Home is a Long Time Ago

by William F Lee

  Pete reaches the dock and leaps into the waiting arms of Sean. He responds by giving the old man a suffocating bear hug. Tears stream down the old man's face, his hands trembling with joy and excitement. Sean's eyes are misty as well and are his subdued blue that is reserved for people dear to him and for special moments. This is both. The customers watch, not knowing, only wondering at the connection. They can see the emotion but can't know or imagine the reason or cause nor the time that has passed. The boy stares, waits, in dumbfounded awe for he has never seen Mister Pete like this. Finally Pete breaks out of the bear hug, grips Sean by both arms at the shoulders, chokes out, "Welcome home."

  The boy and customers continue to stare. Sean nods his head, says, "Thank you, Mister Pete. Thank you for everything. Now then, these people are waiting for you to end their day." He leans over and adds, whispering, "And don't introduce me. No bravados. I'm not up to it."

  Pete smiles, then turns excitedly to his fishing customers and says, "Excuse me. Excuse my manners. This is my boy. Home from the wars."

  "Pete, I asked you not to do this."

  Pete looks at Sean. Half shrugs. "Hush. Please." Turns back facing his customers. "He's home for the first time since 1952. Home to stay. Gentlemen, Major Sean Padraig Gallagher of Harvey Cedars. A Marine who fought two wars for his country."

  "Pete, I . . . never mind." Sean steps forward, shaking his head, embarrassed and flush with color, reaches out his hand and says, "Hi, welcome ashore. Just call me Sean." They shake all around. Hellos are exchanged. Sean quickly asks of the day's catch diverting the conversation and to ward off embarrassing questions. It works. They only talk of and show off their catch and some of the ones that got away. The boy watches, waiting. Finally, noticing or feeling the stare, Sean says, "And who are you, young man? You look familiar but I'm not sure why."

  "I'm Colton Callahan. Mister Pete's First Mate. Well, actually, his only Mate. Your old job, I guess, sir."

  "Well hello, Mister Callahan. It's my pleasure, and yes it was, once upon a time, a long time ago."

  "I sure have heard a lot about you. Mister Pete--"

  "Mister Callahan," Sean interrupts, "I think the Skipper wants you to help these folks to their car. Your tasks are not yet complete. We can chat later or some other day, perhaps when there is time to waste."

  "Yes, sir," and the boy hustles to his job, looking back and nearly stumbling to the ground and wondering what manner of man is this. His actual presence is awesome. His eyes bored right through his head. Holy Toledo. Back to his not yet finished job because after helping the customers, he has to hose down and clean the boat and ready her for the morrow's trip. The fishing excursions are booked way in advance and wait not for tides, winds or choppy seas, only for the fish to bite. And the latter is not ever long because Pete always finds the fish.

  Pete stares after the boy for a few moments, then looks at Sean, and hugs him again. Separates and again rubs his hands on Sean's arms at the shoulders as if in wonderment of him being real. Sean asks, "Can the boy finish up?"

  "Yes, of course."

  "Good. Come on. Let's go somewhere and talk. Have a cold Bud or whatever you drink nowadays. Relax. We have a lot to plan."

  "Yes, I know. Plan the work, and work the plan."

  Sean grins, then roars in laughter. Choking to a close, he says, "My God, you haven't forgotten that. I must have been a real pain in the--"

  "Ass. Yes, you were and you weren't. But right now, at this moment . . . with those words, not a minute has seemed to have passed. Only memories."

  "Yep, you're right, Mister Pete. I feel right at home now. Let's go." A horn honks. Sean looks, then back at Pete and says, "Who's that?"

  "The boy's mother."

  "I use to ride my bike down here."

  "He does too. Only not this morning."

  "Why?"

  "She came to give me a piece of her mind."

  "What about?"

  "Oh, nothing." Pete pauses as an idea flashes across his brain-housing group. "Just an Irish gal sharing her lace-curtain temper."

  "Well, the Irish will do that. Okay, well, let's go. That kid sure looks familiar though." He shakes his head. "We need to figure out where we're going to eat tonight. My treat."

  "Can my Anna come with us?"

  "Of course. I met her this afternoon. Nice woman, and attractive too. You should give that idea some thought."

  "I have. More than thought. We will talk later. Somehow I have a feelin' you already know too much."

  They walk along the dock, toward their two trucks, arm around each others' shoulder. They pass within spitting distance of Colton's mother's car without noticing. This is good since the woman inside is ghost white and near a panic attack.

  The boy's mind is just that, a teenager's mind, now on the present and trying to hurry, finish up his work so he can get on his way, clean-up, eat and hang-out with his friends. Not much time, it's dark now. Can hardly see his mom's car in the dock lot. She didn't even get out. Strange. He puts the swab away, checks everything on the bridge, gets off and checks the lines once again, then lopes to the car.

  * * *

  At the cottage, Anna will not hear of going out for dinner. She fixes dinner for the three of them. Fresh sea bass fillets cooked in some mixture that includes Teriyaki sauce and on a bed of sticky rice. Fresh beans and iced tea. This after the old man washed up, and the three enjoyed a few cold Buds. Well, Sean and Pete did, Anna had her red wine. After much chatter at the table, and after Anna had cleared away the dishes and sat down again, she stared at the old man.

  He looks at her, says, "What?"

  "Did you tell him?"

  "No, woman. I will tell him when I believe the time is right."

  "He already knows, you old fool, so tell him anyway, and then we all can have a glass of wine and make a toast to two of the most wonderful events in our lifetime."

  "He knows?"

  Sean laughs and says, "Yeah, I guessed that right off, so let's get the formality of it over and have that toast."

  The old man roars with laughter. Anna joins in, and the three rise from the table and hug one another. The old man says, "Sean, my boy. Anna and I want to marry, and want you to be our best man and also give the bride away."

  "It will be my pleasure. What a great day this is . . . congratulations, you two."

  Anna rushes to a cabinet, stops suddenly, turns and races back. Kisses Pete on the lips with both hands clasped on his cheeks. Then dashes back to the cabinet, gets three glasses down and pours the wine. Comes back and hands each a glass, reaches back and gets hers. Tears come to her eyes and she says, "Thank you, and I will marry you, Peter. I think that was a proposal. And we will be blessed to have our son give us away; for sure Sean is our son. Our love and him, bind us together, and of course our Italian heritage."

  All now misty eyed, and all chorus together, "Here, here." And take a good sip of the wine.

  After taking his sip, Sean pauses in thought, then raises his glass and says, "Scileann fion firinne." Pete and Anna stare at him. Sean laughs and says, "That's Gaelic, the Irish as they say. It means 'Wine lets out the truth'" . . . he smiles and adds, "And the truth is this is right. As it should be. Besides, all the other Irish toasts I know are for saloons only. So, that's it, and I love you guys."

  They clink glasses, drink again, then Anna says, "Come, let's sit in the living room and talk of the future for a short while. Then you two can go back to the boat and sleep or talk until the wee hours. Tomorrow, and all the days that follow, will be long ones for a fair spell." Pete and Sean start to raise their glasses, but Anna adds, "And that's not a toast. Thatsa fact."

  I shall possess within the veil,

  a life of joy and peace.

  John Newton

  CHAPTER 13

  Colt flops in his mother's car, slumps back exhausted and says, "Hi, Mom. Sorry I'm late."

  "It's okay. I was running late myself. Had to get stuff for dinner. You must be starved?"<
br />
  "I am. Pete gave me a couple bass fillets. Want me to cook 'em on the grill when we get home?

  "You bet, that'll be nice. Always better grilled over charcoal, especially by you. She gives him a peck on the cheek. "I'll get the veggies, and is iced tea okay?" She is already out of the lot. It's several blocks to their home on the bay. Holli Callahan had it built a few years ago when Colt started school at Valley Forge Military Academy. She keeps George's old home as a rental property. Colton is home for holidays and summers since he boards at VFMA during the school year. Still in all it's more than comfortable and he likes it, and she sees it as her home for a long time to come. It has its own dock with a slip. They have their own Sneak Box sailboat, a favorite in these parts. Have had it since Colt's early teens. He used to sail it just about every day, but since working for Pete he doesn't get to do that as often as he would like and Holli would wish. She still sails occasionally, by and large on Sundays.

  After a few moments of silence, Colton says, "Mom, I met that guy, the Major. The one that Pete knows so well. The one everyone is talking about. He's a big dude. I feel like I know him for some reason . . . you know, a gut feeling. It's weird. It's like looking in a mirror and seeing the future or something. Have you met him yet?"

  "No. No need. Mister Barto is doing business with him. I know he's going into a partnership with Mister Vaccaro. All that has nothing to do with me. He's not interested in any real estate. He's got his own."

  "Well, you ought to meet him. I'll bet he's interesting. Been away at war. Done all kinds of things. Maybe he knew Dad?"

  "I doubt it. Mister Fitzgerald wasn't a pilot."

  "His name's Gallagher, Mom."

  "Fitzgerald, Gallagher, whatever. Here we are." She pulls into the driveway. "Get the coals started, then wash up, and back to your grilling. I'll get the succotash ready."

  "Again? We just had that last night. I know it's my favorite, but--"

  "Okay. I'll fix something else. No problem."

  She pulls into the garage. Colton helps her with the packages. She takes her briefcase, and both go inside. It'll be a late dinner, and a quick one as the youngster has some "hanging out" to do. A favorite and perhaps only pastime in the Cedars until the vacationers get here. And the influx of young girls from upper middle class and wealthy families. Hard for Colt to meet them. They're on the beach during the day frolicking in the surf or on a towel or blanket getting a tan. Other young men have the advantage. Besides, not only does Colt work hard every day, he's already become frugal. Saves his money. Just hangs out.

  * * *

  At Anna's cottage after dinner and after their celebratory glasses of wine, Sean says his goodbye to Anna, heads to his truck and waits. He drove Pete here from the boat, thus he'll wait until he says his goodnight to Anna. That accomplished, the two are off to the Belle Maria II for the night. All of the evening and a good chunk of the night have passed. It's eleven when they board, crack a cold Bud and sit on the aft deck in folding deck chairs to talk.

  First it's resolving the matter of keeping Pete's boat and that portion of the pure fishing business. It's agreed they will do that and perhaps step it up a notch. In addition, Sean will purchase the Matthews Voyageur. Her beam is 16 foot with a draft slightly over four and a half feet. She carries 800 gallons of fuel and 360 gallons of water. Has a fiberglass reinforced hull with twin engines. It's a heavy and stable ocean passage-making vessel. They will modify the aft portion of the lower deck. Hence it will accommodate fishing by small parties. Sean will live aboard, and they will leave the stateroom level and bridge deck as is. It is plush with a master suite and head, and two other berthing areas with a head, fine galley and eating area. Sean is naming her Wanderer. It seems fitting.

  Sean will close the deal tomorrow, Thursday, and bring her up here from the Egg Harbor Marina. He'll berth her in a slip next to Pete's. The work on the Wanderer will begin immediately and she'll be ready to go next week. And, he will begin his listing and advertising campaign immediately and daisy chain off some of Pete's customers, several of whom are flush.

  They finish their first beer. Pete asks, "Want another?"

  "Sure, and bring those diagrams of the bar and grill out here," and then louder since Pete has shuffled to the hatch entering the galley area, "And some paper. Want to show you what I have in mind and get your suggestions."

  "Comin' up," and Pete disappears below. Sean gets up, pulls both chairs close to the fold-up table on the aft deck where he can spread out the floor plan of the bar and grill, and can sketch some on his own plans.

  Pete returns with the beers and the diagram. Pulls up his chair, both take a swig from their Bud. Pete says, "The place is in pretty good shape, but the interior is worn to a frazzle . . . it's shabby."

  "Not concerned about the interior. We're gonna gut it anyway. I figure we need to have what amounts to be two places . . . in one. To do what I want, we'll have to extend one end . . . the parking lot end, south end. We'll just eat up some grass and sand area, no paving. It'll be up tight to the lot and that's okay."

  "I think I know where you're goin' with this . . .a place for fishing guys and another nice family type--"

  "Right on, Mister Pete. On one side, a bar and grill with some booths, a couple of dart boards and a shuffle board. Open year round. And early for breakfast for guys going out . . . fishing. Same for lunch, snap up the half-dayers. Both ways maybe, coming and goin'. And later for dinner or just drinking. Put the galley in between chow halls. It'll service both and buffer any noise from the bar and grill side. Other side a nice, quiet steak and seafood restaurant. Also a bar for those waiting to eat. Open for lunch and dinner during the summer season. Open for only dinner during off season, possibly weekends only. We'll see. The seafood obviously will be fresh caught. And we'll keep the parking lots separate for the most part."

  "I believe it will fly, Sean. I certainly do."

  "And no funny business at the bar and grill. Some darts, shuffleboard, real casual. But no letting anyone get out of hand. Just be a little noisier than the other side probably, but a nice place. Can bring a family."

  "When do we start?"

  "Going to wrap up the purchase with Chuck Barto tomorrow. The purchase. That's the easy part. Then comes the hard part. Messing with design people, contractors, builders and on and on. We might get it done by the end of this season. If so we'll get some business in and a reputation before next year. We're going to have to find a good food and beverage person until we learn the business."

  Pete gets up and strolls around the aft deck. Taking a sip of his Bud every other step. He stops, turns and fronts Sean. "You're in fact going to do all this, aren't you?"

  "Nope. We are. You up to it? Anna want in? "

  Pete takes another stroll around the deck. Stops, sits on the port side rail, feet dangling not touching the deck. His deeply set brown eyes become misty. They look like a bog in the early morning. He dangles the almost-empty bottle of Bud in his fingers. He looks Sean dead-on, "Sean, how can I be in . . . how can it be we, if you're putting up all the money?"

  "Ahhh, it figures you would worry about something like that. I knew you would. Now you listen my dear ol' friend, it's simple. First, your boat is included. The boat you own."

  "Half own. You've never let me pay back the loan."

  "Mister Pete, you paid back that loan a thousand times over since 1962, and a thousand times over even before that. You took care of me when my parents died. You watched over me, and all that I had left to me and that I accumulated since I've been gone. You worried, fretted and cared for me all those years I've bounced around the world. I never even came back to see you. Well, now I'm back, finally, and it's payback time. And this deal is for us. We take your boat, my new one, and the restaurant, and we run a business. We split down the middle. Besides, early on the only thing we'll have that will be profitable is your boat. And you'll be working that." Sean didn't mention that he will have a retirement check coming every month. No nee
d. And still some investments and property. He continues, "I'll be getting mine ready; runnin' it some; and getting this restaurant up and going. And Anna's going to have to put up with a lot, and give us a hand particularly regarding the plush chow hall we're going to open." Pete starts to say something again. Sean puts his hand up, palm out, slowly moving it back and forth quieting any comment.

  He waits, sees that Pete is listening, not getting ready to say something. Sean goes on, "There is no way I could ever pay you back for what you have done for me. Starting with the moment I started working on your old boat, taking me in when my parents died, and since. No way. Besides, the love I have for you, old man, this is a way I can try to say, thanks . . . and hell, it's going to be fun to boot."

  Pete is close to sobbing. Unabashedly. He rises and walks over to the rear of Sean's folding chair. Puts both hands on his shoulders and starts kneading them with his old, leathery seafaring hands. He says, "Okay. It's a deal. And we will not speak of owing each other again. You being here is all I ever wanted and prayed for . . . having my boy back, safe. The rest is the cream on top. And you know what?"

  "What?"

  “Anna was in the restaurant business with her father. They had an Italian place for years. It may be impossible to keep her away."

  "Geez, great. What a break. See if she's interested in helping?"

  "Oh I'm sure she will be. Probably try to take charge."

  Pete slaps Sean on the shoulder and lets him stand. Sean turns around, steps around the chair and gives the old man a bear hug, patting him heartedly on the back with both hands. They release, shake hands. Simultaneously they say, "Deal."