On a Summer's Breeze

"You make quite a fashion statement, don't you?" he said as he laughed. He reached down and scratched behind Fudge-butt's ears. Instant friend for life made if her tail sweeping the deck was a good indicator.

"Gave all the good stuff to Goodwill. Wasn't planning on any parties this trip."

He nodded, stuck his right hand out, "Call me Hank, would you? Nice to meetya?"

"Adrian," I shook his hand. "This is some boat," I said as I looked around. "Really nice."

"You like it?" he asked incredulously. "I think it's fuckin' butt-ugly, myself."

"Right. Usually, uh, people buy boats they, uh, like."

"This was Katie's big idea, her choice."

"Ah. Well, maybe it's the helicopter." Hank laughed.

"Go get a drink. What's his name, by the way," he said as he rubbed Scooter's head.

"Her. Her name is, well, just call her Fudge-butt."

"Good one. The voice of experience, right?" He pointed to the bar in the saloon. "There's some good rum in there. Ask Danny behind the bar for some Luminaria. He'll know how to fix you up."

I left Scooter wagging her tail on the deck and went inside; just about everyone turned and looked at me as I ambled in. Well, you know, I was the only man there with bare legs and seagull shit on his hat. A couple of the guys applauded again and I smiled my way past them to the bar, got two-fingers of rum and a little ice and made my way back to the aft deck. I stumbled to a halt and did a double-take: Hank was talking to a well-known girl about half my age -- she'd already won an Oscar and was pulling in 50 million a picture, or so I'd read not long ago -- when I got it together and made my way back to Scooter's side.

"Is this your dog?" her million dollar smile dazzled as I walked up to them. "She's so -- kewl!"

I never knew the word cool could be stretched out into a four syllable word.

"That's the rumor," I said as nonchalantly as I could. Well, her eyes WERE dazzling. What can I say?

"How old is she?" the actress asked as she knelt beside Scoot.

"About my age," I managed to say as I looked down at her. "Ancient, in other words."

"Adrian, this is Babs; Babs -- Adrian. Y'all shake hands and be friends. I gotta go check on Katie."

So. There I was on the back of this little boat, alone with probably the second most beautiful girl in the world, and the thing is, it didn't feel that way. There was something open and honest in the girl's eyes and somehow I knew she wasn't like a lot of the other folks on this boat. I watched her as Scoot licked her face, then her hand; she didn't pull away or make a face.

She looked like unconditional love and I felt a presence in the air I hadn't felt in some time. I felt the presence of someone taken from me not so long ago.

Like I said. Some days you know things are going to be just a little different.

+++++

She was from Dorset, from a tiny village south of London no one's ever heard of. She'd been cast in a blockbuster movie after being seen in a school play when she about ten, and she'd never once looked back. People loved her, instantly. After being around her for about ten seconds I understood completely. You wanted to love her. You wanted to because you knew it was the right thing to do, like not loving her was to discover some huge fatal flaw not just about yourself, but in humanity itself. The air around her seemed charged, alive. Words like wholesome and pleasant come to mind but miss the mark entirely. Whatever it was, the world had been taken with her for over two decades. It took about two seconds for Scooter to fall completely in love with her, too.

And the funny thing about all this? I should have been nervous. As nervous as a cat in a room full of rocking chairs.

And I wasn't. Not the least bit nervous.

Because it was obvious, all too obvious, you see. This movie goddess was in love. In love, and it had happened right there before my very eyes. Babs was in love with my dog. With my Fudge-butt.

+++++

I don't know why but when I looked in her eyes I felt like I was looking out onto a forest glade, like there was a place of warmth right there in front of me, warmth surrounded by the cold, dark undergrowth I had been consigned to for months. I wanted to walk into that light and lay on the warm grass, to turn away from the darkness of impenetrable brambles and the company of cold memories. I wanted to hold on to that feeling for as long as I could; I hoped she wouldn't walk away too soon and take away that light.

I stood, leaned over the rail, looked down on my little world just below us; she was a pretty boat, objectively speaking, even if I do say so myself. Her teak gleamed even in the indirect light of the night, her brass all polished and bright, her lines coiled neatly. I felt pride when I looked at her, proud she was my home now, proud of the things she was going to do with me, that she was going to allow me to do with the life I had left. I felt Scooter brush up beside my leg and looked down; they were both standing next to me.

"Sarah Jane," I heard her say, and the words rocked me.

"Beg pardon," I think I managed to say.

"Is that your wife's name, then?"

"Oh!" She'd looked at the boat, at the name painted on her aft quarters. "Yes. Yes, indeed."

"Why didn't you bring her? To the party? Is she down below?"

I guess in a manner of speaking she was waiting for me down there, even then.

"She couldn't make the trip," I did manage to say.

"She doesn't like sailing, then? I used to love it so, when I lived with my dad."

"No, she loved to sail. Perhaps as much as I do."

"Well then, why..." she had started brightly, then caught herself.

I felt her hand on mine. It was her hand, wasn't it?

"I'm so sorry," I heard her say. Her voice was almost a whisper.

I nodded, turned to look at her and smiled. I don't know what she saw there but she reached up and rubbed the side of my face with the back of her hand and my eyes closed; I could feel time slowing, slowing, and light was everywhere...

And it was like she caught herself and pulled back from the edge of a great canyon.

"I'm sorry," she said again, again in that whispered voice that somehow seemed more prayer than apology. "Would you like me to leave you be?"

"I can't think of a thing that would make me sadder."

She nodded and turned back to look at the Sarah Jane.

I felt her hand slide down to Scooter's head, felt tiny fingers running through golden hair, and then I felt my wife in the air all around us.

"Right," I heard her say. "Good thing I hate your dog, then."

What a funny thing to have said even then.

We talked for hours and hours. It all felt so right.

+++++

The party wound down in the wee hours; Hank came by once to say goodnight, looked first at Babs then at me and he winked at me, threw a smile my way before disappearing into the depths of his little ship.

"Guess this little shindig is breaking up," I said.

"Right. Well, you've not got too terrible long a walk to make, have you?"

I laughed. "No. How 'bout you? Need a ride?"

It was her turn to laugh. "Oh, no, indeed not. I've been onboard with Hank and Katie for a week. Out to the Channel Islands, to do some diving."

"Oh? See any Great Whites?" I said jokingly.

"A few, yes. Magnificent creatures!"

I shook my head, smiled at her. "You're not really what I would have expected, you know?"

She seemed a little taken aback by that, blinked fast a couple of times while she thought about what I'd said.

"Well," she said at length as she held out her hand, "it was so nice to meet you."

There came a little 'ruff-ruff' and Babs tussled the top of Scooter's head.

"And you too, Fudge-butt! It was nice to make your acquaintance, as well."

I took her hand to say goodnight and she held it a moment, perhaps a moment longer than custom would have it, then she pulled me close and stood on her tiptoes and kissed me lightly on the lips when I bent down to meet her. She turned to leave before I noticed she'd taken my breath away, too.

It was a long walk home, as it turned out. Scoot and I had a lot of grass to cover.

+++++

I love getting up early on-board and making coffee. The two smells, when they come together, are a really fine thing. Sitting in the cockpit, the wind and the waves, the warmth of the mug in your hands -- there's rarely a finer moment to be had on any day. I walked up into the cockpit expecting to see the 'Hell Kat's' immense, hulking stern looming so was a little taken aback when I got up there and saw a vast emptiness where the great yacht had been just a few hours before. I must have stood there open-mouthed for quite some time because my coffee was almost ice cold when I finally got around to it. I put the mug down and grabbed Scooter's leash -- she didn't need much more prompting than that, by the by -- and we were off on our morning ritual: Dawn Patrol.

And I guess I felt a little emptiness in my heart, too. I'd hoped that maybe, just maybe, she'd drop by before leaving, even if just to say 'bye to Scoot. I'd felt a connection during the brief time we were together up there on that vast aft deck, I'd felt good for the first time in a long time. Seeing her again -- well, I'd wanted to feel that way again and again; but who doesn't, I said to myself.

Yet there had been something else about the last moments of that brief encounter, something that had been rumbling away in the back of my mind for a couple of hours. I could swear I'd felt Sarah right there with us those last few moments together. It was like she was watching me -- us, maybe -- and taking stock of things for me one last time. Now I felt embarrassed to have had such a simple minded feeling bother my sleep.

The plan was to make our way down to San Diego and provision there for the long haul south and suddenly I didn't feel like lingering in the marina any longer. I needed to go pay the harbormaster for the slip and pick up a couple of charts on the way, and I knew Fudge-butt wouldn't mind another ramble through the grass, so I started stowing things and getting the Sarah Jane ready for sea. We ambled up and did our business, even stopped and picked up a few last minute treats before heading back to the boat.

Scoot watered half the grass in LA on our way back, her tail was whipping the air and it was as if suddenly she was young again. She started pulling for the boat, raring to head off on our next adventure! Scooter the Sea Dog, off to sail the world! She barked, was pulling hard through bushes and around trees as we crossed onto that last field of grass. The sun was out now, shining on the grass, and the warmth felt so good on my face.

The Sarah Jane was just ahead, a warm breeze was filling in and the way ahead felt bright and warm and full of promise. I noticed a battered old duffel bag on the dock by the boat and a couple of seagulls wheeling in the air above her while I looked through the rigging and beyond to the Pacific out there past the breakwater. Scoot was prancing, full of herself now as we gained the boat.

Babs. She was sitting there, in the shade of my awning, waiting for us.

"I was wondering," I heard her say in that lilting voice of hers, the one that makes grown men swoon the world over, "if you might give me a lift."

"Headed south, Ma'am, but we'd love to have you."

"You would, huh. I mean, love and all that?"

"Yes, Ma'am. I think we could manage that."

"You dear man. Any more coffee?"

Scoot bounded up on deck and was down in the cockpit in a heartbeat, her leash pulled cleanly from my hand, her feathered-tail fanning the air; I watched, lost in wonder I think, as these two girls hugged and kissed and carried on like long lost friends. As I stood there beside the boat I smiled, I smiled at life and love and God and I smiled at Sarah Jane. I know I heard her laughing, laughing out there somewhere on a summer's breeze.

Yes. Some days you know things are going to be just a little different.