And I heard you. He moved toward the helm. Clare looked at him. Don't. Clare.
We need to reef. I know how. Then do it. She did, but too quickly. The sail snapped.
One line fouled near the winch. Evan stepped in and pulled it free. Clare's jaw tightened. I had that. No, you didn't.
Rain started. Not heavy yet, but cold enough to change the mood. Clare turned the boat toward the marina. A third gust came across the bay. Evan reached for the wheel again.
She held on. Stop trying to take over. Stop trying to do everything yourself. I'm sailing. We're sailing.
You correct me every 30 seconds. Because the weather changed. So did I. That stopped him. Rain struck the deck harder.
Evan looked at her, then at the tangled sheet, then back at her. His first instinct was to fix all three. Instead, he said, "What do you need me to do?" Clare stared at him. "What?
What do you need?" For one second, pride nearly answered for her. Then she looked at the sail. "Clear that line, then take the main while I hold our heading." Evan nodded.
"Got it. No argument, no correction. He freed the sheet. Clare kept the bow steady. Evan eased the main as another gust rolled through.
Ready? Yes. Now they moved together. The boat settled. For the next 20 minutes, they spoke only when they needed to.
Short instructions, short answers. No one rescued anyone. By the time they entered the protected water near the marina, the rain had weakened to a steady drizzle. Clare brought blue heron into the slip. Evan stepped onto the dock with the bow line.
She tossed it to him cleanly. He secured it. Neither spoke until the engine was off. Then the cabin radio crackled to life by itself. A cheerful announcer said, "Beautiful afternoon across the bay."
Clare stared at the speaker. Evan stared too. She laughed first. Not politely. She bent forward, wet hair falling across her face, and laughed until she had to sit down.
Evan looked at her. What? Clare wiped rain from her cheek. You bought a sailboat to escape women. I attempted to buy one.
You didn't even get the boat. I'm aware. And somehow you still ended up soaked, yelled at, and taking orders from one. That does seem inefficient. Clare laughed again.
Evan sat beside her. For a moment, the only sound was rain ticking against the canvas. Then Clare said, "I'm scared to take the job." He looked at her. "I know.
I'm also scared not to. I know that, too." She turned toward him. "You're being annoyingly calm. I'm exhausted.
That helps." He smiled. Clare's hand rested on the bench between them. Evan looked at it, then at her. This time there was no kettle, no radio interruption, no rule clever enough to hide behind.