by Glen Robins
“I hope this is an acceptable replacement. I did the best I could to make it exactly like its namesake.”
Both agents survey the boat. Mc Coy asks, “Well? Is it?”
“Almost.”
“What’s the difference?”
“This one has blond teakwood decks. My other boat had hazel teakwood.”
“Anything else?” The corners of Crabtree’s mouth rise beneath his mustache.
“No. Everything else is exact. Right down to the smallest detail. The man has a remarkable memory.”
“How was the boat delivered and when?”
“That I don’t know. When I got the note, I returned to this very spot and found it right here.”
“Nothing from Mr. Cook since then,” Crabtree asks.
“Yes, actually. I almost forgot to mention something. He called me several weeks ago and asked me two questions.” I wait to see which one of them will ask me to go on. It is McCoy.
“What were the two questions?”
I do my best to keep my smile to myself. “‘Will you marry me and Emily?’ and ‘Can I borrow your boat for my honeymoon?’”
Crabtree clears his throat. “That sounds like more than a business relationship to me.”
“No, no,” I say quickly. “We negotiated a price. It’s a business deal.”
Crabtree shakes his head as he looks down at the deck. The blond teakwood deck. “I’m not even going to ask.”
“Good. Because I won’t tell you.”
Another commotion erupts from near the shore. The bolt of the lock on the heavy metal gate of the marina clangs against the walls of its receptacle. A group of excited voices pierces the otherwise tranquil air.
My focus snaps to the assemblage. I check my watch and take a deep breath. “Excuse me gentlemen,” I say as I disappear belowdecks.
Chapter Eighteen
One Year After I Met Collin Cook
George Town, Grand Cayman Island
I sense Crabtree and McCoy’s confusion. They look at each other. McCoy’s hand dives reflexively into his sport coat, presumably for the weapon he had holstered against his ribcage. I see this out of the corner of my eye, as I had turned ninety degrees to head down the steps into the salon belowdecks. “Don’t worry gentlemen. They are not here to cause trouble.”
I return to the main deck a moment later with a key connected to a ring with a spongy surfboard attached to it—one of those devices that floats so your keys don’t end up at the bottom of the ocean. “Better let the wedding guests in,” I say as I ease my way between the two agents and step up to the dock.
The group grows more animated as I walk along the dock toward them. Hushed whispers and excited giggles ensued from the huddled company, each dressed in their Sunday best. When I was about a dozen meters from the gate, one of them began speaking to me.
“You must be Captain Sewell,” says an energetic woman that I guess to be about sixty years old. As I swing the gate open, she reaches out a hand and grasps mine. Then she pulls me closer and embraces me for a long moment. When she releases me, she steps back and wipes tears from her eyes. “I don’t know how to thank you for what you have done for our son.” She turns to the man next to her. “Without you . . .” her voice trails off as the emotions choke her vocal cords closed.
“Ma’am, it has been my privilege and honor to assist such a fine man as your son.”
The tall white-haired man next to her then steps forward with his hand extended. His hand is large, powerful, and gentle. His eyes are intelligent and kind. “You sacrificed much to save his life. I—we—sincerely appreciate you and your crew risking everything for him.”
“And everything you will do for him,” the wife adds.
“Yes. Thank you for performing the ceremony today.”
“Again, it is my pleasure,” I say.
“Henry,” the wife jabs her husband in the ribs. “We haven’t properly introduced ourselves.”
“How clumsy of me.” Henry Cook introduces himself and his wife Sarah. Then he steps aside and introduces his daughter Megan, his son Richard, Richard’s wife Penelope, and their two daughters, Anna and Emma. The two little girls are wearing matching frilly dresses adorned with bows and lace. Each wears yellow ribbons tying back neatly curled blond ringlets. The little girls get bashful and hide behind their mother’s legs. I guess them to be five and three.
“Please, come aboard.” I stretch out my hand to show them the way to the new Admiral. “I have some food and drinks for us to enjoy while we wait.”
Not long after I had shown the groom’s family to the Admiral’s main deck, where a reunion of sorts takes place with the two FBI agents, another clanging at the gate catches my attention. This time, however, it is Rojas, my second in command, using his key to open the gate as he escorts Collin through. Collin is accompanied by his groomsmen, Rob and Lukas. Lukas holds his cane above his head in greeting as I look toward them. Rojas follows them to the boat. Lots of hugs are exchanged and Rojas is introduced to each member of the party as they climb aboard one by one. Rob Howell and Lukas Mueller treat me like I’m a long-lost friend. I feel like we are. Each of them hugs me and thanks me for performing the ceremony.
Miguel soon appears at the gate and gives me a hand signal. I turn to Mr. Cook. “I believe we’re ready.”
Henry Cook practically leaps into action, stepping up to the dock with youthful energy.
“You almost forgot something, Henry.” Sarah stands near me, shaking her head and rolling her eyes.
Henry turns on his heel. “Oh, yes, we need them, don’t we?” he says, jogging back the three steps he had taken. Reaching back down, he takes the two little girls by the hands and the three of them speed-walk along the dock and through the gate. They disappear into the marina’s office momentarily. When the sliding doors of the office open again, music starts to play. Rob Howell furnished it via his iPhone and a portable speaker set up on the main deck. An orchestral rendition of the wedding march starts, and the little girls reappear, holding baskets and spreading flower pedals on the dock behind them.
When Henry emerges from the building, he has a beautiful woman dressed in a simple but elegant white dress holding his arm. She looks up to Henry with a bashful smile. She is radiant. Henry glows, too. If I didn’t know better, I would have thought him to be the bride’s father. He pats the hand that holds his elbow and the two of them begin to step in unison down the dock.
The ceremony is simple and beautiful. I read the vows Collin and Emily had prepared for each other and pronounce them man and wife. They kiss for what feels to be a very long time. The family and friends gathered on the boat erupt in cheers and celebrations. My crew and I are swept up into the excitement and treated as if we are part of the family.
After toasts and hugs and handshakes and congratulations, Collin asks us all to step off the boat and to help him shove off.
Soon, the Admiral Ristier is underway, sailing quite literally into the sunset. I realize I have never seen her, or her predecessor, sailing away from me before. It is an odd feeling. I am both happy for my friend and uncomfortable with my role as spectator.
Chapter Nineteen
One Year After I Met Collin Cook
Blossom Village, Little Cayman Island
I spend the next two weeks at my newly renovated home in Blossom Village. It is a strange feeling to take a commercial boat across the channel from George Town instead of my own boat. A list of projects awaiting completion greets me. Caulking and painting and finishing up some of the detail work occupies most of the daylight hours. Nighttime is a different story. I wrestle with demons from my past, but never give in. I have a newfound hope. Performing the union for my friend Collin and his Emily makes me very happy. I am filled with joy for the two of them. They have a bright and promising future ahead of them. Somehow, I feel like his luck will soon rub off on me.
During the long hours of darkness, however, my heart cannot help but reflect upon my own sorry situa
tion. The woman I love is living a new life in a different land, not interested in me, not even one iota. As far as I know, she has no knowledge concerning, and presumably no remorse over, the death of our son. Not once has she reached out to inquire of him. Not being interested in me is one thing, but to completely turn away from the fruit of her own womb? That is unfathomable to me. What kind of woman does that?
And what kind of man falls madly and desperately in love with such a woman?
That is the state of my thinking. It is depressing. I need to get back out to the sea to forget my troubled past and find a new adventure for myself.
I anxiously await Collin’s return.
Late one Thursday afternoon, the Admiral appears in the cove near my home. I beam with joy and pride. My boat has returned, but more importantly, my friend and his new bride.
I watch from the back deck as Collin helps Emily into the dinghy, then drives it the few hundred meters to the beach behind my home. He runs the rubber boat up onto the sand, ties the bowline to a tree, and offers his wife his hand. The two love birds walk up the sand toward me and I hurry out to greet them.
After our hugs and greetings, I reach into my pocket and produce a key. I hold it out. Collin holds out his hand and I drop the key into it.
Another business transaction. One we negotiated in our usual manner.
“Remember, wanderer, there will always be a place for you here in my home,” he says, adapting my line to him a year prior with only a slight modification.
I smile.
“No, really,” Emily adds. “We will keep the room down the south wing ready for you. Anytime you want, you come and stay with us.”
I smile again. That room was an afterthought, something I added when I learned that Collin was to marry Emily and was interested in living in the islands, at least part time.
“Actually,” Collin says. “We won’t be here much. Emily’s new breakthrough cancer treatment has been approved in Europe and Africa. We’ll be traveling to hospitals across both continents, educating oncologists about it.”
“That is very exciting,” I say. “But why Europe and Africa? Why not the US?”
Emily laughs. “You have no idea how long and complicated the approval process is for new treatments in the United States. Every imaginable hurdle is thrown in the way, no matter how many clinical trials you’ve done to prove its effectiveness. The Europeans are much more open to new therapies, so we’ll start there and see what happens.”
“So,” Collin says, “we’ll need you to keep an eye on the place while we travel. You OK with that?”
I smile yet again. “Well, I guess, if you insist.” I turn to go inside. “Please, come. I have dinner prepared.”
I suppose everything that happens in life happens for a reason. I may not understand the reasons, but I embrace the challenge of finding out. In this case, I struggle to fully comprehend why two people so extraordinary would be so kind and generous to someone like me.
I know why I admire Collin Cook. I have heard enough about Emily Burns Cook to know that she is a remarkable person, full of smarts, looks, ambition, and compassion. She, it seems, is destined to make the world better by helping people with cancer.
Collin has found meaning in his overturned life and a reason to keep living. If I am to believe him, I played a role in this. Reuniting with Emily, he says, was partly my doing. I don’t know about that, but I’m glad it happened.
With his fortune and help from his friend, Rob Howell, he has bankrolled a new venture. They have applied for a patent on Emily’s cancer therapy. Next, they are going to set up her own laboratory, hire scientists and researchers to help develop more therapies, then see to it that these new drugs are put to good use wherever possible. The two of them are happy together and together determined to improve people’s lives.
I have no doubt they will do it.
I, on the other hand, have no clue what I will or can do to make the world better. I want to start by helping my four crew members attain their goals and dreams. My re-branded tourist-focused business will teach rich people to sail and give them a chance to design their own adventures in the Caribbean.
Our first such tour is scheduled to be underway in two weeks’ time. Six wealthy investment bankers from the United Kingdom seem hellbent on finding a sunken ship full of treasure they say belongs to the British Empire. It is their dream to find it and restore it to its rightful place. It seems they are each connected in one way or another to the sailors entrusted with this portion of the queen’s treasure some two hundred years ago. It will be an epic quest, they say. I agreed only after a hefty price for such an excursion was properly negotiated.
My new life will begin soon. Although I am unsure what it will bring or what it might look like, I embrace the adventure. Maybe that’s what I have needed all along. Maybe this is my calling. I don’t know, but I am excited to find out.
The End
Before you Go
Thank you for reading “Off Track.” I hope you enjoyed learning more about Captain Sewell and what led him to play such a pivotal role in Collin Cook’s saga.
If you enjoyed “Off Track,” I hope you will help other readers discover it by leaving a review on Amazon. Authors like myself need help from our readers to gain visibility. One way you can help is to leave a review on Amazon and/or Goodreads and/or BookBub. Many readers make their decisions on whether to read a book based on reviews from other readers like you. Click here please to leave a review.
I try to keep things fast-moving, clean, and family-friendly in my books. I love a good adventure, but I don’t believe there needs to be gratuitous sex, violence, or language. If you agree, please share a recommendation with your friends.
If you would like an exclusive free copy of “Off Limits,” the story of Collin and Emily, please click here today.
My other books include:
Off Kilter
Off Course
Off Guard
Off Chance
Off Limits
Off Track
Chosen Path