by DW Davis
“Did you have to speak Spanish the whole time?” she wanted to know.
“I don’t know that we had to,” Maeve told her, “but since both of us are pretty good at it, we usually did.”
“After a day ashore doing the tourist thing,” I added, “we’d catch ourselves talking in Spanish to each other on the boat without thinking about it.”
Malori laughed. “That sounds kind of cool. If you go to France next time, are you going to learn French first?”
“Je parle francais, un peur,” I replied. “I already know a little from high school. With a few lessons, I think we could manage.”
Malori was most interested in the horseback riding.
“You rode western-style American saddles in the middle of Spain?” she asked incredulously.
“The whole place was styled after a South Dakota dude ranch,” Maeve told her.
As the discussion became more about horses, I tuned out. When Maeve and Malori started talking horses, they entered a zone all their own. The two of them, it turned out, had found common ground.
Malori’s interest in riding had blossomed while I was away in the Navy. Most days she'd much rather ride than go sailing, which was close to blasphemy in my book.
My ears perked up when I heard Malori say, “Why don’t you come riding with me next weekend?”
Maeve looked at me.
I shrugged and said, “Sure. It’ll mean staying in town, but we’ve got nothing planned that I know of.”
Maeve smiled at Malori. “Then I’d love to.”
“Great,” Malori said. “You can ride Darling.”
Darling, a chestnut brown Morgan mare with such a gentle disposition the owner of the stable often borrowed her to give younger kids their first ride, was the older of Malori’s two horses. She’d been Malori’s first horse.
“And you’ll get to meet Debonaire, my quarter horse,” Malori continued. “He’s a gelding, but he’s still got lots of spirit.”
The next evening found us in Whiteville dining with the Daltons. Much to our surprise, our trip wasn't the big news of the night.
After dinner, when we were all seated in the living room, Cynthia requested the floor.
“I know this will come as a shock, since you didn't know I was seeing anyone, but I'm getting married.”
We all looked at her in stunned silence for a moment. Finally Maeve found her voice.
“Wow, that's a surprise; congratulations, Cynthia. Who's the lucky guy?”
“Yes, dear,” Phyllis managed to say. “Who is this fellow you've been keeping a secret from us all?”
Ted stood up, his face twisted into a puzzled frown, and sat down again.
Cynthia's gaze traveled over each of us before she replied. “His name is Andrew Crispman. He's a major in the Army. I met him last month when he transferred in. It was love at first sight.”
Ted's mouth was set firmly as he nodded while Cynthia talked.
“When will we get to meet this major?” he asked tersely when Cynthia paused.
His tone caused Cynthia to react as though he'd struck her. Maeve and Phyllis both seemed surprised by the harshness in his voice. I felt it best if I kept a low profile.
“Well, I'm sorry,” Ted continued. “We didn't even know she was seeing anyone. She's known the guy barely a month, and already she's talking about getting married.”
“Maeve and Michael hardly knew each other longer than that when they got married,” Cynthia retorted.
Her hand flew to her mouth as if trying to stop the words that already escaped. She turned to Maeve to apologize, but she was too late.
“If you'll recall, big sister, Michael and I had known each other for years before the time was right for us to get together. It was hardly a whirlwind romance.”
It hurt me to see the tears forming in Maeve's eyes. I reached out and put my arm around her. The look on Cynthia's face could only be described as panic.
“I didn't mean it, Maeve. I'm so sorry.”
She stepped toward Maeve, but Maeve turned her head into my shoulder to hide her tears.
At last Phyllis spoke. “I think maybe we all need to calm down here. Cynthia has presented us with what I think is happy news. Ted, I'm ashamed of you, reacting that way. After all, you asked me to get married little more than a month after we met.”
She said this last with a coy smile and eyes that dared him to contradict her.
Ted drew a deep breath and slowly let it out, his lips pressed into a thin line. His head swiveled as his eyes bore first into his wife, and then into Cynthia. It must have been the heartbroken look on Cynthia’s face that penetrated his anger and made him realize what his reaction was doing to her.
“I'm sorry that I’m not overjoyed by your news, sweetheart. It comes a quite a shock.”
He turned to Phyllis, and said, “We haven’t even met this guy. She hardly even knows this guy. How can you blame me for reacting like an overprotective father when she springs something like this on us out of the blue?”
Cynthia, straining to keep her voice steady, said, “Daddy, when you meet him, I just know you’ll like him. Andrew is a very special man and I really do love him. Daddy, you know me. I wouldn’t even think of marrying him if I wasn’t absolutely sure.”
Clasping his hands under his chin, Ted looked into Cynthia’s eyes and saw the tears there, threatening to fall.
“You’ve never given me a reason to doubt your judgment before, Cynthia. I suppose I should at least meet your young man before I decide he’s not good enough for my daughter.” His lips turned up in a weak smile. “Okay?”
Cynthia nodded her head and blinked back her tears. “Okay, Dad. Yeah, that’ll be okay.”
Turning away from her father, Cynthia asked Maeve, “How about us? Are we okay?”
Maeve sniffed, wiped away a tear, and then smiled a genuine smile. “Yeah, we're okay.”
Phyllis heaved a big sigh of relief. A family disaster had been averted.
Cynthia then went on to explain, “Andrew was going to come tonight to meet everyone, but duty called and he had to work. I wanted it to be a surprise. That was foolish, I guess.”
Feeling it might be safe, I spoke up. “It worked. Everyone was sure surprised.”
Cynthia stuck her tongue out at me, and we all laughed.
Phyllis announced it was time for dessert. She’d baked a German chocolate cake, which was quite rich and tasty. Following dessert, Maeve and I entertained them with stories of our voyage. It was well after midnight when we finally returned to our house on Wrightsville Beach.
Six
Though I’d learned horseback riding as a kid, I never fell in love with the sport the way Malori and, as I was coming to discover, Maeve did. Since I had no interest in hanging around the stables while the two of them were horsing around, I convinced my father that we should take his new boat out fishing. Dad explained why he’d bought the boat he did as he showed me around his Grady-White 255 Sailfish with its twin 140-horsepower Johnson motors.
“When I decided it was time for a new boat, I looked at what there was out there and remembered what you told me about Derrick's dad's boat. When I saw the Sailfish, I knew it was just what I was looking for.”
We cast off and headed offshore. A couple of hours cruising later and we were at the wreck of the Cassimir, a 400-foot tanker built just after World War I. The Cassimir sank in a collision with the SS Lara in 1942 while carrying molasses from Cuba to Baltimore. The wreck was a popular fishing and diving site. My father and I had fished there often when I was a kid.
We spent the day trying different spots around the wreck. The fish were pretty lazy, and we didn't catch many. Those we did we released anyway. Giving the fish a break at mid-day, we enjoyed the picnic lunch my mom packed for us. Around mid-afternoon we decided to head back, arriving just in time for dinner.
Maeve was waiting for us on the dock as we pulled up. Actually, she and Malori were sitting in the cockpit of Hey 19, my first
sailboat. She was a nineteen-foot West-White Potter.
“Ahoy, Hey 19,” I called out as we got close.
Maeve smiled, waved, and called back, “How was the fishing?”
She jumped quickly to the dock, followed by Malori, to handle the lines as my father pulled the Sailfish alongside.
Tossing Maeve the bowline, I told her, “So-so. We got a few bites but let them go.”
Maeve’s lips turned down in an exaggerated pout. “No fish for supper, then.”
I laughed at her expression. “No, I'm afraid not.”
“Who's a frayed knot?” Malori joked. “Where are all the fish?”
Dad handed me the poles and said, “We left them in the ocean so they would stay fresh.”
Malori gave him an “awe, Dad,” and ran off to tell Mom we were back.
Putting my arm around Maeve I asked, “How long have you guys been back from horsing?”
She pursed her lips. “Is that a real verb?”
I shrugged. She was the English teacher; she ought to know.
“We got back about an hour ago. After riding, I took Malori to lunch at Dupree's, and then we did some shopping. Darling is a great horse. How come you never told me Malori was so into riding?”
I shrugged again. “I guess it never came up. Haven’t you noticed all the horse stuff in her room?”
It was Maeve's turn to shrug. “No big deal. I know now. We had a great time riding together.”
My father lifted his tackle box onto the dock. That was not as easy as it sounded. His offshore fishing tackle box looked like a decent-sized mechanic's toolbox. Then he reached back and lifted the now empty cooler out of the boat.
I handed Maeve the poles. “If you'll carry these up to the house, I'll grab the tackle box.”
That left my father with only the cooler to worry about. The cooler was empty so it would be easy for him.
Mom and Malori came down to see what was taking the rest of us so long. By then I was playing the hose over the rods and reels to clean as much salt water off them as possible. Dad had put his tackle box away in his equipment room. Maeve was sitting on the cooler telling me all about her day at the stable with Malori.
“First we exercised them in the paddock so they could stretch out and warm up some. Then we tacked up and walked them around the paddock until Darling got used to me being in the saddle.”
Maeve was smiling as she talked about it. “She didn't seem to mind at all that it was me and not Malori. Once I felt comfortable enough, we took them out on the trail around the stables.”
I knew the trail they meant. It meandered through the woods and fields around the horse farm for about two miles.
“After the ride we brushed them down and turned them out to the pasture to graze. It was a great morning.”
I’d been listening while I made sure to do a good job of cleaning the fishing gear. Deciding I’d done a thorough job, I turned off the water.
“So, where did you go shopping after you were done horsing around?”
From the deck Malori answered for her. “We went shopping for boots, that's what. Maeve had to ride in sneakers because she doesn't have any riding boots. We fixed that.”
Rewinding the hose on its reel, I asked Maeve, “You bought riding boots? Are you planning to do a lot of riding then?”
Again, Malori answered for her. “I told her anytime she wanted to take me to the stables, we can go riding.”
Maeve added, “And I did tell her that anytime we were in town, and I had the time, we would go.”
My father came out of his equipment room, having put everything away just so.
“Why don't we get washed up and find out what's for dinner?”
Malori and Maeve traded a conspiratorial look.
My mother said from the deck, “We won't know what's for dinner until we find out what the King Neptune has on special.”
My father looked up and asked, “When did we decide to go to the King Neptune?”
My mother replied, “We ladies decided we would like seafood and were fairly certain you two would not bring back any.”
She turned away with a smug look and went inside. Maeve and Malori giggled at us before running up the stairs. My father and I traded defeated looks and went in to wash up.
Flounder, my mom’s favorite, was the special at the King Neptune that night. My father ordered the flounder and shrimp combination. Malori joined our mother in having the flounder in a smaller portion. Maeve and I both chose the surf and turf. I always loved the taste of shrimp and sirloin together. We said good-bye in the parking lot after dinner, and Maeve and I went to our house for the night. The next morning we were up early to fly home to River Dream.
Seven
We'd been home at River Dream for a few days when the subject of horses came up. Two days spent cleaning house and grocery shopping had left me longing to get on the water. We rigged Riverscape after lunch and sailed a big triangle across the river toward Cherry Branch, downriver to Great Neck Point, and then home.
The final leg was actually more of a zig-zag as we were beating to weather against a northwest wind. After supper we sat in the swing in the screened room sipping iced tea and enjoying the breeze.
“Sweetheart,” Maeve began in the voice she used when about to suggest something she figured I probably wouldn't want to do. “Sweetheart, don't you think we could put up a little stable in that field behind the house? Maybe fence off a pasture for a horse?”
I’d known this was coming. Trying to postpone the inevitable, I pointed out, “Babe, we don't have a horse.”
Maeve rolled her eyes and looked at me over the top of her Foster-Grants. “I know we don't have a horse. I think it would be nice to get one. Having my own horse was a dream of mine when I was a girl.”
“You've never talked about it before,” I said. “What brought this on all of a sudden?”
Maeve turned to face me on the swing. “I started thinking about it again when we were on that overnight ride in Spain. Then the other day when I went riding with Malori the idea just grew on me. These last couple of days I've been trying to decide if it’s something I really want to get involved in again. Bad news, sweetheart, I do.”
“That’s what I was afraid of,” I said, resigning myself to the fact that we were going to be getting a horse; however, there were some things I wanted to make sure she had considered.
“Maeve, even if we do build a stable here, what about when we're back at Wrightsville Beach? Where would we keep the horse while we're gone? Who would take care of it?”
She was ready with an answer. “We could stable it here in Pamlico. They would take care of it and I would ride it on weekends when we come home.”
Looking out toward the dock, I observed, “It won’t fit on the boat.”
Maeve chuckled, knowing that was my way of saying yes. “No, I don’t imagine it will. We wouldn’t give up sailing. It would just be something else we could do.”
Shaking my head slowly, I was completely honest with her. “It would have to be something you would do. I have no interest in riding horses. That trail ride in Spain convinced me of that.”
As much as I’d enjoyed our time at the ranch, it hadn't done my bionic hip a lot of good. After that ride I decided I’d take sail canvas over saddle leather every time.
Maeve had known spending that much time on a horse had been something of an endurance test for me, though I hadn't said anything. I hated being reminded that there were some things I just couldn't do as well as I could before getting wounded.
“All right. Then it’ll be something I do. I’ll ride and you can watch me,” she said.
“I guess we can think about it,” I conceded.
Of course by that I meant that we would get her a horse and she knew it. I could tell by the satisfied smile on her face. After spending a month and a half living on a boat, I guess I could understand why Maeve might want to take up a hobby that would keep her on dry land once in a while.
Maeve started researching what kind of horse would be best for her. We spent a good bit of our time over the days remaining before we had to go back to school - Maeve as a rookie English teacher at Laney, me as a sophomore at UNCW - traveling eastern North Carolina looking at horses. Maeve decided on either a Morgan Horse or a Quarter Horse.
As luck would have it, right in Pamlico County, she found a four-year-old that was half of each, a jet black mare named Raven. Maeve fell in love with Raven the first time she saw her.
“I know she's my horse. I knew it as soon as I looked at her.”
Raven seemed to respond to Maeve as well. She had her horse.
Raven was being kept at R&R Stables. The owners of R&R, Ray and Rita Gallagher, were happy to let us keep Raven there and look after her for us. Rita and Maeve were destined to become good friends.
We also built a stall and paddock behind the house at River Dream so that Maeve could bring Raven home on those occasions when we could be there more than a few days at a time.
Seeing an opportunity for myself in this, I told Maeve, “You realize that in order to carry Raven back and forth we'll need a horse trailer.”
Maeve recognized that glint in my eye. “I suppose we will,” she agreed.
Pressing the matter, I continued, “And I don't think the old Jeep will be able to pull any reasonably sized trailer.”
Maeve smiled. “Are you trying to say you want to buy a new truck?”
Putting on my best innocent face, I replied, “Only because I think you'll need one to pull your horse trailer.”
Maeve laughed out loud at that. “Michael Justin Lanier, you know perfectly well that you can afford to go out and buy any truck you want anytime you want.”
She was right about that.
“What you say it true,” I acknowledged. “However, I feel better spending the money for a good reason than just because I have it to spend.”
The next day found us in New Bern at the Jeep dealership looking over what they had that might do the job. A blue Jeep Laredo four-wheel-drive pickup with a 360 V-8 seemed to be just the vehicle for the job, so it became ours. The dealership took the old CJ in trade more out of pity for it than anything else.
