Chapter 13: No Touching

The white boat was gone when I woke.

Gray light came through the loft window, and the heater ticked.

Remo was sitting on the edge of the cot with his back to me, pulling on his boots.

I put my hand flat on his spine.

He went still under it.

"Good morning, Captain," I said.

"Good morning." He didn't turn. "The boat left at six. Same one that sat off the Delmonte dock all week."

"They got their pictures."

"They got something."

I sat up with the blanket around me and my hair in my face, and I watched him lace the left boot.

"Rule two," he said. "She starts it, or he doesn't touch."

"I know the rule."

"You started it. Twice."

He looked over his shoulder at last, and his mouth was doing something it hadn't done in a week.

"Once on the wall, and once when you said 'now' and put your heel in my back," he said. "I'd like it noted that I kept to the letter."

"Noted."

"And rule three. You tell me the truth about what you want."

"I wanted you to stop talking."

"That was a lie."

"It was a joke."

"Was it?" he said.

He leaned down and kissed me slowly, with his hand on my jaw.

I forgot the joke and dragged him back by the collar.

He pulled away first.

"The crew's on the dock in ten minutes," he said.

"Let them wait."

"They've waited all night." He was almost smiling. "Dress, Silvia."

I dressed in yesterday's jeans and one of his sweaters, with the sleeves rolled four times.

I went down the outside stair with my father's case under my arm.

The crew was on the dock again.

Nobody said a word about the sweater.

The old deckhand with the gray beard held out a cup of coffee, and when I took it, he held out his other hand.

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