Sovereign Nations

Chapter 1

Lania dripped sweat. Dizzy with exhilaration, she tripped on the ramp down to the fresh water of Lake Union, catching herself on the wooden two-by-four railing. Her reflection in the water laughed at her lack of grace. Her thick-muscled legs looked solid enough, but they felt like willow branches. Her fast bicycle ride to the Center for Wooden Boats from Shilshole Bay Marina had absorbed some of her pounding excitement, but the six mile ride hadn’t stopped the spinning of her head.

She glanced into the busy workshop beside the bottom of the ramp and called out an irrepressibly happy hello to the slight old man pulling curls of wood from a teak board with a hand plane. He raised his bristly chin in quiet acknowledgement. Without stopping to talk, she strode out on the dock to survey the familiar boats on display. She took deep breaths of the humid air, hungry for the tang of wet wood.

Of the twenty-seven boats owned by the Center, Lania’s quick eyes spotted almost a dozen missing. A busy Sunday at the beloved but usually quiet non-profit. The sailing season didn’t officially begin until the Opening Day ceremonies on Memorial Day, but that didn’t keep the devoted away on a rare beautiful early May afternoon.

Several of the boats were running maneuvers in the little cove, sailing students at the helm. Others were further away, in the lake proper. Each one was a work of boat-building art. The smallest boat was only nine feet long and it was just as beautiful and carefully maintained as the largest-–a forty-three foot, gaff-rigged schooner with deep layers of old varnish, lovingly applied. The warm glow of the golden varnish and the sound of little wavelets slapping the wooden dock brought a measure of calm to Lania’s spinning world.

Lania stepped from one floating pier to the next, savoring the dance, adjusting her balance as the pier dipped under her foot and then recovered. She stopped at the end of the main pier, feet spread, ready to bring her plans to fruition.

She shivered as the sweat evaporated in the spring breeze off the lake. Her eyes tracked a pre-teen sailing student who was whipping a tiny sailboat around in tight curves. Watching the child bounce from side to side as she tacked the boat, Lania felt a little envious. She’d be so much farther along if she had been introduced to boating as a child.

Her reverie was interrupted by a big deep voice booming, “She’s a sailor now!”

Lania turned with a broad smile for the gruff old man who ran the Center for Wooden Boats. She tucked a thick curl behind her ear and blushed with pleasure. “Yep–it’s official, Herman. I passed the offshore cruising class.”

“Of course you did! You’ve been a whiz with our little boats here.” He reinforced his approbation with a hearty slap on the shoulder. After months of visiting the Center on Lake Union, Lania knew Herman well enough to brace for it, and she managed to keep her feet. He laughed as she wrinkled her nose at his workman’s muscles and wind-worn face.

She looked at her scruffy tennis shoes and then up at Herman. “I never told you this,” she began. Herman raised a bushy gray eyebrow. “You’re the only person in my life who knows about the classes. I’ve never told anyone else I want to sail.”

Herman’s faded blue eyes narrowed. He considered her for a moment before asking, “Why keep sailing a secret, minnow? It’s nothing to be ashamed of, though we sailors have had a reputation for wildness.”

“I just wanted to be sure of myself. I’m going to leave all of my friends and family behind. I don’t know how they’ll take the idea, especially my dad,” Lania admitted. “It’s all I want, but I can’t help but feel it’ll sound crazy to people.”

Herman gave Lania a sharp look from under his brows. He studied her face, thinking that she looked so strong to be so vulnerable. Her face was both soft and firm–her broad forehead ending on dark, straight brows over arresting deep-water blue eyes, a chiseled Roman nose, and generous, well-defined lips. Her cheeks and chin were more softly rounded. It crossed Herman’s mind that her face gave away her true nature–a complicated blend of soft, giving femininity with uncompromising strength and determination.

Gruff in tone but gentle in volume, he replied, “Minnow, you have to do exactly what is right for you. When a body sails around the world, you meet many people. You can learn more about human beings in a circumnavigation than in any anthropology class. I’m not saying your friends aren’t important, but this big old world has more to teach than you can learn sitting around here in Seattle.”

Lania listened to his advice, but she had heard it before. She agreed but still felt a jig in her stomach at the thought of telling her parents. “You’re right. And now that I’ve graduated from the Sailing Academy, no one can say it’s too much for me.”

Herman nodded and squinted across the sun-dazzled water at the swift little boats tacking and jibing. His eyes pierced the distance from within a wealth of wrinkles. “Well, let me get back to work, child. I can’t stand around wagging my jaw all day.”

Lania put a soft hand on Herman’s hard shoulder and gave him an impulsive hug. It was Herman’s turn to flush as Lania drew away. She said simply, “Thanks. I’ll see you next weekend.”

#

When Lania had absorbed some of the peace of the water, she strolled back along the line of wooden boats. Hauling herself up the gangplank and to the lawn in the park fronting the Center, she inhaled a rich mixture of sawn wood, pine needles, and grass. A pavilion straddled the path at the entrance to the park and the rafters held a collection of Coast Salish and Nootkan-style canoes and kayaks. They were both display and advertisement, having been built by summer camp kids. Lania’s bike was locked to a large-linked old anchor chain that ran around the park in two semi-circles from the parking lot to the boating ramp.

Sitting on the cool grass in the unusually warm May sun and resting her backpack on her crossed legs, she pulled out a peanut butter and jelly sandwich and nibbled in deep contentment as sailors shouted and water slapped the pilings.

She finished her sandwich and brushed the crumbs from her fingers. Stifling a groan, she set her backpack to the side and straightened her legs to stretch. The bike ride from the Shilshole Bay Marina had taken its toll on her. She had ridden on the Burke-Gilman Trail much of the way, passing other riders and getting passed in equal measure. The other bikers on the trail rode ultra-light road bikes and dressed in fancy leggings and tight tops in bright colors, emblazoned with the names of their expensive bikes. Their flashy outfits provided an unflattering contrast to her riding uniform–a t-shirt and dark grey sweatpants with the ankles pulled up to her knees. Lania was not interested in bicycle fashion–or any fashion for that matter. She didn’t like shopping and rarely dressed to highlight her ripe, Marilyn Monroe curves or her solid, muscled legs.

Absently dipping into a hamstring stretch, Lania’s thoughts moved to the most recent submission she’d received for her magazine. It was going to need extensive editing. She sighed and stood, gathered her things, and moved toward a picnic table near the tree line. She had reached the table and was swinging her backpack to the ground when she realized there was a slender, blonde man wearing a bicycle helmet doing the same thing on the opposite side of the table.

Lania pushed a thick shock of mahogany hair out of her face and gave the man a quick, small smile before glancing over toward her bike and seeing another one locked next to it. Her eyes were pulled back to the man across the table. He looked pure Nordic, with pale skin and sharp features that set off his shocking green eyes. She looked down at her backpack, mind blasted clear of thoughts, and sat down on the bench facing the parking lot.

She realized that he seemed to be hesitating and she glanced up. Avoiding his disconcerting eyes, she nodded to reassure him that he could sit with her. He sent her a questioning look but sat down facing the water when she gestured at the other bench attached to the table. His eyes sparkled at her in the sun’s glare.

Lania was surprised by her reaction to this man. She didn’t usually get bowled over by attractive men. His eyes were so clear, though. They were the color of new leaves, a green so rich and yet so fresh.

They both pulled out notebooks, and she opened hers to the front pocket where the article was folded, pulled out the typed pages, and began reading. Only a sentence into the piece, she started writing editing points in her notebook.

Her tablemate had also gotten to work, but he seemed to be scratching out more than he was writing. Lania squelched a brief curiosity about his actions. The warm sun on her back helped her relax and she got wrapped up in cleaning up the logic of the essay she was reading. She ignored her body’s awareness of the man across the table.

#

Lania was startled when people on the water began yelling. She looked up at the man across the table, and he met her eyes with a graceful shrug before she slewed around in her seat to see what was causing the commotion. Looking out over the water, she spotted a huge racing sailboat that was thrusting full speed toward the Center’s boats.

They stood as one. Lania jogged toward the water and her tablemate caught up as she reached the top of the ramp.

The captain of the racing boat spun his wheel, turning the boat a hundred and eighty degrees, and brought the boat backwards into the small area across from the Center with a precision that jolted Lania. The crew dropped the sails as the boat came around, and it bumped its fenders against the wooden dock of the pier next to the Center for Wooden Boats.

Lania and her tablemate both leaned against the railing beside the sidewalk and caught their breath. The small waves created by the boat’s rushing spin sparkled in the sun. Wincing, Lania watched Herman yell at the captain and stalk back and forth on the platform, his face a worrisome purple. The boat’s wake tossed the Center’s small boats against the pier and then died out, the fractured reflection of the sun slowly regaining its placidity.

Lania said with a huff, “I agree with Herman. He’s crazy. Sailing into dock is one thing–I hear some boats don’t even have engines–but that show-off move was a bit much.”

Her green-eyed tablemate grinned and nodded agreement. “But you have to admit, he pulled it off. I’ve never seen anything like that before.” The man laughed freely, leaning forward to see the action better. Lania responded to the sound with another uncomfortable surge of attraction. Her eyes flowed over the strong muscles of his neck and throat, across his muscled shoulders, and down the lithe curve of his back. He was watching the comedy still being enacted on the water and Lania checked him out in quick glances.

His chin was square and his jaw angled. The lines framed his thin lips perfectly, and his prominent cheekbones stood out under his wide smile. His nose was narrow, his forehead smooth. His eyebrows and eyelashes were a medium blonde that, along with his pale skin, confirmed that his nearly white hair was natural.

A business suited man standing next to the racing boat was sopping sweat from his forehead with a striped handkerchief and ranting at the captain. The captain seemed to scoff and disappeared below decks. Lania raised an eyebrow. “That guy down there doesn’t seem to be happy with the captain’s maneuvers either. I bet that boat’s designed for some kind of intense racing. It’s probably worth a couple million dollars.”

Lania’s tablemate pointed to the spreaders on the mast and commented, “That boat’s definitely meant to be sailed fast, and in all kinds of weather. With support like that, the mast can probably take gale force winds without even double-reefing the mainsail.” Lania stared at him in fascination, hearing the nautical talk sound so comfortable on his tongue.

The sweating businessman turned and strode up the ramp, muttering under his breath. Lania looked back toward the boat, squinting in the sun and studying the spreaders. She tucked her lower lip under and then said, “Yes, but it’s odd to see a boat like that in the lake. I bet they just came through the locks in the ship canal, and they were supposed to meet that guy for some reason.”

The businessman had reached the top of the ramp and he turned toward them. Lania and the green-eyed stranger shared amused glances at his disgruntlement and waited in silence for him to pass. Lania met his eyes and gave a friendly nod. He broke stride just long enough to sneer at their messy clothing and taunt, “Expensive dreams.”