Chapter 18
“The voyage of discovery is not in seeking new landscapes but in having new eyes.”― Marcel Proust
Sylvia wasn’t used to waking up slowly, without the cold nose of a dog on her hand. The boat had rocked them gently and she had slept deeply. She thought she smelled the coffee and when she opened her eyes, she was disoriented. After a moment, she realized she was on the “True Love.” She did smell the coffee and heard a quiet whistling. Owen. Sylvia smiled. She pulled herself from the berth and pulled on her robe and peeked out of the hatch. He was nowhere to be seen in the cockpit. She climbed out and stood and searched for Owen. There he was, at the bow of the boat, whistling away, cleaning the ‘bright work’ as he called it.
“Good morning!” she greeted.
“Morning!” he replied, smiling from ear to ear. “Did you sleep well?” he asked.
“Mm-hmm, like a baby,” Sylvia nodded.
Owen grinned in reply. Sylvia didn’t see anyone up and about, so she let the robe she was wearing slip open, revealing the sheer, baby doll, nightie beneath. Owen’s eyes widened. His mouth dropped open and the sponge in his hand dropped to the deck. He stepped over some ropes and the cleats at the bow of the boat and came toward her.
“Wow,” he murmured as she leaned back on the cushions of the cockpit.
Sylvia just smiled. She got up and went down the hatch to their berth. Owen followed.
Somewhat delayed, their trip to Baltimore was uneventful. Sylvia was amazed at the amount of boat traffic on the bay. She thought the tankers were enormous and scary. Owen kept well away from them, explaining to Sylvia that the tanker captain would be hard pressed to see their small boat, except at a distance. Owen successfully tacked across the bay towards Baltimore. Once across the bay, Sylvia saw floating, yellow barrels in the water.
“What are those?” she asked Owen.
“A warning,” he said grimly. “They tell sailors to keep away from the army post, Aberdeen Proving Ground. We’re lucky they’re not shooting any ordinance today. There are several pages of ‘do’s and don’ts’ for being near this place.”
All Sylvia could respond with was an “Oh!”
Owen pointed out Poole’s Island and the lighthouse that stood starkly against the extensive wooded shoreline. Sylvia wondered about what parts of American history were buried because of unexploded ordinance and God knows what, at the edges of the Army post. They sailed around Hart-Miller Island and then started up the Patapsco River. Owen referred to his sailing charts frequently and his happy whistling turned to an almost grim countenance. The boat traffic increased, and the expanse of water narrowed. Sylvia wished she could help. Warehouses and buildings and expensive houses dotted the shoreline. As they sailed closer to Baltimore, Sylvia could see huge container ships in port as they approached. Her eyes grew big when she saw the enormous crane used to unload the ships. The area was littered with grain elevators and piles of rock, sand and gravel. She could see trucks moving along the shoreline and the smell of diesel fuel wafted from the shore. After the industrial area, they sailed past Fort McHenry. Owen told her he had sailed with Bran there as a child. They had anchored and had a picnic and were able to tour the fort. It was quite different from the open expanses of the Eastern Shore. There had been houses, of course. Lovely houses, on the Eastern shore, but as with any cityscape, it became more crowded as they approached the city.
Owen dropped the sails and motored through the boat traffic. Sylvia’s thought that it was like a crowded interstate rose up again in her mind as they traveled with power boats, cruisers, water taxis and other sailboats to reach the inner harbor. Sylvia had held her breath as Owen maneuvered their boat through luxury yachts, safely tucked into their boat slips. What Sylvia would call a watery roadway, Owen called a fairway. She wished she knew more about sailing to help him, but she was clueless. She sat back and was quiet as he maneuvered the boat and radioed the marina for instructions. A dock hand came out to assist because Owen had radioed ahead that they were arriving. He had made reservations earlier that week. Owen gave him a generous tip before he went ashore to the office to register. Docked successfully, they both felt relieved, at Henderson’s Marina in Fells Point. They were moored at one of the floating docks. Sylvia looked at the large brick building ahead of them on shore. Owen told her it was an Inn and part of Henderson’s.
Owen was anxious to meet Scotty. He urged Sylvia to get ready quickly. She took a brief, ‘sea’ shower and changed out of her shorts and t-shirt into her linen sundress that she had bought a year ago. She still loved it with its bright irises decorating the cloth. The dress made her feel pretty.
“C’mon, beautiful lady,” Owen told her as he reached for her hand. “Let’s go ashore.”
She smiled at his comment. He had secured the boat and they stepped onto the wharf. Sylvia’s legs felt funny and she wobbled. The floating dock seemed to shift under her feet and she was afraid she might fall into the harbor.
“Whoa,” Owen said, steadying her and taking her arm. “You don’t have your land legs yet,” he warned.
Sylvia took a steadying breath. Owen helped her walk up the floating dock to real land. Sylvia had never felt so glad for her feet to walk onto the solid, wooden wharf that bordered the inn at the water’s edge. Owen had taken a moment on the boat to text Scotty. Scotty was at the Convention Center that was nearby in the Inner Harbor. Owen wasn’t sure if he was taking a water taxi or if he was walking to Fells Point. They began to walk up Thames Street, one of the oldest streets in Baltimore and Fells Point. Owen hurried by many of the shops that beckoned Sylvia’s eye. There were many pubs and restaurants, but Sylvia admired the beauty of the historic buildings of this restored portion of Baltimore.
Sylvia was enjoying the walk. She loved the boat but was beginning to feel a little confined. Walking felt good, even at the pace that Owen created.
“Slow down, a little,” she complained lightly to Owen.
Owen slowed his pace only slightly, “Sorry,” he told her. “I’m looking for the pub Scotty asked us to meet him at.”
“Which one?” Sylvia questioned, “I think there are a hundred here.”
“Probably,” Owen agreed, “It’s an Irish pub called Slainte.”
All of a sudden Sylvia spotted it and pointed it out to Owen. There were small tables with white umbrellas and flags flying just below the red sign with its name. They crossed the cobblestone street. The tables outside were filled. Celtic music wafted out from the doorway. Inside was cool and dark, and they were temporarily blinded from coming in from the bright sunshine. Seemingly from nowhere, a hand clapped Owen on the back. He turned in surprise and broke into a huge smile.
“Scotty!” Owen cried, slapping his friend on the back as well.
Scotty was not quite as tall as Owen, but had long, brilliantly, red hair that was tied in a queue. He wore a black tee-shirt emblazoned with “You are what you Geek” and his company’s website underneath and black jeans. Sylvia wondered if he was broiling in his dark clothes on this humid, summer’s day. Owen introduced Sylvia. Suddenly, she felt a little shy. This guy had a lot more history with Owen than she had. This guy was pretty famous for his successful Geek conventions. She wondered what she would talk to him about. The hostess sat them in a comfortable booth. Owen ordered a Black and Tan and Scotty ordered a Scottish Ale that had a raspberry finish. Sylvia was unsure of what to order. She vacillated about ordering her favorite - a Blood Mary, a glass of wine or to branch out and to try something new. She asked for water and patience while she decided. When the waitress brought the drinks, Scotty urged her to try his ale. She took a sip and was very surprised that she liked it. She liked it very much and ordered one for herself.
As they sipped their drinks, Owen asked Scotty about his latest convention. He regaled them with stories of the sights and events at the Baltimore Convention Center.
“You’ll have to come back with me after lunch,” he urged.
Owen looked
at Sylvia and she nodded replying, “Sure.”
Scotty sat back for a minute and cocked his head, “Listen,” he told Sylvia and Owen, “it’s the High Kings they’re playing.”
“You like Celtic music?” Sylvia asked him.
“I love it,” Scotty told her. He rattled off some of the names of his favorite bands.
Sylvia in turn shared some of her favorites and Owen sat smiling at their enthusiasm. They ordered their lunch. Scotty ordered Shepherd’s Pie. Despite the Irish specialties, Owen ordered a specialty burger, and Sylvia a Salmon burger. Owen pointed out to Sylvia that the restaurant was open for breakfast, lunch and dinner. He suggested they could skip their paltry fare on the boat and eat at Slainte for breakfast or brunch accompanied by a Bloody Mary.
Talk turned to the wedding and Owen asked Scotty for his thoughts regarding a suit or a tuxedo. Scotty preferred a suit, and Owen told him that it was the choice of the other Groomsmen as well. Owen said he would move forward on finding a gray suit, light gray shirt and sage green tie to match the attendant dresses.
Scotty asked about places to stay in North Bay. Sylvia asked if he wanted to stay in a hotel or bed and breakfast.
“I’m not overly picky,” Scotty told her. “I’m used to hotel rooms. But, a bed and breakfast might be nice for a change. That is if it’s not too frou-frou,” he added.
“There’s one in the neighborhood,” Sylvia told him, “just at the marinas. They have a dog and a couple cats if you’re not allergic. You could walk over to our house,” she suggested.
“That sounds great!” Scotty told Sylvia and Owen. “I’ll probably fly into Philadelphia or BWI and rent a car to drive to your place.”
They finished their lunches and began their walk to the Baltimore Convention Center. A breeze from the water kept some of the humidity from cooking them. Even with the breeze, Sylvia felt the back of her neck grow damp with perspiration. The streets were crowded with tourists. They walked to the Inner Harbor and then turned towards the baseball stadium. A couple of blocks from the waterfront, a huge building, filling a city block, rose in front of them. Scotty led them in, flashed a badge and led them towards the section where his convention was going on.
It wasn’t easy to miss. Even in the summer heat, people were in full Sci-Fi costume regalia, Anime costume, and costumes from various video games. They were funneling in, as best they could, through turnstiles. Others were dressed in street clothes and many were gawking and asking for pictures with those in costume.
“This is amazing!” Sylvia told Scotty.
Scotty beamed. They spent the afternoon wandering through the vendors. Scotty and Owen seemed to be catching up on everything that had happened since they left the university. Sylvia interjected an occasional comment, but mostly looked and listened. They left the convention and wandered the streets to Little Italy and found a restaurant that Scotty had researched on his phone as they walked.
“It’s supposed to be one of the best restaurants in the country,” he informed Owen and Sylvia.
Sylvia, feeling a little road weary and sweaty, worried she wasn’t dressed appropriately for the restaurant. But, she needn’t have worried. It wasn’t a stuffy restaurant, just a good one. They had an outstanding dinner, sipping on fantastic wine as they sampled delicious pasta dishes.
With no room for dessert, they wandered back out onto the Baltimore streets. Scotty gave them both huge hugs before turning towards his hotel. Owen and Sylvia made their way back to the bustling streets of Fells Point. The pubs in the area were going full blast with Saturday night revelers. They made their way back to their boat.
“Home, sweet, home,” Owen said as they stepped into the boat and into the cockpit.
It was Sylvia’s night to yawn and stretch. “I think I’ve eaten enough food for a week,” she complained to Owen, “but, what a beautiful day. I can see why you and Scotty are such good friends.”
“He’s a really, good guy,” Owen told her. “I didn’t realize how much I missed being around him. But, it seemed like no time had passed since we were last together.”
“That’s the sign of a really, good friend,” she said. “Excuse me, while I go and pass out.”
“I’ll tuck you in,” Owen said, “but, I’m still restless.”
“Are you going on a pub crawl?” she asked teasing him.
“Not without you,” he promised. “I’m just going to sit on the deck and enjoy the evening.”
“Okay,” she said, “but, don’t be too long.”
He tucked her in and kissed her slowly. Sylvia yawned again and fell asleep almost instantaneously.
She woke up first on Sunday. She was beginning to feel more comfortable on the boat. She dressed and fiddled with the propane stove, praising herself when it was lit. She boiled water and used their small Melitta pour-over coffee filter to make herself a large mug of coffee. She took it out on deck and smelled the morning air.
City air was definitely not like the fresh air they experienced at Bayside. She smelled the water, but there was an undercurrent of city scents. Sylvia wrinkled her nose. It was a beautiful morning, but it was already warm with a promise of a scorching and humid day. The air seemed unusually heavy.
Sylvia let Owen sleep while she pulled together a ditty bag and went in search of showers. She used the code he had given her to get into the woman’s shower room. She spent a long time under the hot water, enjoying every moment. She dressed in light capris and a t-shirt and combed her hair. She was going to let her hair dry naturally in the sun.
Returning to the boat, Sylvia found that Owen was up. He gave her a kiss good morning before he left to get his own shower. Owen asked if she wanted to head to Slainte for brunch before they headed for Bayside. They walked through the now quiet streets of Fells Point to the pub.
Owen loaded up on coffee while Sylvia enjoyed a Bloody Mary. Owen pointed out that they have bottomless Bloody Mary’s from Monday to Friday. Sylvia laughed and asked how soon could they return during the week?
“Honeymoon?” Owen suggested. “Honeymoon with a night at the inn here at the marina?” They had looked at the inn’s brochure, and both had zoned in on the Romantic Getaway package.
“It’s a deal!” Sylvia told him, eyes sparkling. “I can hardly wait.” She had fallen in love with the pictures of the high poster beds and the amenities the Inn offered. The rooms reminded her of Marian’s house. She was sure these were pseudo antiques and Marian’s were the real thing, but the pictures of the rooms were still lovely. Each one had a vista of the marina, the bay or the small garden the inn created in a courtyard.
Relaxed and happy, they motored out of the Harbor and made their way down the Patapsco River towards the bay. The boating traffic was relatively heavy with tankers, pleasure boats, and personal watercraft. As they made their way down the river, the air became denser and denser.
Sylvia became nervous. She could see darkening clouds gathering in front of them. The bevy of boats that were zooming back and forth now seemed to be heading up the Patapsco River towards marinas while they were headed for the open bay. The power boats sped past them on a regular basis creating choppiness to the water. Sylvia was regretting her second Bloody Mary, and her huge breakfast. She prayed she wouldn’t get sick. Owen was looking stressed. She wished for the hundredth time that she had boating experience and could help Owen out in some way. She remembered that the yacht club had sailing lessons for kids and adults. She put them on a short mental list of things ‘to do.’
“Owen?” Sylvia asked him tentatively, “Do you think we should go back to Baltimore?”
Owen wore a determined look. “No,” he answered. “I think we’ll be all right.”
Suddenly, the wind seemed to change. The smell of a storm was in the air, as the scent of ozone enveloped them. Sylvia’s nervousness grew as the shoreline in every direction became indistinct. Black clouds rolled in and Sylvia’s stomach clenched.
“Owen?” she asked tentatively, but he
couldn’t hear her above the wind that had begun to blow. “Owen?” she shouted, an unspoken question in her voice.
“Come here! Quickly!” he shouted to her. His stubborn look had taken on a look of determination.
He gave her directions to secure the main sail. She was to put a rope around the boom and secure it with square knots. The wind was blowing fiercely. The sail was flapping madly. She crawled across the roof of the cabin to get to the sail. Rain began to pelt them in hard, heavy drops. It felt good at first, cooling her from the heat and humidity of the day, but the raindrops became harder and they hurt. The boat was rocking wildly in the wind. Owen was doing all he could to steer the boat and keep it on course. Sylvia now dragged the wet, heavy rope and secured the sail as best she could. She could barely see in the driving rain and held on for dear life as she crawled carefully back to the cockpit. Owen still held the helm tightly, his knuckles white against the helm. Sylvia was scared out of her wits.
“I have to get out of the shipping lane!” Owen shouted. “Get below and look at the charts.”
Sylvia’s stomach plummeted. Look at the charts? She really didn’t know what she was doing. She pulled out the chart book, remembering they were near the mouth of the Patapsco River. She frantically looked at the chart and saw a cove called Old Road Bay. It looked like it would be a good place to get out of the storm. She yelled over the wind to tell Owen to head North towards Old Road Bay.
Owen put in the coordinates and began to follow the GPS directions to take them to the cover. Out of the shipping channel and in the cove, Owen dropped the anchor to ride out the storm.
Now shivering, he went to Sylvia sitting with her arms around her knees on the couch in the cabin. He held her tightly telling her it was going to be all right. The boat still rocked wildly. Sylvia hid her head in Owen’s chest.
The Blossoming: The Third book in The Green Man Series Page 13
