And it wasn’t until after they left the bus that she realized she’d still forgotten to take the dose of the Water as she’d promised Gregori. It would have been nice to get the boost, but it would just have to wait until they got home.
They’d set out soon after the sun came up, because Beka was afraid that the boat would have already gone out if they waited too long, but when she reached the end of the pier, there it was. She didn’t see Marcus or his father, but Chico and Kenny were hard at work, repainting the fading trim and scrubbing the deck.
“Ahoy the boat,” she said, standing by the short gangplank that connected it to the dock.
“Hey! Beka! Look Chico, it’s Beka!” Kenny dropped his scrub brush into his bucket with a splash and raced over to meet her. “And her . . . um, what is that thing, anyway?”
Beka laughed, surprised by how pleased she was to see Kenny’s open, sunny face. “This is Chewie. He’s a Newfoundland.”
“Hola, chica,” Chico said. “It is nice to see you back here. Marcus told us that you were done with your diving, and we thought maybe we weren’t going to see you again.” He eyed Chewie with the admiration of a true dog lover. “Dios mio, that is some big dog. We had donkeys in my village back home smaller than him.”
Chewie gave a proud woof and Beka whispered, “Stop showing off. You’ll scare the natives.”
“I wasn’t sure if I’d catch you,” she said. “I didn’t realize it was cleaning day.”
Kenny’s face fell, his big grin sliding away like an eel hiding from a hawk. “Yeah. Marcus Senior, he ain’t doing so good, and the fishing has been pretty bad. He’s thinking about maybe selling the boat, so he’s got us spiffing it up a little.”
“Oh. Damn. I’m sorry to hear that.” Her heart ached to hear that Marcus’s father was losing his battle; she’d actually grown to like the crusty old sailor. And, of course, without his father and the boat to hold him here, Marcus would be gone in a flash. Not that it made any difference to Beka’s life. But still, she’d kind of liked the thought of knowing he was out on the Bay, even if she couldn’t be with him.
Focus, Beka, focus.
“Uh, is he here? Marcus, I mean?” Beka could feel herself flushing and stared down at the oily water underneath the pier, watching the swirls of iridescence moving back and forth with the waves as boats chugged in and out of the harbor.
“He’s here,” Chico said. “Hang on. Kenny, you want to get Mr. Marcus for the lady?”
“Sure,” Kenny said, and turned around to yell over his shoulder, “Hey, Marcus! Beka’s here!”
Chico rolled his eyes and muttered something in Spanish. “I meant you should go and fetch him, idiota, not wake up everybody on the whole pier.”
Kenny glanced up and down the dock, where most of the boats had already set sail for the day. “Oh. Right. Sorry.”
Beka stifled a laugh at their antics, but her sense of humor fled when she caught sight of Marcus, coming around the starboard side of the ship. He looked just as amazing as he had the first time she’d seen him, his hair curling a little from the damp air, those broad shoulders straining his tee shirt. His hazel eyes had an amber hue as they gazed at her, the sun lighting him from behind like a corona. She fought the desire to run to him and throw herself into his arms. She knew she wasn’t welcome there.
“Beka!” he said, sounding surprised. “I didn’t expect to see you. Did you make some kind of arrangement with my da that he forgot to mention?”
She shook her head. This was the part she’d been dreading since she figured out last night that she was going to need to use the boat again. What was she going to do if he turned her down? For a minute, she was tempted to lie and say yes, she’d already talked to his father, but she’d lied to Marcus enough already. Look at where that had gotten her.
“Um, no,” she said, “and I’m sorry to hear that he isn’t doing well. Is he in the hospital?”
Marcus gazed from her to Chewie, obviously puzzled, but for now, he simply answered the question. “No. He’s just tired and resting at home. It’s hard to tell how much of his exhaustion is the cancer, how much is the treatment, and how much is plain old discouragement.” He crossed his arms over his chest. “What are you doing here, Beka?”
She’d just been asking herself the same thing. She must have been out of her mind to think this would work. But Marcus already knew about her—and more importantly, about Chewie—and she didn’t know how in hell her plan could work using a boat full of people she had to come up with some kind of reasonable explanations for.