Bunny Elder Adventure Series: Four Complete Novels: Hollow, Vain Pursuits, Seadrift, ...and Something Blue

by J. B. Hawker

  As teenaged sweethearts, Bunny and Max had run off to Reno. Their only attendants at the drive-thru wedding chapel in that marriage and casino mecca were an Elvis impersonator and a transvestite Barbara Streisand. It was a fitting setting for a gamble that paid out only in deception, suspicion, tears and accusations, and soon ended in bitter divorce.

  They had each gone on to other relationships and other marriages, but in spite of the past disappointments and pain, they were never completely out of one another’s heart.

  When their wildly divergent life paths collided unexpectedly in middle-age, both were once again single. After initial resistance, embers of the past smoldered and eventually burst into flame.

  The threat of being burned alive with actual, rather than metaphorical, fire by a serial killer cooled their ardor until a chance encounter in Italy led them to consider giving their relationship one more chance.

  One day, while walking on a foggy Oregon beach, Max finally asked Bunny to become his “first and last” wife, and all her prior misgivings and confusion evaporated as she breathed an ecstatic, “Yes.”

  However, following commitment comes compromise.

  Max’s base was in Texas; Bunny was building a life on the Oregon Coast. Time-hardened habits, routines and attitudes clashed, needing to be re-evaluated, altered or discarded over the months between “will you marry me” and the vows spoken in a simple ceremony in the Oregon coastal community Bunny called home.

  Following a potluck-style reception in the church hall, the newly re-weds flew to Houston to celebrate with Max’s friends and co-workers before departing on their honeymoon.

  A large wave rocked the sailboat, abruptly ending Bunny’s reverie. She snatched up a plastic bucket from beneath the deckchair. Why couldn’t this small patch of shade shelter her from the rolling ocean waves as well as from the relentless sun?

  This honeymoon at sea was Max’s idea of a dream trip. For Bunny it was a nightmare.

  The very thought of spending weeks on the ocean made her queasy, both from anticipated sea-sickness and terror. The open water was like outer space: unknowable and hostile. Thinking of being adrift in either one repelled her.

  After seeing Max’s boyish enthusiasm and eagerness to share his love of the sea with her, she’d gulped down her fears and bile and agreed to come.

  Bobbing on the waves in a thirty-six foot sailboat made Bunny feel as insignificant and insecure as Thumbelina crossing a pond on a windblown leaf.

  In spite of all that, she was determined to give these weeks to Max as a wedding gift and to never let him see her misery and fear. She couldn’t hide all her motion-sickness, but she was doing her best to downplay how truly awful she felt.

  They had been on the open water only three days, now, and Max assured her she would get her “sea legs” before long. In the meantime, she wore motion-sickness wristbands, was permanently groggy from frequent doses of Dramamine, and still couldn’t keep any food down.

  Her symptoms seemed less violent up in the fresh air on deck, but Bunny’s fair skin was exposed to relentless sunshine.

  Slathering on another shiny coat of opaque white zinc ointment did nothing to make her feel like a romantic honeymooner. She couldn’t imagine that it ignited Max’s passionate nature, either.

  Happily, her new husband seemed to be having the time of his life, in spite of everything.

  Watching him that morning at the boat’s wheel, white shirt unbuttoned with sleeves rolled up, his bronze chest bare, thick silver-streaked dark hair blowing in the breeze, and a huge smile on his face convinced Bunny her pretense of enjoyment was worth it.

  Thinking of weddings and honeymoons, expectations and realities, and how infrequently we get what we are expecting from our dreams, took Bunny’s mind off her stomach and she was able to return the still empty bucket to its hiding place.

  Below in the sailboat’s roomy cabin, Max was trying to think of something to offer Bunny for lunch that might stay in her stomach.

  Max wished he had never suggested a sailing honeymoon to scuba dive the Great Barrier Reef. He muttered to himself as he moved around the galley, “You knew she always gets carsick and airsick, so of course she’s seasick, you dope! But she loves to walk beside the ocean, so why can’t she enjoy being on it?”

  He had been so sure once she got out onto the open water his bride would succumb to the mystery and majesty which lured and entranced him.

  Max appreciated Bunny trying to hide her unhappiness from him. He didn’t have the heart to suggest they turn around and go home. He’d guessed she wanted this to be their long-awaited perfect honeymoon…for him, even if not for her…He could not reject her sacrifice.

  There was no honeymoon after their first wedding, partly out of economy, but mostly because Max hadn’t wanted the bother. His selfishness then was boundless.

  This trip, this marriage, was his chance to make it up to Bunny for all his failures the first time around.

  There was still a chance that Bunny would adjust to the boat’s motion and begin to enjoy the rest of the trip. He hoped…and prayed…that would be so.

  Getting to know Bunny again had also introduced Max to a new level of faith.

  After years of doubt and being “too smart” to believe in any power higher than his own strength and intellect, Max had seen the very God he doubted intervene in his life and Bunny’s too many times to ignore. Thinking this, he murmured, “I believe…Lord, help my unbelief.”

  He could no longer deny God’s existence, but their relationship was still a bit tentative.

  Bunny called it a faith walk. Max figured he was still stumbling along the beginner’s path and was counting on Bunny to be his trail guide and keep him going in the right direction. He’d wandered in the wilderness enough for one lifetime.

  Pasting a confident smile on his face, Max returned topside with a glass of iced ginger tea as an offering to his bride.

  “Refreshing beverage, lovely lady?”

  “Oh, that looks delightful. Thank you, Sweetie. I was just wishing for a cool drink,” Bunny enthused, taking the drink and setting it down, untasted, on a box near the chaise.

  “What have you been up to downstairs?” she asked.

  “That’s down below, landlubber. We’ll make a sailor of you, yet, you know.”

  “Aye, aye, Cap’n! I bet by the end of this voyage I’ll be swabbing the poop deck with you.”

  “That’s not quite what I had in mind. Say, what do you say we take a little dip and get you off this rolling deck for a while? That should help your seasickness.”

  “What? You want us to swim in the ocean? Out here? Really? What about sharks? And sting rays? What if the boat sails off without us?”

  “Whoa! Slow down. Too many questions at once. Come with me.”

  Max took Bunny’s hand and guided her to the side of the sloop where he opened the lazaretto storage bay and pulled out a large duffle bag.

  “What’s that?” she asked.

  “I thought you might be reluctant to swim in open water, so I bought this little gadget as one of your wedding gifts. Not as pretty as jewelry, but much more practical. It’s a portable pool made for sailboats. Here, give me a hand. We can inflate the surround with our compressor.”

  In only about thirty minutes the portable pool bobbed on the waves, attached to the stern and sides of the sailboat where it created a private pool filled with seawater that passed into the enclosure through filters, keeping out jellyfish and other creatures from the deeps.

  Bunny was amazed and genuinely delighted. She loved to swim, but the thought of close encounters with sharks or even less lethal sea life made her flesh crawl.

  “Max! This is wonderful. I can’t wait to get into my swimsuit and take a dip. Thank you so much!”

  “Swimsuit? Why bother? I don’t think the neighbors will complain about a little skinny-dipping, do you?”

  With that, Max stripped down and jumped into the water, quickly coming up and callin
g to Bunny to join him.

  Hesitating only long enough to slather on another coat of sun block, she joined Max in their private swimming pool, free from the pitching of the deck, at last.

  

  In Bannoch, Oregon, Bunny’s friends, Shirley Griffith and Naidenne Grinager, were rearranging the local handcrafts Naidenne displayed for sale in her property management office.

  “Do you think this painted saw looks okay on this wall, Naidenne?”

  “How about here, behind my desk? Then all my clients will be able to admire your artwork. You did a super job on this one, Shirley,” Naidenne’s mop of tawny curls bopped as she nodded her head for emphasis.

  “Thanks, I used the flowers at Bunny’s wedding as my inspiration for the flower garden in the forefront and just painted in the sand and sea behind them.”

  “Bunny’s wedding was beautiful, wasn’t it?”

  “I thought it was just right for a second, or rather, third wedding. Not too fancy, but still special.”

  “I thought so, too. If I ever marry, I will want something simple like that. I think it’s silly when older brides wear long white trains and all that frou frou.”

  “Well, to each his, or her, own. I think a bride has a right to choose the wedding of her dreams, no matter how old she is,” Shirley remarked.

  “What was your wedding like?”

  “How can I remember something that happened so long ago?”

  “Not that long, surely, Shirley,” Naidenne quipped with a grin.

  Shirley groaned at her friend’s wordplay and rolled her eyes before replying.

  “Jack and I celebrated our fortieth anniversary last month.”

  “You can’t try to tell me that you don’t remember every detail of your wedding day, no matter how long ago it was.”

  “You’re right, of course. I remember as if it were yesterday…my daddy was a logger, so we didn’t have much money for ‘frou frou’, as you called it. Simple was the order of the day. Jack borrowed a tie from the preacher to wear with his only dress shirt and I was in my best Sunday church dress. It was a faded pink rose-patterned shirtwaist with short puffy sleeves and a Peter Pan collar. My mama loaned me her mother’s pearls and gave me a new blue ribbon to wear in my hair.”

  “Did you have a bouquet? Bridesmaids?

  “Oh, I had a bouquet, all right,” Shirley chuckled. “Jack picked wild flowers and sea grass for me. My little sister and Jack’s best buddy from the Army stood up with us. Like I said, it was simple, but that was the happiest day in my life, up to then. And it’s led to years of contentment. I’m a lucky woman, and I know it.”

  “That’s so sweet! But I’m not sure I would want quite such a simple ceremony, unless I could guarantee my marriage would be as happy as yours.”

  “Speaking of marriage….how’s it going with you and Pastor Scott? Things heating up there?”

  “Shirley! How you talk. I’m dating a pastor; you can’t say things like that.”

  “Pastors are human, too, Naidenne. If you want a future with that man, you’d better remember that.”

  Looking for a change of subject, Naidenne asked, “Where do you suppose Bunny and Max are right now? The last I heard from Bunny they were in Venezuela, getting ready to set off on their honeymoon voyage.”

  “Isn’t that something? We never guessed that Max had the kind of money that could finance a month and a half honeymoon at sea in a sailing yacht.”

  “I can’t make up my mind about him, Shirley. What about you?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, he was perfectly charming every time I was with him, but Bunny told me a bit of their history and, apparently he once had a much darker side. I just pray that Bunny is right about that side of him being gone, for good.”

  “I’m sure Bunny must be convinced of that, or she would never have married him, again.”

  “You’re probably right. I shouldn’t be borrowing trouble. Of course, when you consider her history, trouble seems to be as attracted to Bunny as Bunny is to Max.”

  Chapter Two

  Fear not, for I am with you ─Isaiah 41

  Bunny eased out of the bunk, trying not to brush her tender, sun-burned epidermis against anything more solid than a whisper.

  Standing erect stretched her rosy skin and she grimaced in pain.

  Spending so much time in her little sea pool hadn’t been wise, but the temporary relief from seasickness was too delightful to resist. Apparently, saltwater washed off sunblock rather more quickly than she’d expected.

  Slathering on a fresh layer of lotion made the transition from her skimpy satin nightgown to a soft cotton tee shirt possible without tears, but Bunny wasn’t willing to risk strapping on a bra until her skin healed.

  She hoped Max would think she was adopting the natural look for his benefit, rather than pain.

  He couldn’t fail to notice how pink she was, but she didn’t want him to worry about her. This temporary crispy coating was a result of her own self-indulgence and she didn’t want Max to feel in any way to blame.

  From the morning of their engagement, Max had become unusually attentive to Bunny’s needs. It was a side of him she seldom saw in the past and she wanted to respond to him in kind.

  Bunny squared her shoulders, winced, and fastened on a smile before climbing the cabin stairs to greet Max on deck.

  By mid-morning Bunny noticed she was not feeling seasick for the first time since setting sail from Venezuela.

  She wondered if maybe her body was no longer able to register more than one type of discomfort at a time. In that case, she might need to stay sunburned for the whole trip…certainly not a pleasant prospect…and one that would reduce her skin to leather.

  If she were able to choose, would she prefer seasickness or sunburn? Each malaise made her as miserable as the other, but she was probably better able to carry on while hiding the pain of sunburn than when fighting the urge to vomit.

  She chided herself for such silly speculations as she stowed her laptop in the galley.

  Bunny had already managed to finish her monthly magazine column, right on schedule. With the satellite Internet hook-up on the sloop, she was able to keep up with her writing deadlines even when far from port. The connection was slower than she was used to on land, but reliable.

  Max had spared no expense on this trip. Pristine Promise, the Bermuda-rigged sloop he’d rented from his sailing club, was roomy and luxurious.

  The boat was already set up for satellite and Max had only needed to contact the Internet provider, Inmarsat Fleet Broadband. It seemed as simple as signing up for cable back home.

  Max was able to keep in touch with his company on the trip, too, making the long absence from his office workable.

  He had contemplated retiring again, but he told Bunny he decided against it. As long as he still enjoyed the daily challenges of the job and it gave him the flexibility he needed, he’d decided to keep the money rolling in.

  Bunny had known that Max was comfortable, financially, but until their marriage she hadn’t realized just how comfortable. As his wife, she no longer needed to worry about earning a living, but she loved writing her column too much to give it up.

  Her second husband had pastored a series of small, independent churches, so Bunny’s attitude of frugality had become ingrained. These thrifty habits had served her well when she was widowed and struggling to make a living.

  Bunny had stumbled into writing almost by accident, but, with God’s help, it had provided a small income. She soon discovered she had both a gift and a love for it.

  As a pastor’s wife, she quickly learned to keep her own counsel. Confidants within the congregation were dangerous to her husband’s career and the troubles in her marriage were simply too personal to share, even with her family. Writing had become more than a way to make a living, it was a necessary outlet for all the thoughts and emotions she had bottled up for so long.

  All her published writing was non-f
iction, so far, but Bunny was still hard at work on the swashbuckling romance novel she had begun back in Oregon. She hoped this honeymoon sailing adventure would lend more authenticity to the seagoing passages.

  What a thrill it would be to make her readers taste the tang of the salt spray and hear the raucous cries of the gulls with only her words. So far, however, the trip had mostly given her first-hand experience with the various forms of motion sickness…not something she planned to incorporate into her novel.

  From Houston the couple had flown to Caracas landing, after five nauseating hours, at the Simon Bolivar airport, where they rented a car for the two-and-a-half hour drive along the winding roads to Porto Cabello and the sloop that awaited them.

  On the plane from Texas, Bunny spent time reading about life at sea. What she learned of the increased pirate activity along the shores of Venezuela had given her pause, even though Max assured her that they would not be spending much time in those particular waters.

  “But, just listen to this, Max,” Bunny urged.

  “Five pirates armed with guns boarded the yacht at Bahia De Robledal, assaulted the crew and demanded all of their property. One crew member was shot and injured.”

  Before Max could respond, she went on reading aloud.

  “In July, a sailboat was boarded eight miles off Puerto Santos, Venezuela. Six pirates armed with guns and knives approached the yacht Raven Eye while underway, using a fishing boat. One of the pirates was dressed in military uniform, while the other two wore ski masks. The skipper of the yacht rammed into the fishing boat, but the pirates managed to board the sailboat and hold the two crew members, pointing guns to their heads. The pirates stole equipment and fled, leaving one crew member injured. They also shot and stabbed the ship’s dog, who survived.”

  “They even shot…and stabbed…the dog!” Bunny exclaimed before continuing.

  “A French citizen, sailing a Lagoon 410 catamaran named Chrysalide, was killed in September aboard his boat near La Guaraia, Venezuela, close to the capital of Caracas.”