Chapter twelve

After another hour passed without sleep, Sam saw the sun’s first light peeking through the open aft port. He put on a pair of shorts and made his way through the cockpit and forward to the galley to make some coffee. Kathy was still tucked, undisturbed on her cushion. Sam just shook his head and fished around in the refrigerator for something to eat. When he pulled his head back out, he saw Kathy’s bright orange webbed feet standing on the top step of the companionway stairs, her mottled brown and white tail resting comfortably on the surround to the hatch.

Sam waved at her, but she sat like a fixed sentry, watching him as he lit the propane stove, dug out a pan, and opened the cupboards to find seasonings. It wasn’t until he cracked open an egg that she reacted noisily, stretching out her wings and puffing up her chest, all the while moving backward into the cockpit. She flapped off quacking indignantly, making her roost the top of the portside piling.

“That’ll teach ya to invade somebody else’s space, Kathy,” Sam muttered as he sipped his coffee, standing on the companionway stairs, half in and half out of the boat. “What’s the matter, old girl? Recognize one of your kin?”

“Who are you fussing at, Sam?”

Sam reeled around to see Jenny standing on the dock, her arms hugging herself in an attempt to warm up.

“You’re up early,” Sam said. “Want a cup of coffee?” He stepped into the cockpit, realizing how cold the early morning was on his bare chest, as he motioned for her to come aboard.

“Tea, if you have it, Sam. I just came down to check on the boat. I wanted to get the key from you.” She grabbed the jib line and hopped over the safety line, obviously comfortable getting onto a boat. “Who were you talking to when I walked up?”

“Kathy.” Sam pointed to the duck pecking at the top of the post.

Jenny laughed. “Girl trouble, Sam?”

“The only trouble I have with girls right now is that I don’t have any.” Sam jumped down to the aft cabin and grabbed his sweatshirt from the night before.

“Oh, Sam, are you all right? Is that blood?” Now that Jenny was close enough, she saw Sam’s forehead and the dried drips of blood on his sweatshirt.

She reached her hand out to his head, and he bobbed away like a practiced boxer. “Oh, dear, does it hurt?”

“Only when it’s touched…. It’s nothing, Jen. I just knocked it pretty hard; that’s all. You like honey in your tea, right? What is that, a British thing or something?” As he tried to steer the conversation away from his injury, he jumped down to the aft cabin once again to dig out a clean shirt before bouncing back up into the cockpit to demonstrate to Jenny that he felt fine.

“Yes, honey would be great, if you have it.” Jenny stepped into the cockpit, still rubbing her arms for warmth.

Once again, Sam dove below and rummaged in the drawers before finding a red zippered sweatshirt with a hood on it, which he tossed up to Jenny. She gratefully accepted it and followed Sam to the galley. She settled into the cozy dinette settee to get warm while he made her a cup of tea.

The propane stove’s warmth heated the cabin to a comfortable temperature. Sam had to pitch his earlier burnt attempt at eggs, so he proceeded to crack several more while toasting some English muffins under the broiler. He placed a bowl and small grater in front of Jenny.

“Here; make yourself useful,” he said as he handed Jenny a block of cheddar. While she grated the cheese, he deftly chopped an onion and sautéed it in a little bit of oil. He found three red potatoes, which he chopped up into small cubes, and threw them in the pan with the onion, turned off the broiler, and sat down across from Jenny for a few minutes while they cooked.

“Are you thinking about sailing today, Jen?” Sam took a long sip from his cup.

“I thought I might see what will happen when I go aboard. Stormy Monday was really Lee’s pride and joy, but we had some good times aboard. I don’t know if I can be on her without him.”

“Jenny, when it’s time, you will. Do you want me to come with you?”

“No, Sam. This is one of those things I have to do. I am thinking about selling the boat. I want to see how I feel about that when I step aboard.”

“Jenny, it’s probably too soon to start thinking about selling. I mean, what if you miss the boat in a few months when you feel…better? Then what?”

Jenny looked into her mug of tea. “Sam, from a financial standpoint, I don’t think I can manage to keep the boat and the condo, and I am not like you. I don’t think I would be happy living aboard the boat.”

Seeing that the potatoes were cooking nicely, Sam stirred the eggs and added them to the pan, plus a few spices, then the cheese. He covered the concoction with a lid, pulled the muffins out from the oven, and readied two plates.

“This is what I call my lazy-man boat omelet. Had I known I was going to have company for breakfast, I would have gotten some other things ready or something. This okay for you?” Sam handed her a loaded plate.

Jenny laughed. “And just who all did you think was going to eat this much? Thank you! This looks wonderful. Um, am I supposed to eat it with my fingers?”

“Oh, sorry. Forks and napkins are behind you.” He pointed to the backrest of her seat, which opened up, revealing a jumble of utensils, paper goods, and rarely used cooking items like a garlic roaster, in addition to small power tools.

“Sam, you really should take a weekend and organize this boat. Lee always said everything had its place on a boat. Power tools and forks definitely do not go together.”

“I know, I know; I need to do that one weekend.” He didn’t want to tell her his boat was more organized before the night Lee was killed. “You need anything else?” He pointed to her plate.

“No, this is…yum! I didn’t know you could cook like this. Is there more hot water for tea?”

“Sure; help yourself.” Sam watched Jenny as she poured more hot water into her cup and dumped a heap of honey in. “Like a little tea with your honey?” he ribbed her.

“A little,” she smiled, and returned to the table. “So you don’t think I should put the boat on the market, do you Sam?”

“It’s up to you, Jen. I don’t know what your situation is; I only know that it’s a big decision that maybe you better wait on for a few months. Maybe see if you can enjoy it this summer, you know. It might help you get your mind off of…things. Has Chuck’s wife called you? She said she might be able to help get some of your work shown to a larger audience at her gallery.”

“No, but I don’t think that’s such a good idea now. I am just kinda fumbling around. I’ve been to her gallery, and frankly, it’s filled with some high-end stuff. I don’t know if my work is good enough for that place.”

“I think you should let Lisa be the judge of that,” Sam offered between bites. “She knows what her clients like. Besides, the way she talks, she could sell ice to Eskimos during the middle of a snowstorm!”

Jenny blew a little of her tea out of her mouth as she stifled a laugh. “You think Eskimos would like beach scenes?”

Sam smiled, then reached for the pan of potatoes. He offered the last bit to Jenny, but she declined.

“I can’t finish what I have! It’s great, though. I feel much better. I haven’t eaten much since….” Her voice trailed off, and she stared vacantly out the hatch at the underside of the bimini. “Thanks, Sam. Umm, would you mind if I borrowed your sweatshirt for the day?” She rose from the dinette, clearing her plate and cup off the table and placing them into the deep sink. She started to wash them, but Sam chased her off the task.

“No problem, Jen. Don’t worry about the dishes. I’ll get it later. Here; let me get you the key to your boat. I checked on it and everything looks good. You shouldn’t have any problems if you decide to go out today.” He fished around in a plastic basket he kept on the shelf just over the port-side settee filled with coins and keys. He pulled out the single key to Stormy Monday. “I’ll walk with you.”

They walked down the dock a few slips to Stormy Monday, which tugged gently at her dock lines. A few people were already on the water, and still more were arriving at the dock for a day of projects or boating. Sam felt a tinge of envy. Living on a boat made it hard to go sailing frequently. Everything had to be stowed before he could pull away from the dock, and Sam wasn’t sure he had a proper place for everything. Someday, he kept promising himself.

Stormy Monday was ready to sail, and after a bit of encouragement, Jenny stepped aboard alone. Sitting in the cockpit, Jenny slowly touched the steering wheel, gripping it tightly as if it might jettison away from her any minute. After a while, she moved around and opened the hatch boards, carefully placing them in a cloth sleeve mounted to the aft starboard bulkhead. Lee had made it so the boards wouldn’t fly free below if the boat hit a wave wrong.

While Sam waited on the dock, Jenny went below to check the engine’s oil and water. Once again in the cockpit, she started the engine and looked over the aft lines to see water pumping out. Everything checked out the way it should. She moved to the forward v-berth and got the cockpit cushions out, calling to Sam to help her.

“Sam, I think I might take her out. Would you mind helping to get her ready?”

“Not at all.” He ran back to his boat’s water hookup and unfastened the hose. He dragged it to Stormy Monday, and once it was hooked up there, he climbed aboard, pulling the hose with him to fill up a water tank.

Next, he helped Jenny place the cushions about the cockpit, and he swept off a few cobwebs from the mainsail cover before taking it off and stashing it below on the aft quarter berth. He then started to remove the spring lines.

“Jen, I have some bottles of water. I’ll get them for you.” He was off the boat before she could speak, dashing back to his own. When he returned, Jenny was again frozen at the wheel.

“Want me to get the lines?” he asked as he lowered a soft-sided cooler into the cockpit while still standing on the dock.

“No. I’ve changed my mind. I…I don’t want to go.”

“Whatever you say.” Sam carefully retied one of the spring lines he’d taken off as he waited for Jenny to speak. Seeing that she was not ready to sail, he stepped aboard and sat down gingerly in the cockpit beside her. “Jenny, it’s just not the right time to go out. That’s all.” He put his hand on hers, and she smiled, slightly comforted.

She looked past him, then motioned for him to get off the boat. “Sam, thank you for checking on the boat, and for breakfast. I think I would like to have some time alone. Do you mind?”

“No. I understand. Just let me know if I can help you.” Sam marveled at how calm she was. Grace under pressure, he noted to himself, as he stepped over the safety lines and walked up the dock to his boat.

With another cup of coffee poured, Sam started cleaning up the breakfast mess. He noticed his coffee swaying a little, then poked his head up in time to see Jenny pulling straight out of her slip, her boat’s turning creating a small wake in the marina.

“She’s going to be just fine,” Sam said as he sipped his coffee. “Brave girl.” Then he returned to cleaning up the galley.

Sam fished the matrix out of his soiled jeans and tucked it into the tidy package hiding in the engine compartment.