An Evening at the Carnival with Mister Christian

"I did."

"I was up here yesterday," she said. "Watching you as you came, when the storm hit."

"Were you going to jump?"

"I was, yes. Until he came."

"And today? Why did you come back?"

She looked at him, confusion the only thing clear in her eyes. "I'm not sure. Something to do with him, I guess."

He slipped Charley into the papoose and stood, then held out his hand. "Come on," he said softly. "I think we need to walk a bit."

"Okay." She took his hand and he helped her up, then without really thinking about it put his arms around her shoulder, the way he used to, so many years ago. They walked quietly along the path, Charley looking over at her from time to time, but for the most part up at him, and she understood. From time to time the pup looked out to sea and sighed.

+++++

He helped her up onto deck, held her hand along the rail and steadied her as she stepped over the tall coaming, then down into the cockpit. "Have a seat," he said as he set up one of the leaves on the cockpit table. "Coffee or tea?"

"Do you have any soda?"

"Coke and diet Dr Pepper. Perrier too, I think."

"A Coke, please."

He put Charley down on the cockpit sole, slid open the companionway hatch and hopped below. Charley came to the little bridge deck and tried to hop up, contented herself with looking at him as he went to work in the galley. A moment later he placed a bowl of water and some puppy chow out for her, then he carried up a couple of cokes and some Irish soda bread.

Charley lapped up the water, took a bite of chow -- then squatted and pooped, so Collins ducked below for some wipes and paper towels, groaning as he went.

"And so it begins," he said quietly as he popped back up. "Potty-training."

"I've never had a dog," Deborah said, barely concealing her disgust as the pup circled and pee'ed next to her feet. "And I feel certain this is the reason why."

"Yeah. It's two to three weeks of serious fun." He bent down and cleaned up her mess, then went below to wash his hands -- when his iPhone started chirping.

"Yello!" he answered.

"Mr Collins? Rod Lethbridge here..."

"Rod! Come on down. Just feeding Charley."

"You're sure it's alright?"

"Yup, just cleaning up some poop."

"Ah."

"Yup, feel free to help." He chuckled, so did the voice on the other end. "You've got the slip number, right?"

"Yes, and thanks for the invite. We'll see you in a few."

He dried his hands, went back up to the cockpit -- only to find Charley curled up on Deborah's lap, both now sound asleep, Deborah's head was nodding forward and jerking back uncomfortably, so he went below for a pillow, got more ice for her drink then went back up and sat beside them.

"You want me to take you below," he whispered in her ear, "get you under a blanket?"

She opened her eyes and jerked awake. "How long was I..."

"Not even five minutes, but it seems you've been through a lot the past few days. Maybe you need a rest."

"I understand dogs better now," she said, rubbing Charley's ears.

"Springer love," he nodded. "Accept no substitutes."

She stifled a laugh -- "Just Springer's, you say?"

"Absolutely. Look, the folks I got her from are headed down; one of them wants to see the boat and I told them to come on down..."

"Would you like me to leave?"

"No, absolutely not! Just thought it would be better if you were awake..."

'So,' she thought, 'it's absolutely not, is it?!' She reached for the Coke but he handed it to her and she smiled, told him "Thanks" as she looked at him anew.

"Could I get you a blanket? I'm afraid it's going to get chilly soon."

She looked around the cockpit, at all the displays and instruments... "What? No heater out here?" she smiled as she looked at him.

"Don't laugh," he said, grinning. "I can get it steaming in here -- and fast."

"Oh, of that I have no doubt..."

He turned beet red then Charley sat up and sniffed the air, so he looked down the dock. "Yup, here they come!"

"How did she know?"

"She's got a good nose..." He climbed out of the cockpit and walked over to the boarding gate just as Rod and his wife arrived.

"Shite!" was the first word out of his mouth. "This is bloody huge!" His wife laughed, but she was looking up and down the length of the boat, shaking her head. "What is she? An Island Packet?"

"Yup, a 485."

"Bloody hell. How long?"

"Fifty one feet. Well, we don't stand on formalities around here. Come on up..."

Rod hopped up and immediately went forward; his wife just stood there -- still shaking her head.

"Boys and their toys," she whispered.

"I take it he asked you to come?" Collins whispered.

"Begged would be a better choice of words," she said loudly.

"Pleaded, dearest. Don't exaggerate; it's most unbecoming."

"Better take my hand," Collins said, leaning over the rail.

"No rats on board, are there? Other than that big, fat one," she asked, pointing at her husband.

"Not to my knowledge, but watch your step."

"Okay." She reached up, took his hand and he lifted her up.

"Shite!" Rod almost shouted. "She doesn't even move when she stepped aboard!"

"Well, with all the gear onboard, she displaces fifty thousand pounds."

"Bugger."

"Deborah!" Collins heard Mrs Lethbridge state, "what are you doing here!?"

Rod looked at the cockpit, squinted, saw Deborah and made a beeline amidships.

She's like honey to the men around here, Collins thought. Amazing. He made his way aft to the 'pit and went to the companionway. "Better hand the little girl to me," he said, his arms outstretched, and Deborah passed her over -- reluctantly.

"Mind of I come down," she asked.

"No, not at all." He held out one hand and helped her down, then went forward to his office. He'd put Charley in the little nesting area he'd made for her, but as soon as he put her there she started whimpering, then crying.

He sighed, picked her up and held her close. "Okay, kiddo," he began, "let's get this straight right now. No crying...no whining. It's time for a nap, okay?" He cuddled her to his neck, then put her back in the nest and wrapped a blanket around her, then turned on the sound system and shut the door. He had settled on a Brandenburg concerto and smiled when the music began, then he turned -- and found Deborah standing there, staring at him.

"Thank you," she said as she stepped into his arms.

"For?" He sighed at the wonder of it all...

"For being there." She wrapped her arms around him, placed her head on his chest.

He didn't know what to do, so he put his arms around her, kissed the top of her head, a gesture that would have been comfortably familiar just a year ago -- but a gesture that felt new and unsettling in the here and now. "You're gonna be okay now," he whispered. "I know it."

"Am I?" She leaned back and looked up into his eyes, then down, at his lips.

'So there it is,' he said to himself. So sudden, so unexpected. He leaned in and kissed her gently, then leaned away. "Yes, I'm sure," he said as he smiled at her.

She shook her head, looked into his eyes again. "I feel like I know you," she sighed. "Somewhere, a long time ago, we must've run into one another."

"Honestly, Deborah, I think I'd remember you..." He grinned, kissed her on the forehead. "Can't ignore our guests now, can we?"

"Right, my Lord and Master."

He laughed, walked aft, leaned up into the cockpit. "Drinks, guided tours?" he said to Rod, then to Mrs Lethbridge, "you know, I don't even know your first name."

"Elizabeth," she said, smiling. "How's the little girl?"

"Tired, confused, ready for a nap. Could I get either of you a Coke?"

"You wouldn't happen to have any rum onboard, would you?" Rod asked.

"White, amber, dark. Jamaican, Barbados and Puerto Rican."

"Mount Gay?"

"Lime?"

"You do know you are now Rod's best friend for life, don't you?" Elizabeth said, grinning, and Collins went to the galley and fixed two drinks, handed them up to Rod.

"Elizabeth? What about you?"

"Do you have any white wine?"

"Pinot Grigio and Riesling. Riesling works well with cheese, but I'm out of apples."

"Pinot works for me."

He opened a fresh bottle and poured a glass, then headed up. Rod was looking over all the instruments while sitting behind the wheel, shaking his head, almost drooling as decades of wanderlust kicked in.

He handed Elizabeth her glass, looked at Deborah sipping her Coke and decided a sail just might be interesting enough to be fun: "If the weather's nice this weekend, why don't we take her out for a sail?"

Rod's eyes lit up, Deborah's too, while Elizabeth threw silent death-bombs his way -- causing all to laugh. After they'd been sitting for an hour or so, talking boats and farms and all the dreams fueling their lives, Rod asked the one question Collins had been dreading.

"So, what brought this on, the desire to sail away from it all?"

"It was something my wife and I planned doing at some point. We'd just bought the boat when she fell ill, and after she passed I decided it was time to move on, see if it was going to be something worth doing by myself."

"Kind of a big boat for going it alone, isn't it?"

"It is," he nodded. "There are automated systems for sail handling and anchoring, and they help, but she can be a handful when the wind pipes up."

"Where are you headed?"

"Oh, I read a book once that summed it up best. As long as it's fun. Charley was my last Springer and she passed a while ago, on the trip here, and I just about gave up on the whole thing then. She got me through a lot of the hard times..."

"Could I get a refill?" Elizabeth asked, watching him speak and changing the subject.

"Y'all better come on down," he added, grateful for Elizabeth's quick thinking, "and take the nickel tour -- so you can find your way around down here," he said as he went down the ladder. Deborah followed him, and then he heard Elizabeth telling Rod it was time to leave, Rod objecting, then heading down the ladder -- followed by a seriously perturbed Elizabeth spitting flames and smoke out her ears.

Yet it was Elizabeth's eyes that went round down below, and she walked up to the head and the forward cabin. "This is nice," she said. "Really quite nice. Is this where you sleep?"

"No, mine's back here," he said, pointing down the narrow passage in the galley.

"There's another?" she asked, incredulous.

"Yup. My office is right by you. Charley's in there, though."

"An office? May I?"

"Sure. Be my guest."

She opened the door and disappeared, came out a minute later and whispered in Rod's ear.

"Bollocks!" he said.

"Look for yourself, then!"

Rod went in, came out a moment later shaking his head. "A washer-dryer?"

"Comes in handy," Collins replied.

"Do you carry that much water?"

"Water-maker. 25 gallons per hour while running the diesel."

"Bollocks!"

"Self-sufficiency, but it comes at a price. Complex systems in a marine environment are always breaking down. You either fix it yourself or pay through the nose to get the work done. I've always found that about half the workers engaged have no idea what they're doing, however, so it's better to do the work yourself. Saves time, money and a lot of aggravation."

They walked aft. "And this is the galley?" Elizabeth asked.

"Yup. Fridge with a separate freezer, microwave, stove and oven, and over here," he added, pointing, "an ice maker."

"Bloody hell!" she said. "I was expecting a paraffin stove and an ice cooler."

"Good for a weekend," Collins said, "but life is consumed with running ashore for ice once a week. More in the tropics."

"Or you could just keep fresh stuff that doesn't need refrigeration," Elizabeth added.

"Oh yes, I have a fair amount of that, too."

"What's in here?" Rod asked, pointed to a short door low in the passageway.

"Open her up," Collins said, and when the door opened he heard Lethbridge whistle.

"Yanmar? How big?

"110 HP, 300 gallons fuel."

"Generator?"

"Yup, and both solar and wind generators."

"Shite. Well, you did it right, that's for sure."

"I'll say," Elizabeth added, now sitting on one of the "couches" in the main cabin. "I can see how this could be fun."

Rod looked at her, then at Collins, a huge grin plastered all over his face. "So," he asked again, "where to from here?"

"Honfluer. Ship the mast to Marseilles then motor up the Seine to Paris. I'll stay there through winter, then work my way down to the Med in April. I want to spend the summer between Marseilles and Corsica, do some diving. I'm not making plans beyond that just yet. We'll just see how it goes. So, what about you, Rod? Done much sailing?"

"A bit of racing. Crewed a few Admiral's Cup runs, back in the day, including two Fastnets, but ever since I've just wanted to cruise."

"What would we do about the farm," Elizabeth asked.

"Rent it out, I suppose. At least until we know if it's something we could do long term."

"Charter a few times down south," Collins said. "Or hitch a ride with someone heading out."

"You perhaps looking for crew," Rod smiled hopefully.

"You never know?" Collins smiled back. "Like I said, if the weather holds let's go out this weekend."

"Deb?" Elizabeth asked, looking at her, "can we give you a ride back to town?"

"You know," she said, "I think I'll walk in."

Elizabeth nodded. "Well, I think we ought to head home now," she added, standing. "We'll call Friday about this weekend, then?"

"That sounds about right."

"Well, thanks for the libations," Rod said as he started up the companionway steps, then Elizabeth followed him up. Deborah remained seated, smiled as they left -- but to Collins something seemed amiss.

"I'll be back in a moment," he said as he followed the Lethbridges up into the night. He helped Elizabeth down then walked with them up to the car park.

"Where'd you run into Deborah?" she asked when they were well away from the boat.

"On the walk from your place."

"You should be easy with her," Rod said. "Still waters and all."

"She's sweet, Sumner, but she's had a rough time."

"Could you elaborate?"

"I don't know how to say this," Elizabeth replied. "Possessive, I guess, and fragile. She doesn't handle rejection at all. Half the men in town are madly in love with her, if you know what I mean."

"No, I don't. Do you mean she sleeps around?"

"No," Rod said, "quite the opposite, in fact. She's sweet as can be, but the more impressionable types are misled by that. I'd say a lot of unrequited love surrounds her in that shop of hers."

"I don't think she does it deliberately," Elizabeth added. "She just gives off this vibe, if you know what I mean?"

"Do you think she's crazy? Off her rocker? Anything like that?"

Rod and Elizabeth exchanged looks up by their car. "No, I wouldn't say that, Sumner," she said. "It's more that she's a fragile soul. Easily confused by life. Like I said, take care with her. Be easy. Gentle."

"She's sweet," Rod said -- almost wistfully -- and Elizabeth looked at him.

"She has the same effect on everyone," she added. "People fall in love with her. Easily."

"Okay. Well, I'll see you this weekend." They soon drove off and he looked around, saw the restaurant on the west side of the marina was still open, just about the time he realized he'd yet to eat so far that day. He walked back to the boat and climbed aboard.

"You hungry?" he asked as he stuck his head below, but she was nowhere to be seen. He climbed below, went forward and found the two of them curled up on the forward berth, both lost to sleep. He shook his head, put a blanket over them and went aft to the galley, nuked a can of chicken noodle soup, then climbed up to the cockpit and ate in silence. A few people were walking out to their boats after dinners out, and he exchanged waves and 'hellos' as the parade drifted by, then he pulled out his phone and checked his email accounts.

He found what he was looking for in his home account, a half dozen notes from his sister-in-law Tracy.

Her divorce was final -- he read in one, she wanted to know what he was up to in another. 'Did he want some company,' seemed to be the thrust of her notes -- and he had to think about that for a while. She was an impossible opportunist, always had been as far as he could tell, but she was also easy to be with and had been a big help after her sister passed. Somewhere along the way she'd begun professing feelings he'd been startled by, even rejected at first, but over time she'd simply worn him down, a shallow victory by attrition.

When he let her know Charley had passed she'd grown almost insistent that he return and see his nephews and nieces, spend time in Seattle with them while she weathered her divorce, and he'd promptly departed Cork for Exeter. Still, he needed to fill her in on his location from time to time, as she was his emergency contact if his SART beacon was ever activated. He drew up a reply that hinted he was en route to France and would be there around Thanksgiving, and to think about bringing her kids over for Christmas. He sent it and was turning to go below when he saw Deborah coming up, holding Charley to her breast.

"I think she needs to go to the bathroom. She was licking my ear, wouldn't stop."

"That's the signal," he said as he leaned over and picked her up. He had set out a piece of astro-turf Charley used to use and he carried her back to the aft deck, set her down. She looked up at him and let fly, panting and grinning at the same time, and when she was finished she ran over to him and hopped up into his hands.

"Good girl! Outside!" he repeated a few times, praising her until he thought she understood, then he carried her back to the cockpit, to Deborah's outstretched hands.

"No one ever praised me like that when I went to the bathroom. I'm jealous."

"Well, let me know next time you need to go. I'll stand outside and cheer..."

"Bosh!"

"That's one I haven't heard in a while."

"What? Bosh?"

"Yup. Sorry, but I was getting hungry and had some soup. Could I fix you something now?"

"I'm not really hungry," she said.

"Ready to head home? I'll be happy to walk with you."

"I was hoping I could stay here tonight."

He looked at her, but she wasn't avoiding his eyes now. Far from it.

"Okay," he said. "I just put fresh sheets on that bunk, so..."

"I wondered if I might stay with you."

"Did you now? Afraid of the dark?"

"Something like that," she grinned.

"Well, I've got to shower, get on some fresh clothes..."

"May I join you?"

"Uh..."

"Look, I'm sorry if this is going too fast, but I...

"You've had a rough few days."

"It's more than that. More like a rough few years."

"Oh?"

"I've been alone. For a very long time. And, well, I think I reached the end of the line yesterday. I either change my life, or I might as well not go on any longer."

He looked at her, then stepped onto the companionway ladder and walked below. She had moved away, back into the main cabin, but now he took her hand and led her aft into his cabin. "You'd better sit down, take a load off."

"A load off?" she said as she sat on the berth.

He sat in the settee across from her, looked at her -- not quite knowing how to proceed. "You need to tell me what's going on. The whole story...because I don't know the why or really even what happened today up there on that cliff. I've been ignoring whatever it was, hoping the whole thing would just go away..."

"But he doesn't go away, does he? He never did, I guess. He tried to becomes the conscience of a generation, and he was killed by the insanity of those times, but you can't kill an idea, can you?"