Home is a Long Time Ago

by William F Lee

  Rachael and Sean reenter the master suite's salon area. She is wearing his Waldorf robe. He a pair of grey gym shorts. Rachael settles into the corner of the large beige leather couch, sinking down in its cushion. Sean says, "What'll it be?"

  "How about some of that Apricot Brandy you love so much?"

  "Simple choice if not good as well. That's what I'm having." He pours two snifters, comes to the couch and sits next to Rachael. Both take a sip and set the glasses down on the coffee table. A clap of thunder explodes over the boat and a crackle of lightening hits out over the bay on the inland side. Rachael shudders, "Are you sure we're okay here?"

  "We're perfectly safe. You didn't worry about it in the shower."

  "I was too busy having fun to notice."

  "Me too, actually. What's on tap for you tomorrow? It's a condo and house tour, isn't it?"

  "Yes, at eleven. After church, as if I didn't catch the hint."

  Sean takes another healthy sip, says more or less absent-mindedly, "What's that mean?"

  "Oh, nothing, really. Do you remember our teasing one another about the hair color and chromosomes?"

  "Yeah, only why did I think you were taking it somewhere?"

  Rachael grins. Takes another sip and deliberately places the snifter on the table. Turns slightly toward Sean. Another jagged streak of lightening pierces the night sky, not directly overhead but inland. She waits for the boom of thunder to follow which comes in seconds, but it too is more distant and the wind seems to be lying down at the dock although racing inland. She says, "Well, what would happen if you, so blond, married a dark-haired woman?"

  "What? You mean a brunette, like you?"

  "I'm a blond, well sort of."

  "We both know different than that."

  "Okay, so a brunette."

  "You?"

  "Yeah, maybe me."

  Sean pauses, unsure whether to be serious at this instant or keep it at a slightly lighter level for the moment. He compromises and opts for humor. "Well, possibly the darker chromosomes controlling the eyes and hair would stomp on the blond ones and the blue ones, and there would be a half-breed Irish lad or lassie. Not all bad. Either way, our children would be handsome or beautiful. A can't miss mixture of genes and thingy's."

  "Our children?"

  "Yeah, that's what we were sort of talking about, wasn't it?"

  "Well, perhaps in your mind, but I don't want any children. Not at this age. Too risky, and besides I'm not sure I'm the mother type. Been single so long."

  "You're not too old, and you'd be a great mom. Could keep kids in line with your tongue. Wouldn't have to raise a hand."

  She straightens her position slightly, moving back a tad. "What does that mean? With my tongue."

  "Just that you can set things straight with a simple remark. That's all."

  "Oh, well, I suppose a sharp tongue has its advantages, but no children. I like to play unhindered. And perhaps work again, at something other than making babies."

  Sean takes another sip, finishing his. Looks at hers, "Want it topped off?"

  "No, I'm fine, thanks."

  He gets up, ambles to the liquor cabinet, stopping first to look out the panoramic window around the room. Sees the clouds breaking up, hearing only a muffled rumble of thunder in the distance and the lightening merely a flashing glow of light far inland. "The storm's moved fast. Breaking up already. Should be nice by morning." He pours himself another brandy and returns to the couch and says, "Where were we?"

  Rachael snaps, "No children and a sharp tongue."

  "Oh, yeah. Love kids. Certainly want some. One at least. A son to carry the Gallagher name onward. A guy always wants that. And I guess a girl also. I'm not too old. Hell, not much older than my dad was."

  "I think I will have that top off now. Do you mind?"

  "Nope." He gets up again, goes to the cabinet and brings the decanter to the table. Pours a cap on her drink. "Don't mind at all. Want me to turn on the TV?"

  "No. I'm enjoying this."

  "Really?" His eye brows arch.

  "Yes. Is children a deal breaker for you?"

  Sean feels the noose tightening. When this started he wasn't concerned where it would lead. Now the path has narrowed. "Is this a conversation we want to have now? After a busy day? Capped off with a wonderfully wild ride in the shower, and now sitting comfortably here watching a storm blow over?"

  "Well, possibly not, but I'm curious. Location seems to be a deal breaker. Was wondering if children are another?"

  "Wow, this has gotten serious, fast. Nothing is a deal breaker. Nothing, if the deal is a good one for all concerned. If we're talking about love, a true love or at least as true and deep as one can believe it to be initially, then there is some compromise. I would guess. I would hope."

  "So, you are open minded on these subjects."

  "Yes, however, it doesn't sound as if you are."

  Rachael pauses, carefully weighing her response. Perhaps setting some boundaries while making progress. "I would say on the children, possibly although doubtful. On the other, no."

  "Well, there you go. Progress already. The genes are not in any immediate danger and geography is only threatened. Storm has passed. The morrow will come, clear and mother earth cleansed from God's garden hose."

  "And we're back to normal, I hope."

  "Yeah, I'd say we're back to square one where we've been lounging. Want to go on deck and get a breath of fresh air? It'll smell wonderful now, not that it didn't before, but a storm like this . . . quick and wet, brings everything to a keener scent. Fresh."

  Rachael sets her drink down, gets up at the same time as Sean. Says, "Sounds good, a breath of fresh air will be nice." They walk hand in hand onto the salon deck and stand at the rail looking out over other nearby boats, further the mass of masts, and beyond the bay toward inland Jersey and the departing storm.

  As they stand, cuddled together at the rail, not speaking, only gazing out into the night, Sean thinks, unfortunately the boundaries are clear. At least to me. If I marry, I want children and I'm staying here, alone if necessary.

  "A penny for your thoughts?"

  "Save your money. My mind is completely blank at the moment."

  "I bet."

  CHAPTER 25

  Rachael and Sean breakfast in town after an inspection of his and Pete's restaurant. The contractor has men working, installing the two bar countertops and other men cleaning up, readying for the furnishings to be delivered this coming week. The contractor is going to finish early and garner a bonus for his effort. Sean is pleased, and consequently the breakfast talk centers on the restaurant and its opening. Other small talk of weather and Sean's schedule is mingled with the restaurant chatter, but nothing of last night. No mention of children and location or in fact anything that might trigger a comment or question. Pleasant conversation but an exercise in avoidance. Sean says, "It's about eleven." He takes the last sip of his coffee and asks, "Want me to drop you off at Mrs. Callahan's office? It's a hike from here."

  "Please. Perhaps she'll be kind enough to bring me back to the dock when we're finished. If not, I'll call."

  "Okay. Sounds like a . . . never mind. I imagine that's getting old."

  "No. Perhaps a habit. Or a vocal idiosyncrasy. Still cute though . . . at times."

  Sean doesn't respond to the latter cue . . . doesn't want to deviate from his avoidance posture. They drive to the real estate office in silence. They give one another a quick peck on the lips then she slides out of the pick-up and strides up the steps to the door.

  Pick-ups. Ugh. She mutters, like my Beamer much better. Stops at the door to the real estate office and peers in to see if anyone is inside. Sees Holli waving her in.

  Sean drives off, not watching, assuming she's in and off on her mission. He is going to return to the boat and do some housekeeping after the hurry up job last evening before the oncoming storm. After parking he arrives at his slip, sees that Colton is here and already hard at work on bo
ard. Before he can take more than a few steps, his dock phone rings.

  He stops abruptly, takes a step back, and picks up the phone on its third ring. "The Wanderer. Sean Gallagher, can I help you?"

  "Sean, Chuck Barto. How are you this beautiful Sunday morning?"

  "Doing well, and you?"

  "Just great. Great. Any damage from the storm?"

  "Not a bit. What can I do for you, Chuck? Sounds as if you have something on your mind."

  "Am I that easy to read?"

  "Chuck, it's Sunday."

  Barto pauses for a second waiting for a follow-on comment or a punch line. When only a chuckle from Sean comes, he says, "Well, there is something. A little embarrassing as a matter of fact."

  "Really? Well, if it's embarrassing, don't bring it up. Save yourself the grief." Now there is a distinct pause. Sean can hear breathing on the other end, however. He waits for a response. None comes. Sean says, "Chuck?"

  "Yes, I'm here. Well, Sean, not that I care personally, but I received several calls from disturbed citizens about you and your guest, ahhh . . . ahhh, about your nighttime activities. As the Mayor, I--"

  "Which activities, Chuck. Some were pretty personal."

  "The skinny dipping in the bay activities. Several of our citizens witnessed it and complained that it was too close to shore. Could be seen, perhaps by children."

  "Any kids call?" He pauses, hears only the sounds of an overweight person breathing. "Maybe horny old women not getting any?" Still no comment, only a barely audible sigh. He waits another few seconds. "Just kidding, Chuck. I don't suppose you would tell me who called, would you?"

  "No, that wouldn't be proper, Sean."

  "Okay, Chuck. Take it easy. If we choose to do it again, I'll go closer to the Jersey shore. Only Skeeters and crabs over there, and they can't talk. Well, at least the mosquitoes can't but they can stand flat-footed and mount a turkey. And, it seems that crabs can and will talk. Anything else?"

  "Mount a . . .Oh, and no, nothing else. I appreciate your understanding, Sean. On another subject, it looks as if your restaurant is moving along well ahead of schedule. When do you think you'll open?"

  "Hoping for the middle of August but probably more like the end of the month. We'll see. To do it, everything has to go right, and so far it has so I'm hopeful. Thanks for asking."

  "All good for the town. Good for the town."

  "Thanks, as will be my skinny dipping closer to the mainland, right?" Sean laughs out loud. Barto's joining laughter is soft and sounds forced.

  Barto does manage a muttered, "Good one. Goodbye, Sean. Have a good Sunday." He hangs up.

  Sean places the phone back in its box and heads to the boat to help Colton. When he finds him in the galley, he's busy cleaning the stove and countertops. Sean peeks in, says, "I'm goin' down to the engine spaces, then up to the bridge if you need me," and he is off before the boy can reply.

  That boy sure does look like me. Damn.

  He shakes his head. Smiles, then starts to chuckle softly and mutters, "Now if he looked oriental I might worry."

  * * *

  Holli Callahan has shown Rachael several houses and a few condos. This last one seems to suit Rachael in that she is taking much more time looking it over. It's a two bedroom, two bath place, two floors and is one of two middle units in a complex of four. The others are rented. Her view is front and back only. Front of the street; the back is of the bay. All four have a boardwalk passageway along the back, on the bay front, and each has a small uncovered slip. Could handle a twenty-footer, power or sail.

  Rachael says, "I like this. Can I do it on a monthly basis, until I purchase or . . . or move on or whatever? Marry. Play. Work."

  Holli clears her throat. "Yes. I can pro-rate it for the remainder of July, and the rental will be due on the first of each month thereafter, for that month. It will require a deposit also on the front end and require a thirty-day notice to break. Returnable when you leave if there is not damage, and I would imagine in your case there wouldn't be any."

  They discuss the price, amount of the deposit, and Rachael writes a check for July and the deposit. "I'll deliver the August check promptly on the first. Is that okay?"

  "Sure. You said earlier, something about moving on with its stringers. Your staying seems contingent on many factors?"

  "Oh, only one, really. But nothing's finalized yet. Still scouting."

  Holli shrugs, "Oh, I see." Starts moving toward the front door. "Is there anything I can do to influence your decision?"

  Rachael half smiles, coyly, "Maybe you already have. Not sure. But it actually depends on two things. Do I, in truth, want to stay here long term, and who do I want to be with."

  "Well, none of that is my business. I would certainly like to find you something to suit your taste in terms of a purchase. I have several luxury condos that will be finished shortly, and two homes that are close to completion, but not so close that a buyer couldn't influence some final selections. If not to live in, perhaps consider as an investment."

  "That's good to know. It won't be long now. It'll either be here or Paris, and that will depend on my current personal investments."

  "My, what choices. So different. I take it the one choice is a man. One or the other it would seem."

  Rachael's smile dissipates slowly. "You have it exactly, Holli. How clever. But then, that is of no importance to you. Only the real estate, right?"

  "Absolutely, I'd love to find something for you, here. It's a beautiful town. And growing. Admittedly hectic in the summer, but peaceful in the off season and pleasant weather most of the time as you probably remember."

  They exit, Holli locks the unit. Rachael says, "Can I get you to drop me at the dock?"

  Holli hesitates, then says, "Certainly, not a problem." The two stride to Holli's car, and depart for the dock. The ride is in silence except for Holli pointing out some landmarks that Rachael should remember from her youth, and does, as her bored sounding comments indicate.

  In the marina parking lot, Rachael gets out quickly, sticks her head back through the open car door, says, "Thanks, I'll be moving in tomorrow if that's okay."

  Holli responds, "Good. Not a problem. I'll have it open and ready in the morning. The keys will be inside on the kitchen counter. I'll wait 'til then to deposit your check and start the utilities and phone service. Oh, long distance calls are extra."

  "Yes, I would expect that. I guess the Paris comment alerted you. Anyway, thank you, for everything. Will be in contact tomorrow." She closes the door and strolls across the lot, heading for the Wanderer. Both Sean and Colton are on the bridge, working side by side, and watching.

  From Holli's vantage point, through the windshield, it's practically impossible to tell them apart, except for size of course, and other signs of maturity. Colt waves to her. Sean waves as well. She lowers the car window and without thinking thrusts her arm out and waves back. Two or three times then quickly pulls it in and raises the window and departs, looking in the rear view mirror.

  Good Lord, what was I thinking? Wasn't. Natural thing to do.

  Comes to the lot exit, checks traffic and pulls onto Long Beach Boulevard, heading north, and home.

  It was natural. Perhaps I should do what's . . . what's natural.

  * * *

  Back aboard the boat, Rachael goes directly to the master suite, freshens up, and changes into shorts, halter top and sandals. Then wanders into the salon area, aimlessly walks about, finally stopping at the liquor cabinet. Opens it, studies it, then closes and reaches for the opened bottle of Chianti on the cabinet counter top, gets a glass and pours herself a full goblet of wine. Goes on the salon's open deck and settles comfortably in a table chair. Sets the glass down, and stretches. Arms extended, back arched and legs extended out as far as she can reach.

  "Excuse me, ma'am. Mister--"

  Rachael recoils quickly, startled. "Oh my. Colt, it's you. You scared me out of my wits."

  "Sorry, ma'am."

>   "Colt, call me Rachael, please. Or anything other than ma'am. It makes me feel old."

  The boy turns scarlet, again. "Oh, thanks, ma'am . . . oops . . . hard habit to break . . . Miss Waters. My mom and Mister Gallagher prefer I address older people by Mister or Miss."

  "Older people? There you go again, Colt. Do I look old to you?"

  "Oh, no... oh, I... I didn't mean it like that, Miss Waters. I meant... never mind, you've got me rattled now."

  "What's going on down here? Colton, you're beet red . . . again. Is Miss Waters yanking your chain again?"

  "I am, and he's holding his own," says a grinning Rachael. "He's doing just fine. Was telling me you were on your way down, right, Colt?"

  The boy pales some, smiles, "Yes, ma'am. Guess I'll be going, chores are done."

  Sean says, "Colton, stay a while. Have a cold drink. I think there's some Coke or Pepsi in the small fridge under the bar."

  The boy moves quickly to the bar, says over his shoulder, "Thanks, sir. Can I get something for you, Mister Gallagher, while I'm over here?"

  "Yeah, bring me a Bud, no glass." He sits at the table, turns to Rachael and asks, "Well, how'd it go this morning? See anything you like? Get along with Mrs. Callahan okay?"

  "You see, I've got you doing it now. In order. Fine. Yes.”

  Colton returns, Sean nods to a seat, says, "Thanks." Then turns back to Rachael, says, "Yeah, you have. Next I'll have a French accent. So, what's up?"

  "I found a place. Will move my things in tomorrow morning, while you're out on that all day trip. Just my clothes for the time being."

  Colton's face brightens. "See, I told ya. My mom's great, isn't she?"

  "Yes, she is, and so quick to catch on. And charming. Beautiful auburn hair and gray eyes. Incredibly attractive, your mom. And a nice person."

  "Thanks, ma'am. That's what I keep tellin' her when . . . never mind. Thanks. And for the Coke, Mister Gallagher. I need to get along home. Mom and I are goin' sailing this afternoon. Wind's up and the bay's calm enough. Bye, ma'am, Mister Gallagher."

  Colton stands, nods at Rachael, puts his half finished drink on the counter and leaves. She and Sean stare after him as he darts out of the suite, then they pick him up with their eyes several seconds later as he scampers off the boat, onto the dock and races for his bike.