Home is a Long Time Ago

by William F Lee

  She injects at one point, "Does the old man, Mister Vaccaro, say anything about Mister Gallagher?"

  "Well, sure. All the time."

  She pounces like a cat. "Like what?"

  "Aawww, you know. Stuff like we should listen to him. He's been around. Done a lot. Is a good leader. Stuff like that. And he is, Mom. The other day when we were cleaning up the Wanderer . . . isn't that a neat name? Well, anyway, we all had our shirts off, working only in our shorts and sneaks. You should see the scars he has. His shoulder, ribs, side, his legs. All the times he's been wounded in action. Boy, he musta seen some real shh. . . oh oh--"

  "Colton Callahan. Your language. Did you pick up that type of language working down there for those two . . . two, sailors?"

  "Sorry, Mom. No, they don't ever swear. Well, at least I've never heard them swear around me."

  "Well, you need to watch your language, especially around ladies, and for sure around me, young man."

  "I will. But, man o man, I bet he was something else in his day."

  Holli again half chokes on a bite of flounder, quickly taking some iced tea to clear her throat. Pauses to ensure she's okay and not about to gag again, says, "Well, enough about the wonders of Mister Gallagher. You know, I sold two places today. Both ocean fronts."

  "Mom, do you know that Mister Gallagher is single? Never been married."

  The lioness springs again. "Who told you that? That gossipy old man?"

  "Dunno. Someone. You know, Mom, you're actually single. I mean Dad's been gone a long time. I mean, before I was born. And you're a beautiful woman . . . all the guys at school always make remarks about that. About you. And you two are about the same age. You should get to meet him. Make a move, Mom. Anyway, if you'd get to know him you wouldn't harp so much to me about him."

  More choking and gagging. This time her face flushes scarlet and her eyes tear-up. After several moments she recovers. Says, "My Lord, Colton. What in the world brought that . . . that idea to your mind?"

  "Nothing. He's good looking. Like I said, you're beautiful. Both are single. Both great people. And you know something weird? He and I look a lot alike."

  Holli hasn't any food left to choke on. Simply her fear and that brings on a coughing spell that borders on a death rattle. Moments pass as the coughing sputters, then ceases, followed by her gulping for air. Finally able to speak, she says firmly. "I have no desire to meet that man. Period. End of discussion." She gets up from the table with her plate in hand, heads to the sink. "Clear the dishes for me, will you, please? I'll finish up in here. Then I'm going to take a shower and relax."

  "Okay. Gee, Mom. It was only an idea. I didn't mean to upset you."

  "You haven't. Do me a favor, please. Can the talk about the good Mister Gallagher. I'm not interested."

  "Okay, Mom. Anything you say." He picks up his plate and silverware, and takes it to the sink-side counter. He does the same with the remaining items on the table. Gives his mother a peck on the cheek, and thumps and clumps his way up the stairs, two at a time. Again the ceiling fixture in the dining room jingles as do the decorations above the cabinets.

  Holli says nothing. Already shaken to her soul. My Lord, 'you should meet him, Mom.' What is he thinking? Someone put him up to that. That old man. I warned him. She puts the last of the dinner dishes in the washer, slams it shut. She stands still as stone staring out the kitchen window at their dock and the bay.

  I wish I could put all this in there and wash it clean. Better the disposal.

  CHAPTER 18

  The Thursday morning of the long weekend boating trip, Holli brings Colton to the dock. She doesn't want him leaving his bike at the dock three nights. The boy mildly objects but acquiesces to his mother's wish. When they arrive and park, Colton starts to get out of the car. She grabs his hand, says, "Colt, be careful. You know I don't like this idea. This . . . this honeymoon voyage thing. However, I said yes, so yes it is."

  "Mom, it's not that. It's a fishing trip. And, don't worry. I know what I'm doin', and besides Mister Gallagher is a sharp boss, and a hard man. He doesn't put up with any monkey business."

  "Well, I would hope not. Nonetheless, you--"

  "Mom, I'll be fine. Really." He leans over and gives his mother a peck on the cheek and adds, "Goodbye. See ya in a few days. I'll call when I get back in."

  "It's get back. Don't end your sentences with prepositions."

  He shakes his head in hopelessness, nonetheless politely says, "Yes, ma'am." He pushes the door the remainder of the way open, leaps out, slams it shut on the run, sprints across the parking lot and onto the dock where Sean is standing. He's in a pair of worn blue denim shorts, is shirtless, and wearing white deck shoes.

  Holli watches the two of them speak, then sees Sean point to several boxes on the dock, motioning for Colton to load them aboard. The boy quickly moves about the chore while Sean returns to looking at the clip board he's holding. Holli remains in the lot, watching Sean with heartbreaking eyes. This is as close as she's been to him, at least in daylight, since his return. His blond hair is thick, wanting to curl, but clipped short. Chest matted with blond curls, dense from the top of his chest to his beltline where it stops this morning, at his shorts. She knows better. His legs are the same. She notices he doesn't have any flab around his middle, still a well muscled body that is defying age. From this distance the scars can't be seen, but she notices when he walks he has the slightest of limps this morning. Not in reality a limp, more of a hitch in his walk. She hadn't noticed that the other day when he was leaving the bank. Holli remains sitting, staring, mind wandering. My God he looks good. He hasn't changed except it's obvious he's a man now. No longer the boy I knew although he was hard bodied and steely eyed then. A Marine. She sighs, her grayish eyes misting, like morning dew. She dabs at her eyes with the back of her hand. We were so young. Only eighteen. Why didn't he write? Why? Oh, I loved him so. Maybe--

  A sense of motion jolts her back to reality. Oh Lord.

  She sees Sean walking toward the car, head down slightly, and cocked to one side as if trying to see the person in the car. The motor is still running. Holli quickly puts the car in gear, and since there are no other cars in the lot, turns and goes diagonally across the lot and out, onto the street. She doesn't burn any rubber, but the departure rivals any drag racer. She glances in the rear view mirror. That was close. She heads north, and home.

  Sean stops abruptly, like he's come to the end of the earth, watches the departure and frowns in wonderment. Mutters, "Hell, lady. I was just going to say hello." He stands for a moment longer, then spins around and strides quickly to the boat. No hitch or limp. Only at times, first thing in the morning or when he has been standing still for a long period. Colton has finished his loading chore. Sean gives the boy a quizzical look and says, "She left in a bit of a hurry. Good thing no one was in the lot."

  Colton shrugs meekly.

  Sean shakes his head disdainfully, says, "Hell, I was only going to say hello and meet her. Thought it was about time I did that."

  Colton hesitates in responding, then mutters, "She doesn't like you for some reason."

  "Well, Colton, that's her right but she doesn't know me. Never met. When you get back you tell your mom I was wanting to say hello and meet her. Tell her we should do that since you're working for me. Least ways it would seem she'd want to know about her son's boss. Something, anyway."

  "Yes, sir. I'll do that, but knowing my mom, she won't. She can be stubborn at times. Anyway, she'd prefer I not work for you and Mister Pete. Wants me to work in her office."

  "Well, you should if it would make her happy. You know, moms don't last forever. You always seem to think they'll be around evermore, but sometimes it doesn't work that way. Always want to make the most of the time you have with them. Remember that, Colton."

  "Don't you want me workin' for you?"

  "That's not it. I'm more than pleased with your work, and particularly you as a young man. Was merely saying that about
moms. Lost mine early in life. Wish I hadn't."

  "Yeah, I know that. Mister Pete told me. And I know what you mean. My dad died before I was born. Never even had a dad. Anyway, I'm glad you want me workin' for you. I love it here. It's good havin' a man's take on things, like a dad. Anyway, don't like being closed up inside most the day. Know what I mean?"

  "Yeah, I do. About everything." He smiles shaking his head. "Well, good. We make a great team."

  "Thank you, sir." He gives a half-smile. "But, my mom still doesn't like you."

  Sean grins, then laughs. "Colton, that won't be the first thing you won't be able to figure out about women. You have a girlfriend?"

  "Sort of. Don't have time."

  "Well, you should make some time. You need a good gal. Now, and later. I had one once. I didn't make the . . . never mind. Here come our customers." Sean pauses and groans. "Lord all mighty, look at those women. They're barely dressed and haven't gotten out in the sun yet. What's next?" Another groan, more like a grunt, then, "Colton, you keep your mind, and eyes, on your work. You hear?"

  "Yes, sir, but--"

  "But nothing. Go help them with the luggage, then get ready to cast off and no . . . ogling, gawking."

  "Ye . . .ye . . .yes, sir."

  "Colton?"

  "I won't, sir," and he mumbles to himself, "Yeah, right."

  The loading, stowing and boarding accomplished, the Wanderer heads out into the bay. Then it will turn starboard, north, towards Barnegat Light and the ocean. Once at sea they'll stay close to the shoreline heading south.

  * * *

  The long weekend passes quickly for the two couples on the Wanderer. For Sean and Colton, not swiftly enough. The men drank too much and stayed up later than expected. The scantily clad women were what one might consider spoiled. Whining constantly. They spent most of the time tanning in their bikinis, often without tops. Both sides. And although they were nice to look at, to Sean and Colton they were a pain in the ass. First class bleaters. . . and not a thank you from either. Just a lot of "get me's" and "gimme's". Conversely, it was a highly profitable trip with not much work required other than cooking, serving meals and catering to the whims of the two droning wives. The husbands drank, did little fishing, and spent a great deal of money, according to them, in Atlantic City. However, the few fish that were caught served as delicious meals, especially the sea bass. Consequently, after the Wanderer docked there was little to do other than help the two couples to their cars with the bags. When that was done, Colton called his mom and let her know he was back in port, as the seafarers say.

  Sean and Colton do the last of the cleaning chores. Colton had done most of it while inbound to the dock. When done he and Sean sit on the aft deck, waiting for the boy's mom to appear. As she pulls into the parking lot, Sean gets up and says, "Think I'll go meet her."

  "Sir. Mister Gallagher. Uh, sir. I don't think that's a good idea. She doesn't like you and I think she'll just leave . . . without me."

  "Really? Well, I'll be damned. Okay. Don't want to do anything that'll upset your mom."

  "Thanks." And with that, Colton gets up, clambers ashore, and jogs to the parking lot and his mom.

  Sean watches him. Can't believe she'd do that. But . . .

  Holli Callahan watches closely. Car engine still running. In fact, the car is still in gear, her foot on the brake. She stares out the windshield. Sean, standing on the aft deck, is still watching Colton jogging toward the car. Sean waves. Her heart skips a beat or two every several paces by her son. My God, he's waving at me. He can't see me from there, can he? I hope not.

  Also watching is Pete. He's been in port for several hours having had only a half-day outing this morning. He's slumped leisurely in the Captain's chair on the fly bridge, turned away from the helm, having a Bud.

  This is not working. They should have been together by now. I'm going to have to help the Lord's plan along. I saw Sean on his way to the car the other morning before they left. Grace is not going to let this happen. Which means for sure, she is the one. She knows. I know it. She knows it. And soon, Colt will know it. He has to see the resemblance. By Jesus, you can't miss it. I'm goin' down there right now and get this settled.

  He puts his bottle of Bud down on the instrument panel, gets up and out of the chair. As he takes a step a rumble of thunder booms in the distance. Out over the ocean. Pete stops, looks out over the dock, eastward. He sees clouds building. Again takes a step. Hears another deeper rumble. Stops. Reaches back and fumbles for the chair. Sits back down at the helm and starts to raise the bottle to his lips. Mutters, "Okay, I hear you. I'll wait. You know best, but--"

  Another rumble, louder and much deeper, and closer. "Okay, no buts."

  He looks down, sees Sean waving. Signaling with his hands that he wants Pete to have dinner with him aboard his boat. Pete waves back and gives a thumbs up. Tips the bottle up, downs the last of his Bud and pushes out of the seat. Climbs down the ladder, steps off the stern of his boat and strolls toward Sean. No matter what, it'll be a good night. Every night with Sean is good. Like whiskey; never had a bad one, just some better than others.

  * * *

  The weekend over, Sean's days are eaten up with dealing with the prime contractor and questioning sub-contractors at the restaurant. Pete is out on trips. Sean had three late afternoon excursions with evenings of cruising on the back end. All with couples. Three trips. Three couples. Two enjoying the fishing and the life aboard in the evenings. The other, different and somewhat embarrassing for Sean. They never got out of the berthing suite except for dinner and then drinks on the salon deck after eating. The rings on their fingers spelled marriage, but perhaps not to each other. The gent tipped Sean handsomely late that evening when they docked. When thanking Sean, the gentleman had a sheepish look on his face, mixed with a satisfied grin, like a stray pet hound dog after an evening on the neighborhood. Nothing like the smell of hush money.

  When they left, Colton asks. "How come they booked a fishing trip?"

  "Don't ask, Colton. Go find a girlfriend and you'll understand. Go home, get some sleep. Ponzio has a lot of work for you and Robert the rest of this week. Two include a couple of crowded all-dayers."

  "Yes, sir." He leaves, picks up his bike and starts peddling for home, bike rocking side to side as he pumps hard.

  As Sean watches Colton leave the parking lot, he sees a car pull in. He is about to go topside on his boat when the car screeches to a stop, horn blaring. Can't mistake the canary-yellow Beamer. Rachael steps out of her car in blue denim levis, a white short-sleeved blouse, sandals, and sun glasses. Her collar still doesn't match the cuffs. Her streaked blond hair is stirring in the evening breeze as if whispering Sean's name and accentuating his fascination.

  Colton is gone and has seen nothing. Pete on the other hand has witnessed the arrival and has slumped down in his Captain's chair on the bridge of the Belle Maria II. He stares out across the docks toward the ocean on the far side of the island. Listens intently for a roll of thunder. Hears nothing. Shakes his head. Where are you when I need you? It's not working. It's not working, Lord.

  Sean lopes to the lot. Rachael leaps into his arms and they kiss. He sets her down, and they kiss again, longer. Then they part and Sean says, "Welcome home. C'mon aboard."

  "Thank you. It is home, isn't it?"

  "Yep, sure is, a long time ago."

  Rachael throws her arms around Sean, they hug again then release. She says, "Okay. I accept, Skipper. Aboard we will go." Pointing to a bag in the open trunk she adds, "Would you get that bag? Just that one. All I need for now."

  "You may not need it."

  "Well then, allow me to at least get my toothbrush."

  Sean laughs. "I'll get the bag."

  She smiles. He slams the trunk shut, and they stroll to the Wanderer talking and laughing. When they arrive at the boat, she clasps her hands to her mouth, then her hands go to the top of her head, then outward and skyward.

  Pete, watching from th
e fly bridge of his boat can hear her exclaim, "Wow. Sean dar-liinngg, it is magnifi-sant," dripping with a heavy French accent and only a sniff of Manhattan. Pete mutters, "French. New Yorker. Rachael. Jezebel. None good. All evil. Bible says it clear as a bell." He goes below, settles on his bunk, hands clasped behind his head. This is not working, Lord. This ain't good. He continues lying in the bunk for several moments staring at the overhead. He gets up from the bunk, grabs a short-sleeved shirt off the hook on the back of the hatch, puts it on and heads for the aft deck and dock, muttering, "Anna will know what to do."

  CHAPTER 19

  Sean's face lights up into a broad smile, "You like her, huh?"

  "Her?"

  "Yeah, all ships, boats are she's. Always have been, I guess. You should know that. You grew up here."

  Rachael grins, "Why?"

  "To make women jealous of her. Her man's mistress. Come on, let's go aboard."

  Rachael's grin turns to a sly half smile. "Do you think I'll become jealous of her?"

  "If you do, you'll have no reason. She's just a boat. A fine one, but just a luxury scow. No more, no less. Well, that's not exactly true. She is my home, at least for the time being."

  "If that's the case I'll come aboard. But I would like to know the answer. Why a she, a her? What's her name? And why?

  "I can see you haven't lost the habit."

  "Sorry, it's engrained. C'mon, I've seen her skirt, now show me her lingerie."

  "I like that thought." They climb aboard and Sean says, "We'll start down below," and leads Rachael to the hatch. He shows her the galley with its 25cf refrigerator, GE range with full-size oven, dishwasher, stainless steel sink with disposal. The dinette is opposite the galley, a table in a two-sided booth, adding chairs it can seat eight. A quick tour of the two forward berthing suites. In the larger of the two he places her travel bag on the bunk, and shows her the head. She says, "I take it this is where I'll be staying? Sleeping?"