closed book, unreadable.

"We're going to give him a lesson with the

Sunfish," I said.

"We?" Cary asked with a smile. "I'm a good sailor, too, Cary Logan. You've said that yourself."

"Yeah, I have, but you don't do it enough to be a good teacher," he explained. Daddy liked that and laughed. Then he grew serious.

"If you take May along, I don't want her in the Sunfish while you're teaching him, Cary."

"Of course not, Dad," Cary said.

Even though the Sunfish was only big enough to seat two, May was so small, we usually took her with us when Cary and I went sailing. I had already promised her she would be part of our picnic.

"May and I will sit on shore and watch them, Daddy. Don't worry."

He grunted, which was as close to an approval as we would get.

"The weather looks promising," Cary said. Daddy agreed and that was all that was said about it. I was too excited to keep it all bottled up. May sat in my room as I planned the picnic. My hands moved with my thoughts as I paraded back and forth, listing the things we would bring and the food I needed to prepare.

"Maybe I should make shrimp salad. Cary loves my shrimp salad. We could barbecue though, couldn't we? Should we do hamburgers or grill some lobster? We'll need salads and oh, I should make my lemon cake, don't you think? Robert is going to be so surprised when he learns what a good cook I am. What?" I asked May when she started to sign. "Oh, games. Yes, we'll bring something for you and I to do while they're out in the Sunfish. No, I'd be too embarrassed to let him see my drawings, May. We'll bring Chinese checkers, okay? And Cary's Frisbee. I'm worried about what I should make talk to Mommy about it tomorrow. No, let's go talk to her now," I said and reached down for May's little hand. She flew up to her feet and followed behind me as I went downstairs to talk with Mommy.

On Saturday morning as Mommy and I packed the picnic basket, Cary grumbled at us from the breakfast table.

"I don't know why we're not just having sandwiches and cranberry juice like we usually do," he said. "This isn't exactly the Blessing of the Fleet," he added with a laugh. He was referring to an annual event on the Cape when boats were decorated with pennants and priests lead a procession from the church. Everyone dressed up and there was very elaborate food and drink,

"Just like a man," Mommy said, "complaining and mocking until he sinks his teeth in and then he quiets down like a church mouse at sermon."

I laughed and Cary turned crimson.

A little over an hour later, Robert arrived. He was dressed in a pair of new sneakers, khaki pants, and a crisp white shirt. His preppy sailor outfit was topped off by a jaunty sailor cap. Cary, who wore a pair of torn shorts, and was barefoot and shirtless, laughed.

"What do you think we're sailing, a yacht?" he joked. "No, but I thought I'd get into the swing of things," Robert replied, undaunted by Cary's ridicule.

"And you look very nice, Robert," I said. I was wearing a pink sundress over my bathing suit and thought that Robert and I looked like the perfect couple.

"Sailing's work," Cary followed sternly. "You're going to mess up that pretty-boy outfit."

"That's all right," Robert said. "It's not like I have many chances to wear these clothes. Hey, what's all that?" he asked, nodding at the big picnic basket.

"She made-a feast," Cary said.

"Gee, Laura, you didn't have to go all out like that, but thanks!" Robert said.

"Let's get started. We're missing some good wind," Cary said gruffly, obviously eager to change the subject. May carried our towels and Robert offered to carry the blanket.

The

weather was with us: A gentle breeze barely nudged the foamy white clouds along the azure sky. South of us, the sea was already peppered with sailboats.

"Looks like a perfect day for sailing," Robert commented as we trekked over the sand toward our dock.

"Oh, and you know what a perfect day for sailing is?" Cary shot back over his shoulder.

"Me? I know as much about sailing as I do about . . . nuclear physics," Robert replied. "I don't even understand how you get the boat to move."

"The wind gets the boat to move," Cary said. I could tell his mood was already softening and I smiled to myself. Cary was in his glory, talking about the things he loved the most: sailing and boats. "You set the sail at a ninety-degree angle to the longitudinal axis of the boat, keeping the power of the wind on the sail's back surface. That's called running before the wind. In sailing off the wind, the sails are set at a forty-five-degree angle from the axis of the craft. This way, the wind exerts a pulling rather than pushing action, understand?"

Tags: V.C. Andrews Logan Horror
Source: readsnovelonline.net