That Good Night

by Richard Probert

  I’m putting these writings into an envelope along with Robert’s tricky belt buckle, and addressing it to Abigail and leaving another envelope for Arden. Add to the list a note to the Coast Guard. Then I’ll pour a big glass of Scotch and toast my life and everyone who helped me define who I am. Before going topside, I’ll click on the EPIRB.

  I’m ready to go topside this one last time. It’s amazing how good I feel and it’s not just the morphine. It’s more like I’m relieved, the game is over, and I won. This has been a wonderful adventure but it’s over. Thank God that I’m still in command, that I have the right to make my own decision about life and death. I choose death not as the dark side. But, as a place to go. A port in a storm. Perhaps like Henlopen Harbor or Point Judith. I heard it said once that anyone committing suicide is insane. Well, I’m not anywhere near insane. I’m a man who luckily was able to spend my final days doing what I wanted to do. And, by God, that’s just what I did. Like I mentioned earlier, I’m not religious, but there is a little bit of comfort in thinking that I might see Lori again. That’s what I want to be my last thought, of seeing Lori in the dress she wore on our first date. The one with flowers and short puffy sleeves.

  POSTSCRIPT

  The Will:

  I, Charles Lambert, being of sound mind do hereby bequeath my estate as follows:

  To Catlin Giffords I leave the sum of $50,000 dollars to be held in trust by Attorney Arden Schmidt until Catlin reaches the age of 18. My hopes are that he will use the money to advance his education but it is not required that he do so.

  To Abigail Tennera, I leave the sum of $35,000.

  To Sunset Nursing Home, I leave the sum of $25,000 to establish an endowment for a dog-in-residence program.

  The remainder of my funds will be equally shared by my two sons, Charles Lambert Jr. and Thomas Lambert. Be happy, boys. Play as hard as you work.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Writing a book is akin to solo voyaging. While there are many hours spent alone, perils to overcome, and bouts of waning courage, the knowing that concerned friends await in ports-of-call is a propelling force to complete the journey. And so as That Good Night reaches shore, I take this opportunity to thank those who helped make for a safe passage.

  Dan Van Tassel, a retired Literature Professor and college dean gave me the go ahead without, thankfully, assigning a grade. Claudia Hornby, a friend and sailor was eager to help from day one. Steve McPherson, a yacht-broker, gave me a reality check on how the business works. Andy McPherson, golf partner—need I say more? Mary Kaskan, a newspaper editor who, bless her heart, forsook the blue pencil in favor of asking a lot of who, what, when, where and whys. John and Betty Probert, brother and sister-in-law for their suggestions and constant encouragement. James Chingos, MD for his advice and counsel which, hopefully, I got right. Then there is Karen Kaderavak, superb cellist and profound thinker who helped me tremendously with the flow of Charlie’s tale. Bill Bolin of Island Packet Yachts and Edward Massey of Massey Yacht Sales for being sure I knew the wonders of the Island Packet 46. Dave Harrison, a Mainer through and through and one hell of a sailing buddy, helped me understand—if that’s possible—what it’s like to be born and bred Downeast.

  Thanks turns into deep appreciation for my wife and dear friend, Carmelita Britton for everything she had to deal with in shepherding me through the process of writing a book. From first draft to tenth draft, from rejections to publisher’s acceptance, from edits to finished product, Carmelita was the lighthouse that guided me from the storm-tossed seas of creativity to the calm waters of a voyage ended.

  Many thanks to my editor, Megan Trank and her crew at Beaufort Books for their collective patience, advice, and encouragement. That goes as well for my agent Doug Grad whose tenacity and boundless energy made sure that I’d reach shore in one piece.