The Little Red Barn: An Olympic Romance Read online

  THE LITTLE RED BARN

  An Olympic Romance

  Dorothy Rice Bennett

  Copyright © 2019 by Dorothy Rice Bennett

  ISBN: 9781088706886

  All rights reserved including the right to reproduce this

  book or portions thereof in any form whatsoever.

  For information: [email protected]

  Cover design and website by Barbara Gottlieb

  www.gottgraphix.com

  Published in conjunction with

  Ronni Sanlo Consulting

  www.ronnisanlocom

  Printed in the United State of America

  Also by

  Dorothy Rice Bennett

  NORTH COAST: A Contemporary Love Story

  GIRLS ON THE RUN

  THE ARTEMIS ADVENTURE

  Innocent spur-of-the-moment decisions

  can change your life

  1

  The cutter-rigged sloop heeled sharply to starboard as the Lavender Loafer rounded the northwestern tip of the continental United States and entered the Strait of Juan de Fuca. With Kate at the helm, Steve loosened the main sail as the yacht lessened its tilt then adjusted the twin jib sheets to support the boat’s new direction.

  An early morning sun sparkled on the water before them, and the two sailors smiled at each other with satisfaction. They had left Hawaii nearly eight weeks earlier, planning for Seattle in early summer, and had meandered their way around the Pacific, sometimes supported by good winds, sometimes stalled in the doldrums.

  Now, with great relief, they were finally sailing north of Washington and south of Vancouver Island, B.C., headed through the Strait and into Puget Sound to Seattle. As they made way, Kate could see rugged mountains rising to starboard.

  “Olympics, right?” she called out to Steve.

  Slender, sinewy, Steve nodded. “Yep. They’re not the tallest mountains in the world, but majestic just the same. A wild, untamed range.”

  Kate’s blonde curls flipped about her head in the light morning breeze. Tall, muscular, and deeply tanned, she gave Steve a warm smile as he came back to the cockpit of his boat. Her blue eyes twinkled. “This is one place I never expected to see. Thanks for bringing me here.”

  “You’re welcome, m’dear,” he said, giving her a lopsided grin.

  ***

  They had met that spring at a touristy bar in Honolulu. Kate skipped the hula dancers performing for the crowd and went to the bar, settling a couple of seats from an attractive, casually-dressed man. Noting each other’s choice of a local brew, they saluted in acknowledgment. He was clean shaven and graying, appearing in his fifties. She was somewhere in her thirties, a tall natural blonde clad in faded jeans and a blouse tied at her midriff; with broad shoulders, small breasts and slim hips—a swimmer’s body. Her total look was self-assured, uncaring of opinion. They immediately recognized something comfortable and familiar about each other.

  Shortly, the two moved their beers to a table and began talking in earnest. Steve Gutierrez, an American live-aboard sailor for the past thirty years, clearly could afford the life style. Katherine Marguerite Brighton had been a world wanderer for the past five years, hopping freighters and sailing vessels wherever they were headed, particularly around the South Seas. She made a welcome addition to any vessel or crew.

  “Where are you headed now?” she had asked Steve.

  “Seattle, I think,” he said.

  “Why Seattle?”

  “Well, I’ve been out of the loop a long time. I have relatives, or I think I still have some, in Seattle. A brother, his wife and children. For whatever reason, I’m feeling a need to reconnect, and I decided to spend part of the summer there. When fall comes, I’ll head back to warmer climes.”

  “Sounds interesting. I’ve never been to Seattle.”

  “Want to come along?”

  Kate thought for a moment. “Well, I’d be happy to crew for you, to earn my keep. Just as long as the deal doesn’t include ‘benefits.’”

  Steve broke into a hearty laugh. “I don’t think we’d climb out of bed on the same side,” he observed. “I’m gay as a goose. That’s why I’m out here on the ocean, instead of San Francisco pursuing a career. I left in my twenties to escape AIDS. I could have been a rich man and died young; I decided to be less rich and live longer.”

  Kate’s eyes twinkled. “In that case, I guess I can admit that we might climb out of the same side of the bed, just different beds.”

  He smiled. “So, you also fly the rainbow flag. I wouldn’t have guessed it immediately. Now that you say so, I can recognize that in you. I suspect we’ll do just fine on my boat.”

  Preparing the sloop, they had stowed supplies for six weeks. “Shouldn’t be that long, but we’ll take extra just in case,” Steve had said.

  “Just in case” turned out to be unexpected doldrums when the boat lay motionless for days on a glassy sea. Steve and Kate stretched out on the deck, using as little energy as possible and eating almost nothing. With the sun bearing down on them, the cabin below was sweltering, and they remained topside. Kate asked about using the engine to move them closer to Seattle. Steve checked the weather and said the air was flat all the way to the coast. They couldn’t make it that far on the fuel they had. So, they sat. And began to worry. What if the wind didn’t come up again? What if they ran out of food and water? It was a grim prospect. Kate had written in her personal logbook words that were now perhaps prophetic: “Innocent spur-of-the moment decisions can change your life.” Maybe she had made a huge mistake in deciding to crew for Steve on this adventure to Seattle.

  After more than two weeks of drifting helplessly on motionless water, they felt the hint of a breeze. Within hours, that hint had morphed into a real wind, and they were on their way again, short of supplies and physically drained, but with hope.

  ***

  Now under both sail and engine, they moved through the Strait toward Port Angeles. “We have several hours to Sequim,” Steve explained, “where I’m thinking of spending the night. I’d like a quiet sleep and to gas up before tackling the Seattle harbor.”

  Slightly after noon, Port Angeles’s sprawling waterfront appeared to the south. With excitement Kate watched the harbor and its long spit slip by. The former logging town was sitting on hills overlooking the Strait with the Olympic Mountains rising behind it. Kate was enthralled with the view.

  Amusement clearly showing on his now-bearded face, Steve watched her. “You should be here in the winter when there’s snow on the mountains. Then it’s really gorgeous.”

  “I can imagine.” Kate took a bite out of the sandwich he had brought up from the galley. Their pantry was nearly empty, but to Kate, at this moment, a peanut butter and jelly sandwich was just as good as steak. Her stomach was talking to her and food, even with very stale bread, was welcomed. She washed down everything with a soft drink, thinking how glad she was that the doldrums were behind them.

  “Tell me again, where are we stopping?” Kate asked.

  “Sequim.”

  “Never heard of it.”

  “I’m not surprised. It’s a small town, by comparison to Port Angeles and Port Townsend. There’s a long spit and a lighthouse. The first English explorers landed there. Behind the spit is a broad prairie. The town grew up behind the prairie and at the foot of these same mountains. It’s very pretty. Between the town and the prairie, I think there are about thirty thousand inhabitants.”

  “Spell the name,” Kate requested.

  “S-e-q-u-i-m,” replied Steve. “You drop the ‘e’ and pronounce it like ‘squirrel’ or ‘squirm,’ instead of like ‘sequins.’”

  “Any idea what it means?” Kate questioned. After nearly two months at sea, she was hungry for details about the land before them.

  “I read someplace that it’s a Native American word meaning peaceful. Originally a farming community, the town has become a popular spot for retirees.”

  “And it has a marina.”

  He nodded. “Named for the actor, John Wayne. He used to keep his big remodeled WWII boat up here. The marina is now controlled by local government but his family still owns an RV park nearby.”

  Kate shrugged and shook her head. “Sequim. That name seems familiar to me for some reason, but I can’t place it.”

  ***

  Later that afternoon, they passed the long New Dungeness Spit and its white lighthouse. Then Steve sailed into Sequim Bay, headed for the John Wayne Marina. As they glided up to the guest dock, Kate jumped from the boat and tied off the lines while Steve went to check in with the harbormaster.

  “There’s a nice restaurant here,” Steve called to her on his way down the dock. “Why don’t we have a real dinner before we crash?”

  Anticipating a satisfying meal, Kate was only too happy to comply.

  ***

  Sated from a grilled salmon plate, Kate sat in her berth in the bow of Steve’s sloop and tried to figure out why the name “Sequim” seemed so familiar. Checking her MacBook contact list, she discovered an entry for Marianne Summers, address and phone in Sequim, Washington. Surprised and delighted, Kate called the number. There was no answer, so she left a message saying she would try again in the morning.

  Drifting off to sleep wasn’t as easy as Kate had expected. Marianne was now a mysterious presence in her mind. Kate mentally retraced her years at Cornell University and her encounters with Marianne, who had been a graduate stu
dent. As she recalled, Marianne was working on an MBA while Kate was in liberal arts, coupled with participation on the swim team. Kate’s swimming coach thought she had excellent potential to qualify for the Olympic team. Before her death from cancer, Kate’s mother had been a big supporter of Kate’s swimming ambitions. Marianne, several years older than Kate, also enjoyed the sport and came to college meets and occasionally practices. With this interest in common, Kate and Marianne had gradually become friends. After Kate’s graduation, they had kept in touch through letters and emails, but Kate hadn’t actually seen Marianne in years.

  As she mused about how much fun it would be to reconnect with her college chum, Kate finally dozed off.

  ***

  Steve was up early, moving around the deck overhead. When Kate emerged topside, he announced, “I was planning on sailing to Seattle today, but I’ve decided to stay a day or two and do some exploring. If you need to be there right away, I can point you toward downtown where there’s a bus that goes into the city.”

  Kate considered that idea for a moment. “Actually, I have some friends who live here. I’d like to look them up. Maybe I’ll have a reason to stay, too.”

  Since she was not sure whether she’d remain on the boat or move to a motel, Kate gathered up her things and stowed them in her duffle bag. She didn’t have a lot to pack, hadn’t needed much since wanderlust had taken command of her life. Besides her laptop and her cell phone that doubled as a camera, she owned only a few items of clothing, along with a swimsuit, jacket, minimal cosmetics, ballcap, sunglasses, and sport shoes that she wore everywhere. What else did she need?

  After organizing her pack, Kate stood in the cockpit to check the skies. The morning was sunny and growing warm. She could see a few white clouds around the horizon; overhead it was clear blue. Seemed like a good omen for a nice day.

  Her phone buzzed, startling her. When she pulled her cell from a pocket, Kate saw that Marianne was returning her call.

  “Hey, Kate.” The voice was warm and mature. “Where are you calling from? Here in Sequim by any chance?”

  Kate responded. “Yes, Marianne, I’m at the marina.”

  “Well, if you have time, come and see us. 356 North Seventh Avenue. Truck in the driveway. White house. Flowers around it. We’re home today.”

  “Got a couple of things to do first, but I could be there later this morning.”

  “Okay, looking forward to seeing you. If you find yourself hopelessly lost, just call.”

  “My cell has GPS—I’ll find you, I’m sure.”

  ***

  Steve was busy with some minor maintenance at the bow of the sloop. Kate told him what she was doing. He nodded. They hugged. “Let’s keep in touch,” he suggested. “That way we’ll know whether we’re going on to Seattle together or not.”

  Kate nodded and gave him a goodbye wave as she strolled up the dock. Once in the marina parking lot, she searched her phone’s GPS for a Sequim map. It appeared there were a couple of ways to walk into town. She decided to take the Olympic Discovery Trail. Sounded interesting since it was designed for hikers and cyclists.

  With her duffle over her shoulder, her aviator glasses and ballcap in place, Kate marched up a fairly steep incline along a connecting road toward the trail. After two months on a constantly moving deck, her gait was at first a bit rocky. However, she gradually regained her land legs, and breathing in the fresh morning air, she topped the hill, located a trail sign, and turned onto the paved surface headed west toward Sequim. After crossing a beautifully curved former railroad trestle nestled in evergreens and spanning a creek, she continued to walk along the trail that paralleled Highway 101, sometimes visible through tall pines and cedars.

  Washington Street soon appeared, and the trail followed that route. Kate smiled at the rustic landscape with the Olympic Mountains rising ahead to her left, lots of green trees and bushes everywhere. She was amused when she saw a sign posted to protect a local elk herd from highway traffic.

  ***

  Less than a mile later, just as Kate was developing beads of sweat and tiring from hauling her duffle, businesses appeared around her. Among them, she noticed a small red barn with cars parked around it. It obviously wasn’t a working barn, in the farming sense of the word, but as she approached, she saw a sign: “The Little Red Barn, Coffeehouse and Deli.”

  Perfect! Kate thought. She had skipped breakfast. Maybe coffee and a breakfast sandwich would suit her well. Kate strolled in. The interior was dark and cool, with pictures of old farmhouses and barns decorating its plank walls. Several customers were seated at round wooden tables. No one looked up at Kate; they all seemed focused on their laptops and phones.

  Approaching the counter, Kate faced an attractive young barista dressed in a low-cut country blouse, a short black skirt and a white apron. The outfit amused Kate, but it certainly fit the general décor. The barista’s nametag read “Angie.”

  Kate smiled. “Hi, Angie. I’d like a tall coffee straight and some kind of sandwich.”

  Angie smiled back and winked. “Sure. What would you like on your sandwich? Bacon, ham, sausage? Egg or egg whites? Havarti, gouda, or Swiss cheese?” Her voice was deep and melodic.

  While contemplating her choices, Kate had time to observe that Angie had dark brown eyes and shining long auburn hair worked into a single braid down the middle of her back. She was shorter than Kate and well endowed.

  “Wow, let’s see,” Kate mused. “How about bacon, regular egg, and Havarti?”

  “Perfect! Coming up.”

  Kate paid with a credit card.

  “Have a seat. I’ll bring your food to you.”

  Kate nodded and sat down at a table. A sign announced free Wi-Fi, and she pulled her laptop from her duffle, signing onto the Internet. Having been off the grid at sea, she hadn’t touched her email since departing Honolulu. There was, as she expected, a long string of messages awaiting her attention.

  Smiling broadly, Angie soon arrived with Kate’s order, which she carefully placed on the table. “Coffee straight and sandwich. Anything else?”

  Kate looked at the food and then up at Angie. “No thanks, I’m good.”

  Angie nodded. “If you need anything else, just holler.”

  She turned away and Kate watched her walk back to the counter. Nice buns under that soft revealing black skirt. Actually, nice figure altogether. Big brown eyes, cute face. Hmmm.

  Telling herself to forget Angie and return to her task, Kate opened one email after another. Some she quickly scrapped. For a few she typed out brief responses. Others she left for later. As she worked, she chuckled a couple of times. Some of her old friends had a good sense of humor She returned the repartee. While her attention was mostly on the emails, she suddenly sensed she was being watched.

  Kate glanced up and saw Angie standing behind the counter studying her. A tickle ran up and down her spine. Maybe the barista is a lesbian? That could be interesting.

  She finished her task, heaved a sigh, and slapped the computer closed. Looking up, she saw that new customers had entered the coffeehouse. Angie was busy serving them. Not much chance to check her out. Save that for later, too. Kate experienced a little shiver of pleasure.

  Pushing her plate aside, she left a tip on the counter with the little cash she had, picked up her duffle, and headed out, noting the café’s posted hours.

  Angie, she committed to memory. A little voice inside said, Innocent spur-of-the-moment decisions can change your life. Kate laughed to herself. Life is an adventure, isn’t it?

  ***

  Within half an hour, during which she tried to keep her mind off the delightful barista, Kate had passed through the center of Sequim. It wasn’t a fancy town, but there were motels, restaurants, coffeehouses, gift shops, and even a lumberyard—all of which appeared to be thriving concerns. A rather old grain elevator stood just off the main street and seemed to recall the area’s past connection to farming and railroading. Probably not so much today.