Charley Manner series Box Set

by Michael Marnier

  “You’re hired, Aussie.” We shook hands a second time.

  “There you are, little brother. You said you’d meet me at the gate.”

  I spun on my barstool. “Sorry, Sis. Got in a deep conversation with Jake here.”

  Katie nodded. “Hello, Jake.”

  He didn’t miss a beat. “Welcome to paradise, Miss…?”

  “Manner. I’m Charley’s sister.”

  “No worries, pretty lady. If you like, I can show you around when I’m off duty here.”

  Katie smiled, “That's okay. My brother will do that.”

  I rolled my eyes and swapped cell phone numbers with my new friend.

  “We gotta roll, Jake. Thanks for the Fosters. I’ll call you about the fishing when we settle in.”

  “He was nice, Charley. A little pushy, maybe. What do you know about him?”

  “Just met him. Remember, I’ve only been here a week.”

  “You’ve certainly got a lot done in that time. A Harley, a Winnebago, and a boat. What’s it called?”

  “An Ocean 35. And I have my eye on a fish-fighting chair to mount on the aft deck.”

  “Charley, I’m happy to see you diving into civilian life. You didn’t tell me much about what happened in Afghanistan. I want to know. You can’t keep it locked up inside.”

  “I know, sis. Right now, I want to get you home and rested. We’ve got a lot of sightseeing to do in the next two weeks. You are staying for two weeks, right?”

  “That’s my plan. Looking forward to soaking up that warm Florida sun. Cape Cod is still an icebox. There is never a real spring. Just cold and rainy till July and then heat and humidity.”

  “Well, Florida has its share of humidity, but out on the water it’s not so bad.”

  “So where’s our ride?”

  “The taxi stand is right outside baggage claim.”

  “Good. I thought you would try to put me on the back of the Harley.”

  I laughed. “Now I wouldn’t do something like that to an old lady, would I?”

  “Old lady? I’m only eight years older than you, little brother. Watch it.”

  I let it drop as we entered baggage claim. The bags were already there. Just two large rolling cases so I grabbed them, and we went outside.

  “Here’s an empty cab, Katie. It’ll only take us ten minutes to reach the marina.”

  “Good, I’m a bit tired. We hit a lot of turbulence, especially on the short flight from Atlanta to here. Thunderstorms in Georgia.”

  As we pulled into Marathon Marina and Motorhome Resort Katie said, “You’ve done just fine, brother. As long as the motorhome isn’t full of bugs and vermin.”

  “Don’t worry. I may be out of the Navy but I’m still a Frogman and have a disciplined lifestyle.”

  “Katie laughed. “Does that include bar tours and fist fights?”

  “I’m behaving.”

  She looked at me with those big sister eyes.

  “Honest.”

  “We’ll see. Oh, this must be your bungalow on wheels.”

  “She may be old, but she’s in great shape.”

  We went inside. The AC was blasting away. Nice and cool. Katie looked around, tested the fold-out sofa.

  “God, I’m tired. I think I’ll take a shower and then a nap if that’s okay, Charley.”

  “Go right ahead. I haven't had my daily run yet. When I get back, we can go out for a late lunch, paradise style. You have my cell phone number.”

  ~~~

  SEVEN MILE BRIDGE is only a mile from my RV. There is a 2.2 mile stretch that is open to pedestrian traffic. Panoramic views of the aquamarine water with the Gulf of Mexico on my right and the Florida Straits on my left.

  That's where I run the equivalent of a 10k for the round trip. Easy peasy for a SEAL. Keeps me in shape. Better than dodging bullets in Kandahar.

  With stretching before and cool down walk after a 45-minute hard run, I was back at the marina in an hour. Katie was still asleep, so I went back out to check the Ocean 35. I plan to show her the area mainly by boat. Why not? There's plenty of it around here. The shower on the boat worked, so I used it instead of waking K and changed into the spare set of clothes on board.

  ~~~

  AN HOUR LATER I walked back to the Winnebago. Kate was awake and lounging outside in the sun.

  “Charley, I'm in paradise. I needed that shower and nap and with this dose of sunshine, I'm my old self again. When do we eat? I'm starved.”

  “Me, too. Since its well past noon, I thought we'd go to the Blue Parrot around the corner. Jonesy runs the place like a military operation, but the chow is spectacular.”

  “Sounds good. Let’s go.”

  ~~~

  JONESY WAVED a hearty hello and snapped a salute when we walked in. A former leatherneck who fought in Nam, tough as nails. Another clusterfuck war. Oh, excuse me. It wasn’t a real war. Congress never officially declared war. Bullshit.

  “Top of the morning to you, Charley. I didn't know mermaids had such beautiful legs?”

  Katie made a face and gave me a look. “Hooyah, Jonesy. This is my big sister, Katie.”

  The big man leaned over the bar and grabbed Katie’s hand, planting a kiss. “She can’t be older than you, Charley.”

  Katie firmly removed her hand from the 67-year-old letch. I just smiled. Jonesy’s harmless and Katie packs a mean right cross. Heavy hands for a small woman. Jonesy got the message and assumed a more businesslike demeanor.

  “What can I serve you folks? Lunch is over, but just. I’ll see what we have left.”

  “Any conch fritters for starters, Jonesy? And a bonefish plate would be nice.”

  He disappeared into the kitchen. A minute later he came back. “We’ve got fritters frying up and there are two bonefish in the fridge, fresh caught this morning. Can I get you a drink?”

  “With conch and bonefish, I’ll have a beer. And we’ll have the bonefish grilled.”

  “Make mine a whiskey sour.”

  “Whoa, sis.”

  “Never mind, brother, I’m on vacation in paradise.”

  “Sorry, K. Hey, Jonesy. Make me a margarita with Gran Patron instead of beer.”

  “What a great idea, Charley.” She flashed a smile at Jonesy. “I’ll have the same.”

  And so, the afternoon passed leisurely. Katie caught her breath from the last-minute rush of a spontaneous vacation.

  As we nursed our drinks, Jonesy placed two hot plates of conch fritters served with Key Lime aioli and a spicy Bahamian Pink sauce on the bar. The aroma ignited my taste buds.

  “You’re gonna love these, K.” We dug in.

  “My compliments to the chef.”

  Jonesy took a theatrical bow and returned to the kitchen. Five minutes later he emerged with two more large plates piled with grilled bonefish and a side of yellow rice, black beans and homemade cornbread.

  After several mouthfuls, Katie came up for air. “Charley, I didn’t know paradise had such delicious seafood. I may never leave.”

  I smiled and nodded, then took another swallow of my drink. I looked into the mirror behind the bar in front of us and saw a familiar face come through the door.

  Horatio Hildebrand, resident Brit, walked in. Jonesy already had a SoCo on the rocks poured and placed it on the bar a few seats down from Katie.

  I looked over as he lifted his glass. “Hello, Mr. Hildebrand. I’d like to introduce my sister.”

  Hilly looked dumbstruck when his eyes shifted to Katie. He put the drink on the bar and turned fully to face her. “The pleasure is all mine.”

  Katie extended her hand. “And mine as well, Mr. Hildebrand.”

  Hilly hopped off the bar stool, pushed in between us and took Katie's hand, cupping it gently in both of his.

  “Please, my friends call me Hilly.”

  He continued holding her hand. Katie blushed again. Not like her. What’s happening here?

  Hilly ignored me and looked into Katie's eyes. “Please continue your
meal. I’ve already eaten. With your permission, I’d like to sit here and enjoy the company, Charley excluded of course.”

  Well, at least he acknowledged that I am here. Hilly had a sarcastic sense of humor I learned from the moment we met. He pretends to be a sour puss, but I know he’s a real gentleman. Katie appears to like him. Hmmm.

  Katie kicked me in the shins and knocked me off my barstool. She delivered it without taking her eyes off Hilly and patted the vacated seat. “Please, sit right here, Hilly.”

  Finally releasing her hand, Hilly reached for his glass—Jonesy had already slid it down the bar. He raised it and said, “Thank the gods in this paradise for bringing an angel to visit us. May she enjoy every moment of our warm sunshine as I will enjoy her radiant beauty on this fine Florida Keys day.”

  Gag me. Hilly has gone nutty poetic.

  “Why, Hilly. You are so romantic. Charley, are all your friends so charming?”

  “Gee, K, he didn't hold my hand and go all Shakespearian with me when we first met. Must be your radiant beauty."

  Katie batted her eyes at Hilly.

  “I think I'm going to puke. Maybe it's the bonefish.”

  Jonesy shouts, “Not my bonefish, mate.”

  We finished our meal and stood to leave. Hilly leaped off his stool and said, “Charley, if you’re feeling sick to your stomach, I’ll gladly show Katie around Marathon.”

  Katie looked at me and nodded.

  “Well, Hilly. I do feel a bit under the weather. But you must return my sister before 2100 hours.”

  “You think I don’t understand your military time? Go catch some sleep, swabbie. Katie will be in good hands.”

  “That’s what I’m concerned about.”

  Katie took Hilly’s hand and pulled him out the door. “Don’t worry, little brother, I’ll be home by nine.”

  ~~~

  IT WAS THE BEGINNING of a genuine love affair. Hilly swept my sister off her feet. A cliché, I know, but he literally lifted her off the ground and carried her every chance he had.

  “Hilly, please put me down. I can climb up the gangplank myself. I’m a grown woman, for Pete’s sake.”

  “Just want to be sure you don’t slip, my dear.”

  “Your boat is beautiful. Or do you call it a schooner?”

  “Actually, it’s a sloop. Thirty feet LOA with an eight-foot beam that makes her quite stable, even in rough seas.”

  “Sounds wonderful.”

  “Notice the single mast? She has a mainsail and a jib. That’s what makes her a sloop. If she had a second mast with a foresail and possibly a staysail, she would be called a ketch. Skipping over the characteristics of a yawl we get to the schooner you mentioned. The second mast would be taller than the first. There could be more masts, up to seven, and then add a topsail, a Yankee jib and fisherman sail…“

  “Enough, Hilly. I just want a sunset cruise in your beautiful sloop. Spare me the details of sailboat structure.”

  Hilly took a deep breath and swallowed. “Forgive me, Katie. I'm a sailboat fanatic. Here, sit on the aft deck. I’ll get us underway without further delay.”

  As they pulled away from the dock, Hilly asked, “How long will you visit?”

  “Two-week vacation then back to Cape Cod, I'm afraid.”

  “Perhaps Charley and I can persuade you to stay longer.”

  Katie nodded and smiled. “Perhaps.”

  They sailed to Stock Island with a favorable wind, anchored for a while in the Hurricane Hole lagoon and watched the sun set. A full moonrise followed, lighting the evening sky that glowed pink and lavender until the sun fell well below the horizon, ending what photographers call the golden hour.

  The wind had died after sunset so Hilly powered up the auxiliary engine. A romantic moonlight cruise. Two hours under power to return to marathon, but not without incident.

  As they made the turn into the channel at Boot Key harbor, something bumped the boat, rocking it hard to port.

  Katie bolted upright in her padded seat in the cockpit. “Hilly, what was it?”

  Hilly looked over the side and jumped back as a huge dorsal fin sliced past, no more than a meter from the gunwale. He grabbed a flare gun and fired it in the air. With the full moon and the light from the flare they could see the creature skimming just beneath the surface moving in the opposite direction of their heading. It was at least twenty feet long. A Great White.

  Hilly said, “Here, near the harbor? A shark that size barely has room to swim in these shoals.”

  “Hilly, is it still going away from us?”

  “Yes, she must have hit us trying to slip past in the deeper channel. No intention to harm.” He smiled tightly.

  Katie shook her head. “No intention to harm. Are you so sure? Back home on the Cape there was a Great White trapped for a week in a tide pond near Falmouth. It was smaller than this one but managed to swim in at high tide and get stuck. They normally stay offshore at Chatham beach where the gray seals gather by the thousands. No relation to Charley.”

  “Well, I think this one is headed out to deeper water. I don't think sailboats are a part of her diet. No threat to us.”

  “Let’s get in quickly. I don’t want to test that theory.”

  ~~~

  HILLY WALKED KATIE up to the Winnebago at midnight and left her at the door, stealing a kiss before returning to his boat. He lived aboard when not traveling on business. Katie tiptoed in to find Charley out cold snoring loudly on the couch that was supposed to be her fold out bed. An empty bottle of Gran Patron Platinum tequila lay on the floor.

  Katie gently nudged Charley and he leaped up flailing his arms in the air, gasping for air like he was choking.

  “Charley, wake up. It’s me, K. Are you sick?”

  He shook his head and looked around, disoriented. “I have dreams, K. Bad dreams. The Mullah. That devil. He cut me bad. The stink. I can’t get it out of my dreams.”

  She cradled her little brother in her arms. “Don’t worry, Charley. I’m here. We need to talk more about this. I had no idea. You’ve told me so little about your last tour.”

  “I know, K. I thought I could deal with it. I’m a SEAL for cryin’ out loud.” He shook violently. “I’m so cold.”

  “The booze, Charley.” She looked at the bottle on the floor. “How much did you drink?”

  He just rocked on the edge of the couch and shook.

  “Get up, little brother. Into the shower, stat. I’ll put some coffee on.”

  Charley obediently marched into the bathroom and turned on the shower.

  They had coffee and talked into the wee morning hours. It was dawn before they went to sleep. Another wonderful day in paradise. This one, not so much for Charley Manner.

  ~~~

  “TWO WEEKS since I arrived, Charley. Seems like a day.” Katie began packing her suitcase, but her heart wasn't in it.

  “Sorry so much of your vacation got spent counseling your little brother.”

  “Nonsense. You've been through so much and I'm family.”

  “You're my only family. Have you decided about moving here permanently? Hilly has been lobbying to make it so.”

  “We've had a wonderful time and gotten close. I need to go back up north and close down my shop. It's still off season anyway so no big deal. I'm getting tired of it. Besides, it's clear to me that I need to be here.”

  “It's been hard for me to accept my dreams for what they are. But you've made a big difference. What do you need to make it happen, K? Can I help?”

  “Not much. Maybe find a place for me to stay? Your motorhome is nice, but I need a bit more than a fold-out couch.”

  “I'll work on it. Your taxi should be arriving soon. Better finish packing.”

  They hugged like only a little brother and a big sister could. Even a big bad SEAL needs a big sister hug.

  17: JONESY

  THE BEST BAR IN MARATHON was no doubt the Blue Parrot. Why? Because it was a short walk from my RV and boat slip. Jones
y the bartender was a good listener. I still have issues and need someone to help me unload them. Family and friends get tired of it, but Jonesy is a rock.

  I walked into the bar and plopped onto a stool near the end of the polished slab of mahogany. Jonesy poured me a shot of Gran Patron. It was after 1600 hours so, what the hell, time for a drink. I'd been doing a lot of it lately. I gotta stop, but not right now.

  Jonesy delivered my drink. “I guess your sister's gone north, Frogman?”

  I nodded. “Affirmative, Jarhead. But she'll be back. Hilly and I convinced her this is where she should be.”

  “She's a strong woman. You're lucky to have her nearby.”

  “Lucky? Yeah, that's me, happy-go-lucky, good-time Charley.” I knocked back the shot. “Rack em up, Jonesy.”

  “So, what's the problem, Charley?”

  “You ever have dreams about your tours in Nam?”

  “Dreams?”

  “You know, flashbacks to the times you were about to get killed...bad dreams.”

  “You mean when you're asleep, right? Because some guys have visions when they're awake. Not good.”

  “I have them only at night when I'm asleep. I've been tested for PTSD and the shrinks say I don't have it bad. A little time and it will pass. They're probably right. Like I said, I don't see or hear things when I'm awake.”

  “Only in your dreams.”

  “Yeah, Jonesy. You were a POW at the Hanoi Hilton before your buddies busted you out. Do you have nightmares about it?”

  Jonesy put a thick hand on my shoulder and squeezed. “Not anymore, Bro. But there was a time I woke up every night in a cold sweat.” He flexed his scarred left hand, winced from the pain and arthritis that swelled his joints. “They pulled all my fingernails out of this hand, then smashed it with the butt of an old M1 rifle. Can you believe they still had M1's kicking around? Used them as clubs since the firing pin was busted or missing.”

  “How long ago did the dreams stop?”

  “Let's see, I got out in ’74 and the nightmares were come and go for at least five years for me. But that doesn't mean it will be that long for you, Charley. Every man is different about these things. And you’re a goddam Frogman.”