All The King's Horses: A Tale Of Eternal Love

by Downs, Alethea

  The mast of the stricken yacht had passed underneath the Bonnie lasses hull, and he knew there had to be damage this time. He just prayed she would stay afloat long enough to make it to his mooring.

  He was grateful the mooring was on the side of the jetty protected from the worst of the storm. What must have happened was one of the other boats came loose and slammed into the Bonnie Lass knocking her off the mooring. The swell then swept her around to the wilder side of the jetty. It was typical that it would be his boat that was affected. Some wealthy businessman no doubt owned the launch or yacht that had come free. Some playboy who only travelled up from Auckland once in a blue moon to go for a jaunt on his luxury vessel, disappearing back to where he had come from without a second thought as to how well he had secured his craft.

  It made Kent furious to think he might lose the Bonnie Lass because of the stupidity of some rich landlubber. His livelihood depended upon this boat being seaworthy. It was nothing to the other fellow to repair or even replace his boat if something were to happen to it. Money was no problem to him. He probably had comprehensive insurance anyway. But what was Kent going to do? If the Bonnie Lass was unsalvageable he was staring bankruptcy right in its ugly face.

  The next swell fortuitously swirled him around the jetty to the calmer water on the other side. Gunning the throttle he shot forward before the next swell reached him and quickly killing the engine hauled on the wheel to bring the boat side on to the mooring.

  The swell picked the Bonnie Lass up and dumped her neatly between the mooring posts. This was his big chance and he was determined not to blow it. If he could pull this off he might just be in with a chance to save her.

  Quickly fastening a rope from the bow to the first post he hung on tight as the wind swung the Bonnie Lass back off the mooring. This was certainly seat of your pants stuff, and now Kent could do nothing but wait patiently in hope that the receding tide would suck him back onto it again.

  This time luck was on his side, and as the old girl was dragged back onto the mooring he managed to throw a loop over the other pole and securely fasten it to the stern.

  Only now did he allow himself the luxury of taking stock of the situation. She was taking on water down below. Not bad enough that she would sink any time soon, but bad enough that he was going to have to leave the bilge pump running.

  She was holed above the water line too, where she had been banging into other boats, and there was also some major damage to the bow. All in all it was going to cost him a pretty penny, because the insurance wouldn’t cover it all, he had set the excess way too high, counting on something like this never happening. He could kick himself for it now, but when all was said and done he had made the decision he thought was for the best at the time.

  Bob had fastened a line to the jetty and was hollering something to him, and as Kent figured the plan was to catch the other end of the rope he held loft he gave him the thumbs up.

  Snaking through the air and clearing the guard rail the rope landed neatly at Kent’s feet. Snatching it up he wasted no time in securing it to the mooring post. It had been a while since he had done the boy scout thing, and never in a storm like this, but if he was to get back to the jetty then the rope was his only option.

  He started out with trepidation, the savage wind ripping at his body and swinging him to and fro as he went hand over hand towards the jetty. If his hands slipped he was a goner. The swell would dash him mercilessly against the jetty piles until there would be nothing left but a broken and bleeding pulp.

  The rain drove cuttingly into his already sodden and bruised body, its icy drops like needle pricks on his bare arms and face. Every so often the salt spray would sting his eyes, and he had to fight the temptation to let a hand go of the rope to wipe them.

  He was five yards from his destination and he could see Bob at the edge of the jetty, arms outstretched, ready to pull him to safety. Then he was there, lying spluttering and cold on the wet planks, glad that the ordeal was over.

  “Let’s get you up to the house and warmed up,” Bob was saying, as he helped him to his feet.

  Kent complied, and was soon sitting at Bob’s kitchen table with dry clothes on and a steaming cup of coffee in his hand.

  “Did you manage to get a good look at the damage?”

  Kent nodded. “Small tear in the hull that’s taking on water, and a larger hole above the water line,” he said, as he warmed his hands on the coffee cup. “There’s bound to be other damage as well but I just didn’t have the time to check it over properly.”

  “You did well to get her back on her mooring. That was a nifty maneuver you pulled off.”

  “Was luck more than anything else,” Kent admitted. “The swell pretty much pushed me back onto it.”

  “All the same, you did extremely well considering the conditions. There’s going to be many a boat lost when this storm finally blows over.”

  Kent had no doubt about that. There were more than a few mooring that had been emptied of their boat, the stricken craft sucked out to sea only to be smashed on a reef or driven back and broken up on some rocky shore.

  “Thanks for everything you’ve done for me, Bob, Kent said tiredly, looking over the top of his coffee cup at his companion. “If you hadn’t phoned me when you did and given me a hand I’d never have saved the Bonnie Lass. I’ll forever be grateful to you.”

  “Don’t mention it. I’ve been in the same position myself a few times in the past. Thankfully there was always someone on hand to help me out to.”

  “Might be the end of the road for me anyway,” Kent said morosely. “I’m kinda light on the insurance end of things I’m afraid. I wasn’t counting on something like this happening you see. So I may have to sell her to someone who has more money than I have to fix her up.”

  “Oh, that’s too bad,” Bob commiserated. “When this storm’s over I’d be happy to look the Bonnie Lass over for you. I’m a boat builder by trade, so I can give you a fair idea of what it’ll cost to repair her.”

  “I’d appreciate that, Bob.” Kent took a sip of his coffee. “Hopefully it’ll all blow over by tomorrow.”

  ♥

  Next morning both men were down at the boat before noon. The storm from the day before had gone, but the havoc it had left in its wake sure hadn’t.

  “Looks like a graveyard out there,” Bob commented wryly, as they stood on the jetty and surveyed the half submerged yachts’ and launches’, and various pieces of timber and paraphernalia floating around the marina.

  “It’s certainly an insurance assessors nightmare,” Kent agreed. “The salvagers will have a field day though.”

  They made their way out to the Bonnie Lass, and Kent stayed on them deck gazing nervously out to sea as Bob made his assessment.

  “What do you make of her?” he asked, when Bob finally came topside.

  “There’s quite a bit of damage I’m afraid. Especially down below. I’d say a conservative estimate would be sixty to seventy thousand dollars.”

  Kent’s heart sank. “The insurance would cover about half that I suppose. But I don’t know where I’ll get the rest from.”

  “Bank won’t extend your mortgage?”

  “No. They made it plain to me the last time I extended it that it would the last time they’d allow it.” He leaned over the guard rail and peered at the hole in the Bonnie Lass’s hull. “Of all them rotten luck,” he fumed. “If I could just have held on till the summer when business picked up I would have been okay. No chance of that now.”

  Life just didn’t seem fair. He looked around the marina at all the millionaires’ boats sitting unscathed on their moorings and felt a tinge of anger. Why couldn’t it have been one of their boats that took a hit? Not only could they afford the repair bill but their livelihoods didn’t depend on having a seaworthy craft.

  He had no way of making a living now, and couldn’t for the life of him think of a way out of the jam he was in.

  CHAPTER FOUR

&
nbsp; Kent sat across the desk from Lloyd Bailey and held his breath. This was the moment of truth. If his bank manager gave him the all clear to extend his mortgage then there was a glimmer of hope he could dig himself out of this mess.

  Bailey closed the folder he was perusing and cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Mr. London,” he said in a brisk and businesslike manner, “but given the estimate on the repairs to your boat the bank can’t agree to extending your mortgage.”

  Kent’s heart sank. He hadn’t held out much hope, but to hear his bank manager close the door on him drove the last nail painfully into his coffin.

  “I wish I could be saying otherwise,” he continued, ”but there’s simply no way you would be able to service that level of debt.”

  Kent leaned back in his chair and stared at the ceiling. “So this is the end of the road then?”

  “I’m afraid so. We have no choice but to foreclose.” He sighed. “I always hate doing this to a valued client, but I really am left with no other option.”

  “I understand,” Kent said somberly. “So what happens now?”

  “We’ll need to get an assessment taken of the boat’s resale value with and without repairs being done to gauge which would bring in the best return.”

  Kent nodded. He was only vaguely taking in what Bailey was saying. He couldn’t get his head around the fact that his dream was ending. He and the Bonnie lass were about to part company forever.

  “Once that’s decided we’ll either repair the boat or put her up for sale as she is.”

  Kent thought hard about his father, and couldn’t escape the feeling that he had let his dad down. The older London had worked hard all his life to scrape together what he had passed on to his son, and now Kent had made his life’s work of no accord. Somebody else was going to sail off with the Bonnie Lass, taking all his father’s savings with him.

  “Are there any questions you would like to ask?” Bailey said, snapping Kent out of his misery.

  Kent thought for a moment. “How long will it be before the Bonnie Lass is put up for sale?”

  “The report will be completed within the next fourteen days. If work needs to be done on her then I guess you could add another six weeks to the time frame. How long she would need to be on the market before she sells is anybody’s guess.”

  “So if she is sold as is then she’ll be on the market in a couple of week’s time?”

  “Yes.”

  “If I can come up with some capital before the report is completed would that be enough to stave off this sale?”

  Bailey peered over the top of his glasses at him. “It would have to be a considerable sum before we would do that, and not from some finance company charging an excessive interest rate. That would place you in an even more precarious position.” He paused as he wiped the lens of his glasses. “But if you can come up with an interest free loan from a friend or family member then I’m sure the bank will see its way to reactivating the loan.”

  Kent drove home from the bank, a cloud of depression hanging over him. He had fourteen days to come up with something. He had no idea what that something might be, but he was going to explore every possible avenue before the fortnight was up.

  Pulling into his driveway and getting out of his car he rested his hand on the door and gazed out over the bay. How could it look so serene when only a few days ago it had raged with such fury? The sea, he realized, could be a man’s best friend or his worst enemy. It could yield up a living to him, or cruelly snatch it away. But he loved that sea even so, and the thought of never making a living from it filled his heart with dread.

  ♥

  The knock on the door jolted him awake. Who could that be? He glanced across at the grandfather clock in the corner of the sitting room. It had just gone noon. Hauling himself up from the sofa he shuffled out to the front door.

  “Hello, you’re a hard man to track down.”

  Kent’s sleepy eyes worked overtime to take in the vision standing on his verandah. She was about the prettiest woman he had ever laid eyes on. “Are you a Jehovah’s Witness?” he asked suspiciously.

  She laughed, and it was the most delightfully feminine sound he had heard in a long time. “You probably don’t recognize me because the last time we met I was in a pretty sorry state.”

  He noticed the stunning green eyes, and then spotted the shirt slung over her arm and it suddenly dawned on him. “You’re the lady I pulled out of the water the other morning.”

  She smiled sweetly at him. “Yes, I am, and I’m very grateful to you for saving me.”

  “I’m glad to see you’ve made a full recovery,” he said, the last vestiges of slumber fading from his foggy brain. “You didn’t look too crash hot that morning.”

  “I can assure you I didn’t feel too crash hot either, Mr. London.” She held his shirt out to him. “Thank you for the use of it. It was very kind of you.”

  “No problem.” He looked down at the shirt in his hand for a moment. “Would you like to come in for a cup of coffee?” he asked suddenly.

  “That would be nice as long as you’re sure I’m not interrupting you.”

  “No,” he assured her. “I was just taking a short nap. Please,” he stepped back and held the door open, “come in.”

  She followed him through to the kitchen.

  “Have a seat.” He waved his hand in the direction of the table. “So how do you take your coffee? It’s only instant I’m afraid.”

  “Milk and sugar, I haven’t been able to free myself of the sugar habit yet.”

  “Me neither. It’s ghastly stuff without something to sweeten it up a bit.” He looked up from his chore. “I’ve just realized I don’t know your name.”

  “It’s Christy…Christy Lane.”

  “I’m Kent London.”

  “I know. I asked around town who the wonderful man was who pulled a silly woman out of the surf the other day and that’s the name I was given.” She took the cup he offered her and waited for him to sit down before she continued. “This is the fifth time I’ve been around to thank you. The last time was earlier this morning but you weren’t home then either.”

  “I was with my bank manager.”

  She noticed the expression on his face. “Bad news…?”

  “Yes. It’s about as bad as it gets I’m afraid.”

  She started to get up. “I’m sorry I’ve come around at a very bad time.”

  “No,” he said quickly, to allay her concern, “you’ve timed it perfectly. I’ve been wallowing in self pity, and there’s nothing like spending time with a beautiful woman to break a man free of that.”

  “Ah, I see you are very good with women.” She took a sip of coffee and peered at him over the top of her cup. “Couple that with those smoldering good looks and I beat you have the ladies go weak at the knees when they are around you.”

  He laughed heartily. “And I see you’ve got a sense of humor. You’re the only lady who’s ever gone weak at the knees in front of me, and that was only because you were coughing up a lung full of water at the time.”

  She smiled at his joke. “You underestimate yourself. Look…just say no if you don’t want to, but how about having dinner with me tonight? I’m a pretty fair cook, and I would like to say thank you properly.”

  “You don’t have to do that, Kent assured her. “I was glad I was on the spot to pull you out. It was a tragedy the town and your family could do without.”

  “Even so, I’m hoping you will have dinner with me.”

  Kent thought about it. It would bust him free of melancholy for a few hours. He hadn’t thought about his sorry situation the whole time he had been chatting with her. Dinner might just be the thing to put a bit of zap back into him. “Okay, I’d love to have dinner with you.”

  “That’s settled then.” Reaching into her handbag she pulled out a notepad and pen. “Here’s my address,” she said, as she hastily scribbled it down. “Is six-thirty okay?”

  “Sounds fine.”
>
  “Great.” Getting up she pushed the chair back under the table. “I’d best get down to the supermarket and hunt for what I need. I can’t have you thinking I’m a bad cook as well as a lousy swimmer.”

  After she was gone Kent took the empty cups over to the sink. She had certainly made an impression on him. Quite apart from the sensational eyes and long auburn hair, which would have appealed to any man this side of the grave, she possessed that certain something that lifted her head and shoulders above most other beautiful women he had met.

  She was feminine without even trying that was what it was. She possessed an elegant grace that he just couldn’t help being drawn to. Yes, tonight was going to be special. It was just a shame he would be going to dinner with all this other rubbish hanging over him.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  She opened the door on the fourth knock, and Kent barely suppressed a gasp. “I didn’t realize I was supposed to dress up,” he said apologetically, as he took her in from head to toe. She was quite simply jaw droopingly gorgeous.

  “You weren’t. I didn’t tell you to,” she said quickly. “It’s just that I haven’t dressed up in such a long time, and I decided tonight I would.”

  “I feel like I should go home and change.”

  “No, you’re fine as you are,” she insisted, taking him by the arm and drawing him inside.

  His nostrils were immediately overcome by a delicious smell wafting through from the kitchen. “Something smells good.”

  “I should hope so. I’ve spent a lot of time on it,” he admitted. “Come through to the lounge.”

  “It’s a beautiful place you have here,” he commented, after he had seated himself.

  “It’s rented,” she confessed. “But I’ve always wanted to live by the sea, and so I made the move north from Auckland to fulfill that dream.”

  “You haven’t been in town long I take it. I haven’t seen you around before.”

  “I’ve only been here a few weeks.” She was talking to him through the open door to the kitchen, and every now and then he could hear a pot lid clang. “My father is going to be joining me in a week’s time. We’ve always been close so it’ll be nice to have him here.”