Epilogue
Storm
Three Months Later
“The best journey does not end when you reach safe harbor. It begins when you find someone brave enough to sail beside you.”
— James Sinclair
Sea Whisper cut through the Pacific beneath a cloudless sky.
Her repairs were complete.
The stern deck gleamed.
The windows had been replaced.
Both engines ran perfectly.
Almost perfectly.
I still heard a slight vibration in the port engine.
Ward claimed I imagined it.
Ward was wrong.
He stood beside me at the helm.
His sunglasses covered his eyes, but I knew he was watching me instead of the horizon.
“You’re staring.”
“I’m supervising.”
“This is my yacht.”
“Our yacht.”
I looked at him.
He smiled.
He had been waiting three weeks to try that.
“You don’t own any part of Sea Whisper.”
“I replaced the salon windows.”
“The insurance company replaced them.”
“I spoke to the insurance company.”
“You annoyed the insurance company.”
“That still counts.”
Ward had remained in San Francisco.
At first, he said he would stay until the investigation ended.
Then until Sea Whisper was repaired.
Then, until Thomas recovered.
Eventually, he stopped inventing reasons.
He leased an apartment near the marina.
He slept there occasionally.
Very occasionally.
The Sinclair sisters accepted him.
Mostly.
Hazel loved him.
Willow tested him.
Ivy photographed him whenever he looked at me.
Calle watched him as if she were deciding whether he could be trusted with my heart.
He passed every test.
Even the ones he didn’t know he was taking.
Mom and Nathan stood near the bow.
They had spent three months pretending they were taking things slowly.
No one believed that either.
Nathan had moved his trawler to San Francisco.
He claimed the engine needed repairs only Sinclair Yachts could perform.
The engine had been repaired two months ago.
He remained.
Thomas returned to the old boathouse next to Sinclair yachts, against medical advice.
He carried a cane he refused to use.
Every morning, Nathan drove him to physical therapy.
Every afternoon, they argued about which one of them had been James’s best friend.
Mom usually ended the argument by ordering both men to behave.
Neither listened.
She loved them anyway.
Ivy and Willow rested on the upper deck.
Hazel sat between Frank and Rose, listening to the story of their wedding for the sixth time.
Frank insisted he had proposed beside a fountain.
Rose reminded him it was a broken sewage pipe.
Calle stood near the railing with Ben’s camera hanging around her neck.
Not her camera anymore.
Ben’s.
He had accidentally left it aboard Sea Whisper when the SEALs returned home.
At least, that was what Calle told us.
I didn’t believe in accidents where Ben was concerned.
He called her once a week.
Then twice.
Lately, the calls came every night.
Calle claimed they discussed the investigation.
No investigation required two-hour conversations after midnight.
But it wasn’t my story to tell. Calle lived on her yacht, docked in our pier.
Ward came behind me and wrapped his arms around my waist.
“Where are we going?”
“You booked the charter.”
“I canceled the charter.”
I turned in his arms.
“What?”
“I wanted Sea Whisper to myself.”
“You have twelve other people aboard.”
“I’m working on the definition of myself.”
I laughed.
“You’re terrible at romance.”
“I survived Blackwater.”
“That isn’t romantic.”
“I survived your sisters.”
“That’s closer.”
His mouth brushed mine.
“What if I told you I have a destination?”
“What destination?”
He pointed ahead.
A small island appeared on the horizon.
One quiet beach curved between two rocky points.
No docks.
No buildings.
Only white sand and blue water.
“I found it on Grandpa’s charts,” he said.
My smile faded.
“Which chart?”
“The one marked First Harbor.”
My heart stopped.
Grandpa had taken us there when we were children.
It was where he taught me to steer.
Where Dad placed my hands on the wheel and told me the sea would always tell me what it needed if I learned to listen.
I hadn’t returned since Dad died.
“How did you know?”
“Thomas.”
“Of course.”
We anchored beyond the reef.
Everyone went ashore except Ward and me.
That wasn’t suspicious at all.
Even Thomas left without an argument.
Ward led me to the bow.
The late-afternoon sun spread gold across the water.
“Storm.”
Something in his voice made my heart race.
He reached into his pocket.
“Oh my God.”
“It isn’t what you think.”
I stared at the small velvet box.
“What else would I think?”
He opened it.
A silver compass rested inside.
Not a ring.
I released the breath I had been holding.
Ward smiled.
“Disappointed?”
“No.”
“A little?”
“Ward.”
He removed the compass.
Grandpa’s words had been engraved across the back.
NO ONE SAILS ALONE.
My eyes filled.
“I’m not asking you to marry me.”
“That’s becoming clear.”
“Not yet.”
The final words warmed everything inside me.
He fastened the compass around my neck.
“I’m asking you to let me sail with you. Wherever Sea Whisper goes. Whatever your family finds. Whatever current pulls us next.”
I placed my hand over the compass.
“And if another armed boat follows us?”
“I sink it.”
“If my sisters interfere?”
“I distract them with Ben, and my other buddies.”
“That might work.”
“If the port engine starts making that imaginary vibration?”
“You admit I’m right.”
He sighed.
“I knew there would be a difficult condition.”
I wrapped my arms around his neck.
“Yes.”
His expression changed.
“Yes?”
“Yes, you can sail with me.”
“For how long?”
“As long as you don’t call Sea Whisper our yacht.”
He lifted me against him.
“No promises.”
I kissed him.
Behind us, cheering erupted from the beach.
Every member of my family stood watching.
I broke the kiss.
“I’m definitely murdering them this time.”
Ward lowered me to the deck.
“We’ll do it after sunset.”
“Together?”
“Always.”
That night, we sat around a fire on the beach.
Mom rested against Nathan.
Thomas told stories about Grandpa.
Frank interrupted with better stories.
Rose corrected both of them.
My sisters laughed beneath a sky filled with stars.
Ward held my hand.
For the first time since Dad disappeared, I didn’t search the horizon for someone who wasn’t coming home.
Everyone I loved was already here.
The sea had kept our secrets for years.
Then it returned them one by one.
Not to destroy us.
To remind us who we were.
Five sisters.
One family.
No longer separated by silence.
And when Ward drew me closer, I finally understood Grandpa’s final lesson.
Love wasn’t the storm.
It was the harbor waiting after it passed.
Across the fire, Calle’s phone lit.
One name appeared on the screen.
BEN.
She looked around to see if anyone had noticed.
Everyone pretended they hadn’t.
Calle rose and walked toward the water before answering.
Her voice carried softly across the beach.
“Couldn’t stay away?”
Whatever Ben said made her smile.
Then the amusement disappeared from her face.
She turned toward us.
“Ben?”
Ward sat forward.
Calle listened.
Her face lost all color.
“What do you mean Ross’s body wasn’t in the cove?”
The fire cracked between us.
No one moved.
Ben’s voice came faintly through the phone.
“We found another body.”
Calle looked at me.
“Whose?”
A long silence followed.
Then Ben answered.
“Someone who died three years ago.”
Calle’s hand began to shake.
Because only one person connected to Blackwater had died three years ago.
Grandpa, and we buried him.
And suddenly, our story wasn’t over.
It had only changed direction.
THE END