Corcovado, Or Quiet Nights of Quiet Stars

She nodded. "Yeah...I get that..."

Ted was rummaging through a pantry about then, and he stood up, beaming, holding forth a can: "Dad! Look! Pork and beans, with weenies, even! Trace? Want some?"

She sneered again. "No thanks."

Ted looked at his old man - and winked.

+

She helped with the dishes, and he let her know he appreciated the help, then he went to the chart table and looked over the batteries.

"Gonna have to run the generator all night?" Ted asked.

"With this water temp the fridge and freezer won't draw too much; but the heater's another matter. Fans and pumps won't run off batteries for long."

"So? We've got good blankets..."

"Yeah? And at 38 degrees, and with three bodies in here - there'll be enough condensation on the ceiling to take a shower..."

"Dad? We're like, ya know, laying down a smoke-screen out there. The fumes are overwhelming."

"So?"

"Well, do the words 'pristine' and 'wilderness' mean anything to you?"

"Does freezing your ass off all night mean anything to you? Then dealing with an unholy mess in the morning?"

"I vote for warm," Tracy said, tossing her two cents into the cup. "I kind of like warm."

"Me too," he said. "Don't you just love democratic systems of governance, Paco?"

Ted sighed, shook his head. "I like warm, too. I also hate turning this harbor into a cesspool. Like, we came here to get away from all that crap?"

"Right, Paco. Who's up for a movie?"

"Movies?" Tracy said...and he sighed - then turned the generator to AUTO and flipped the heater to STAND-BY - and complete silence enveloped Altair...and the entire cove, for that matter.

And moments later he heard cheers and applause coming from all the boats anchored around Altair, and he shook his head as he retreated to his cabin.

+

He slept late - 'til three a.m., anyway - when he got up - shivering - and turned on the generator, then the heater. He put on coffee and took his shower, then fired up the chartplotter and looked over the weather. "Wind still out of the west, at forty, forty-five, and rain all day. A high of fifty-five? Well, well, well...sounds like a good day to read."

He decided to check on Ted and poked his head into the aft cabin - and saw Tracy curled up by his son's side.

He closed the door gently and tip-toed to the galley, trying not to grin, then he put on some hot water to make that tea-like crud Tracy was using to help back off the heroin. He got out "her" cup and added the recommended amount and let it steep for a while, then he went back to her room and woke her.

"Is it time already?" she asked, and he nodded.

He went back to the galley and a few minutes later she came out, looked at him getting ready to cook breakfast and she walked up behind him, put her arms around him.

"Good morning," she said, then she disengaged and walked to the main table in the saloon and sat - as usual - tucking her bare feet under her thighs.

"Sleep well?" he asked, handing her the mug.

She looked at him and grinned. "I wish I'd known he was a virgin," she said, her voice almost a whisper. "I'd have baked him a cake or something..."

He shrugged. "All things being equal, I'm kind of glad it was you."

She teared up at that, then turned away. "Me?" she said a minute later. "The lying heroin addict?"

"Sorry. That's not the girl I know. I know this girl named Tracy, the one who meets problems head-on, and doesn't quit."

"That's not the girl I know. I'm the girl who runs. Always has."

He shrugged again, then smiled at her. "Looks like we're in for a long, rainy day. You like to read?"

"Depends..."

"Well, I've got a few books stowed for days like this..."

"You said you have movies?"

"Yup. On my laptop. Play 'em through that iMac over there," he said, pointing.

"Do you have any oldies?"

"Oldies? How old does a movie have to be before it's an oldie? The first Star Wars, maybe?"

She grinned at that. "No, I mean old-old...like Elvis kind of old."

"Ah. Well, I do have Paradise, Hawaii Style, if that counts?"

"Which one's that?"

"He plays the fired airline pilot who comes home..."

"That figures," she said, grinning. "I bet you have The High and The Mighty, too." And he started whistling John Wayne's iconic theme at that, and she broke out laughing. "My God, you do have a one track mind, don't you?"

"You could say that."

"I've been meaning to ask...what happened to your leg? The right one, there?" she said, pointing.

He turned away from her question, went back to the galley. "Just a bad night," he said as he pulled out a skillet. "A bad night, a long time ago."

"Was it serious?"

"No, not really."

"You don't want to talk about it?"

"No, not really."

"Okay. Can I help?"

"I'm just gonna whip up some breakfast. You hungry?"

"Actually, yes. Want me to wake up Ted?"

"Just see if he wants to get up yet..."

She walked past, brushed up against his back as she passed and a chill went up his spine, and he leaned forward, put his outstretched hands on the counter and closed his eyes, trying to remember the last time he'd been so attracted to another human being...

+++++

"Hey, Pumpkin," he said as he came into their apartment. He was carrying his flight bag in one hand, his car keys in the other, and he could hear Barbara working away in the tiny kitchen, so he put his bag down and walked that way. He smelled bourbon then and the realization unsettled him - if only because it wasn't quite lunch time.

"Hey," he said quietly, "I'm home."

"How was your night?" she asked.

"Long."

"That Ben Chambers called this morning. He wants you to check-in as soon as you get settled."

"Oh? Did he say anything?"

"Nope. You want to grab a shower? Lunch will be ready in about ten minutes..."

"Yeah. I'd better," he said, thinking he might have to run back out to the training center after lunch. He walked into the bedroom and the hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Something didn't feel right, he thought. Something was - really off.

He shook it off and hopped in the shower, washing away the night - and the sudden panicky-feeling that had just gripped him, then he dried and got dressed...in a hurry. She had huevos rancheros and fresh guacamole on the table and he dug in. "Jeez, darlin' - you're getting better and better at these..."

"Thanks," she said. "Glad you like 'em."

"Well, I love you, Pumpkin. It's sweet of you to do this for me. When do you go in?"

"Three to midnight again. You off tomorrow?"

"Three days off, then I start Atlanta to CDG - for three months, anyway."

"Paris...? Think we could spend a long weekend there?"

"You know it, babe. When you get the time, let me know."

She sat beside him, leaned over and kissed him on side of the neck, then she smiled. "That could be fun," she added...a little too suggestively.

"Where would you like to stay?"

"I don't care...somewhere old, away from...no, you know what? Maybe by Notre Dame. Are there any little hotels over that way?"

He shrugged. "A couple..."

"Could you see?"

"Sure. You need help with the dishes?"

"No...you'd better make that call," she said, and he nodded, went to their bedroom again, and again, the hair on the back of his neck shot up in electric warning.

He shook it off, called Chambers' office at the training center and held while someone went to find him...then his voice was on the line...

"Jim? You haven't put on your pajamas yet, have you?"

"No, sir. What's up?"

"An opportunity, I think, if you're up to it?"

"Oh?"

"Listen up. Word is headquarters is dead set on unloading most of our wide-bodies, including the L-1011s. I don't know what the timeline is yet, but even if we keep the TriStars around you're way back on the seniority list. I could be ten years before you get to the left seat, and then what? You make it just as we dump the type? Then what?"

"Jeez, Ben. When'd you hear this?"

"Couple hours ago. Look, I know you're getting ready to start next week, but here goes. We're getting our first 752s this year, and from what I hear, management is really going to get behind this hull. I'm thinking, with your experience, you could make captain in two, maybe three years, and the -57 is Delta's future. You hearin' me?"

"I am. And, what's the punchline?"

"Our first school starts in three weeks. You can start the Paris run as scheduled, but put in your app right now - and wait. I think they'll take you in the first class."

"What do I need to do?"

"I'd get down here pronto, and get the paperwork in."

"Like, this afternoon?"

"Like yesterday, Jim. The word's gonna be out soon. Tomorrow will be too late for the first group of FOs."

"I'll be there in an hour," he said as he hung up the phone, and when he turned around Barbara was standing in the doorway, glowering at him.

And that's when he noticed the used condom on the floor by her shoes. He looked at it for the longest time, then he picked it up and carried it right past her on his way to the bathroom. He flushed it down the toilet, washed his hands then left - without saying a word to her.

He missed the smile on her face as she closed the door behind him.

+++++

"Two days of this rain is enough for me, Paco. I've had it. You ready to run down to Nancy's, grab some chow?"

"Oh, man, I thought you'd never ask!"

"Is Nancy's that place you two keep talking about?" Tracy asked.

"Nancy's is only the best place for breakfast on earth," Ted sighed, suddenly almost salivating.

"And what that really means," he added, "is that he's tired of my cooking."

"I'm not," Tracy said, smiling.

"Well, I am," he said. "I could use a break. Ted, you ready to pull up the hook?"

"You wanna leave now?" Ted asked.

"Yup. Maybe we can get there before the early morning rush."

"The early morning rush?" Ted croaked. "In Lund, B.C.?"

"You see all the boats anchored around this cove, Paco? Well, there are probably two hundred more over in Gorge Harbor, and in about an hour they're all gonna wake up and have the exact some thought - at about the exact same time. 'My-oh-my, but a fresh cinnamon roll over at Nancy's sure sounds good right now!'"

"Alright, alright...let me grab my gloves, Captain Bligh."

"Good. I'll warm up the diesel." He preheated the water lines and flipped on the spreader lights, then went into the cockpit and started the engine, watching the gauges as it warmed. When Ted pulled up on the trip-line, and gave him the thumbs-up, he ran the windlass from the wheel, pulling the anchor, and it's chain, up onto deck, then he verified their position on the plotter as he turned the wheel to leave the cove.

Light rain and a wind-driven, four foot chop greeted them outside the narrow inlet, and he set his course to 1-5-6 and engaged the auto-pilot, then went topsides to roll out the headsails. When both were pulling he and Ted raised the main, then he ducked below and fell off a little, letting the sails fill, then he fiddled with the heading on the AP for a while, until a gust hit and Altair heeled over dramatically.

"Whoa!" Tracy screamed, grabbing the cockpit coaming and holding on for dear life. "Where'd that come from?"

He chuckled. "Where did what come from?"

She scowled as she looked at him, then she smiled too. "It is kind of fun, isn't it?"

"Kind of." With her port-side rail over far enough to ship water in the troughs, Altair bit into the wind and began racing southwest towards Lund, and still the sun was nowhere to be seen. The sky was simply sifting through shades of gray as night turned to day, and the water looked impossibly black out here...like India ink. He saw the lights of a fishing boat ahead, and a few channel markers were flashing in the darkness, but there was almost nothing else...

"Dad! Logs!"

He saw them then - almost invisible in the rolling waves - a half dozen timbers had broken free from their raft and were now adrift in mid-channel, so he fell off the wind and they picked their way through what turned out to be several hundred fifty-to-seventy-foot-long timbers, knocked free from their rafts in the storm, so he did what he thought best and called the hazard in to the Canadian Coast Guard...

It took two hours to make the run down to Lund after that, and he was more than ready for a cinnamon roll, too, by the time they tied off at the fuel dock. He was stressed now, afraid of hitting an errant log and holing the hull, maybe losing his home.

"Stayin' long?" the owner, a very old man asked, and when he pointed to Nancy's the old guy just smiled and nodded. "Take your time. No crowds 'til nine or so. See many logs out?"

"Yeah...hundreds..."

"I heard some guy called 'em in to the Coast Guard. That's a laugh..."

"A laugh?"

"They're too busy running down the druggies to do much about shit like that. Besides, happens every summer up here..."

"Oh? I've been here a few times, never seen it so bad."

"They've been cuttin' trees like nothin' I've seen before, and all winter, too. China, I guess. They're building like crazy over there - and usin' our lumber to do it, I reckon."

"Lot of drug running up here?"

"Non-stop. Word is most of it's comin' from North Korea, too. Chinese heroin, I've heard, for the most part. That's kind of funny, don't you think?"

"China has made an art out of playing both sides of the street - for a long time."

"Playin' us for fools, you mean, and laughing all the way to the bank."

He shook his head then started topping off both tanks, but he turned to Ted first, and told them to go on up and get a table.

"Coffee and a roll?" Ted asked.

"Yup..."

"Need water?" the old guy asked. "The hose is right here...I can watch the pump if you want to top off your tanks..."

+

He was chilled - and soaked to the bone - by the time he made it inside Nancy's, and he made it to the table just as his cinnamon roll hit, too.

"Coffee, sir?" their waitress asked.

"Yup. A big one, French roast if you've got it." Then: "You know what? Make mine a latte, if you can."

She nodded, smiled at him and walked off to the counter.

"Man," Ted sighed, "that was some snotty weather, Dad...I don't know about this..."

"Not the weather that bugs me, Paco. It's all the lumber out there..."

"Wouldn't they just bounce off?" Tracy asked. "It's just wood...?"

"Maybe, if you hit one just right, but that's wood soaked with seawater, almost as hard as iron. Odds are, a strike would knock a hole in the hull. A big one, too." Her eyes went wide as she realized what they'd just been through, how close they'd come to a real emergency, then she looked back over her shoulder - and back out to sea. "Talking to the guy at the dock," he continued, "he says this is the worst summer for rafts breaking up, ever. Been a lot of incidents in the main channel, too."

"What do we do?" Ted asked, his mouth scrunched up into a lop-sided frown.

"Well, for one, I think we'll head south slowly, and only on days when the visibility is good, and only in daylight. Next...we'll have to set a bow watch."

"Oh...joygasm..." Ted sighed, knowing what that meant.

"We won't head back until this weather clears, and it's warmed up a bit...man, these cinnamon rolls haven't changed one bit, have they?"

"I just saw a yummy looking bagels and lox," Tracy said. "I'm gonna get that."

He looked at her, wondered just how much she could put away. She'd been eating non-stop for the last two days, said she got nauseated, in fact, if she didn't eat, and he felt for her. Again...

"Yeah, it looked pretty bad," Ted added.

"Bad?" he asked.

"Bad...sick...that means they really kick ass these days, Dad."

"Ah. Well, good to know I have a translator."

The door opened and a girl came in - a woman, really, he noted. Short, squat, almost muscular, and she peeled off her rain gear - then turned and shook them off just outside the door. She came back inside and hung them on a hook, then took a microfiber cloth and cleaned her glasses as she walked to the counter - and he found he couldn't take his eyes off her - because there was something very familiar about her profile.

The place was still empty - but for the four of them and the staff, and he wondered what had gotten this gal out so early. He watched her order coffee at the counter then she turned and looked right at him - right in the eye - and he found he couldn't turn away.

Red hair, white skin set in a nebula of freckles, and even across the room he could see her eyes were deep blue - then the woman walked right up the their table...!

"You came in on the blue boat, right?" she asked - and her accent was pure Georgia, thick as molasses.

He was watching her lips, almost entranced by the shape of them as she spoke, then her words registered. "That's right. What brings you out this early in the morning?" he asked.

She looked puzzled hearing that, then shook her head. "I was trying to get over to Cortes Island," she said, the question she wanted to ask hanging in the air, waiting for an opening.

"Oh? What's over there?"

And again she shook her head, the tone of his question unsettling. "Seals, for the most part. I wanted to take pictures of seals over there, because I've heard it's lovely at dusk."

"It might be," Ted interjected, "if the sun came out once in a while."

She laughed, a little, at that. "Yes. Nice weather so far."

"How long have you got?" he asked.

"Excuse me?" she replied.

"To spend on the island?"

"I was hoping to make it a day trip, but it seems that's impossible from here."

"Yup," he added. "About a two hour trip. From here."

"You've been?"

"Yup. We've been anchored at Squirrel Cove..."

"Really! That's right where I wanted to go. The pictures I've seen of the area are really just amazing."

"We had fifty foot visibility, once," Ted added, a little sarcastically. "Great for looking at, what, Dad? What could we see?"

"Trees. Once."

"And a whole lot of fog," Ted mumbled.

Her coffee came and she took it, still standing by their table.

"Would you care to join us?" he asked.

"You wouldn't mind?"

"Not at all."

"So, you see, I wanted to get to the island, walk around, take pictures, then get back here, to the hotel..."

"I thought there was a boat to Whaletown...?"

"There is, but not for two days."

Not too many places to stay over there, by the cove," he added. A few guest cottages by the general store, but they..."

"But it's too early in the season. Not open yet. I checked."

"Well," he said, then he paused, thought over the question in his mind, "you could hop on with us. We're headed back after breakfast, we'll probably stay a few more days, so you could look for a place to bunk-out over there, then hitch a ride back, with us - or anyone, really."

"You wouldn't mind?"

"No, of course not."

"When are you leaving?"

"As soon as we have some chow."

"I ask as I'll need to go pack my things, and check-out..."

"Why don't you sit down and have some breakfast. We'll help with your bags..."

And when she looked at him this time the still, unsettled look in her eyes rattled him. "I don't mean to be forward," he added. "Probably just be easier that way."

She nodded her head then looked at the dock where Altair was tied-off. "Is that an Island Packet?" she asked.

"That's right. How'd you know?"

"I've had a couple. Last was a 325 I kept down at Destin."

"I hate that harbor entrance," he said, lost in a fleeting memory. "When the wind picks up it's real snarky."

Now it was her turn to look - at him. "You've been there a few times, I take it?"

"My folks. They kept a Tashiba 40 down there by, the pass."

"Oh? Nice boats, beautiful interiors."

He nodded. "Yup. Termite city."

"That's what got you into sailing? Your father?"