by DW Davis
The tall guy laughed. “Why don’t you send that pretty little thing over here?” he said. “Then I could tell her…”
He never finished the sentence. His buddy started to get up and wound up on the floor, stunned, but not really hurt. Tall guy was clawing at my hand in a futile attempt to loosen my grip on his throat. I lifted him from his seat and realized he wasn’t that tall after all. When I got him to eye level, his feet were a good three inches off the floor. His eyes began to bug out a little.
“That pretty little thing happens to be my baby sister, you cretin,” I said in a calm, even voice. “I would appreciate it if you would be a little more respectful in your admiration of her.”
He nodded vigorously to show he understood. Shorty started to stir, so I put my foot on his neck to ensure his continued docility. I stopped applying pressure at a point where he could just barely draw air.
“Now, I think you owe these folks, and the owners of this diner, an apology for your rude behavior, don’t you?”
Again, he nodded vigorously.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” I told him with a malicious smile. “And to show there are no hard feelings, as soon as you leave, I’ll settle your tab.”
I gave him a little shove backwards as I dropped him. He landed in his chair and promptly fell over on his back. Then I released his buddy from the floor. He rubbed his throat and climbed slowly to his feet.
“Man, you sure have some moves,” Shorty said.
The tall guy pulled himself up off the floor and approached me cautiously.
“What are you, man, Force Recon or something?” he asked, his voice tinged with respect.
Shaking my head, I informed them, “I was Navy, just a boat driver.”
Understanding showed in the tall guy’s eyes.
“Swick,” he said, not as a question, a statement.
“Yeah,” I replied.
Shorty looked confused.
“A what?” he asked.
Tall guy ignored him. “My brother was with the boats. I had no idea, man. I’m sorry about those things I said about your sister.”
“Don’t apologize to me, apologize to her,” I told him, indicating our table.
“Folks, miss, we’re real sorry for the trouble. We were out of line,” the tall guy said.
Shorty, not quite understanding what was going on, wisely chose to echo his friend.
“Yeah, y’all, we didn’t mean nothing by it.”
The other couple of folks in the Grill just shrugged, told them not to worry about it, and went back to their breakfasts.
“I guess we ought to get going,” the tall guy said as he picked up his chair.
Feeling a little guilty, not too guilty, just a little, I asked, “Do you want to finish your breakfast?”
“Well, to tell the truth, I am still pretty hungry,” Shorty said with a shrug.
Indicating with a nod of my head that they should sit back down, I told them, “Then go ahead, I’ll take care of things with the owner.”
I went back to our table and noted that my mother, father, and Malori were all looking at me with something akin to awe. Rhiannon wore a knowing grin.
“Chapter Three, Mike?” she chided me. “Don’t mess with my family either?”
Knowing Rhiannon was referring to an incident with our friend Beth’s prom date back in high school, I replied, “Something like that,” and returned to my seat.
My mother looked from Rhiannon to me and back.
“What does that mean?” she wanted to know.
Looking from my mom to Rhiannon and back, I said, “It’s an inside joke, Mom.”
Realizing it was all the answer she'd get, my mother pointed out, “That was very noble, Michael, but somewhat foolish. There were two of them.”
“I know it was unfair,” I said, “only two of them against me and my bionic hip.”
Malori was looking at me like she couldn't believe what she'd just seen. She looked over at the two guys, smiled a shy smile, and then turned back to me.
“Michael, that was really something,” she said. “What would you have done if one of them tried something?”
I gave her a cold stare and cautioned, “Mal, don’t ask questions you don’t want to know the answer to.”
Secretly, I was relieved those two hadn’t tried something. Though I’d kept myself in shape and continued with my workouts over the years, my success was due more to surprise and bravado than anything else.
My father, who appeared to have been made uncomfortable by the whole incident, suggested we put it behind us.
“They apologized and now we’re all friends,” he said as he picked up his fork. “Let’s just finish our breakfast.”
Rhiannon wasn't quite finished.
“Malori,” she said, “today you joined a very exclusive club.”
Clearly puzzled, Malori asked, “What kind of club?”
“A very small club,” Rhiannon explained, taking a sip of her coffee. “As far as I know, you and Beth Bosworth are the only members.”
Malori was never one to enjoy riddles. “What are you talking about, Rhiannon?” she asked.
“She’s just being funny,” I said shooting Rhiannon a warning glance. I didn’t really mind her telling Malori, but not in front of my folks.
“I’ll tell you some day when you’re old enough, Malori,” Rhiannon said.
Malori looked frustrated but let it rest. My mom and dad looked at each other but said nothing. I dug into my omelet. Rhiannon smiled at me and finished her eggs.
The two guys I’d had the vigorous discussion with came over to apologize again when they left. The tall guy, whose name we learned was Tom, apologized directly to Malori.
Malori replied, rather shyly, “That’s okay, Tom. Guys will be guys. I’ve got a brother. I know how it goes.”
After they left, Malori turned to me. “Mike, I almost wish you hadn’t beaten them up. The tall one was kind of cute.”
“Michael did not beat them up, dear,” my mother insisted. “He gave them a stern talking to.”
“It sure looked like he kicked their butts to me,” our waitress, Judy, said as she came over with our check.
Twenty-five
Deciding to put the Hunter away first was based on the fact that it would take the longest to rig but be the faster boat to sail. We had a pretty good southwest breeze and were able to sail a broad reach until we were just off the harbor in Oriental. There we came about to a beam reach until we had to furl sails and start the motor to navigate into the marina. We’d gone aboard the night before and removed everything except what we absolutely had to have to make the trip.
Jeremy met us at the dock. Once my father arrived and we’d taken the last few things off of Geddaway, Jeremy pulled her out of the water to be prepared for long-term storage. Then we went back to River Dream for a late lunch before setting sail in Riverscape.
As we made our way downriver in the smaller sailboat, Malori asked, “How long have you had Riverscape, Michael?”
I had to stop and think about that. “Since I was seventeen, I guess,” I said before easing the sail a bit to take advantage of a puff of stronger wind.
Malori, sensing the change, eased the jib.
“She’s in good shape,” she commented. “How did you come up with the name Riverscape?”
A sad smile crossed my face at that memory. “I’m sure I’ve told you the story before.”
Malori shook her head. “I don’t think so. If you did, I don’t remember.”
I took a deep breath to get my emotions under control before saying, “Actually, I didn’t come up with the name. Maeve did.”
When I said that, Rhiannon turned to me with a questioning look on her face.
“I’d forgotten you and Maeve were at camp together,” Malori recalled, her interest piqued more by the look Rhiannon gave me than anything else.
The puff of wind passed, and I trimmed the sheet.
“Maeve an
d I first met at Camp Riversail,” I explained. “The summer before my senior year of high school we worked at camp together. My friend, Chase, had a date the day I picked up Riverscape, so Maeve volunteered to spend her day off helping me sail her home.”
“I thought you never noticed the girls at camp,” Rhiannon said with a shake of her head.
“I hadn’t until that summer,” I replied, and then realized that wasn’t true.
There had been one other. I hadn’t thought of Christy Ann in years. We’d only been thirteen when we shared our first kiss. I kept that to myself.
Malori checked the jib and decided it was fine.
“So how come you let her name Riverscape?” she asked.
I adjusted the tiller just a touch to bring us back to my mark before I replied.
“Technically, I guess she didn’t actually come up with the name Riverscape. Maeve said something about how the boat would be my way of escaping to the river when I wanted to get away from it all. That gave me the idea for calling her Riverscape.”
“That’s a cool story,” Malori said. I think she was glad to see me remembering happy times I spent with Maeve.
Rhiannon, however, seemed a bit perturbed. “Funny how I never heard it,” she commented.
“You never asked,” I told her.
“So, in all those summers at Camp Riversail, the only girl you ever noticed was Maeve?” Rhiannon asked in a voice strongly indicating she doubted that very much.
I wasn’t going to bring up Christy Ann. That would only add pain to the pain I was trying so hard not to feel.
“Yeah,” I told her. “Up until then there was a girl back home that had all my attention.”
Rhiannon knew exactly who I meant and wisely decided to let the issue drop.
“Who was that, Mike?” Malori asked.
Rhiannon and I both looked at her like she’d just grown another head.
“Oh,” she said quietly.
We all kept to our own thoughts the rest of the way to Oriental. By supper time both boats were out of the water and on their way to being ready for some extended time in dry storage. It felt odd not having a sailboat docked at River Dream. I knew it was temporary, but it felt so final.
Between trips to Oriental to pick us up, my mom and dad finished going through Maeve’s things, boxing them up for me to decide what to do with them. The things I knew Cynthia or her folks might want, I sent to them. I knew I should have taken the items myself, but I wasn’t ready to face them again. It had been hard enough when they came to the hospital and again when I saw them at the funeral.
The rest I told my mother and Malori to go through to see if there was anything they wanted. For myself, I only kept a few special keepsakes of things Maeve and I had done and places we’d been together.
As evening faded to night, my mother and Malori left for the Marina Hotel in Oriental. My father excused himself to get ready for bed. Rhiannon and I walked down to the dock with some freshly made ice tea.
We sat in the screened room and listened to the crickets, the frogs, and the lapping of the water against the dock pilings. From somewhere in the distance, the thrum of a diesel engine propelling a shrimp boat downriver reached us through the dark night. The west wind brought the faint sound of laughter and singing from a Camp Riversail campfire circle. These were the sounds of night on the river. Their familiar rhythm brought me a semblance of peace.
“Mike, are you still planning on heading to the Islands for the winter?” Rhiannon, stretched out on the chaise lounge, asked.
I was sitting on the swing. “Yes,” I replied.
We sat there and listened to the sounds of night on the river.
Rhiannon took a slow sip of her tea. “Mike, when will you come back from the Islands?”
That was something I wasn't thinking about right yet. “I don’t know,” I said.
We sat there and listened to the sounds of night on the river
Rhiannon thought about that for a moment, then asked, “Mike, will you be visiting your folks in the meantime?”
I hadn't really thought about that either. “Like when?” I asked.
Rhiannon sat up and looked at me. “Like, Christmas, Easter, Malori turns eighteen next spring. Will you come home for things like that?”
Once she mentioned them, I realized I should probably plan on being home for those kinds of things. “I suppose,” I answered distractedly.
We sat there and listened to the sounds of night on the river.
Rhiannon relaxed back into her chair. “Mike, if you do come to Wilmington occasionally, maybe we can have lunch or something,” she suggested, trying to sound nonchalant.
The suggestion seemed a bit odd, being that she lived in Greenville.
“That would be nice,” I said. “But that’s a long way for you to come for lunch.”
Realizing why I thought that, Rhiannon explained. “Not for much longer. I’ve applied for a job at UNCW in their admissions office. I got the call this week that the job is mine if I want it.”
I wondered about that. She hadn't mentioned anything about it before. Then again, we hadn't really had a chance for small talk.
“That’s nice,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said, “I think so.”
If Rhiannon was moving back to Wilmington, she’d need a place to stay.
“Do you have a place to stay?” I asked.
“I thought I would stay with my folks until I found a place,” Rhiannon said.
It didn’t sound like the idea appealed to her. There was a way I could help with that.
“Could you do me a favor then?”
“For you, Mike, yes, I could do you a favor. What’s the favor?”
There was something hard to place in the way she said that. It had gotten dark and I couldn't see her face, so I couldn't be sure.
“Would you stay in the Nadeau House while I’m gone? That would save you both rent money and having to live with your parents.”
Maeve and I had still called the house at Wrightsville Beach the Nadeau House though we’d owned it all these years. It was never home. River Dream had always been our home.
I could tell by the way she hesitated before answering that my suggestion wasn't what she’d been expecting.
“Thank you, Michael,” Rhiannon said. “I would be glad to do that for you. But I insist on paying a fair rent.”
“Then you can’t stay there,” I told her.
For a minute she didn’t say anything. I think she expected me to say I was joking or something. I wasn’t.
“Are you serious, Michael?” she asked, sounding annoyed.
“Yes,” I said. I didn't want or need to rent the place out. I did need someone to stay there and look after it while I was gone.
“Why?” she asked.
There were a lot of questions packed into that one word.
Taking a deep breath, I explained. “Because I need someone to stay in the house while I’m gone. If you don’t, Malori will somehow convince my folks to convince me to let her, and I don’t want her staying in the house.”
“Why not?” Rhiannon asked.
Her tone let me know she didn't agree that letting Malori stay in the house was a bad idea. Well, I thought it was a bad idea and told Rhiannon so.
“She’s not old enough or mature enough to live there on her own,” I said.
“You were living up here by yourself for a good bit of the time when you were her age,” Rhiannon reminded me.
“Yeah, I know,” I said looking at her with a raised eyebrow. I don't think she could see that, but my voice conveyed my meaning well enough.
“Oh, I see what you mean,” Rhiannon said. “What if she lived there with me? I could kind of keep an eye on her. We could be roommates.”
It was nice of her to offer, but I couldn't ask her to do that.
“Wouldn't that put a crimp in your love life?” I asked.
“Mike, that is not a worry,” Rhiannon said, and then ther
e was a long pause.
I looked toward her, but the silhouette of her profile told me she was looking out at the river.
“Tomorrow we can ask my mom and dad what they think and then talk to Malori,” I said. “Besides, she doesn’t turn eighteen until next May.”
“Okay, Mike, I’ll stay in your house,” Rhiannon said with a mixture of amusement and resignation.
We sat there and listened to the sounds of the night on the river.
Twenty-six
The next day, over breakfast, I talked to my mom and dad and told them Rhiannon would be moving into the Nadeau House.
My father set down the forkful of eggs that had been halfway to his mouth.
“I thought you were planning to sell it,” he said. It didn’t sound like he was that keen on the idea of her moving in.
A small burst of anger flared inside me. I don't think I’d ever spoken to my father in a way that dared him to argue with me, until then. “The plan’s been changed. Besides, if Malori decides to stay around after college, she’ll need a place to live.”
My mother set down her tea cup. “Yes, dear, but that is still a couple of years away.”
I don’t think she liked the idea much either. “I know, but Rhiannon thought that after Malori turns eighteen, maybe she could move in and they could be roommates,” I said.
I didn’t care much if they liked the idea or not; it was my house, and Rhiannon was my friend.
“That might not be a bad idea,” my father said, whether because he suddenly agreed with me or realized he couldn’t convince me otherwise, I couldn’t tell.
“Malori effectively has her own apartment now in the loft. I do not see why she would want to move in with Rhiannon,” my mother stated.
She was clearly set against the idea. Her gaze traveled from me to my father and back. Then she picked up her tea cup again as if her statement had closed the discussion, and took a sip.
My mother may have thought the discussion was closed, but my father didn't.
“I’m sure you don’t, dear. When the time comes, we’ll let her decide,” he announced.
My father didn't directly contradict my mother very often, but when he did it was final. It appeared he’d come to agree with me.
