Breath knew what she was doing. On Led’s behalf, he was just being led down the proverbial path.
CHAPTER EIGHT
A scimitar moon created a hauntingly beautiful diamond sparkle tickling the top of the waves. Lucky left the cabin early for the agreed upon meeting with Mr. Strange Message at the Shrimp Lovers Cafe for 9 pm. Arriving early for any scheduled event was indelibly etched in Lucky’s mode of operation. In his line of work, he was needed to open up the doors or prepare for the service, meeting, wedding, funeral, you name it. Being late for anything was not an option. Being early also helped him relieve his anxiety over any unexpected happening before the event.
He strolled slowly along the outside promenade on deck 4. He had enough time so he decided to take the stairs, or ladder, using the nautical term, to the helo deck, at the extreme fore end of the ship. Once there, he stood furnished only with the faintness of the moonlight. Enough light so as not to trip, but not enough to block out the starry, starry night overhead. Such a panoply of heavenly lights, some brighter than the sliver of moonbeam.
The ship was steaming ahead at nineteen knots and the sea was behaving well. Lucky hoped the passengers prone to sea sickness were grateful for such a cooperative sea state. The breeze across the bow was kissing his face like satin winged angels. Such a divine moment. One of the thousand reasons why he loved these opportunities to cruise and minister.
****
Father Eugene “Lucky” Harris often reminisced over his past. A gracious one, though his life didn’t appear to begin any too fortuitously. His mother, Cheryl Taylor, eight and a half months pregnant with him, had a disastrous car accident. She lost control of her vehicle on a patch of black ice during a winter storm in the Midwest. On the way to the hospital, the EMT’s delivered her child. Sadly, she died, but not before she had embraced him in her arms. With her dying breath, she had baptized him with the mother’s tearful kiss of love.
Everyone at the hospital would comment, “What a lucky baby”. “Lucky” became his moniker from the baby’s first day in diapers. Later he was legally christened “Eugene”, but the nickname given to him by the hospital staff stuck, even beyond his ordination. Father Lucky it would be. Very few used or even knew that his given first name was “Eugene”, except his adoptive parents, Colin and Carla Harris. Colin told him the story of himself and his mother’s life over and over. His father reveled in telling the story. He called it the record of his life, “In Loving Pursuit”. Lucky’s mom and dad still happily resided in Hawaii.
Lucky had been ordained in Hawaii and worked there for his first few years. Colin, his father, had a friendship with the bishop back in the Midwest, USA, where his father was born and raised. Lucky, holding an M.S. Degree in social work, received an assignment to be the Director-Chaplain to the residents of a large retirement village, Saint Clairvaux’s. Serving there for many years, along with an assortment of other clerical duties, Lucky began a cruise ship chaplain vacation-ministry with RDC.
****
Fearing time had gotten away from him, he lifted his left wrist up close to his eyes and checked the time. Just about ten minutes before nine. He stepped off the helo deck pad and started down the steps. These steps went alongside an area enclosed by a six feet high metal privacy wall. It was the area reserved for the crew when they had the time for sunbathing or for a quick smoke. It was night now, so there would hardly be any sun worshipers, but Lucky did overhear two people conversing.
“You were only kidding about the smuggling thing, right Maggie?”
A gentle chuckle. “You never know everything about someone, do you? Even someone you want to marry.”
“It’s just that I’m a bit unnerved that Stydd was able to get that Van Gogh aboard without going through customs. I’m paranoid enough to think that it could come back and somehow bite us in the arse. He may be the Chief Engineer, but we’re the ones officially in the art business on board this ship. It’s only too logical that if there was any question about art work, the authorities would come looking for us. You know what I’m saying?” Kris was running with his paranoia.
“Oh, Kris, come here and give me a kiss and forget about it.”
“Maggie, you always know just how to calm me down when I get bent out of shape.”
At that, Lucky’s feet hit the promenade deck and he kept moving toward his appointment at the Shrimp Lovers Cafe.
****
He hoped it hadn’t been a miscue. When Lucky reached the cafe, it was dark. In fact, the whole area was people-less and had a dusky ambiance surrounding it. Unusual for a huge ship with thousands of cruisers. He searched for the info sign in the window and it read, “OPEN DAILY 10 am-6 pm”.
“Uhmm,” he heard himself moan out loud. Cupping his hands on each side of his eyes, he peered through the glass in the door. No one. About the time Lucky began to surmise that he had been stood up, he heard that voice, familiar from the telephone message…
“Good evening, Father.”
****
With the glow of the museum light accenting the Van Gogh “Sunflowers” print over his head, Lucky sat in Chief Engineer Hans Stydd’s stateroom. The same chair in which Captain Andersen had rested comfortably during his visit with the CE. Hans had appeared seemingly out of nowhere when he finally met Lucky at the Shrimp Lovers cafe. The “how” of the mysterious appearance was soon explained when Hans invited Lucky to follow him through a door marked “CREW ONLY”.
Lucky had been led through a series of winding passageways inside the ship, up a ladder or two, finally stepping onto an elevator lifting them to the cabin high up on the senior officers’ deck. Hans was preparing a sparkling water with a lime for Lucky. He chose a glass from the selection on the first shelf of the bookcase. He then retrieved a can of soda from the apartment size refrigerator hidden behind a door tucked in under the bar, along with a slice of lime.
“This may come across as rather high drama, Father, but, as you will soon discover, it is rather important to me to keep this meeting private.” Hans settled onto the sofa across a glass top table set between them. Lucky took a sip of from the glass of soda.
“Sorry for the meeting place, but I knew that area would be deserted. And, I wanted to bring you here without the possibility of being seen. I want this meeting between us to remain totally confidential.”
“So, to be completely sure that I understand you, you want to make a formal confession, as a catholic. You are catholic, correct?” Lucky had the responsibility to clarify the status of this visit both for moral as well as legal reasons. Whatever was confessed within a valid confessional session was recognized as a sacred and unbreakable secret, even in a civil court of law. The binding nature of the confessional secret.
“A catholic? Oh, yes, very much so. Not a good one, but I never renounced it.” Hans’ eyes shifted downward on that bit of information. After a few seconds, he raised his eyes and stared at Lucky with a look that sent a shiver down his throat along with a cold gulp of the soda.
“I’d like to turn my poor showing around with the church. You being aboard took away any more excuses keeping me from doing that. I figured a confession would be the appropriate place to begin to make things right with God.” Hans crossed his legs and placed one arm over the sofa top. He momentarily glanced at the Van Gogh over Lucky’s head.
“Excellent. I always feel like I’m earning my keep when I am called upon to do more than offer the daily services. Especially when it involves staff or crew. I know you are out at sea so much that the practical side of practicing the faith becomes a real challenge.” Lucky’s posture relaxed now that he felt more in control of what he had judged earlier as the rather strange lead up to this request. Yet, it remained ominous that Hans had prized so much physical secrecy just for a confession.
“I need to verify that you consider this a real confession and everything will remain ‘under the seal’ as you priests like to put it.”
“Absolutely, Hans. That is one of the gra
vest responsibilities that I’ve been given. I’ll take whatever you confess to the grave, if you’ll pardon the pun.” Lucky smiled, hoping that Hans had a sense of humor.
His face didn’t confirm a sense of humor. “Very well, then. I wanted that settled before I divulged my sins, Father.”
“I’m aware that you took great pains to conceal your meeting with me. At least it appeared that way. Am I correct?” Lucky made a stab to settle his own confusion concerning the manner in which Hans had set up the meeting: telephone message; no name; late evening time; meeting place being outside a dark cafe; appearing out of the bulkhead like some type of Houdini performance.
“Yes, I apologize about the cloak and dagger approach, but I am a bit too well known, as you may have surmised and I really wanted this to be a personal and private meeting. It may come across as overly dramatic, but there are few communities wherein gossip is past as quickly as aboard the closed-in environment of a ship. Maybe a monastery would be the closest that you could relate to.” His lip curved just enough to indicate that he, too, had appreciation for a bit of humor. Touché, Father Lucky.
“No problem, I fully understand your desire for anonymity when one holds a public position. I felt that way on many occasions.” Lucky straightened up forming his body into the shape of a straight back chair. “So, are we ready to begin the formal confession, Hans?”
Hans mimicked Lucky’s body position and with a long, low sigh, said, “Yes, as ready as I’ll ever be.”
Lucky began with the age old formulary prayers and blessings. He then settled into his “open for business” receiving mode, Sphinx-like…allowing the penitent to relax enough to reveal the secrets of his conscience as he perceived them to be. What one man considered a terrible sin, another may judge as a trifling matter.
“I hope you have a lot of patience, Father. It all began a long time ago. Actually, my part in all this is only a continuation of an unfolding story, involving many lives. I find it now that I’ve had my fill of it and I don’t chose to add another chapter to the story. I want it ended.” Hans was wringing his hands together and becoming more agitated as he spoke.
“OK, Hans. Just calm down a bit. I have all the time you need. I think relaxing will help you through this more than anything.” Face to face confessions were a whole lot more intense than in the olden days when you had the penitent partitioned off on the other side of a veiled screen.
“I’m not a child, so I’ll skip the usual, “I disobeyed my parents” category and get to the adult portion. I’m having an affair with another officer on the ship. It’s Jan Becker, the Staff Captain. We’ve been involved off and on for several cruises. So, I’m guilty of the sin of fornication on many occasions.” Hans paused. Lucky remained in the hold position.
“But, that’s not really the main reason why I asked you here. I did something that I’m afraid will be the downfall of another person on this ship. I mean serious downfall: ruined reputation; loss of their career; lifelong humiliation.” Hans took a deep breath and looked Lucky directly in the eye.
“I allowed my passion for Jan to sway my better judgment. She wanted me to smuggle a piece of art aboard and I made it happen. I have connections with several customs officers in our home port and I bribed them to look the other way.” Hans paused as if to allow a question.
“A piece of art? Was it stolen?” Lucky was fishing.
“The work of art is not what is important in itself. It’s only a copy. A quality one, but still only a copy. It’s what is hidden underneath the wrapping on the back side of the picture.”
“Yes.” Lucky anxiously encouraged another piece of disclosure.
“There is a historical document from a long time ago…from the days during the Nazis takeover of our country and our factories. You’re probably thinking that that was an awfully long time ago? What could it possibly have to do with anything real or important in our lives today?”
Lucky was totally intrigued now. This was not your ordinary Saturday night little old lady’s confession.
“The shipyards and shipbuilding industry were of the highest concern of the Nazis regime. They commandeered them knowing that the viability of their sea offensive depended on our ships. The Nazis forced the senior management of the shipyard to literally enslave the workers to obey and produce. Those who didn’t cooperate were either sent, with their families, to concentration camps or killed outright. A certain young manager cooperated. He didn’t want to, but succumbed to the pressure…and the bribe of future power in the Nazi regime.
“Later, following the war, he was tried by the war criminal court, found guilty and sentenced to life in prison. He could have received some leniency if he would have disclosed who was the higher up who collaborated with the Nazis. The prosecutors only needed a certain document to discover who was the ring leader behind the scene who helped turn over the Mayhem shipbuilding operation to the Nazis. In the eyes of the government, a traitor of the highest magnitude.”
Lucky forgot his priestly etiquette and took a large gulp from his glass. This sounded more like terrific subject matter for a movie rather than one person’s confession.
“The person who received the life sentence and knows the traitor’s name is on board this very ship with us. He is my grandfather, Sam Stydd. Or, as he was known then, Rolf S. Stuttgar. His middle name is Samuel. He changed the family name to Stydd and became Sam Stydd. Same family name as I now carry, Hans Stydd.”
Lucky remained quiet, but far from calm.
“I had to get him out of the country. There are many people from those days, along with their family members, who would love nothing more than to see him dead as just reward for his treachery.
“Here is where it gets even more complicated. I told you about having an affair with a fellow officer on the ship. When she convinced me to smuggle the painting on board, that’s when I got the idea to smuggle my granddad on board also. I had the connections with the immigration and customs people, so it was surprisingly easy. Now, my granddad is technically a stow-away. No one knows that except you. Not Jan. Not even the Master of the ship. Now you may appreciate my total secrecy with this matter.”
Lucky took a deep breath and switched his crossed legs.
“What terrifies me is that Jan, the Staff Captain I mentioned, might be planning to kill my granddad. She has that document which she smuggled on board with the painting. I haven’t seen it. My fear is that it exposes the very person or people which my granddad has shielded in secrecy all these years. I fear my granddad’s life is in grave danger.”
There was a pregnant pause. Lucky waited, but sensed that Hans was finished.
“My sins are many, as you can hear. I only hope that God will somehow understand this mess in which I got myself into and forgive me.”
“Hans, God can and will forgive you for any sin that you sincerely have sorrow over. However, you cannot expect God to forgive any ongoing or planned sin. You must abandon anything which continues this parade of mistakes. Your penance must include rectifying whatever you can of this mess and not adding any aide to additional grievous acts. You may feel you were right in what you did, but you know that you were wrong. You need to accept this penance before I can offer you absolution.”
Hans’ head was bowed with his hands covering his face. The perspiration beaded through his fingers. Solemnly, raising his head and looking directly into Lucky’s eyes, with a nod, he consented.
Lucky knew the grace of God had done its work. When faith proceeds, there soon follows hope.
CHAPTER NINE
On a transatlantic crossing to the west, the days at sea all begin to meld into one big whirlpool of time. When the guests first board the ship and crowd onto the elevator, their immediate reaction is predictable. They look down to the floor of the elevator and point in surprise…
“Look, the day of the week is printed on an inlaid piece of metal.” Laughter is sure to erupt. But, what in the beginning appeared as a novelty, following a few
days at sea, becomes as necessary as having a watch to tell the time of day. “What day is it anyway? Oh, I’ll have to check in the elevator.” Also, the ship is sailing against the rotation of the earth, so the hours need to be adjusted four or five times during the cruise, making it a rather confusing day and time experience, all in all.
In many ways, the cruise liners have taken the place of the once crack passenger train streamliners, most of which are long gone and forgotten, except for the diehard railroad buffs who do their best to keep the history of rail alive. Sadly, a losing proposition in face of the popularity and near monopoly of the jetliner as the sole means of mass commercial transportation. So, the nearest experience to riding the rails today is cruising with the ocean liners. A carefree, pressure free time, of traveling from point A to point B.
Such was this crossing. One day became a clone of the next and the next and the next. Which, for the vast majority of veteran cruisers, was just what the doctor ordered. And, for a young couple, adding romance to the mix only erased the limitations of time, all the more.
Led and Breath by now carried themselves with that body language which everyone could read and telegraphed to others: we are now an exclusive couple. Hands off!
Breath was yin; Led, the yang; Breath brought the beauty; Led, the brawn; Breath, a pound of maturity; Led, a ton of the kid. They complimented each other in a seamless fashion. Could this honestly be more than the usual cruisers’ tryst?
“That was so awesome,” Led exclaimed about the theater’s main production show the night before. “Those guys were the best.” The production show crew members’ performance on the ship did justice to the unlimited energy of youth.
Breath sipped on her drink of the day, a Bahama Mama: Pyrat XO Reserve Rum, Crème de Banana, Pineapple and Orange juice, $9.95, souvenir glass included. The cost was placed on Led’s cruise card…cheap at any price. “I loved their rendition of ‘All there is…is Love’,” Breath cooed. Love seemed to be the word of the day.
Cruise to Mayhem Page 5
