"Maybe someday. Not in a hurry, and to boot I've met an old classmate. . . extraordinarily interesting lady. Bye."
Barto is quick to ask, "Somebody from around here?"
"Yes and no. Been gone a long time." Sean gives him a casual salute, nothing but a flick of a few fingers and leaves the conference room, nods and smiles at the secretary who is somewhat older and matronly thus not one of those Barto was suggesting take a ride on his boat. He strides across the street, gets in his truck and heads for Anna's place, his cottage. There he convinces her to drop him off at his boat and then take his truck down to Pete's dock area. He will first get the Wanderer, bring her down there. Anna can climb aboard, be his first passenger, and they will take a cruise. Anna volunteers to provide and pack a lunch. She adds, "Can we go cruising past Pete and his fishing party? It'll make him jealous. Huh?"
"Great idea as long as he isn't carrying any firearms on board. While we're out maybe we can talk about the restaurant?"
"Good, let's get on with the day."
The two of them do all this and raise Pete on the radio and invite him, with Anna of course, and the boy for dinner tonight aboard the Wanderer. A form of a christening without breaking a champagne bottle on the bow. Sipping some wine will do. Anna has made lasagna and everyone knows it's better the second day. Sean will provide the garlic bread and a salad, along with a nice Chianti. They will have a pleasant evening tied up in his new slip, next to Pete's.
* * *
After the day's cruising is over, Sean is pleased. The boat handles extremely well and is more than comfortable. Anna is struck by the living accommodations aboard and she mockingly proposes to Sean. Sean says, "Yes, but how do we break the news to Pete?"
"Over dinner tonight so if he jumps overboard, he will only fall on his own boat." Then she playfully pushes him in the chest and says, "Don'ta say yes again or I'll take you up on it for real." They laugh. The day was good. Fun. And her ideas for the restaurant, keen. Sean takes her home in his truck and then sets out to stock the boat with food and drink, and purchase all the fishing tackle he will need for any "plush" or "flush" fishing expeditions. And plenty of food, a selection of good wine, and an ample stock of liquor for the "cruising only" element of trade he hopes to attract. Married couples only. Once he's back at the boat and has stowed everything, he calls Rachael from his dock phone. The phones rings but twice and he hears, "Bonjour. This is Rachael."
Sean is momentarily stunned by the French and the husky and sexy voice. She says again, "Bonjour."
"Rachael, it's Sean. Sorry, you surprised me with the Bonjour. How you doing? How was your flight? When do you expect to be back?"
"Whoa, whoa, is this a dose of my own medicine?"
"Yes, ma'am. Three bags full. What's with the French? How're you doin'?"
"You're still doing it. But, I'm a glutton for punishment, at least from you. Anyway, I'm fine. Frantic. I'm here, enjoying myself and struggling, realizing it's all gone. A done deal now. I sure hope I did the right thing."
"Only you can know that. Regardless, it's a little late now." He pauses, "Well, I've started my tour of duty down here in old Hotel Charlie and have set up bivouac on my new boat. Let me give you my phone number here at the dock and my PO Box in case you want to send a post card."
"Okay, hang on a sec. Have to find my purse." He hears her mutter, away from the phone, "It's around here somewhere. Where the hell did I leave it." Then back on again says, "Hang on," and she puts the phone down with a clatter. Sean stands patiently, leaning on the time and weather worn dock phone pole. In a moment she's back and blurts loudly, "Hey, I'm back. Shoot."
The shock of her voice causes him to jerk and slide his hand away from the pole he's leaning on, and he groans, "Shoot. Dammit," and stares at the few splinters from the rustic pole.
"What's wrong? Did I give the big bad Marine a scare?"
"Yeah. You did. I got some splinters in the pad of my thumb thanks to you. Okay, here goes." He gives her the number and his address.
She asks, "Why the dock phone. Are you going to live on that boat?"
"That's a roger. She's a beauty." And he goes on to describe the boat. Particularly the part about the master suite, it spacious salon room with a dining table overlooking the lower deck.
She responds, "Now that sounds interesting. Does it have mirrors? Are you going to entertain there?"
"It's reserved for you. And no mirrors . . . or cameras."
"What's reserved?"
"The table. What else?"
She laughs, then says in her husky contralto voice, a whisper. "Well, I suppose I should have expected that based on our past record. But then, who knows what the future will hold. Oui?"
"You know, all that may well have been merely a reconnaissance. Our next encounter may be more like a combat patrol for me . . .seek out the woman, and destroy her will to resist, or something like that."
"Ahhh, I understand. Isn't patrolling like stalking?
"Exactly, looking for prey."
"And I pray I'm the prey. Now then, tell me what else you're up to."
After laughing aloud at her quip he goes on to tell her of the restaurant, and of his and Pete's plans in total. And of Anna, and Pete, and Anna's potential involvement.
After listening without saying a word, which in itself is a tad short of miraculous, she says, "My God, you've been a busy retired Marine. I'd hate to see what you'd be doing if you weren't retired."
"I'd probably be back in the paddy's or jungle chasing zips or something like that."
"Yes, I suppose you would. And with your record for carelessness, probably dead. And still worse, we wouldn't have met. I like this better. Much better."
"You're right. It's better although I'm still a little pissed at the Corps."
"I know, dear, but you'll get over it. Particularly with my help. Now then, Sean, I'll be gone about two weeks, perhaps three. And I'm already missing you. You're going to be a good soldier and wait until I get back. Aren't you?"
"Marine."
"Yes, Marine. How could I forget?"
He laughs, then, "From what I've seen so far, I don't have a lot of choice, but I would anyway. I'm like a good ole hound dog. I'll settle under the porch and wait."
"Hmmmm. I'm not sure. You struck me as the restless type, and it doesn't sound like you've been doing any laying around under a porch. Furthermore, boats don't have porches."
"That's right. Can't fool a seafarer like you. Well, anyway, you have a good time. Do what you have to, and if you want, come on back here. I'll be here. You know, sometimes when I'm alone with my thoughts, I'm not sure I shouldn't have gone to Paris. Might have been nice."
"It would have been. I would have taken you to Vienna on the Orient Express. It has bunk beds. Trains are fun, Oui?"
"Yeah, I know. I know. Thought real hard about it."
"I gave you all sorts of hints. If you had any Indian blood in you, you would have easily followed the signs."
"Ahhhh, it's just as well, I suppose. Listen, Rachael luv, I've got to run. Having Pete and his future wife, Anna, over for dinner tonight. And the kid that works for Pete. Have a lot to do to get ready. Be safe, and I miss you."
"Me too, you. Bye. Luv ya." and the phone clicks. Sean looks at the receiver, hangs it up, picks the splinters out of his hand and strolls back to his boat. Helleva woman. I can see myself wrapped up in that and not simply a short liberty hop, or a nooner . . . or a dawner . . . He chuckles. Or whatever they call it in this world. He climbs back aboard his boat, mutters, "Time to get cleaned up and wait for Pete to get back and Anna to get here. She'll be here first for sure." Goes inside and up the few steps to the master deck.
He strips down and steps into the Wanderer's master suite's shower.
Wonder if Rachael will like it here? Tight squeeze but it can work.
He laughs at his thought. Mutters, "Now that's a play on words."
CHAPTER 16
The old man docks the Belle Maria II with a full catch
of blues, weak and flounder. They also did some crabbing to top off the day. The customers are happy, tired and well tanned, with one having a scorched nose. The filleting and clean-up work all done on board, Pete steps onto the dock where Anna's waiting to go to dinner. He says, "What's this?" pointing to the covered dish in her right hand.
"Dinner."
He kisses her, and in accepting it she pinches her fingers on her nose and when he lifts his head, she says, "Stinky. Go take shower. You smella fishy."
Pete laughs and says, "Come on, Colt. We need to clean up before the lady and the new Master of the Wanderer will pipe us on board." The boy nods but with a surprised expression on his face at the kiss. They both scamper back aboard his boat and head inside to the quarters. Anna continues the few paces up along the dock to Sean's boat. She shouts as she boards, "Coming aboard. Can I come up? Have the lasagna. Needs to go in the oven."
"Come aboard. Let me give you a hand with that dish."
The evening's weather couldn't be better. It's cloudless and the sun will be setting about the time they will be sitting down to eat. The red skies at night will help bring delight, tonight, and in the morning. The bay is calm with no more than enough breeze to allow the water to give the boat a stir. No rock, merely a gentle feeling of being light afoot while ripples lap the hull. The air is clear and that same slight breeze carries the whiff of the bay and its marshes . . . and probably the "Joysee" Skeeters, hence Sean has plenty of repellent handy for all. And he has placed lighted scented candles strategically about. It is hoped to be enough of a deterrent, however the Jersey Skeeters are big enough to carry them off. The mosquitoes are incessantly a problem here. Satan's grant to the Eden of the Jersey Shore. The fresh water ones can be fought easily by spraying the larva in the still water collection points. The females lay the eggs on the water; they float. That is not the case with the salt water ones where the eggs are deposited, buried in the mud where the water will be. When they hatch, they float to the surface, go with the wind and tide, and they are both hungry and eager to mate. And hungry means people. Optimistically the repellant and candles will repel the assault.
Pete and the boy come aboard. Colton is aghast at his first glance of the interior of the boat and asks if he can look around. Sean says, "Sure. Go ahead," and Colton is off, first to the flying bridge and then the spaces below. While he's gone Sean cracks a Bud for Pete and pours glasses of Chianti for himself and Anna. The aroma of Anna's warming lasagna and the sound of the three adult voices bring Colton topside to the suite.
His excitement is obvious in his face and voice, eyes wide as an owl's on the hunt. "Oh man, what a rig this is. Boy o' boy, I bet this beauty rides smooth in any water. Cuts it like warm butter. Can I go out with you someday, Mister Gallagher?"
"Pete, isn't your gig tomorrow an afternoon one?"
"Yes."
"Can I borrow your First Mate for a morning cruise?"
"Sure can. I don't see a problem."
"Hot damn," interrupts Colton. "Man o' man, thanks, Mister Gallagher . . . and Mister Pete. I'll be back in time for my chores. Promise. Right, Mister Gallagher?"
"You bet, Colton." Sean addresses the boy, Colton. Never, Colt. "We'll get you back in plenty of time. Plus, I'll let you take the helm a bit. Allow you to get comfortable because, on occasion, you'll be workin' this boat."
"Oh boy. Is that right, Mister Pete? Goin' to work both boats?"
"Yes, sir, it is. But, one thing, later on we'll need another boy." Conscious of using the word boy, he says, "I mean another hand to help when both of us are going out. Think you can find someone as reliable as you?"
Sean injects. "He's gotta be good, Colton. Especially good, and a quick learner so he can work Mister Pete's boat first time out as good as you now. When we both have engagements, you'll work my boat, and that will be a little different because besides the fishing, it might mean tending some bar, working in the galley, serving food and whatever else needs to be done to make our guests comfortable. And often, I'll be doing things like that while you have the helm."
"Wow! Oh boy! Wow! I'll look for someone. Give it a lot of thought too. I'll find somebody. Good, too. . . or else, right?"
Both Sean and Pete chime in, "Right."
With that Anna finds her way to the group and says, "Dinner is ready. Lasagna, mine of course. And Sean's prepared some garlic bread and a wonderful salad. Chow's on, right, Sean?"
"Roger that. Chow time. On the salon deck. Anna," and he takes her by the arm leading her to a chair at the table. Pete hurries over and pulls it out for her not to be outdone, and says, "I'll get yours, Anna." Colt grins at it all. Comfortable, until Sean, with his firmer voice commands, "First Mate. Serve the meal, and bring that bottle of wine sitting on the galley counter to the table. Then you may serve yourself and be seated."
Colton's grin vanishes. He braces for a second, then the grin returns, and he says, "Aye, aye, Major."
"Skipper will do, Colton. Just, Skipper," Sean says, warmly this time and with a smile.
"Aye, aye, Skipper," and he's off to the galley to fetch the wine, then serve. His first task in his new workplace. Well, part-time at least.
He finishes and sits. Anna encourages all to join hands. Peter prays. A simple prayer. "Lord, thank you for this food and for providing this wonderful day. And thank you, Lord, for bringing my boy home safe. Amen. Let's eat before the lasagna gets cold."
Sean says, "Right on. And, thanks Mister Pete." Colton at first simply sits and stares at Pete and Sean. Then only Sean. Fascinated with the man and the likeness they seem to share. Sean breaks the moment with, "Colton, eat, or we'll all beat you to seconds, young man."
The boy smiles, nods and digs in with a clatter of his fork. Then a quick thrust for a piece of bread and his meal is on. He will finish first since he won't be talking. After a few bites he notices for the first time that a glass of wine is sitting in front of his place setting. Sean sees him staring at it and says, "If you're old enough to serve at sea, you're old enough for some grog. A limited ration however, mate." Colton smiles and says, "Aw right," tips his glass and takes a sip. Smiles again, and those blue eyes take in the Major again. Their gazes meet and hold with a quizzical look on each of their faces.
Pete takes this all in. It's workin', Lord. It's workin'.
All have seconds. All have another glass of wine except for Colton. His ration was one. The talk is between Sean, Pete, and Anna. And for the most part about the restaurant, ideas for the interior, and thoughts about the menu. And hiring help when the time comes. Some talk of the fishing schedule. Sean and Pete discuss increasing the business. For a few of Pete's customers that are "flush", they talk of contacting them and upgrading the trip to Sean's boat. A weekend outing. Either staying out with the guests using the lower berthing area, or coming in and tying up and letting them do as they choose ashore, then coming back to the boat for sleeping, and whatever, depending on the time of night.
While all are relaxing, still with some wine in their glasses, and dishes still upon the table, Anna says, "Sean, Pete and I have decided to wait to be married. We want to get married and have our reception in your new restaurant. Be the first. Is that acceptable to you?"
"Acceptable to me? Good Lord, yes. It will be an honor. If you two want to wait?"
"We do," they both chorus.
"Well, it'll be a strong motivating factor to get this job done pronto. Right, Pete?"
"That's right, and then we can take a honeymoon. Si?"
A cloak of silence drapes the table. Anna's eye brows rise and she smiles broadly. "And where will we go, Ponzio?"
Before Pete can answer, Sean says. "How about home? Italy. Rome. I'll treat you two with round trip tickets and places to stay. How's that?"
Colton is staring at Pete, then Sean, then back to Pete. The pace has been fast this evening for the teenage brain housing group. Now this adds suspense. Colton's eyes are as big as an owl's eyeing a mouse on a barn floor. He stares at Sean.
After a pause, Sean smiles, "Of course, unless you'd prefer to go someplace else?"
Anna says, "Oh my Goda. Thatsa wonderful. Don't you thinka so, Ponzio?" And before he can answer, Anna leaps to her feet, rushes to Sean, and gives him a kiss full on the mouth, and hugs him, tightly. Tears streaming down her face.
Pete comes over to the two and whispers, "Si. Thank you. Yes, that will be wonderful."
Colton snaps out of his trance-like state and asks, "You and Miss Anna getting married? I didn't see that coming."
Everyone laughs. Sean, a smile remaining following the laughter, says, "Good Lord, Colton. If you're not more perceptive than that, I'm not sure I want you as my First Mate. This has been going on for some time now."
"Well, I only see Mister Pete on the boat. Miss Anna has only been around here just a few--"
"Only kidding. How about we get the table cleared away and sit a spell on the deck and enjoy the night air . . . if the 'Joysee' Skeeters permit. We've been lucky so far."
They all chorus, "Sounds good," all get up, start clearing the dishes.
* * *
The night over, Colton arrives home. Pete and Anna brought him to the house hence he wouldn't have to ride his bike in the dark. He stowed it in the bed of the pick-up on the ride over.
He enters the house to find his mother sitting in a chair reading a book as opposed to working which, as a rule, is the case. She glances up sharply, eyebrows raised slightly and pinched together. With a frantic tone she asks, "Where have you been? I've been worried. You never are this late. I called the dock but no one answered."
"I'm sorry, Mom. After we got in, I got cleaned up on Mister Pete's boat. Mister Gallagher invited all of us to dinner on his new boat. Boy, is she a--"
"Mister Gallagher's boat?" She lays the book in her lap. "Dinner? Why you? What on earth for? And, why didn't you call from the dock?"
"Mom, I'm sorry about not callin'. Really am. But, yeah, Mister Gallagher has a new boat. You should see it. It's huge . . . a fifty-six footer. And the inside is plush . . . I mean plush. The Master Suite and Salon are really something."
Home is a Long Time Ago Page 11