27. Sail

sail

. . .

T he morning broke with an eerie stillness. The harbor, cradled between two islands, lay shrouded in a mist that hovered above the water like a breath held too long. Sail Carter stood at the edge of the stone wall, his eyes fixed on the horizon where the first glimmer of sun threatened to burn away the fog. The air was cool and damp, charged with the promise of wind.

The fleet of ILCA 7 sailboats bobbed gently at their moorings, their white sails neatly furled, waiting for the day’s action. A cool breeze brushed against his face as he surveyed the scene. Today was the final day of the regatta, and the grand prize was within reach. He’d done everything he could to position himself to win.

Sail turned and walked through the park and to the marina where the check-in tent was. He was early but couldn’t stay in bed any longer. Later, his family will be in the park, ready to cheer him on.

The past few days have been a whirlwind of activity. Each morning starts with a briefing, followed by a boat check, and the fun begins. The first day of competition, Sail finished in first place in his five races. Same results on the second day, but the weather on the third day proved to be a bit of a challenge and in two of his five races, he finished second. Still, his placement and qualifying times were enough to put him in the gold fleet for the final competition.

Sail was neck and neck with the current national champion, Lex Danke. They’d gone head-to-head in two races, each earning a victory. Due to the scores, Lex and Sail would race twice this morning. Unless they both won a race. If they were still tied after two, a third would determine the winner. Sail had zero intention of racing a third time.

“Are you ready to race the wind?”

Sail paused when he heard the voice call out. He walked toward the man, with no familiarity of who he was. “I’m Sail Carter,” he said as he held his hand out.

“Nathan Pierce,” he said, giving Sail a firm handshake. “Retired ILCA 7 racer, former national champion, and now announcer. I’ve had a lot of fun announcing your races these past few days.”

“Thank you. I appreciate it. When did you race?”

“Oh.” the older man adjusted his hat. “Late seventies, early eighties. I won the national champion in my last year, and then broke my back the next. Ended my career right there.”

“Ouch. I’m sorry to hear that.”

“I remember reading about you when you were in high school. I thought for sure we’d see you on the circuit.”

Sail lifted his lip briefly. “I’m not sure why I didn’t stick with it.”

“How long did you train for this regatta?”

This time Sail laughed. “A week.”

“A week?” The answer shocked Nathan. “Your natural talent is hard to come by. Good luck today.”

Most of the sailors spent months preparing for an event like this with endless drills, studying wind patterns and mastering the art of boat handling. Crew came in clutch with his wind charting and how the dinghy would handle. Last weekend when they raced, Sail didn’t stand a chance. He was thankful he didn’t have to race his brother today. Knowledge of the area definitely played a factor in Sail’s success during the regatta.

“Thank you. It was nice meeting you.”

Nathan gave him a wave and headed behind a tent. Sail kept walking. His feet hit the metal ramp and then the wood planks as he made his way to his dinghy. He sat on the dock, closed his eyes, and pictured the course, mimicking every move, tug and lean he would have to when it was time to race.

Mostly, he sat there and raced the wind until it was time to perform.

Sail’s fingers tightened around the mast of his ILCA 7. He could feel the pulse of anticipation running through the other sailors on the beach, a ripple of shared energy. The boats were lined up in neat rows, their sails furled, hulls poised like athletes on starting blocks. This was it—one race left—and he’d be the champion. He’d already beat his main opponent, but they were still tied in points.

The crowd buzzed with excitement and anticipation. In the park, there was a DJ, food trucks, and when Sail walked around earlier to find Galvin, he bought her balloon art in the shape of a sailboat.

Before his first race, he’d spent time with Galvin. He brought her down to where his boat was, pointed a few things out, and then walked her back to where mom was holding court. Everyone they knew was there, rooting for him. There was a large Seaport contingent sitting the park, all wearing Sail Carter T-shirts that his brother Tidal had made and was selling for twenty bucks a pop.

Now, Sail waited.

“Everything set?” Jack asked as he reached Sail.

Sail was beyond grateful for his dad and brothers. Without them, none of this would’ve happened. Hell, without messing up at school, he wouldn’t be where he was right now.

“Yeah,” Sail said, his voice steady and calm. “I’m ready.”

Jack nodded. “Good. Winds are supposed to pick up now that the fog has burned off. First gun is in a few minutes.”

“I hate the sound of the gun.”

“I know but it’s the only thing everyone hears. Someday, someone will come up with something that doesn’t startle the crap out of everyone.”

“That’ll be nice.”

The course he was about to race was a triangle-windward-leeward. Sail would need to reach the marks, while staying on course, and beating Lex Danke back to the finish line.

Crew and Dune came down the dock, and Crew went to work on the boat. Sail tried to pay attention to what his brother was doing but felt better not asking questions and just letting his brother tinker.

“You nervous?” Dune asked.

Sail shook his head. “Fucking terrified.”

“You’ll be fine,” Crew said. He pulled Sail aside and they went over the course again. After a handful of minutes, Crew held his hand up for a high-five. “You’ve got this.”

Sail nodded.

The signal horn blared, a long, deliberation screech meant to alert everyone. Sail shook hands with his brothers, and then hugged his dad.

“I’ll see you at the finish line,” Jack told him.

“Hopefully, I’m the one holding the trophy.”

“Go get ‘em,” Dune said before Sail turned toward his boat.

The fleet launched their boats, and Sail’s ILCA 7 glided gracefully over the water. The familiar creak of the tiller and the taut hum of the mainsheet felt like home. As the five-minute countdown began, Sail positioned himself near the starting line, scanning for clear air. And making sure he knew where Lex Danke was.

“Two minutes!” the committee boat signaled, and the fleet jostled for position. Sail stayed calm, his eyes darting between the windward mark and the cluster of boats around him.

The horn blared, and they were off. Sail surged forward, his timing perfect. His boat caught the breeze, and he quickly found himself in clear air. The wind filled his sail, and the dinghy shot through the water like an arrow.

The first leg was upwind, and Sail hiked hard to keep the boat flat, his legs burning with the effort. He adjusted the cunningham to flatten the sail and squeezed every ounce of speed from his boat. The fleet spread out, but Sail was neck and neck with Lex. He the seasoned veteran and Sail, the one no one expected to give Lex a challenge.

The first tack came quickly. Sail executed it with precision, shifting his weight and trimming the mainsheet in one fluid motion. The boat responded instantly, gliding through the tack with minimal loss of speed. He gained a few feet on Lex, a small but critical advantage.

Sail focused on catching the waves, using them to gain bursts of speed. His timing was perfect; he surfed down a small swell, extending the gap between him and Lex. At the leeward mark, Sail’s maneuver was flawless, and he moved further into the lead.

The final leg was a short upwind dash to the finish. Sail held his position, covering his rival and defending against his every move. When Sail crossed the line, the horn signaled his victory. He leaned back, letting out a deep breath.

And then the tears came. They rushed forward without warning or pause. He wiped at his cheeks as he steered back to his slip, where his dad and brothers waited. When they came into view, they were clapping wildly, just as he imagined his mom and Galvin were doing.

The sudden urge to get to Galvin had him pushing his dinghy a bit faster. When he reached his slip, his brothers were there to hold the dingy down so Sail could disembark. As soon as his foot touched the dock, Jack pulled him into his arms. He lifted his son off the ground and spun him around, and then it was Dune, Tidal and Crew’s turn. Their moment was short before the officials reached them.

Doing the publicity stuff was the last thing Sail wanted to do right now. He wanted to go to Galvin and see her, celebrate with her.

The official congratulated Sail and led him up the dock. Sail looked over his shoulder at his dad. “Can you go get Galvin and Mom?”

“On it,” Tidal said as he held his phone to his ear.

Sail was thankful for his brother. It slipped his mind that his dad would want to be included with everything that was about to happen. It’d been years since he raced and won, but each time his dad was by his side.

Jack caught up with Sail and walk by his side. “I’m damn proud of you.”

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Mom and Galvin are on their way over here.”

“Great. I want everyone with me.”

“We’re not going anywhere, son.”

By the time they reached the official tent, Pearl and Galvin were running toward them. Pearl got to Sail first and hugged him. She praised her son and then hugged him again before stepping aside.

Galvin smiled and seeing her look at him the way she was, was worth more than winning. Sail pulled her into his arms and hugged her tightly, blocking everyone out. She was all that mattered right now.

“You did it,” Galvin said as she stepped back. “You won!”

“Yeah, I did.” He had, in more ways than one.

“Mr. Carter, if you could come with me, please.” The official waved him forward. He grabbed Galvin’s hand and tugged her behind him. They were taken to the back of the official’s tent and told to wait there while they finalized the race results. Dune, Tidal and Crew came back there and another round of hugs and congratulatory pats on Sail’s shoulders happened.

“I can’t thank you enough for kicking my ass,” Sail said to Crew. “If you weren’t as good as you are, I wouldn’t have stood a chance.”

“I learned from the best,” Crew said.

The brothers hugged.

“Do you think Lex Danke is going to file a protest?” Sail asked his dad.

“Your race was clean,” Jack said. “Everything fell into place when you needed it to.”

“Yeah.” But the thought was still there. Sail was a nobody on the circuit, whereas Lex Danke was a champion. If the tables were turned, Sail would be pissed and would likely look for any loopholes.

“Congratulations, Sail,” the official said as he returned. “Well done. You’ve put on quite a show this week.”

“Thanks,” Sail shook his hand.

“We’ll start in five minutes.”

Five minutes later, all the winners stood on a makeshift stage. The younger categories went first with the gold group going last.

“In second, returning champion, Lex Danke.”

People clapped as Lex stepped to the podium. He accepted his trophy and check.

“And this year’s champion,” the official said. “Sail Carter.”

This time, everyone erupted into a loud cheer. It seemed word had spread fast that a local had won the regatta. Sail stepped to the podium, shook hands for the photographer, and then lifted the trophy up high.

As he stood there, looking out over the crowd, he knew nothing would be the same ever again.