Page 12 of Let It Snow

“Giant swells. High winds. Dark skies. Heavy snow. Poor visibility. I should let you talk to the captain.” She said this when the man crowded her and reached for the phone.

“Hang on—there’s another swell coming. Bigger—” Andy shouted.

The captain snatched the phone from her hand. She joined Andy at the wheel and held on. She searched what they could see of the deck and it was empty of people.

She thought of the padre again, standing at the railing where she’d left him. “Shit.” She spoke out loud and stumbled toward the door. “I need my damn phone back, Captain.”

He looked at her and frowned, but he disconnected and handed it to her.

“The coast guard is monitoring us. We’ll be fine. The trip will take longer than usual—a lot longer—but we’ll get there.”

She didn’t bother saying anything to him about her concern that they could have someone overboard. She didn’t warn him or Andy—or ask for their permission to leave. Instead she turned for the door while the boat was relatively steady and pushed outside again before they said a word.

Holding on tight to the rails while snow drove into her, she kept her head down and, half sliding, descended the stairs two at a time.

Dane shoved the phone back in his pocket. He’d heard her voice and he felt calm, felt a measure of peace. But he also needed to do something.

“They’re okay for now.”

“They’ll be fine,” Vendi said. “I’ll send the 30-foot patrol boat in their direction—as soon as I can get my signal straightened out, I’ll send him to the coordinates you got from the ferry.”

“You could call them on your cell phone.”

Vendi scoffed. “Maybe I will.”

“Take the 47-footer out now—”

“And do what? Hold her hand?”

“They’re taking on waves. There’s a danger of someone going over.”

“Not if they all keep inside where they belong and off the deck.”

“What about the crew?”

“They’re smart enough to avoid being swept by a wave.”

“So you say.” All the comfort he’d felt at hearing Shana’s voice faded as he contemplated her out there in the rogue blizzard being soaked by frigid waves. She wasn’t part of the crew, but she was topside with them on the bridge for some reason.

Same place he’d be if it were him out there.

Shana made her way down the stairs as the boat tossed her. Her teeth chattered. She’d need to change clothes soon, but first she needed to find Padre Pedro.

After making a sweep of the passenger cabin, she realized he wasn’t there. She’d even checked the head. The boat was far from full capacity, barely fifty people aboard. She thought of asking the crew—surely they would have noticed him outside and directed him to come inside as soon as the rough waters hit.

But before she sent up a panic with the understaffed crew, she decided she would check the main deck herself. No need to raise a ruckus when she could handle this much herself.

There were crew standing at all the main doors to the deck as if guarding the passengers from escape, but she knew there was another exit near the stairs to the bridge where he came from. And there was no one standing guard, no one even close by since it was around a corner and out of sight. She headed back, took a breath, hunched down to battle the wind-driven snow, and pushed the door open to slip outside.

The deck was wet and windy with the snow blowing sideways and blurring the gray sky. She kept against the cabin wall and went around to the side where she’d seen Pedro last. The spot where she left him, where she’d told him not to go anywhere. Shana held a hand up to block the snow from her eyes as she searched for the padre along the rail with rising panic.

It was too difficult to see—he’d been wearing Dane’s old weathered jacket that blended in. She pushed herself along; hugging the side of the main cabin, she moved toward the stern of the boat, slipping and stumbling. And praying she’d find the padre safely huddled behind a life raft or something.

Squinting, through the snow she spotted a figure slumped at the rail near a lifeboat—just as she’d hoped. Her racing heart slowed and the muscles across her shoulders unclenched a notch. She wasn’t sure it was the padre, but who else could it be? She moved closer. A huge swell hurled the boat sideways by thirty degrees and she fell back against the cabin wall. She shouted when she saw the figure fall back, jostled by the wave. He looked toward her but stayed put.

It was him. It was the padre. She was sure of it now.

“Are you crazy?” she shouted. “What are you doing out here?”