The Magnificent Eight

I was instantly aggravated. Who was Michelle, to tell me what to think? But she was right on the rest. It felt like a lifetime had passed and I didn't know where to start connecting again. Also I had made it clear that she was free to do as she wished and she was young and beautiful, so she may have already slept with other men. She might even be living with somebody.

"I... I can't. She's broken my heart once. I can't afford a round two." My ride had arrived and there were other people approaching the parking lot. "you're right though. It's time." I was in the limo and gone before she could formulate a response.

I lay awake for most of that night wondering how I felt about what I had to do next. My heart ached whenever I thought of Amy but the intervening months had probably taught us both how to be without the other. Now most of that sharp pain had faded leaving behind the dull ache of loss and what could have been. I had even stopped reaching out for her in my bed at night.

The next day I visited my parents only to have Mom start on me. "You're not yourself Tim, I can see it. Try make up with Amy." was the first plea. Then. "You love her Tim and she loves you. You know that."

I wasn't about to delve into that too deeply so I cut it short and presented them with my surprise: Tickets for the Ultimate World Cruise. Two hundred and seventy four nights across all seven continents and sixty countries. I got a bear hug from Dad and tears from Mom.

Later, caught up with Erik Taylor. I told him to start divorce proceedings. He informed me that if we couldn't find Amy we might have to file under abandonment but that would require a twelve month waiting period. I signed the papers and flew out.

______________________________________________

I hit the Caribbean in my Aluminum Koopmans 54. A Dutch designed sea going sail cruiser with an auxiliary diesel motor, and Teak deck, first Launched out of Holland in 2006. She had been refurbished, with a new paint job and a full navigation and radio system upgrade and had still cost me less than six hundred thousand dollars.

An old time sailor watched me climb on board for the first time and commented that the greatest day in a boat owners life is when he buys his own boat beaten only by the day he sells it -- damn cynic!

But back to my new pride and joy. The Inside appointments were plush with a good size galley, two cabins with a double bed each and a third smaller crew cabin with bunk beds small, but able to sleep up to four adults.

I named her Amelia. Why? Because I'd always told Amy that as soon as our kids left for college we would get a boat and I'd name it after her. Now although there was no Amy I still ended up calling her Amelia. I had actually searched and searched for names but they just didn't sound right in my head so after much head scratching, Amelia it was.

I learned quickly that it really needed a crew of two to run it, and that excluded the non-stop maintenance work. My first trip was to the Bahamas. I started at Grand Bahama then went to Abaco, Nassau and Andros. My crew consisted of a young Jamaican called John Williams, who had spent most of his life on water.

I had put effort into getting my skippers licence but learned more from him in the six months we sailed together than from anything or anyone else. We got along easily and after a few months on the water, I was starting to feel somewhat seasoned myself.

When we reached port, he would spend the first couple of days hitting the tourist hotspots looking for pussy and he seemed quite successful. He offered to be my wingman and I eventually took him up on it. The first time we cornered a couple of twenty-something year old's from state-side celebrating something or other. All it took was a few drinks some dancing and before I knew it the taller of the two was rubbing my cock through my pants. The fact that I was young enough, in good shape, relatively rich and had my own yacht turned it into a turkey shoot.

Second time, I couldn't go wrong either. John dropped a few hints about my yacht while I remained relatively stand-offish and threw some money about buying drinks. Eventually I was dragged onto the dance floor and I 'let' her seduce me.

The next time I turned it into a game of wondering just how disinterested I could look while two women chased me harder and harder. By the fourth and fifth time it felt like I was clubbing baby seals and I realised that it was only marginally better than masturbating, leaving me feeling emotionally unfulfilled and I quickly lost interest in getting notches under my belt. It wasn't like I was going to meet someone that would matter beyond the next few hours and worse of all, I kept comparing every woman I slept with to Amy and none gave me that out-of-body experience, that she had done right from that very first time. I suppose she was still my Gold Standard for sex, regardless if it was fucking or making love.

I quit the game-playing and the one-night stands, instead finding that I preferred to go exploring and having low key fun, often with others, who like me were sailing the Caribbean.

As far as the boat was concerned, after the first few days of fun, we would clean up and make repairs as necessary. We rarely stayed anywhere longer than a week, then taking on provisions as required we would head to our next destination, which was often decided upon by a chance meeting of other sailors or even the toss of a coin.

We had been sailing together for a little over six months when we got to Puerto Rico. We moored in the Puerto Del Ray, Marina and went ashore. I did some banking hit the highlights, rented a car and enjoyed my time ashore. Three days later and no John. On the fourth day he came by and told me he had found somebody he wanted to get to know better.

I was more than surprised when he invited a young woman on deck. I thought her his latest 'squeeze' and tried not to be too judgemental when he caught my look.

"She's not for me Skipper." He chortled. "Her name is Catalina, Catalina Dias and she's your new crew!"

I stood up in surprise. "She looks very young."

He laughed again. "just talk to her." He said earnestly, I'm going for a beer -- he nodded with his chin to a wooden structure housing something along the lines of a tiki bar and hoped over the side.

Turned out that Catalina was just over eighteen. She said her dad was a sailor, lost at sea. Her mom was living with a man who was starting to put moves on her. She'd left home, got her ID, a brand new US passport as Puerto Ricans are entitled to one and said she had little money but knew her way around boats and wanted to work on one while she eventually got her Skipper's licence.

I took her around the boat and she identified everything in perfect English with a pronounced accent. I quizzed her on a number of subjects from navigation to basic maintenance and although she didn't know everything she knew enough. I was more worried whether I knew enough.

"Please Mr Newhouse, I need this job and I can cook as well. John has told me about the meals he's been making when he cooks and it's not right for a rich man to be eating noodles." Was I a rich man? I guess in some ways I was.

The second problem was that although a bit on the skinny side Catalina looked like she was going to blossom into a beauty queen and that made me even more uncomfortable. I told her I'd think about it and went off to find John. He was drinking beer and called for more when he saw me. He gently disengaged from a couple of young American women of college age who were virtually hanging on him and sat down to focus on me.

"Take her on Skipper" he urged me in his sing-song accent. "You're ready to run the boat without me but you need an extra hand and she needs someone to give her a break."

"Where'd you find her?

"She's been working in bars but looking for a berth on the right boat. I was introduced to her by a lady friend, and it all worked out for me and for her."

"How so?"

"Well now, I get to spend some time on dry land getting to know my lady friend and you get a new crewman!"

And so it was, that Catalina and I sailed out and south towards the leeward islands of the lesser Antilles: British and American Virgin Isles, Bartholomy, Kits and St. Nevis. We learned to work well together and the food got better immediately. When we got caught in storms we rode out the nights with coffee in the wheel house while we chugged along carefully on diesel with the sails furled. On those night's we passed the time talking. We often spoke about our backgrounds.

I was devastated with the paucity of her upbringing considering how clever she was. She was fascinated by my university education. She was curious about the battery technology I was involved in and asked some very pertinent questions although she didn't know enough to clad them in scientific terms. We worked and spoke and bonded like a good crew should until we knew how the other would react in most situations.

Most but not all.

We were stuck in a storm South of Montserat, North-West of Guadalupe. The rain was lashing us and the swells were high. We decided it was safer to stay out than to try make a dash for the harbour when she hit me with the 'sex' talk.

"We've been together over three months and you haven't even patted my bottom." She looked me dead in the eyes and I turned red. "Whatcha waiting for?" she asked her accent getting more pronounced than ever. "I know you're interested!" she declared. " I see you checking me out when you think I'm not looking." Could my face get any redder -- I felt like it was on fire.

I stammered about for a bit then finding my tongue, I told her that she was unbelievably attractive, but was way too young for me. Secondly, she worked for me and finally but importantly, I was in a no-man's land when it came to women.

"How long?" She demanded.

"How long what?"

"How long you in this no man's land?" The storm was unabating and we had nothing better to do so I gave her the shortened version of the mangled wreck of my marriage. She had very definite ideas about that.

"Your wife, she is a stupid puta!" She spat out. "If I was your wife, I would never sleep with anyone but you! Never!" She then considered and pronounced an appropriate punishment. "You should have pulled down her panties and smacked her bare ass real good until your hand hurt and her ass was on fire!"

... And then she switched sides. "Then you should have forgiven her!"

"What?"

"Yes! You should have punished her and forgiven her! You Americans, too quick to divorce and for what? She did not try to deceive you like, like a complete cheating whore. She did one stupid thing!"

... And then the next switch "So you and me is a no-go?" She pouted. "You sure?"

I nodded hard, my mouth dry. "Ok, but if you change your mind, you let me know!" I breathed out slowly. Bullet dodged but if I didn't start putting myself out-there soon... In the meantime I buried my face in the weather radar.

We continued South. Exploring places, honing our skills getting dialled in with each other. A month later we were at St. Vincent and the Grenadines.

We moored at Blue Lagoon Marina on St Vincent in the afternoon and after a quick clean-up and passport control, went ashore. Catalina and I walked about and settled in at the Driftwood restaurant for a very early supper. We went together as she had no other place to go and I had promised her that I'd buy. Soon, I was eating spinach and ricotta stuffed ravioli slathered in a rich cream and garlic sauce, under a mountain of aged Pecorino, sprinkled with toasted pine-nuts and garnished with fresh basil, while she stuffed her face with seared tuna. The large windows looking into the bay gave us a wonderful view over the harbour, which glistened gold in the late afternoon sun. I was taking in the view when I saw two straight-four racing shells in the water. They were doing short runs near a wooden pier where someone was clearly shouting instructions.

When we finished, Catalina chose to sit on the outside patio eating a giant bowl of ice cream while I walked down interested to get a closer look. The two boats were split into a male and a female crew. I remembered reading that the rowing federation was trying to introduce the sport to small nations by supplying them with racing shells -- that meant boats - and ergonomic gym rowing machines. They also paid for coaches to go and train interested athletes.

As I moved closer I could see an Eight seat racing shell and two singles on trestles on the shore. The two manned quads, were drifting slowly next to the pier. The coach was wearing lycra tights and a branded tank-top that read COACH. I slowed and looked at her. She was tanned, fit, strong and animated. A far cry from the woman in my lawyer's boardroom almost a year and a half before. My heart was beating a tattoo and I lengthened my steps to get there before I changed my mind and backed out.

A small bundle by her feet let out a wail and she reached down and lifted a small unhappy baby. It's little pale-brown arms flailed about as she shooshed it and dug about to come up with a baby bottle which she stuck into the baby's mouth and cuddled it to her chest. My legs and heart stopped at the same time. As soon as it re-started, I started back peddling. One of the rowers looked my way but by then I had turned around and headed back up to the Driftwood Restaurant.

Catalina watched me returning, her eyes narrowed behind her long lashes. "What's the matter" she asked.

"My ex!"

She looked back the way I had come and spotted her. "Is that her with the baby?"

"That's her"

"So, she has a baby?"

"Looks like it."

"You want to go and find out if it's hers?"

"Don't think so"

"What's if it's not hers?"

"What if it is!"

"Ok. Then let's get the boat organised Skipper" She shrugged. "We can leave with the tide if you want, but first I must hit the toilet."

I was halfway to the door saying goodbye to the manager and some fellow guests we had met earlier, when they looked over my shoulder.

"You could have said hello Tim!"

"Hello Amy." I answered warily.

"Come talk" she cut me from the herd and guided me towards an empty table.

"How are you Amy?" My heart was heart was hammering in my throat, pumping adrenaline like poison around my whole body.

"I thought it was you walking up the hill. I followed, hoping it was, and trying to gather my courage to approach you." She spoke softly her voice at the point of breaking. Why didn't you come down to meet me?"

"You, uh, look good Amy." I managed to say without tripping over my tongue.

She looked me over for a long while, her eyes taking in my long hair, beard and deep tan. "You look like a damn pirate." She laughed softly, then. "Did you come all the way here to find me, only to chicken out at the last minute?" She accused, her eyes sparkling with gentle humor.

"No, no!" I was confused. "This was a chance meeting!"

"Didn't Michelle tell you I was here?" her eyes went from smiling to confused and her body language became defensive.

"No she didn't... I didn't... I had no idea you were here" I admitted, looking frantically for an escape route. She looked so unbelievably good and vulnerable at the same time that all I wanted was to scoop her in my arms and hold her tight, but staying here with her was opening a floodgate of emotion making it difficult to breathe. There was no elegant way out of the situation, so onto plan B. "Well good luck with the coaching. I, I must get going. We're leaving with the tide at midnight."

Her mouth opened and closed soundlessly at my pronouncement and she put her hand on my arm to hold me back but it was brushed aside with disdain by Catalina who barrelled in, sat on my lap and kissed me hard on the lips.

Amy looked aghast. "Jesus Tim, isn't she a bit young for you?"

Catalina fixed her with a mean smile. Aren't you his cheating puta?" she asked with relish. Then she stood up and pulled me to my feet. "You go to the boat skipper." She instructed "I'm not finished here."

My head was spinning and my brain was on tilt. I walked away numb to the bone. Behind me I heard Catalina. "You're going nowhere bitch, till I finish with you!"

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I was busy packing and making things ship-shape in preparation for departure when I heard footsteps on the deck culminating in the galley.

"You named her Amelia." She sobbed and threw herself at me. I had to catch her as she wrapped herself around me. "The baby's not mine Tim, his mom is one of the rowers." My heart lightened but not fully. Not yet.

"So, no baby-daddy then?" I tried to sound as casual as a man whose life was hanging on her next words, could.

She leaned her head back so she could look up and meet my eyes. "No long term, no short term, no one night stands." She gasped. "Hell, you'll have to blow the cobwebs from my pussy and I'm sure my hymen's grown back."

I burst out laughing. "What are you doing here, I thought Catalina would have told you off by now"

She shook her head. "No, in fact the exact opposite. After finding out that the baby wasn't mine we had a talk." She caressed my face with her hand. "That night really fucked us up didn't it?" her eyes filled with tears ready to be shed. We've been fucked-up ever since!" I nodded, it was true.

"Do you know what that little vixen told me?" her eyes flashed dangerously. I shook my head no. "She said if I didn't come over and make love to you tonight, she would!"

I laughed and she slapped me on the chest. "Don't laugh at me Tim, my heart has been broken for a very long time." She reached inside her top and pulled out a gold chain that hung round her neck. My wedding band was dangling on it like a pendant. "I keep you close to my heart."

She turned and rummaged about in her small backpack and brought out a dog eared envelope. "You never even bothered to read it!" She accused me. "In it I told you I would wait forever and a day for you to come back to me and I would never stop waiting."

"But then you told the gang that you would divorce me."

"I was angry with you. With me. Mostly me. I was lashing out at the pain." She pushed the letter into my hand. "Read it" she insisted and collapsed onto a seat looking like her legs had lost their strength. She was shaking as I tore it open and pulled out a single sheet of handwritten paper:

Tim, I know you hate me right now. I hate myself more. The only thing I have left to give you is time. Time to heal, time to find forgiveness in your heart for the one stupid mistake I made.

Please don't wish you could have me back the way I was before, because I can't turn back time but, believe me when I say that you don't want that woman back. She was too full of herself, her success, her career, her belief that anything and everything was hers for the taking.

This new me has tasted defeat and loss and I've matured fast. Now all I can think about is the possibility of not having you in my life. No children running around our home. No making plans for our future, no vacations together, no us entwined in love, No growing old in each other's arms.

I'm leaving to give you the time you need to forgive me. Take as long as you need. Do whatever it takes. When you are ready come get me. If you don't know where to find me, ask Michelle. I'll be waiting.

`

I will wait for you.

Your wife

My knees buckled with the weight of the pain we had inflicted on each other. The time we had lost and kneeling in front of her I wrapped my arms around her waist and lay my head on her lap. I couldn't speak because the words wouldn't come out.

"It's been almost seventeen months." She stated. "I thought if you didn't come for me, I'd wait for my contract to finish then go throw myself at your parents mercy to find you." She stroked my face and my hair and I saw that she still wore her engagement ring and wedding band. She was crying silently, holding herself rigid to prevent a complete break-down. "It hasn't gotten any better for me. In fact each day away from you has become worse."