Dreams Adrift (A River Dream Novel) (20 page)

Jeremy pulled off his ball cap and wiped a
bead of sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand. “Mike,
have you thought up a name for her yet?”

This was something Maeve and I had discussed;
however, we hadn't agreed on anything. Now I would have to come up
with a name myself.

“
Actually, Jeremy, I was thinking
of calling her
Cuarto
,” I said.

Setting his cap back on his head, he gave me a
puzzled look. “Kwardo, what does that mean?”

Feeling a tad facetious, I said, “It’s Spanish
for fourth. She’ll be my fourth sailboat.”

Jeremy laughed and shook his head. “I get it,”
he said, “but I don’t think that’s really Spanish.”

I laughed too. “Actually, it really is,” I
said. “Can we get that name on her sometime before Labor
Day?”

“
I reckon so. Why before Labor
Day?” Jeremy asked.

“
Dad and I are setting sail for
the Bahamas after Labor Day,” I told him.

“
That’s the date you chose, eh?”
Jeremy said. “I’m glad to hear your dad’s going with you. Not that
I don’t think you could handle it, Mike, don’t get me wrong. But
there’s safety in numbers.”

“
I know what you mean, Jeremy,” I
said, grateful for his concern.

We left the marina and went to Arapahoe to
pick up some groceries at Bellagio’s. Grace at the register offered
me her condolences. “Your Maeve was a real sweet girl, Michael. She
always had a kind word when she came in here.”

I shoved my wallet into my pocket and picked
up the remaining grocery bags. “Thank you, Grace. Thanks for your
kind words,” I said.

“
Well, now, Michael, you take care
now, you hear,” Grace said.

“
Yes, ma’am, I will,” I promised
her as I made my way to the door.

Once in the car, I confided to my dad. “I know
they all mean well, but each time it’s almost like the wound
reopens just a little, and it stings.”

“
Son, I can’t say I know what
you’re going through, but you’re right, they mean well. Keep that
in mind, and let them say what they feel they need to say. They’re
going to anyway.”

Back at River Dream we fried up a couple of
hamburgers and worked on our sailing schedule. My dad would sail
with me to Fort Lauderdale and then catch a plane home. From Fort
Lauderdale I would sail over to the Bahamas, spend some time among
the islands, and then maybe cross back to the Keys. After that,
well, after that would just have to wait and see. I let my friends
know that at different points in the voyage they were welcome to
come aboard to spend some time.

I also planned several visits home.
Thanksgiving, Christmas, Easter, and of course Malori’s eighteenth
birthday were on the schedule. If Malori hadn’t graduated high
school a year early, I would have had to include her graduation on
that list.

Pushing back from the table, my father said,
“Well son, I think we’ve covered about everything I can think of.
We’ve got the charts we need. Our itinerary seems to cover the
contingencies. I guess we’re as ready as we can be.”

“
I think you’re right, Dad,” I
agreed. “It’s late, and we have a busy day tomorrow. Let’s call it
a night.”

Wednesday morning, over breakfast at the
Minnesott Grill, I discussed with my father the idea of selling
Geddaway
, the twenty-six foot Hunter.

“
I really don’t need a boat that
size,” I said. “For day sailing and short trips I’ve still got
Riverscape
. If I want to go on a real excursion, I’ll have
the Beneteau. I think I should part with the Hunter.”

“
That sounds reasonable to me,” my
father said.

“
Maybe I could donate it to Camp
Riversail, or maybe the community college,” I suggested.

My father nodded as he took a sip of his
coffee. “I’m sure either one would appreciate it.”

“
I’ll talk to Mr. Cooper to see if
the camp wants it first. If they don’t I’ll see if Pamlico
Community College does,” I said.

That decided, we finished breakfast and headed
to the marina. We had just walked over to the office building when
the truck carrying the Beneteau 331 pulled in.

As my father watched, he said, “Michael, I
don’t think we’ll be going anywhere on that boat today.”

When I looked at her, I realized he was right;
we would not be sailing her out of there anytime very
soon.

“
Well then, what should we do?” I
asked him.

“
When was the last time you went
surf fishing?” my father asked me by way of reply.

Thirty

“
Honestly, probably not since high
school,” I admitted.

“
Well, then, it’s about time you
went,” my father told me. “Let’s head up to Fort Macon and see if
they’re biting in the inlet.”

“
Why don’t we just fire up my
fishing boat and head out to the Sound?” I suggested. “I don’t
think I even have any surf rods.”

“
Then it sounds like we’ve got a
perfectly good reason to shop for fishing equipment,” my father
said.

I realized that my dad really wanted to go
surf fishing. Or maybe he just wanted to visit Fort Macon. Either
way I relented.

“
All right Dad,” I said. “Let’s go
surf fishing, after a stop in Atlantic Beach to pick up some surf
rods.”

After checking with Jeremy, who told us the
boat should be ready to go by the end of the week, we headed first
to River Dream to unload the Cherokee, and then to Emerald Isle. My
father drove. It was less than two miles from River Dream to the
Minnesott Ferry landing as the crow flies, but by road it was
closer to six. We got there just in time to watch the ferry pull
away from the dock. Rather than sit there and wait for the next
one, we decided to have lunch at the Minnesott Grill.

“
You two must really like our
food,” Judy, our favorite waitress, said with a smile as we walked
in. “Weren’t you just here for breakfast?”

“
As a matter of fact we were, and
we do,” my father said in reply to her question.

“
Well, come on in and sit down
then,” Judy said. Turning to me she asked, “So, you beat up any
body lately?”

“
No Judy, I’m trying to quit,” I
told her. “Besides I didn’t beat them up. I gave them a stern
talking to, remember?”

Judy laughed, and said, “I remember. Now what
would y’all like for lunch?”

I had a bacon cheeseburger with fries. My dad
had the fried chicken sandwich. I left Judy a tip nearly equal to
the cost of the meal.

“
You shouldn’t do that, you know,”
my father said. “It makes her other customers look bad in
comparison.”

“
She’s a single mom with two kids
in high school who she wants to see go to college. I do what I can
to help,” I said a bit defensively.

“
She’ll probably be eligible for
all kinds of financial aid,” my father observed.

“
Financial aid doesn’t cover
everything,” I said.

“
Haven’t you given her name to the
Lanier Scholarship Fund?” my father asked. The look I gave him
answered for me.

“
I should have known,” he
said.

“
You know, Dad,” I said, “by the
time we get to the beach, buy the tackle, and get to Fort Macon, we
won’t have a lot of time to fish.”

“
So?” was all he said. I shrugged
and got into the Cherokee. Dad got behind the wheel, and we headed
to the ferry landing. There was a short line, and we could see the
ferry approaching the dock. We didn’t have to wait long.

Once we were on board the ferry, my father
said, “We can fish until dark and then head into Morehead City. You
can buy me supper at the Sanitary Fish Market.”

“
I can buy you supper,” I said in
mock indignation.

“
Hey, I’m doing all the driving,”
he laughed. I smiled and realized I was glad he was dragging me to
the beach. It was time away from more familiar surroundings that
would do me some good.

By Friday,
Cuarto
was ready for the
water. My father stayed on and sailed with me when the
representative from Beneteau took me out for a familiarization day
of sailing. By evening, I felt confident I could handle her at
least as far as River Dream. The representative left shortly after
we returned to the marina. My father and I drove to River Dream,
leaving
Cuarto
tied up at the marina dock, and returned to
sail her home Saturday morning. Sunday morning my dad drove back to
Wrightsville Beach in my GTO. He would take care of storing it
while I was gone.

Monday I went over to Camp Riversail and
talked with Mr. Cooper about
Geddaway
.

“
Michael, I would be glad to
accept your Hunter 26. It would be a great addition to the program
for the older campers,” Mr. Cooper said.

That decided, I worked out the details with
Captain Jack, and we drove to the Marina to let Jeremy know. Since
the summer camp season had pretty much wound down, we’d decided to
let
Geddaway
winter at the marina. Jack would come get her
in the spring to get her ready for next summer’s season.

Then it was back to River Dream, where I would
spend the next couple of days climbing all over
Cuarto,
getting to know her every nook and cranny.

My father returned on Friday night, this time
in his Suburban, and on Saturday we took
Cuarto
out for an
overnight trip up to Rockhole Island and back. We anchored
overnight in a cove and then sailed back on Sunday without making
landfall along the way. It gave us some idea of what living aboard
was going to be like.

Sunday evening, just after my dad left to go
back to Wrightsville Beach, Rhiannon called.

“
Hi, Michael,” she said. “How’s
the new boat? You did pick her up already, right?”

“
She’s a beauty,” I said. “My dad
and I took her out this weekend for an overnight sail, and it was
great.”

“
I’m glad. So, will you be leaving
soon?” Rhiannon asked.

“
We won’t leave until after Labor
Day,” I said.

“
We,” Rhiannon questioned with an
odd inflection. “You’re not going alone?”

“
My dad’s going with me, at least
for the first leg. When we get to Lauderdale he’s going to fly
home, and I’ll head to the Islands alone.”

“
Oh, your dad’s going with you,”
she said with relief in her voice.

“
Who did you think was going with
me?” I teased.

“
I’m just glad you’re not heading
out alone is all,” Rhiannon said, ducking the question.

“
No, I’m not,” I assured
her.

“
That’s good,” she said. “Will you
be around next weekend? Let me rephrase; would you and your dad be
able to come to Greenville next weekend to help my dad get me
moved?”

“
I know I can, and I imagine he
can,” I told her. “I’ll call him in a while when he’s had a chance
to get home. I’ll let you know what he says.”

“
Thanks, Mike,” Rhiannon said.
“I’ll talk to you then.”

My father was able to make it. The three of us
- me, my dad, and Rhiannon’s dad - converged on her apartment
Saturday morning. Between Uncle Lind’s pickup, my father’s
Suburban, and the panel truck I rented, we were able to load up all
her stuff and make only one trip. Late that Saturday afternoon, we
arrived at the Nadeau House and began unloading Rhiannon’s stuff.
Both our mothers and Malori, were there to help. When we were done,
we feasted on pizza delivered from Dupree’s.

“
I didn’t think Alfred delivered
out here to the Island.” I said.

Malori gave me a scornful look. “He has ever
since he opened up a new location out here.”

Rhiannon seemed as surprised as I was. “When
did that happen?” she asked.

“
He opened the new place last
spring sometime. Don’t tell me you didn’t notice,” Malori
said.

Reaching for another slice, I said, “I guess I
didn’t. I sure am glad he did, though. This really hits the
spot.”

I hung around after everyone left to help
Rhiannon get settled and make sure she knew where all the switches
and shut-offs were. “If there’s anything you want to change to make
you feel more at home, Rhiannon, please just go ahead and do it.
You have free reign to make this place your own.”

“
I may take you up on that, Mike.
Even though I know you lived here for years, it still feels like
Mrs. Nadeau’s house to me,” Rhiannon said. “I still remember French
Club meetings right here in this living room. We made French Onion
Soup in her kitchen.”

Smiling at her nostalgic reminiscence, I
reiterated, “Rhiannon, anything you want to change, you can change.
This is your place now.”

“
It’s mine for a while anyway,
Mike. Thank you.”

Stifling a yawn, I glanced at my watch. “I
guess I’d better get going. I’ve got a long drive home.”