The Sea Gypsy

By Savannah Black

Fleeing an abusive boyfriend, Stephanie ends up in the sleepy coastal town of Sargent, Texas. With nothing more than the few clothes she was able to get out with, she finds a job at a greasy spoon restaurant, a place to live and new friends. Captain Jack, owner operator of The Sea Gypsy tug boat, finds her irresistible but skittish. Can he break through the wall she has built around her? Slowly like a rose opening, the love between them grows.

Her life falls into routine and she finds happiness. All is well until the nightmare from her past shows up, ready to drag her back to Dallas, whether she wants to go or not. He finds not the timid rabbit she was, but a strong self-sufficient woman. Having decided not to be the victim any more, she takes self-defense classes in martial arts and applies for a permit to carry a gun.

The old boyfriend will not take no for an answer.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Savannah Black
• Release date: Mar 3, 2014
• ISBN: 9781310594458

Savannah Black

Savannah Black has retired and is somewhere in the Caribbean on her sailboat, with her husband and dog. I am Wil Collins her co-author and have taken over her website http://www.savannahblack.com and other sites. We have worked together for many years and she is missed. Our live have paralleled each others, with having a lot of the same experiences.I hope to fill her shoes and excel in my writing. I live in Florida on my sail boat and hope to join her in more adventures. The profile photo was taken by my dear friend Janet Riley and was taken on the beach in Half Moon Bay California.

Book preview

Sea Gypsy

Savannah Black

And

Wil Collins

Copyright 2010 by Wil Collins and Savannah Black

Published at Smashwords

This is a work of fiction. Names, places, characters and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination.

Edited by Greg Arnold

CHAPTER ONE

The tears had stopped, but her cheek still stung from the backhanded blow. Allen had hit her pretty hard. The bruise was tender and her jaw swollen. She didn’t know exactly where she was or where she was going. It really didn’t matter; she just had to get away and Stephanie drove on through the rainy night. It was two A.M. The lights of a convenience store, at a three way intersection, gave the promise of hot coffee. In the store, she poured a large cup of the dark, nasty looking brew and sprinkled in some sugar and creamer. Snapping a lid on the cup, she made her way to the counter and the sleepy clerk. Paying for the coffee and twenty in fuel, she went out and pumped the gas.

Back in her car, she touched her jaw and she winced. Through the rain drops on the windshield, she looked at the state highway she had pulled off of, and then at the road that intersected it. She had no place to go and no one to see. Looking back at the highway, she debated which road to take. It didn’t matter as long as she could get away from him. How could she have been so wrong? You would have thought she would recognize an abusive S.O.B., after being married to one. When she had finally gotten the divorce from Rob, she swore she would never put up with that kind of treatment again. Yet when she met Allen, he had managed to hide that side of his personality.

He had come in like a white knight and swept her off her feet. He was kind, sensitive and protective and after a few dates, she began to let her guard down and before long she thought he just might be the one. When he swore his undying love and asked her to move in with him, giving up her apartment was easy enough, but as it turned out, it was a mistake, a very painful mistake.

Within a few weeks, the abuse and control had started. His protectiveness became overbearing and controlling. She couldn’t go out with her friends, or even go to the store by herself. When she came home from work, he would take her car keys. The final straw was when he hit her. It had come suddenly and without provocation. The backhanded slap had knocked her into the couch. He had been drinking heavily, and she suspected that the white powder around his nose was cocaine. The tears had started, although she tried hard not to cry. She had gotten up and gone into the bedroom. Hours passed until she dared to peek around the door. Hearing him snoring, she finally got the nerve up to venture back into the living room and was relieved to find him passed out on the couch. An empty Jack Daniels bottle lay on the floor.

Cautiously, she had searched his pockets until she found her car keys. As she pulled them out, he had opened his eyes, mumbled something incomprehensible, and passed out again. His wallet was on the table and she took what money he had in it, a few hundred dollars. Hurrying into the bedroom, she stuffed a few clothes into a travel bag, and digging through the closet, got the credit card she had managed to keep hidden in a pocket of a jacket. Without a look backwards, she hurried out the door and into the cool damp Texas night. A steady rain had the streets shiny under the street lights. Getting into her car, she pulled away, with no destination in mind. Taking the first interstate she came to, which happened to be south bound, Dallas was soon in her rear view mirror. The farther she got from the city limits, the safer she felt.

At the little store in Baytown, she sat trying to decide which way to go. Baytown, where the hell was Baytown? She had never been south of Dallas and had certainly never even heard of Baytown. As a car went by, the lights illuminated a small sign that read, SARGENT ISLAND, with an arrow pointing at the road that intersected the highway.

An island sounded exotic. She had never bothered to go to the beach. I guess it’s time I find out what the draw of the beach is. Turning the wheel, she pulled out onto the road and drove on into the night.

It was not quite an hour later that she was sitting at a swing bridge. Instead of constructing a draw bridge it was easer to use a long barge, with the roadway built on it. It could be moved to the side and held in place with cables. It was sideways to the road and two long barges, with a large tug pushing them, were making their way through the narrow opening. The rain had stopped, so she got out of her car and went around the drop arm, which kept cars from going farther. A cool breeze ruffled her hair as she stood close to the water. Her eyes opened wide as the tug, with lights blazing, passed her. She had seen tug boats on the TV, but there were not many boats that big in Dallas. The wheelhouse was lighted from within and a light flashed on the face of the man at the wheel. She saw him very clearly. His hair was salt and pepper and his face angular with a strong chin.

Catching only a glance, she liked what she saw. He must have seen her standing there, because he looked down at her and waved. Although she liked what she saw, she just felt numb as she stared back blankly. He looked back at his barges. After the barges and tug were through, the bridge moved back into place and the arm lifted, allowing her access. She watched the tug, until it disappeared around a bend. On the back of the tug was the name, The Sea Gypsy. The name made her think of exotic ports and the freedom of life on the sea.

After she made her way across the bridge and onto the island, her headlights showed sand and grass beside the road. Driving slowly, hers was the only car on the road and after driving a few hundred feet, she was faced with another decision, right or left. To the left she could see houses on stilts, illuminated by an occasional street or porch light, and to the right there were beach shelters. She turned right, driving until she came to the end of the road. Turning into a parking lot, facing the beach, she switched off the engine and lights and sat staring out at the dark water. Shaking her head, she got out and was hit full force by the wind and the sound of the pounding surf, as well as the smell of the sea. Opening the trunk, she took out the heavy blanket that she kept for when she and Allen used to go to the park. Those were happier times.

Taking her cold coffee, she walked to the nearest shelter and wrapping herself in the heavy blanket, sat down on the big picnic table and waited for sunrise. The wind began to pick up and the waves crashed harder onto the beach. Taking a sip of the coffee, she winced at the bitter taste and set it aside. Hot it had been barely drinkable, but cold it was unbearably bad. With the darkness and the rhythm of the waves lulling her, and the warmth of the blanket relaxing tense muscles, she lay on top of the table. Looking out at the Gulf, watching the lights of fishing boats bobbing on the water, the adrenaline slowly began to wear off and she crashed hard.

* * * *

The sound of seagulls squawking, awakened her. Her eyes opened slowly and she saw the gulls fighting over something that had washed ashore during the night. The sun was barely up and it was still cool, especially with the breeze coming in off of the Gulf.

Sitting up, she stretched and looked around. Far down the beach to the left, a lone beachcomber walked with head down searching for early morning treasure. Stephanie stretched again and her stomach rumbled. Looking out at the birds, she said, Well you have your breakfast and I have to go looking for mine. Since you’re locals, do you know if the little diner I passed last night, just on the edge of town, is open?

The birds squawked at each other, paying no attention to her. I guess I’ll have to go find out for myself. Standing up and rubbing sore muscles, she folded the blanket and stuck it back into the trunk. Sitting down behind the wheel, she sat looking out over the Gulf. She was numb inside, but the sight of the big open water struck a chord in her, and she felt she had come home.

Starting the car and slipping it into gear, she was starting not only the engine, but life anew as well. For the first time in weeks, she smiled. Driving back across the floating swing bridge she got a better idea of what the little village was like. It only took a couple of minutes and she was pulling into the parking lot of the rundown café. The parking areas in front and beside it were dotted with old pickup trucks and cars, which had seen better days, with a few newer ones sprinkled in here and there. Pushing through the door, everyone inside stopped for a second to turn and see who was coming in. She felt as if she were in her underwear. Making her way to the counter, she chose a seat positioned so that she could see the room. It took several moments for a harried waitress to come over to take her order. The waitress, Rita apologized for taking so long and explained that the other waitress, Jena somebody, had not shown up for work and had not bothered to call.

The cook was dinging the little bell to let her know an order was up. Rita looked over her shoulder, at the window between the kitchen and the rest of the diner and nodded, then turned back to Stephanie. Stephanie said, Coffee and a western omelet, please.

Rita wrote the order down and going to the window, slid the piece of paper through to the cook. Picking up the coffee pot and a cup, the she set the cup down in front of Stephanie and poured the dark liquid into it. Hurrying away, she made the round of the room, filling cups, flirting with men and chatting with the women.

The aroma of the freshly brewed coffee was heavenly and Stephanie poured in some milk and sugar before sampling it. Taking a sip she smiled. It tasted as good as it smelled. The cook was dinging the bell and the waitress hurriedly finished her round and went to the window, filling one arm and both hands with plates of food. Stephanie was very impressed. She had worked as a waitress, while putting herself through college, and she knew how hard it was to balance all those hot plates, without dropping them. She had burned her arms on more than one occasion.

People came and went. As new people came in, they were greeted by Rita and many of the patrons. It was obviously a local’s hangout. Finally Rita set her food in front of Stephanie. A little salt and pepper and she tentatively tasted the omelet. The savory flavors assailed her tongue and delighted her taste buds. Swallowing that bite, she ate as if she were starving. Taking the last piece of toast and wiping her plate with it, she popped it into her mouth. She loved places like this; the food was good, without any pretenses and the people were usually friendly. When she finished, she looked around at the tables and saw that they all had dirty dishes piled on them. More people were coming in and some even started carrying the dishes back to the kitchen themselves. When the waitress asked her if she wanted more coffee, Stephanie declined and asked where the tub for carrying dirty dishes was. I think you could use some help, at least until the rush is over.

"Oh Honey you’re, she emphasized, a God send. What’s your name? Mine’s Rita," she told her and then Rita, reaching under the counter, handed Stephanie a tub and a wet bar towel, before racing off to pick up more orders.

Stephanie went to work and soon had all of the tables cleaned off and wiped down. As she carried the last of the dishes to the dishwasher, she saw a broom and dust pan sitting in a corner. Grabbing them, she went out and did a quick round, to get up the worst of what the customers had dropped. With that done, she washed her hands, and finding a pen and pad, went out to take orders. It didn’t take long until the customers were joking and laughing with her. As she cleaned up the tables when someone would leave, she took all the tip money and dropped it into the jar, on a shelf by the window to the kitchen. The old woman cooking, would look up every now and then and smile at her.

When the room finally cleared out and there were only a couple of tables with customers at them, Rita poured three cups of coffee and set them on the counter. Then coming back around, she sat down on one of the stools. A moment later, the cook came out of the kitchen, wiping her brow, and sat down next to her. Stephanie was still clearing tables and the cook said, That can wait a few minutes. Come on and sit down and take a break.

She did as she was told and plopped down next to her. That was a rowdy crowd! Are they always like that?

Rita piped up, "Pretty much. Hell, I’ve known most of ‘em all their lives and a lot of ‘em are fishermen or work the tugs. In fact, I expect one of the tug crews to come in at any minute. They’re a hard bunch of men, working for weeks at a time. The Sea Gypsy’s due back this morning. They’re pulling her up on the ‘ways’ to do some bottom work. Captain Jack reserved it for the next few weeks. They pushed through here sometime last night, and were supposed to drop their barges and deadhead back. They've been eating each other’s cooking for three weeks, so I expect to see a lot of ‘em while they’re in port.

What’s a ‘ways’, Stephanie asked.

"It’s a railroad track thingy, that goes down into the water, with big things that slide up and down it with boats on them. It’s how they get the boat out of the water, to work on the bottom.

By the way, thank you for jumping in and helping us. Damn that Jena, I know she had a date with one of those Smith boys, and those boys don’t do nothing, but party and get into trouble. Changing the subject she asked, Where’d you learn to turn tables like that?"

I put myself through school waitressing. As a matter of fact, I could use a job. Actually, I need a place to stay too. I can pay rent, but I need a job. Do you know if there’s any place around here I can rent? Cheap?

I sure do-that is if you don’t mind living in a travel trailer. I have one set up on a lot, out on the island. It backs up against the intra-coastal. There’s a bit of barge traffic on the waterway, but you get used to it. After my evening shift comes in, we can go look at it. You can live in it for a week’s salary each month, and of course your tips are yours. I’ll even throw in a couple of meals a day when you're working. How does that sound?

"You mean I have a job and a place to stay? I can’t thank you enough Rita!"

Hey, it helps me out too. I get a great waitress and rental income, too. By the way, Rita asked with a smile, what brings you to the large town of Sargent?

Shaking her head and fidgeting with her hair, she finally said, I got a divorce from an abusive husband about a year and a half ago and then six months ago I met Allen, and he was so nice and good to me that is, until a few weeks after I moved in with him. Then out of the blue, he did a complete turn around and became a total controlling jerk. When he got high and hit me I, waited until he passed out and left. I started driving south and well... turning her hands over, palms up in front of her and scrunching her mouth, she finished, here I am.

Rita said, "That’s where that bruise on your cheek came from. That son of a bitch! What is it with some men? They hide their real selves until after they sucker you in and then feel they own you and start slapping you around. I was married for a while and when my husband started that nonsense, one of the locals beat the holy shit out of