Kelly walked aft to his cabin, pleased at least that he kept his boat tidy. The master-cabin head was also neat, and he found himself staring into the mirror and asking, ‘Okay, now what the fuck are you going to do?’
There was no immediate answer, but common decency told him to wash up. Two minutes later he entered the salon. He checked to see that the grocery cartons were secure, then went topside.
‘I, uh, forgot to ask you something -‘ he began.
‘Pam,’ she said, extending her hand. ‘What’s yours?’
‘Kelly,’ he replied, nonplussed yet again.
‘Where we going, Mr Kelly?’
‘Just Kelly,’ he corrected her, keeping his distance for the moment. Pam just nodded and smiled again.
‘Okay, Kelly, where to?’
‘I own a little island about thirty -‘
‘You own an island?’ Her eyes went wide.
‘That’s right.’ Actually, he just leased it, and that had been a fact long enough that Kelly didn’t find it the least bit remarkable.
‘Let’ go!’ she said with enthusiasm, looking back at the shore.
Kelly laughed out loud. ‘Okay, let’s do that!’
He flipped on the bilge blowers. Springer had diesel engines, and he didn’t really have to worry about fumes building up, but for all his recently acquired slovenliness, Kelly was a seaman, and his life on the water followed a strict routine, which meant observing all the safety rules that had been written in the blood of less careful men. After the prescribed two minutes, he punched the button to start the port-side, then the starboard-side diesel. Both of the big Detroit Diesel engines caught at once, rumbling to impressive life as Kelly checked the gauges. Everything looked fine.
He left the flying bridge to slip his mooring lines, then came back and eased the throttles forward to take his boat out of the slip, checking tide and wind – there was not much of either at the moment – and looking for other boats. Kelly advanced the port throttle a notch farther as he turned the wheel, allowing Springer to pivot all the more quickly in the narrow channel, and then he was pointed straight out. He advanced the starboard throttle next, bringing his cruiser to a mannerly five knots as he headed past the ranks of motor and sail yachts. Pam was looking around at the boats, too, mainly aft, and her eyes fixed on the parking lot for a long couple of seconds before she looked forward again, her body relaxing more as she did so.
‘You know anything about boats?’ Kelly asked.
‘Not much,’ she admitted, and for the first time he noticed her accent.
‘Where you from?’
‘Texas. How about you?’
‘Indianapolis, originally, but it’s been a while.’
‘What’s this?’ she asked. Her hands reached out to touch the tattoo on his forearm.
‘It’s from one of the places I’ve been,’ he said. ‘Not a very nice place.’
‘Oh, over there.’ She understood.
“That’s the place.’ Kelly nodded matter-of-factly. They were out of the yacht basin now, and he advanced the throttles yet again.
‘What did you do there?’
‘Nothing to talk to a lady about,’ Kelly replied, looking around from a half-standing position.
‘What makes you think I’m a lady?’ she asked.
It caught him short, but he was getting used to it by now. He’d also found that talking to a girl, no matter what the subject, was something that he needed to do. For the first time he answered her smile with one of his own.
‘Well, it wouldn’t be very nice of me if I assumed that you weren’t.’
‘I wondered how long it would be before you smiled.’ You have a very nice smile, her tone told him.
How’s six months grab you? he almost said. Instead he laughed, mainly at himself. That was something else he needed to do.
‘I’m sorry. Guess I haven’t been very good company.’ He turned to look at her again and saw understanding in her eyes. Just a quiet look, very human and feminine, but it shook Kelly. He could feel it happen, and ignored the part of his consciousness that told him that it was something he’d needed badly for months. That was something he didn’t’ need to hear, especially from himself. Loneliness was bad enough without reflection on its misery. Her hand reached out yet again, ostensibly to stroke the tattoo, but that wasn’t what it was all about. It was amazing how warm her touch was, even under a hot afternoon sun. Perhaps it was a measure of just how cold his life had become.
But he had a boat to navigate. There was a freighter about a thousand yards ahead. Kelly was now at full cruising power, and the trim tabs at the stem had automatically engaged, bringing the boat to an efficient planing angle as her speed came to eighteen knots. The ride was smooth until they got into the merchant ship’s wake. Then Springer started pitching, up and down three or four feet at the bow as Kelly maneuvered left to get around the worst of it. The freighter grew before them like a cliff as they overtook her.
‘Is there someplace I can change?’
‘My cabin is aft. You can move in forward if you want.’
‘Oh, really?’ She giggled. ‘Why would I do that?’
‘Huh?’ She’d done it to him again.
Pam went below, careful to hold on to the rails as she carried her backpack. She hadn’t been wearing much. She reappeared in a few minutes wearing even less, short-shorts and a halter, no shoes, and perceptibly more relaxed. She had dancer’s legs, Kelly noticed, slim and very feminine. Also very pale, which surprised him. The halter was loose on her, and frayed at the edges. Perhaps she’d recently lost weight, or maybe she’d deliberately bought it overlarge. Whatever the reason, it showed quite a bit of her chest. Kelly caught himself shifting his eyes, and chastised himself for ogling the girl. But Pam made it hard not to. Now she grasped his upper arm and sat up against him. Looking over, he could see right down the halter just as far as he wanted.
‘You like them?’ she asked.
Kelly’s brain and mouth went into lock. He made a few embarrassed sounds, and before he could decide to say anything she was laughing. But not at him. She was waving at the crew of the freighter, who waved back. It was an Italian ship, and one of the half dozen or so men hanging over the rail at the stern blew Pam a kiss. She did the same in return.
It made Kelly jealous.
He turned the wheel to port again, taking his boat across the bow wave of the freighter, and as he passed the vessel’s bridge he tooted his hom. It was the correct thing to do, though few small boaters ever bothered. By this time, a watch officer had his glasses on Kelly – actually Pam, of course. He turned and shouted something to the wheelhouse. A moment later the freighter’s enormous ‘whistle’ sounded its own bass note, nearly causing the girl to leap from her seat.
Kelly laughed, and so did she, and then she wrapped her arms tightly around his bicep. He could feel a finger tracing its way around the tattoo.
‘It doesn’t feel like-‘
Kelly nodded. ‘I know. Most people expect it to feel like paint or something.’
‘Why did-‘
‘ -I get it? Everybody in the outfit did. Even the officers. It was something to do, I guess. Pretty dumb, realty.’
‘I dunk it’s cute.’
‘Well, I think you’re pretty cute.’
‘You say the nicest things.’ She moved slightly, rubbing her breast against his upper arm.
Kelly settled down to a steady cruising speed of eighteen knots as he worked his way out of Baltimore harbor. The Italian freighter was the only merchant ship in view, and the seas were flat, with one-foot ripples. He kept to the main shipping channel all the way out into the Chesapeake Bay.
‘You thirsty?’ she asked as they turned south.
‘Yeah. There’s a fridge in the kitchenette – it’s in the-‘
‘I saw it. What do you want?’
‘Get two of anything.’
‘Okay, ‘ she replied brightly. When she stood, the soft feeling worked its way straight up his arm, finally departing at the shoulder.
‘What’s that?’ she asked on returning. Kelly turned and winced. He’d been so content with the girl on his arm that he’d neglected to pay attention to the weather. ‘That’ was a thunderstorm, a towering mass of cumulonimbus clouds that reached eight or ten miles skyward.
‘Looks like we’re going to get some rain,’ he told her as he took the beer from her hand.
‘When I was a little girl, that meant a tornado.’
‘Well, not here, it doesn’t,’ Kelly replied, looking around the boat to make sure that there was no loose gear. Below, he knew, everything was in its proper place, because it always was, ennui or not. Then he switched on his marine radio. He caught a weather forecast at once, one that ended with the usual warning.