Adventures In A Pair-A-Dice

by Terry Michael Peters

  Wow, I thought to myself, I slipped up and I can’t even remember it.

  I continued to lie there being careful not to move around too much and wake up Ava. After about twenty minutes and her showing no signs of getting up, I slipped from the bed, got dressed and headed downstairs for some coffee. Lost in thought and on my third cup of coffee, I noticed Tom and the girls making their way towards the table.

  “Hey, good morning,” I offered up as they got closer.

  It seemed that I was the only one feeling a bit awkward so I made my best effort at not letting it show. I wanted to ask Ava what had happened but didn’t want her to think that our first time in bed together was something I could not remember.

  “So what are your plans now?” Evonne asked directing the question to me.

  I knew she wasn’t just referring to the day but rather the future.

  “Well, I figure we’ll stay here for a week then head back stateside. There are things we need to take care of and we have to finish our deal with Bruce’s father.”

  “Are you coming back?” Evonne asked.

  “Well, actually, we’re seriously thinking about it.”

  “Yeah!” Tom exclaimed. “But first we’re headed for the Black Hills.”

  “The Black Hills?” Ava inquired.

  Tom then explained about our previous ventures out West on our motorcycles through the years and in celebration of him helping me out with this island adventure, I had agreed to make the pilgrimage once again to the hills on our freshly reconditioned Harleys.

  How could I argue with that? I thought to myself.

  “So, if you’re going to be here for a week let’s say we do some sailing,” Ava offered up.

  “Sailing?” I asked.

  “Yeah, you told me back in Nassau that you liked to sail.”

  I then remembered a conversation Ava and I had about our sailing experiences. It seemed her father was big into ocean sailing and that she spent a lot of the summer months in Europe sailing with her family on a 41 foot Rival sloop.

  My sailing experiences were not that exotic. More like day trips with friends who had smaller boats and had taught me how to sail the coastal waters of South Florida.

  “What kind of sailing?” I asked.

  “Well, André said we could use his boat.”

  “Wait a minute. André has a boat? How do you know this?” I asked Ava.

  “Yesterday at lunch André and I had a nice conversation about life here in the islands and one thing led to another and he offered to take us sailing. Then after I had told him about my father teaching me to handle large sailboats, he said we were more than welcome to borrow his anytime. So, if you guys are going to be here for a week, I say we go do some sailing.”

  “How big is this boat?” I asked.

  “36 feet,” Ava replied.

  “So you boys in?” Evonne asked.

  “What about work?” Tom asked Evonne.

  Ava explained that with the summer season things at the restaurant were slow enough that time off would not be a problem.

  “Sure, we’ll go,” Tom said looking right at me with an expression of ‘We’re going sailing whether you like it or not.’

  How could I argue his point? Until now he had pretty much stood right with me on this whole venture and rarely questioned my decision on anything.

  “So, I guess we’re going sailing,” I said.

  With that Evonne got up and tugged at Tom’s arm to lead him off somewhere leaving Ava and me alone at the table. After a minute or two of awkward silence Ava asked if I had enjoyed myself last night. Damn, what kind of question is that?, I thought to myself.

  “It was great,” I finally offered up.

  “What part?” she wanted to know.

  Damn girl, I was thinking.

  “Look,” I said. To be perfectly honest I can’t remember.”

  Ava laughed.

  “What’s so funny about that?” I wanted to know.

  “Look,” she said. “Nothing happened between us. I wasn’t about to have our first time together be something you couldn’t remember. You and Tom well deserved your celebratory time and, if and when it’s our time, I want it to be special and memorable.”

  She went on to say that I should go home and figure it out but that she would be real happy if I decided to come back to the island on her account. We left it at that.

  “So, André’s boat, where is it?” I asked.

  “It’s in the bay at French Cul de Sac.”

  “A blue ketch,” I asked.

  “Yes, how did you know that if you didn’t know André even had a boat?”

  “Well, when Tom and I flew out to St. Barts the other day we flew right over that bay and there were only two boats anchored there. A Grand Banks trawler and a ketch-rigged sailboat with a dark blue hull.”

  “How observant,” Ava said. “I’m impressed.”

  “Well, it was more a matter of knowing what I didn’t want to hit if we had to ditch that old Cessna of André’s,” I explained. “The plane doesn’t actually look all that airworthy and we passed over that bay right after takeoff when I was still concerned about it staying in the air. I was thinking more about worst-case scenarios than I was enjoying the view.”

  “So maybe you’ll take me flying sometime,” Ava said with a big smile on her face.

  “I’d like that.”

  The week that followed was spent sailing André’s boat around the waters of St. Maarten and St. Barts with the girls. We revisited Gustavia Harbor and set anchor right under the path of the airplanes making their approach to landing at the airport as we had a week earlier.

  It was here that I realized that I wasn’t the only one challenged by the effort needed to pass over that saddle in the hill and get the airplane down onto the runway. During our couple of days there I took notice to more than a few pilots having to do a go around because they realized, as I had, that the first attempt was not going to do it.

  For the first time since arriving in the islands, Tom and I were able to truly relax and we felt like we were on a vacation and truly enjoying what the island life had to offer. Tom and I talked about how easy it would be to take on life living there.

  After returning André’s boat to its mooring in the French Cul-de-Sac, we spent the next couple days retrieving our belongings from the Scarab and tightening up loose ends. We handed responsibility for the boat over to André who would look after it until Bruce returned.

  I also left the weapons, including my father’s Colt .45, with André. With us flying back into the States, it wasn’t wise to carry questionable items. André assured me he would look after it and again offered up a flying career with his business for both Tom and myself.

  Chapter 13

  “That’s us,” Tom said as they announced our flight would be boarding at this time. There to see us off were the girls, as well as Joseph and Brian. For the first time I took Ava in my arms and kissed her like I wanted to all along.

  “Here,” I said taking her hand.

  “What’s this?” she wanted to know.

  “It’s a key to a safe deposit box at the bank next to the hotel. If for some reason we’re not back here in six weeks I want you to go there and keep what’s inside for you and Evonne. It’s just a little bit of money I put away. It’s not much but I wanted to keep it here.”

  It was, in fact, twelve thousand dollars that I didn’t feel comfortable carrying back into the United States. I wasn’t sure what clearing customs would be like but wasn’t up for explaining the reasons for carrying such a large amount of cash.

  Our departing flight over the island took us right over Simpson Bay. Looking out the window, I could see the Scarab tied up to the dock at the marina. What a way to close a chapter.

  It seemed like we had been on this venture for the past year when, in fact, it had all transpired in about six weeks’ time. I thought then I should write it all down thinking it would make for a great story.

&nbs
p; Clearing customs in Miami was just as I suspected. They pulled both Tom and me from all the other passengers to give a more thorough going over. Both of us always seemed to get that special treatment. After explaining our reasons for coming and going from the islands, as well as a very thorough search of our bags and persons, they said we were free to go. Free to go, I thought, if they only knew.

  We knew no one in Miami so decided to catch a limo from the airport that would take us to West Palm Beach. We decided to stop at Pat’s and considered leaving our bags at his place and riding the motorcycles the rest of the way to Ft. Pierce.

  It was around noon on a Tuesday and I knew we would find Pat at his shop. Giving the driver directions, he made his way through the industrial park where Pat had his shop. It was in a rough section of town but Pat’s reputation and kennel of Dobermans kept the riff raff at bay.

  Pulling up to the shop I could see the two large overhead doors up and a dozen or so bikes sitting out front. As we walked in the shop with bags in hand, I could see Pat with his back towards us revving the motor on a bike he was working on. We set our bags down and waited till he was satisfied with whatever he was doing and shut the motor down.

  “Hey!” I yelled.

  Pat turned around. He was an imposing man. At about 6’8” and a good 300 hundred pounds, you couldn’t help but notice him. At that height, he literally talked down to you. When talking, one on one with either Tom or me, Pat would lean over and put both hands on his legs just above his knees so he could look you straight in the eyes. I never asked but always sensed it was out of respect. I only noticed him doing it with people he liked or when he wanted to make a point.

  Pat was excited to see us and was eager to know all about our adventure to the islands. It took about an hour and a couple beers to tell the tale. He was hanging on every word as Tom and I conveyed to him all that had transpired since we had seen him last.

  “You guys are crazy,” he told us when we finished telling him all that had happened.

  “I thought I was an asshole,” I said to Pat after he accused us of being crazy.

  “An asshole?” he asked, then remembered our last phone conversation, “Yeah, well, you knew that,” he said laughing.

  “So, how’s Linda?” I asked.

  “Well, you better do something about that,” he informed me.

  “What do you mean?”

  “Look,” he said. “That’s between Linda and you but, as a friend, I’m telling you, you’re running out of time.”

  “Running out of time?” I asked.

  “Yeah, you know that biological clock thing. Women hear that old clock just ticking away.”

  I knew what he was referring to. I knew well that Linda had long wanted children and she would often bring up the subject.

  “So, where’s our bikes?” I asked, wanting to change the subject. I had noticed when we walked in that they were nowhere in sight.

  “They’re up at your house,” Pat informed us.

  “Damn,” I said. “We were hoping to ride the rest of the way home.”

  “No problem,” Pat said. “I got a couple bikes here your welcome to take.”

  After thinking about it, Tom and I decided to pass on the offer. Our first stateside ride would be on our own motorcycles. We loaded our bags into the back of Pat’s pickup and promised the return of his truck the following day.

  Pulling into the driveway I realized neither Tom nor I had a key to the house. It was now about three thirty and Linda wouldn’t be home for a least a couple more hours. We parked the truck in the driveway and headed out back for the shade of the back porch.

  Lost in conversation with Tom about our future prospects, I wasn’t aware of the time passing till I heard the sliding glass door opening and saw Linda standing on the other side. I could see that familiar smile on her face and knew that things between us were still good.

  Holding her in my arms, I was again reminded why I always returned to the closest thing I knew as a home and to a woman that loved and accepted me both for what I was and was not. Again, we told our tale but, unlike our rendition to Pat, we left out the stuff I knew would scare her, as well as any mention of the two women we had met and shared time with. After catching up on all the important stuff, Linda informed us that our motorcycles were in the garage.

  “I know. We stopped and talked with Pat. He mentioned that he had delivered them here.”

  She then suggested that we go for a ride while she made supper for the three of us. It didn’t take anything more than that and we were both headed for the garage. Pat had done the motor work on both my Panhead and Tom’s Shovelhead so they were ready to ride.

  Both motors had high mileage on them and had been in need of some attention. Now, if we decided to head out West, both bikes would be ready to go. We headed up the coast road to Vero. It afforded nice views of the ocean and, during the summer months, not much traffic.

  That night over dinner, Linda talked about how happy she was we were back and about all her projects at work. She also took us outside to show us all the plants and flowers she had planted around the house. When she accused us both of not even noticing I could only say that I thought something looked different. Of all the places we had lived through the years, I had never seen her take any interest in the outside. It seemed that Linda had taken a real liking to this place and as she proudly showed us the fruits of all her labor, I couldn’t help but think that she well deserved a home of her own.

  That night it seemed that Tom and Linda were doing all the talking and I was once again lost in thought. I was having to make a conscious effort to contribute to the conversation. I was thinking a lot about being at a point in my life where I would soon have to make a decision about a particular path and commit to it.

  The next thing I knew Linda was suggesting I go to bed. Apparently, I had dozed off on the couch and she was gently waking me.

  When I awoke the next morning I found myself alone in bed and the smell of breakfast in the air. I must have been really tired I was thinking to myself as I dressed and headed towards the kitchen. There I found Tom and Linda again in conversation.

  “Don’t you guys ever get tired of talking?” I teased.

  “Well, we’re not like you,” Linda quipped back. I knew exactly what she meant.

  “Don’t you have to work?” I asked her.

  She informed me that she had some meetings that didn’t start until noon and that she would be leaving in about an hour. As I sat down Tom got up explaining that he had places to go and people to meet. I knew, too, what that meant.

  “So, what are you doing today?” Linda asked as she handed me a cup of coffee.

  I told her that I had intended to arrange a meeting with Mr. Saxton so we could finalize our deal. She wanted to know if I thought he would honor his end of the agreement. I assured her that he would but even I wasn’t totally convinced and that’s why I didn’t want any more time to lapse before meeting up with him.

  As Linda slid a plate of breakfast food down in front of me she said that we needed to talk. Damn, I thought, here we go.

  “About what?” I asked knowing well what she had in mind.

  “Us,” she replied.

  “What about us?” I asked, again acting stupid.

  “Look,” she said. “You know what I mean so, stop acting stupid.”

  “Ok, alright. Let’s talk”.

  I had promised her that we would have this conversation the day Tom and I had left for the islands. Now that time had come.

  Linda then explained that she and Tom had talked. Tom, I was thinking, what’s he got to do with this. She went on to say that in the course of their conversation last night and again this morning, Tom had asked her if a final, ‘one last time’ trip to the Black Hills was possible for him and me. Damn, he’s good, I thought.

  “Look,” I said, “this Black Hills thing is all Tom’s idea.”

  “Oh, so you don’t really want to go?” she asked.


  “Well . . . ,” I said before being cut off.

  Linda then cut through all the bullshit and for the next five minutes explained to me how it was going to be. Tom and I could go, in fact, she insisted that I go and that I enjoy myself but when I returned, it was with a decision about our future. It would be a total commitment to a long term relationship which included the start of a family.

  Sitting there having it all explained to me I could sense she was dead serious this time. When she was through I knew that no ‘You know I love you’ would smooth anything over.

  All I could say was “Ok, you’re right”’ and I let it go at that.

  “I gotta go,” she said kissing me on top of my head as I sat there finishing my breakfast.

  A couple phone calls and I was able to reach Mr. Saxton. He said he was glad to hear that we were back stateside and sounded anxious to finalize our agreement. When I asked about that afternoon, he agreed to meet and suggested a time and place. He again thanked me for our efforts.

  Ironically, the place ended up being the same restaurant where it all began that night when Bruce had picked me up from a road out in the middle of Alligator Alley. As I walked inside, I could see that the booth Kevin and I sat in waiting for Bruce to return was empty. I walked over and sat down.

  I was a few minutes early so I ordered up a beer and again recollected all that had transpired. With these thoughts, I noticed Mr. Saxton coming through the door of the restaurant. He saw me and headed in my direction.

  “You look like you’ve been in the sun,” he said as he sat down.

  I then remembered we had spent a week on André’s sailboat and our previous tans had darkened considerably.

  “Ah, yes sir. André let us use his boat for a few days.”

  “So,” I said, cutting through the chit chat, “how do we do this?”

  “You tell me,” Mr. Saxton replied.

  “Well, I was thinking cash.”

  “Not a problem, but may I make a suggestion?”

  He suggested getting a safe deposit box at his bank and that he would deposit the money into it. He went on to suggest that I get the box in my name then give him the key. He would then deposit the money and return the key.