheer, unadulterated boredom.

She lay naked on the foredeck of her forty-nine-foot yacht, Wind Rider, warming herself under the Caribbean sun. The boat was holding steady on course for the island of Jamaica, a balmy January wind driving her along.

For most single women her age, living in the tropics aboard a spacious sailboat, far from the hassles and stress of the workaday world, would have been nothing short of paradise. Not true for Erin. Day after day of the same near perfect weather, the same islands and the same easy routine were beginning to wear mighty thin.

She was ready for a change and it could not come a minute too soon.

At thirty years of age, Erin was one of the most beautiful women to ever grace the decks of any sea-going vessel. She was tall and exquisitely proportioned, with full, rounded breasts and a narrow waist which flared sensuously into firm thighs and buttocks atop long, graceful legs which were the envy of many a professional dancer.

Shoulder length auburn hair framed an angelic face with a small, upturned nose and soft, inviting lips. Her smile could bring sunshine to the gloomiest day.

The most striking of her features were her eyes. A deep, warm brown, they sparkled like exotic jewels with more than just a hint of the passionate soul dwelling within. A soul full of compassion, generosity, love and joy.

And profound loneliness.

True, she'd had her share of lovers over the years, men who had shared her bed and her body, but none who had stayed around long enough to form a lasting relationship. With one, notable exception:

One man had touched her heart like no other. In the short time Erin had known him, she had come to love him with every fiber of her being. They had planned to marry and raise a family but a cold-blooded killer's bullet had shattered all their dreams. Erin's fiance had died a senseless, useless death, a mere pawn in a drug dealer's deadly game of greed.

There had been one other man who had held an important place in her life: Her father. Donald Case had built Wind Rider with his own hands and, with his daughter, had set out to explore the world. His death just three years ago had been yet another tragic episode in Erin's life. With his passing, the boat which had been her home for fifteen years was now hers alone.

Her step-mother, the former Dee Dee McDougal (who still lived aboard), had refused to claim any part of Wind Rider when her husband died. In spite of Erin's arguments to the contrary, Dee Dee had held firmly to the opinion that the boat should go solely to Erin.

Erin was aroused from her thoughts by the ringing of Wind Rider's little ship's bell. She raised herself onto her elbows and looked aft. Dee Dee was standing in the open companionway, beckoning to her.

Lunch! called the older woman.

Rising to her feet, Erin picked up the towel she had been lying on and made her way aft. It was only then that she noticed the other yacht sailing by less than a fifty yards away. She tossed its crew a cheerful wave before going below to join Dee Dee.

****

Australian by birth, Diedre Diane McDougal was raised on an outback sheep ranch. The ranch was owned by her father, who had immigrated from Scotland some years before.

Not wanting to live the kind of life that had eventually caused her mother's untimely death, Dee Dee, as she was called by her friends, left the ranch as soon as she was of legal age. Working her way through school, she earned a law degree and was invited to join an prominent and successful law firm.

A few years later, one of her clients took her sailing on his trimaran. During the cruise, he told Dee Dee he was trying to sell the boat because of his pending divorce. She bought the yacht from him and, after learning to sail it, left her former life well behind her.

Dee Dee renamed the boat Zephyr and completed three complete circumnavigations aboard her before ending up in the Caribbean, where she met Erin's father Donald Case.

Eventually, Dee Dee and Donald were married. The marriage lasted a little over three years, until Dee Dee suddenly became a widow. From that time on, she had lived aboard Wind Rider with her step-daughter.

Life was not difficult for the two women. They had each other for company and they both loved living on the ocean. They had friends at every port and enough adventure to keep things interesting.

That is, until lately. Erin was becoming restless and was looking for something different. What, exactly, she did not know. Just something other than what she was doing.

What's for lunch? she asked, settling in at the galley table.

Barbecue sandwiches with cole slaw and chips, Dee Dee replied. Your favorite.

I hope you fixed enough, Erin said. I'm starved.

When they were finished with their meal, the women went on deck to relax in the cockpit.

I heard somethin' on the shortwave this mornin,' Dee Dee began. Somethin' aboot a new yacht race.

What, another one of those races for professional sailors with rich sponsors and million-dollar boats? What's so new about that?

From what I heard, her step-mother informed her, "It's na that kinda race. 'Tis called the Yachtsman's 'Round the World Challenge an' 'tis for single hander's with ordinary cruisin' boots like Wind Rider here. Na professionals an' na sponsors allowed."

Suddenly interested, Erin asked When does it start?

In September an' the boots sail from Newport, I'm thinkin' it is. Why, now, are ye interested?

Maybe, the other admitted. "I've always wanted to race Wind Rider. I just never thought about doing it single handed."

****

Logan Roberts was awakened by the intrusive ringing of the telephone. Sleepily, he sat up on the side of the bed and looked at the clock radio on the night stand.

Three forty-two, he grumbled. Who the hell could be calling at this time in the morning? He reached for the receiver and picked it up. Hello?

Logan? asked a feminine voice. It's me, Patty.

Logan stiffened in alarm. For his sister to be calling him at this hour could only mean bad news.

Patty? What's wrong? Are Mom and Dad all right?

There's been an accident, she answered, sobbing. Dad's been hurt real bad. Mom's okay, though. She just got banged up a little. But, Dad..."

What happened?

They were on their way home from a birthday party for one of Dad's friends at the yacht club, she explained, when a drunk driver in one of those big, four-wheel-drive pickups ran a red light and t-boned them.

How bad is he hurt?

The doctor says his back's broken, she replied. He's paralyzed, Logan! From the waist down. They say he'll never walk again!

We'll catch the next flight out, he promised her. We'll be there this afternoon.

Hurry, Patty urged him. he's been asking for you.

I will. 'Bye.

Logan turned to where his wife lay sleeping on her side of the bed. He shook her gently b the shoulder.

Cheryl? Cheryl, Honey, wake up. It's an emergency.

She rolled over to face him. What time is it?

Almost four, he said. Honey, we've got to go back East. Dad's been hurt in a car accident. You start packing and I'll call the airport.

Cheryl sat up in the bed. Airport? What in the world are you talking about?

Dad's hurt, he repeated. He's in the hospital back home. So you start packing us a couple of suitcases while I make reservations for the next flight to South Carolina.

What about work? his wife asked.

We'll just have to call our bosses, tell them what's happened and that we'll be gone about two weeks.

Two weeks? Now just a damned minute, Logan, she said. I can't take any time off from work now. Especially two whole weeks. It would be a bad career move for me. You know damned well how hard I worked for that promotion. I can't afford to jeopardize that now. She looked him in the eye. And what about your new job? You've been working there less than a month. If you simply up and take off, you're liable to get fired and you know how much we're depending on your salary to get us out of this apartment and into a house of our own."

Logan stared at her in disbelief. You can't be serious, he said. My father is lying paralyzed in a hospital three thousand miles away and you're worried about money?

Of course I'm worried about money, she admitted in a matter-of-fact tone. And you should be, too. We've worked our asses off to get where we are. It would be foolish to throw it all away.

I can't believe I'm hearing this! Logan exclaimed. How can you sit there and say such a thing? This is my father we're talking about!

I know that, Cheryl argued, but what good is it going to do for us to risk losing all that we've gained just so you can go hold his hand? It won't make him walk again. We can visit your parents at Christmas, like we always do. She lay back down and pulled the covers up to her neck. Let's go back to sleep. We both have to be at work by eight."

Disbelief turned to anger as Logan stood up and stepped over to the closet. I would never have thought you could be so cold-hearted, he said, as he pulled a brown leather suitcase from the shelf.

I'm just being practical, she argued. We have to think about what's best for us. It's for damned sure nobody else will.

Well, he told her, the best thing for me, right now, is to go be with my father. Are you coming with me or not?

No, she said. I'm not. I told you, it wouldn't be good for my career to leave at this time.

Fine, her husband snapped. I'll go alone. He began tossing clothes into the suitcase.

What about your job? What if you lose that? What will we do then? How will we buy a house?

To hell with the house! he bellowed. And to hell with the damned job! Dad needs me and that's what's important right now. I'm going.

Okay, she shouted back, but don't come crying to me when you're out of work and broke! I won't want to hear it.

Don't worry, he assured her. You'd be the last person I'd come to for help. He pulled on a pair of jeans, a black tee-shirt and sneakers. Hefting the luggage, he opened the bedroom door. I guess I'll see you when I get back.

Don't hurry back on my account, she replied, coldly.

On his way to the airport, Logan stopped by the construction site where he had been working. The foreman was already there, as Logan had known he would be. He explained the situation.

Take all the time you need, the foreman told him. I'll have a place for you when you get back.

The traffic through Los Angeles was exceptionally heavy that morning and Logan scarcely had time to park his Chevy Suburban in the long-term garage, check in at the desk, make his way through security and hurry to the loading gate. It was not until he was safely settled into his seat that he had a chance to relax.

Not that he could. He was still suffering from the shock of his wife's behavior. He had just seen a side of her personality that, in six years of marriage, he had never known existed. It was difficult for him to accept the evidence that the kind, loving woman he thought he had married could possibly be so callous.

We're going to have to have a long talk when I get home, he muttered.

What with lengthy layovers in Denver and Atlanta, it was early evening by the time he finally landed at North Myrtle Beach. The hot, South Carolina sun beat down on the concrete outside the passenger terminal, causing heat waves to ripple above the pavement. The air was humid and perspiration began to bead on his forehead.

He remembered all the summers he had spent here as a child. Funny how the heat had not seemed to bother him then.

A red Ford Excursion pulled up to the curb in front of him. A young, dark-haired woman was behind the wheel. Logan tossed his suitcase into the back seat and slid in beside her.

Hi, Sis. How's Dad? he asked.

About the same, Patty answered. At twenty-five, she was five years younger than her brother. Although he was taller and more athletic in build, the resemblance between the siblings was strong. They both had the dark brown eyes, high cheek bones and light brown skin of their mother's Polynesian ancestry. Their parents had met in Hawaii when their father, Ken Roberts, was in the Navy.

As Patty pulled away from the terminal, she asked Do you want to go to the house first or straight on to the hospital?

The hospital, he replied. I want to see Dad and let him know I'm here.

I thought you would. It's too bad Cheryl couldn't come with you. Dad would've loved to see her again.

Her boss wouldn't give her the time off, he lied. She was really upset that she couldn't come. Logan was reluctant to tell his family the true reason his wife had not accompanied him. He believed they had enough trouble as it was.

The