“It's the most beautiful place I've ever seen in my life.”
“Absolutely magnificent!”
“And those tall sun-warmed pines—I could smell them wafting in through the open porthole. It was just glorious. Made me think back to summer camp days, when I was growing up. Funny how things of nature impress you so much more in your youth.”
The colonel glanced over at her with a mild surprise—he had one of the most expressive faces she had ever seen. Sometimes, she was sure she could tell exactly what he was feeling without him having to say a single word. Especially when he was working away at his writing. Now, a glint of delighted enthusiasm came into his gray eyes, and she was sure he had hit on a break-through, or conquered some road-block in his current manuscript, this morning.
“Interesting you should bring that up, Stel! Because I was having the very same thoughts, myself, this morning. Young people being so impressionable, and all.”
“Isn't that amazing. Only married a month, and already we're starting to think the same thoughts. What brought it on?”
“A bit of inspiration that dropped into my mind and fit like a glove.” He set his coffee down, put his hands on his knees with a decisive smack, and said, “My dear, I have decided to write a book for boys!”
Another coincidence! Wasn't she thinking about important information being “dropped down” at vital times, only a few minutes ago? Oliver had called it an inspiration, and simply taken it in stride. If it truly was a piece of information from heaven—designed especially for them—what a wonderful way to live that would be! At least, that's how Stella was thinking about it just then.
“Are you talking about one of your hero books scaled down to a reading level for younger people? Why, Oliver, I think that would be marvelous.” She cut a piece of cinnamon roll off with her fork and popped in in her mouth. “Mmm. Light, perfectly spiced, with just a touch of almond flavor in the glaze.”
“I don't think they can get any closer to perfect.”
“No doubt. But back to heroes. Your stories are so good. Even more so because they're true. I don't think children get enough truth these days. In fact, none of us do. When I taught school, it seemed like so much that was offered to young people was beneath them.”
She paused for a moment, wondering, hit on a bit of logic that seemed to fit, then continued her thinking out loud. “I remember there was some new philosophy going around that students had short attention spans. But you know something? Maybe they were simply bored by things that really didn't have any depth. And, Oliver?”
“Yes, keep going—I like how our thoughts keep running in the same directions.”
“Well, I think boys would find stories about heroes anything but boring. Or even too difficult. In fact, I believe they would rise to it.”
“That's exactly it, Stell—they will rise to it! Only I'm not going to write them a story about heroes. I'm going to write one that will show them how to become one.” Then he threw back his silver-haired head and laughed at the sheer pleasure of the thought. It was so delightful and catching, Stella couldn't help laughing with him.
“And I know just how to do it, too!” he declared. “Because I know boys like the back of my own hand!”
3
At ten o'clock, Stella went into the galley to get a start on the lasagna she would be making for dinner. The place wasn't half as scary in the daytime. Especially with everyone coming through on various errands, or simply to get a bit of something to nibble on. There was a large porthole over the sink where one could look out while chopping vegetables, or doing dishes, and today it was so lovely it practically took her breath away.
They were moving through a place called Johnstone Strait, after some particularly tricky maneuvering through another place called the Seymour Narrows. They had to leave an hour earlier than the usual schedule in order to catch the narrows at slack tide. But Captain Stuart knew his stuff—he had even taken this route once before. Of course that was many years ago, and he had been driving a tugboat back then. Hauling shipping containers full of all manner of merchandise and personal effects bound for Alaska.
Now, the danger was past, and the waterway had opened up into a long, wide channel of lovely pine-forested islands, with little coves and harbors to pull into. Should anyone take a fancy to do that. However, the crew of the Dreadnaught had fallen into the comfortable routine of setting out at seven each morning (if there wasn't a fog), and then being settled at anchor somewhere else between six, or seven in the evening. Which was always daylight, this time of year, because the sun rose somewhere around five-thirty, and didn't disappear until after nine in these northern latitudes.
Stella was thinking about all these things when Cole DeForio (that handsome young man Lou Edna had smuggled aboard when they first left California, and had now become their much-appreciated First Mate), came in looking for Millie. It wasn't until she looked up from scattering freshly-grated Parmesan cheese over her second layer, to tell him Millie was taking a nap, that she noticed he had the Senator tucked under one arm as if he were a football instead than a baby.
“Oh, good heavens, Cole...” She wiped her hands on her apron and reached for the toddler. “That's no way to--”
But the boy was having the time of his life (such a good-natured baby!) and gave her a big grin when she turned him right-side up, again.
“I don't know anything about babies,” the young man replied. “Only bringing him to Lou, or Millie, so Gerald can take his turn at the wheel.”
“Nonsense.” Stella couldn't help reverting to her teacher-tone at such a remark. “I can tell you everything you need to know about them in two sentences. They're just little people. Give them the same respect you would anyone else and they'll love you forever.”
“Kid doesn't even talk, Mrs. H, what's to respect?”
Cole had a beautiful smile to set off his dark hair and rugged handsomeness, and he must have known it. Because Stella had never seen anyone who had so perfected the art of charming others. In spite of which she was completely taken in by him, herself. Then again, she had always had a soft spot for the restless types, especially when their hearts held the least bit of sensitivity toward others. Which this young man's did. Not to mention the unashamed gratefulness he carried for Captain Stuart, who promoted him to First Mate status, rather than sending him to jail.
“The same things you respect in any other person,” she replied. “Like holding him right-side up, for starters. Then look him in the eye, and call him by his name.”
“Senator's no name for a regular person—especially a squirt like that.” He reached a muscular forearm in front of her (that sported a tattoo of a ship's anchor), to snatch some of the Parmesan she had been grating. “I don't know what Lou was thinking to name him that. Isn't going to make things better for him, only worse.”
“I'm inclined to agree with you there, but it wasn't our decision.”
“Do you call him Senny, or Torry? I don't like either.”
“Call him anything you want, as long as it's nice. That's what I do.” Then, by way of demonstration, she held the child up until his darling little face was on a level with her her own, smiled her friendliest smile, and said, “Hi, Sonny Boy! Would you like a cracker?”
To which he gave a delighted squeal, and nearly bounced out of her arms in anticipation.
Cole laughed at the obvious answer and ruffled the baby's dark curls. “OK. I get it. Mind keeping him a while? Lou and I had some... uh...words, last night. We need to talk.”
“I'd be happy to. I'll put him in his high chair and give him a snack.”
Which was exactly what Stella was busy doing when he was back not five minutes after he disappeared down the companionway steps, as if there was a fire in the engine room, or something.
“We gotta turn the boat around!” He was headed for the wheelhouse, on his way out the other door that led to the decks. “Lou's Gone!”
After that, a near panic ensued.
> No one objected to turning around—of course they would turn around—but what had gotten into the girl? She left the ship without permission. Something that was a near sin, in Captain Stuart's estimation. Besides that, he informed them all, it was no small thing to turn around. This because they couldn't just chug back through Seymour Narrows without waiting for the tide to turn.
“Why can't we shove it full throttle and push right on through, Stuart?” Gerald had lost all color in his face at the news, and was shaking with worry as he turned the wheel over to more capable hands. “Blast! It's an emergency!”
“Because of the blasted nineteen-knot current roaring through there about now, Gerald. We only do ten. When she's in top condition.” The Captain checked fore and aft, to make sure there were no other nearby vessels, then gave the wheel an expert spin to start the turn.
He didn't look like a captain should, with that mop of gray hair sticking out in all directions, and those bushy black eyebrows that nearly made a strait line across his forehead when he squinted his eyes to look at something. And he didn't dress like one, either. But Stella had to admit his threadbare (oversized) black sweater, faded jeans, and tennis shoes with no socks, did not seem to effect his expertise in handling his own boat.
“Oh, that girl's going to be the death of me!” Millie sank down onto one of two deck chairs that were at either end of the wheelhouse. The left side of her auburn twist was falling out of the hair-clip, since she had been roused from her nap.
All seven of them were crowded into the small enclosure, not counting the Senator, who was seated comfortably on Stella's hip, avidly watching the drama unfold, and mirroring each speaker's expression as they spoke.
“It's not like Shortcake to up and leave without saying anything” Mason pushed his fisherman's cap farther back on his head and ran a thoughtless hand over the three-day stubble on his chin. “She lies ninety percent of the time about where she's going, but she always tells us she's going.”
“Did anyone mention to her we were leaving early this morning?” Even the colonel had left his desk to see what was happening. “I thought I heard somebody on deck around five-thirty, just after I started work. But I assumed it was Stuart, or Cole, getting things ready for departure.”
“Where on earth would she be going at five-thirty in the morning?” Stella wondered out loud.
The question caused a heavy silence to fall over the group until, one by one, all eyes finally settled on Cole. He was leaning against the chart table in the back corner, his troubled face in a turmoil as to whether, or not, he was going to tell everything he knew. His gaze met Stella's and he took a deep breath. She had been silently willing him to speak up, and he read the message as if she said it right to him. However, rather than explain, he simply pulled a folded piece of note paper out of his back pocket and handed it over to Millie.
Dear Family,
I am not fit to be a decent mother, or anything else. Please take good care of my boy.
Lou
At which point Millie burst into tears, and the baby right after.
“She's a deuce of a good mother!” Gerald smacked a fist into his palm as if it might somehow help him think. “It's the only thing she is good at!”
“A good mother doesn't desert her own child, no matter what the circumstances,” The colonel intoned. And looking up at him from the side, with that rather Grecian profile and wavy silver hair, Stella thought how he resembled one of those ancient prophets whose word was always law. Then, again, he never did have much patience for Lou Edna and all her lies.
“Oh, why do all my children end up leaving me?” Millie choked back a sob to ask. “What's wrong with me? I feel like I'm infected with some kind of curse on families!”
“Millie, that's not true,” Stella objected, bouncing the baby in a soothing motion and trying to comfort her former landlady at the same time. “Why you've got a bigger heart for families than any person I know. Just look at all the people you're family to that aren't even related to you.” She didn't mention that she wasn't related to Lou Edna, either, but it didn't seem the time.
“Thank you, Stella,” Millie sniffed and reached into the pocket of her sweater for a tissue. “It's just you have to wonder when all this love you feel keeps chasing people away.”
“We can philosophize, later,” said Mason. “Right now, I'm thinking Campbell River is a devil of a big place, and not a one of us here—except Cole—is of an age to be raising another kid. At the very least, we're gonna have to split up just to cover enough ground for a look-see. Then reconnoiter.”
Now, Cole straitened to his full height and declared, “I'll find her if I have to—”
“You, mister,” said the Captain, in no uncertain terms, “are an illegal alien in this country and will stay aboard ship. Be prepared to fire up the engine in one big hurry, though, in case we have to drag her back kicking and hollering.”
“But, Cap, I—”
“No buts. We can't afford the local laws in on this mess. By the hoagie! Do we even have a birth certificate on this kid? They don't take kindly to people dragging other people's kids across borders around here.”
A statement which produced another grave silence.
“Mason's right,” the colonel agreed. “We need a plan.”
“Well,” said the Captain, “seeing how it will be mostly a land maneuver, I'm all for deferring the details to Mase. You're the best expert on how she thinks, anyhow.”
“What do I know what she's got in that mixed-up head of hers?” Mason grumbled. “All I know is, if she thinks she can get away with something like this, she's got another thing coming.”
4
By the time the Dreadnaught pulled up alongside the courtesy dock in Campbell River, nearly eight hours had gone by since Lou Edna had left the boat. So, it was a sombre group that headed off to scour near-by hotels and cafes, where one might while away hours waiting for a flight back to the States. Not being able to catch an immediate flight out was really their only hope, considering the girl always had a stash of emergency funds for a quick escape.
It was a habit left over from living in so many dreadful places before Mason (who had done his banking where Lou worked), noticed she was all alone in the world, facing a terrible situation, and took her home to Millie. The two years she had been with “the family” were the longest she lived anywhere in all of her twenty-three years.
Considering how many boardwalks, malls, and shops were a short walk away from the waterfront, each of the five searchers chose a separate street, and agreed to “reconnoiter” after investigating four blocks. A thorough plan that would have cast a sufficiently wide net throughout the vicinity. Only they didn't need to carry it out. No sooner had they started up the docks to take up their positions, a frantic Lou Edna came flying down the ramp, hollering, “Pop—oh, Pop!” before she flung her arms around Mason's neck and cried, “You came back for me—you came back!”
“What did you expect, girlie? You left something important behind!”
“Cole said he'd be better off without me. And it's true!” She was dressed for obscurity (Stella knew a lot about runaways): jeans, navy-blue sweatshirt with tennis shoes and backpack. Little of her face was visible under a ball-cap and sunglasses. “But I just felt worse the farther I got away from him. Then I couldn't get back fast enough—you already left!”
“Had to leave early to catch the right tides,” said Stuart.
“Cole didn't tell us you were gone until he got off watch, at ten!” Millie sniffed, as the girl flew into her arms, next (like a chick returning to a mother hen). “What a scare you gave us, honey—what were you thinking?”
“I don't know. I was just trying to do right for my boy!”
“Two wrongs don't make a right,” Stuart declared, in a tone loud enough to call all hands. “You jumped ship. No crew of mine ever pulled that on me before, and I don't take kindly to it.”
“Maybe we should talk about this when we get back aboa
rd,” said the colonel, noticing several onlookers nearby. “Especially since Gerald might slip into apoplexy the longer we're gone.”
The engine roared to life as soon as they approached—evidence that Cole was taking his part in the plan as serious as the rest of them had. Stuart left briefly to untie dock lines and set a course back toward the narrows, where they would pull over into a nearby cove and wait for the tide to turn. Again. Meanwhile, the rest of the group settled around the large wooden dining table in the galley to talk things over.
It had a brass lantern hanging above it that Stella had originally thought was simply for decoration. However, it was a fully operative kerosene lamp that gave off quite the cheery glow when it was lit. Something of a rarity on this trip, because it stayed light until nearly bedtime around here. So, at the moment, there was plenty of light filtering in through the several large portholes in various places around the area. Gerald came in to join them, after Lou checked in on the baby, who was taking a late afternoon nap in the miniature swinging hammock his Uncle Gerry had set up for him in his own stateroom. In fact, they all had accommodations for the baby in their rooms, since his mother was forever needing someone else to watch him.
“You should have at least talked it over with somebody,” he was saying as the two of them returned to the galley, “got a second opinion and all that. A decision made in haste almost never works out.”
“I'll try to remember that next time I feel like jumping ship.” Lou Edna sank down onto the edge of one of the upholstered benches and didn't take off her sun glasses, only pulled her ball cap down lower over her eyes. Another warning sign, as far as Stella was concerned. People only wore sun glasses inside when they wanted to hide something. More lies, probably. She turned on one of the propane burners on the large iron cook-stove and set a huge stainless steel kettle on to boil. A cup of tea always made times like these go smoother, in her estimation.
Voyage of the Dreadnaught: Four Stella Madison Capers Page 6