Chapter 4: A Change in the Weather

Sunrise was near five-thirty on Sunday, and the light in the cabin woke Tom shortly thereafter. He lay in his bunk, knowing he wouldn't go back to sleep. Wearing just a t-shirt and his briefs, he grabbed some fresh underwear from his bag and moved to the forward head, beginning his morning ritual. This head was the only one with a shower, so he quickly used the facilities, shaved, and showered, knowing Connie wouldn't be much longer in her bunk.

When he exited the tiny facility, Connie was standing in the galley wearing a translucent dressing gown, busily making the coffee.

"Good morning," he said with a smile.

"Hi ... sleep well?"

"Yeah ... I did, thanks. You?"

"Okay, I guess," she said, noncommittally. "We got into some heavy stuff last night. I think that was on my mind."

"Sorry to hear that. Didn't mean to drop that on you."

"I know. But ... I'm glad you told me. No one else needs to know ... but I did. Thanks."

"Sure. You want to use the shower?"

"Yeah, thanks," she said, squeezing out of the narrow galley and into the lounge.

Tom could see the outline of her clearly naked body through the thin material of her gown and immediately felt his reaction to it. He was glad her back was to him because his erection was going to be very prominent in his underwear. He would wait until Connie was in the head before going to the stateroom and putting on a pair of shorts and a clean t-shirt.

It wasn't like he hadn't seen Connie in a skimpy bikini or a tight, braless halter top. She liked to tantalize him and he was always amazed that Veronica didn't seem to care. Perhaps she knew him well enough to know that he would never take advantage of what her sister was offering. Now, with Veronica gone, his inhibitions were lowered ... perhaps to a vulnerable level.

He knew she wouldn't be interested in a big breakfast, so he would let her decide whether it would be cereal, toast, or another Danish from the pantry. Tom was accustomed to cereal, and he poured himself a large bowl of bran flakes, topped it with some raisins, and added the milk. It would keep him satisfied until noon.

When Connie exited the forward head, he turned to look at her. She was drying her hair with a towel and as she did so, he could see her full breasts swaying with her movements. The nipples were prominent against the flimsy fabric, and that erection he'd almost controlled was in full force again.

She was almost as tall as her sister at five foot eight, but definitely more solidly built. Tom assumed she got her build from her father, while Veronica got hers from her mother. Whatever the source, she was a stunning figure, and few if any men would not notice her without a lustful gaze. Her blonde hair was cut short, coming only to the base of her neck. Her pale blue eyes complemented her lightly freckled face and brilliant teeth. Her nose was a little larger than perfect, but it wasn't out of place on an otherwise beautiful face.

Tom often wondered if Veronica had envied her sister. Hearing Connie tell him about their combative younger years, he thought not. It wasn't until Tom and she were married that Connie matured into the beautiful young woman she was to become. He was glad that the two sisters had overcome their animosity. It would have made life difficult for all of them if it had carried on. Veronica was beautiful in her own, elegant way. Connie was the voluptuous, over-the-top sibling that would often drive men crazy when they couldn't interest her in them.

He watched her as she walked toward the aft stateroom. He thought she might have been putting on "show" for him, letting him know what was waiting for him if only he would ask. Perhaps it was the sly smile on her lips as she passed, looking at him briefly. Perhaps it was the seemingly exaggerated sway of her hips, despite the narrow passage. Perhaps it was just his imagination. Perhaps not.

He finished his cereal, cleaned out the bowl in the sink, and put it in the drain rack, joining last night's meagre collection of plates and utensils. Both Tom and Connie liked the minimal style they adopted on board the boat. There was a dishwasher, but it was more for larger quantities than they would use over the entire weekend.

He poured another cup of coffee just as Connie emerged from the stateroom, provocatively dressed in a very snug sleeveless t-shirt and equally snug shorts. It took only a moment for Tom to realize she was braless. It would appear that the game had begun.

"Are you going to be warm enough in that," he asked, trying to disguise his grin.

"I'll layer up if I need to," she said with a raised eyebrow. "That way, whatever goes on, can easily come off."

Tom shook his head, wondering if she was going to put on anything more than deck shoes if she didn't have to. The day promised to be a warm one according to the weather forecast, and sun block would be essential. With as little as Connie was wearing, she'd need the large economy-size container to cover her exposed skin.

He was thinking just how much things had changed in his attitude in the past month. Whatever grieving remained had ended abruptly when Veronica's infidelity was revealed. The confession that her co-worker had made to the RCMP, and their questioning of Tom's potential involvement in her disappearance had put that to rest, once and for all. He was beginning to understand that he was intellectually free to pursue other women, given a reasonable period of mourning, of course.

Ah ... that was the question. How long was reasonable? And who was he trying to please? Connie's parents? Definitely. His mother? Her too. The boys? Not as much, since they were already giving indications that they saw their father and Connie as a couple. Who then? Why not just himself? Why not be concerned about what seemed right to Tom Lynch? He hadn't even given a thought to the RCMP and what they might think. That could be a mistake.

They pulled anchor and motored out of the cove, heading WNW between North Pender Island and Mayne Island. High tide was still a half-hour away, and the winds were very light. They stayed on the motor, enjoying the early morning sun and the peaceful surroundings. Before noon, dozens of powercraft and sailboats, along with the usual ferry traffic, would clutter the seascape. But for now, they were among only a few "early birds."

They made their way through Active Pass without encountering a ferry, and were once again out in Georgia Strait, heading due north toward the entrance to English Bay. What little wind there was blew mainly on the island side, but they decided to raise sail anyway, hoping it would pick up later that morning. It looked like it was going to be a long day getting back to Fisherman's Cove.

By noon, they knew they were not going to arrive at their home port until dark unless they used the motor all the way. With just the two of them, combined with a falling tide, they would have a difficult time docking.