Copyright© 2007 by Quantum Mechanic

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Chapter 2.

Amanda Bonaduce was in funk. For the first time since her sophomore year in college, she'd met a man in whom she was more than mildly interested.

He was an older man, easily ten years her senior, but not so much older as to be considered "too old." Physically, he was in much better shape than most younger men. If it weren't for the touch of grey at his temples, and a slight, but not unsightly, weathering evident in his face and hands, he could pass for someone her own age.

He was an enigma to her. He was rich, but he didn't seem to care about his wealth. For her, frugality was a survival strategy... no, it was the only survival strategy, and growing wealth was the key to success beyond survival.

She really couldn't understand his cavalier attitude toward money. She'd come from a blue-collar background, and while her family mostly made ends meet, sometimes money was tight. All her life she'd been taught that frugality was not just a virtue, it was necessary for survival - and the environments in which she'd developed and matured had only reinforced that lesson. It was the driving force behind her choice of careers.

He'd blown into her life un-asked-for, and shown her how much she could enjoy sailing, something she'd never tried before. He'd treated her like a lady at all times, and spent way too much money on their one real date. He'd been a considerate, thoughtful, and gentle lover, bringing her over the peak of pleasure many times, before he relented and allowed himself release. Then, as suddenly as he'd appeared in her life, he was gone.

And the bastard sent her roses.

---

Carl was exhausted, too tired to pay any attention to Miss Liberty and Ellis Island as he motored past. It had been a week since he'd left his slip in Boston Harbor, running under power the whole way. He'd been sensible, stopping for fuel and rest, but at that rate it would take two months to get to Fort Lauderdale. Given that he wasn't really outfitted for winter aboard the boat, a trip of that duration was just unacceptable. He would have to find some crew, at least one other person, so that Pixel could stay underway most of the time.

With a pang of regret, he recalled that he'd invited Amanda to accompany him on the trip south, and hoped that the flowers would help her to remember him. Even had she agreed, she wasn't - yet - a skilled sailor, and couldn't be left alone at the helm except in the most stable of circumstances. With or without her, he still needed to find an experienced crewman, if he were to get any rest while underway.

Calling ahead on the VHF, he'd been assured of a transient slip at Liberty Landing Marina, and he could see a marina worker standing near his assigned slip, waiting to assist in docking the boat. He gratefully accepted the help, having been at the wheel for most of the previous twenty-four hours. After Pixel was secured, the worker handed Carl a sheaf of papers full of legal mumbo-jumbo, which he signed in order to finalize his claim to the slip. After that, he went into his stateroom, lay down, and passed out.

A few hours later, just as dark was beginning to fall, he was awakened by the acrid aroma of his own stale sweat. After struggling out of bed, he managed to hook up shore power and water, and set about straightening things around the salon. When he judged that the water heater had had adequate time, he took a long, luxurious hot shower before dressing and heading toward the dockmaster's office.

When he arrived, the office was obviously closed, and there was one of those little signs that have a clock face, saying "I'll be back at..." indicating that the dockmaster would return at about 6:30 AM the next day. With a shrug, Carl headed for the marina bulletin board, and found a posting for laundry pick-up and delivery. He made the call, and returned to Pixel to gather the things that needed cleaning. By the time he made it to the parking lot, the pick-up van was already waiting. After being assured that his things would be returned before noon the next day, he handed over his dirty laundry and waved it goodbye.

By then his stomach was complaining that it had been neglected for too long. Fortunately, the Liberty House Restaurant was visible, and only a short walk away. There was a short wait for a table, but fairly soon the hostess seated him on the patio and left him looking over the menu. He had a terrific view of the Manhattan skyline and the statue of Liberty from his table.

He'd eaten at the Liberty House several times before, and usually enjoyed the filet mignon, but he really wanted seafood this time, so he chose the house sampler. It came with oysters, shrimp, mussels, clams, crawfish, lobster tails, seafood salad, and king crab legs. He was enjoying the scenery when the waitress came to take his order, so he was surprised to hear a familiar voice.

A familiar voice asked, "Are you ready to order now, sir?"

He almost gave himself whiplash turning around to stare into the face of a woman he'd known since childhood.

"Terry! What're you doing here?" he almost shouted.

"Hi Carl," she answered gaily, "Making your annual run? I work here, and I really have to hustle. I can't sit down, and I can't talk for long. If you want, I can leave my phone number with you, but I don't get off work until eleven."

Carl nodded his head mutely, thinking, it's like in Casablanca... of all the restaurants in all the marinas in all the world... He snapped out of it quickly enough to place his order, but now curiosity had broken his melancholy mood. Terry took his order and disappeared, leaving him to reflect on their common history.

She was a year older, and a year ahead of him in school, but they had grown up as next-door neighbors in Annapolis. Growing up, Terry Jensen was the closest thing to a sister he had, and she often even called him "little bro!" His real siblings were so much older, that he'd been raised almost as an only child.

It was Terry who'd taught him how to sail, who'd stood up for him against the bigger boys when they'd tried to bully him, and who'd cuddled and comforted him with soothing words when the girls his own age were cruel. She would often arrange for him to meet girls who, in her opinion, were "better for him." Later on, after she'd become "experienced," she had gently, sweetly introduced him to the joy and art of making love to a woman.

As he grew older and larger, he was able to return some of that caring, becoming her protector, and on one occasion actually putting a guy in the hospital, when he'd tried to force himself upon her. Like other teenaged girls, she was, of course, frequently disappointed in her love life, and when it was in tatters Carl could be found comforting her, holding her close, letting her cry on his shoulder.

There were never any romantic entanglements between the two of them, just a lot of mutual support and affection, and real enjoyment of each other's company. The closest they ever came to "dating," was the occasional group outing, or even more rare, a double date - she with her current flame, he with his. Nevertheless, the toughest experience in his young life was when she left home, at nineteen years of age, to seek her fortune. She had always been the rock that he could cling to, when events became overwhelming, but then she was gone and he had to find his own way to cope with the rough spots.

He ran into her again a few years later, in the company of a man who wanted to "sail around the world" in a twenty-nine foot sloop. There was something about the man that Carl didn't like, but he couldn't put his finger on it. Terry, however, was completely convinced that she was "in love" with the guy, and was anticipating the planned adventure with barely contained excitement. Later, he heard that she left the boat tied to a courtesy dock in a Florida marina, her lover drunk and unresponsive in his berth. The "adventurer," it seems, expected Terry to do all the heavy lifting, while he basked in the glory of their travels.

This pattern repeated itself, with minor variations, over and over. The only positive effect it had on her life was that she became a highly skilled mariner, familiar with many types of boats, and she was often sought out as a delivery captain or crewmember. She would cross paths with Carl now and then, whereupon with sad amusement, he would verify the rumors of her romantic misadventures. He never criticized her though, and she loved him for it. Sometimes, if they were both "between partners" when they met, they would spend a day, a night, or two; indulging in the closeness they'd felt as kids. A new day, though, would always bring a new urgency for her to continue seeking her El Dorado, and with a hug and a kiss, she'd again disappear.

Seeing her waiting tables, even in the Liberty House, was something of a shock, and Carl couldn't wait to get the story. When she returned with his food, instead of taking her number, he handed her a napkin with his own cell phone number on it, and said, "Call me before you leave work. I want to talk to you."

She smiled and nodded as she pocketed the note, then left him to finish his meal.

As he ate, he watched her move efficiently around the tables, attending to her guests, and noted that she seemed to be in pretty good spirits. She also looked pretty good. Her naturally blonde hair was cut in a short, practical bob, framing a pretty face that had seen too much sun. The tiny "laugh lines" at the corners of her eyes and mouth made her appear somewhat older than she really was. She was tall - about five-ten - which made her trim frame appear a little too lean, but the movement of muscle under her tanned skin gave subtle hints of hidden strength. Even so, she was still very feminine, and still a very attractive woman.

After finishing his meal, Carl left payment on the table, including a somewhat extravagant tip, and waving goodbye to Terry as he left, he returned to Pixel. Upon arrival, he fired up his laptop computer and connected to the marina's wireless network, to review the latest news stories on CNN.com. When he was done with that, he turned on the television and allowed the intellectual pablum on the broadcast channels to numb his mind.

Eleven o'clock came and went, and he began to wonder if Terry had decided against calling him, but just as he finished that thought, the cell phone rang.

"Carl," he said, taking the call.

"Hi sweetie," Terry's familiar voice chimed from the other end. "Want some company?"

"I sure do," he answered, "and I'm dying to hear how you ended up at the Liberty House! Where are you?"

"Just about to walk out to the parking lot..."

"Well, hang on, and I'll meet you there."

When she had agreed, he broke the connection and bolted for the marina parking lot. As he hurriedly moved toward the restaurant, he saw several apparently female figures exiting through a side door.

As he approached the group, he singled Terry out and said, "Hi beautiful!" She grinned and took his arm, ignoring the questions her co-workers clearly wanted to ask.

"An old friend," she told them, and waved goodbye, as Carl escorted her away.

On arrival at his transient slip, he held the boat for her to climb aboard... not an easy thing in a dress... then they went below, and he prepared a fresh pot of coffee.

"So tell me all about it," he demanded.

"About what?" she answered, with a mysterious smile.

"You know very well, about what!" he said impatiently. "About how and why you're here, working at the Liberty House."

"Oh..." she responded, still grinning. "I figured you wanted to know all about my latest romantic fuck-up!"

"Well, that too," he admitted, "but first things first..."

"Actually, both stories are pretty much one and the same," she paused. "I'm working here because it's the best-paying job I can get right now, as well as the fact that it keeps me near the sailing community. I need the job, because until I can find a berth going somewhere else, I have to live here.... and in case you didn't notice.... the way you throw money around you probably didn't... it's expensive to live here!"

"Start at the beginning," he told her.

"Okay,' she relented, "about a month ago, my former boyfriend and I were heading south for the winter. We'd been pulling shifts around the clock, in one long leg, starting from Penobscot Bay.

"The trip was long and rough, and we took out our frustrations on each other. We had very little time to make up with each other in between the episodes of mutual verbal abuse. By the time we arrived here, we were constantly at each other's throats. We barely managed to maintain some civility until we docked and secured the boat, then we each went in a different direction to blow off some steam.

"I ran into a girlfriend of mine, and ended up too drunk to navigate on my own. She took me home and put me up overnight. When I finally got back to the marina the next morning, Jeff had already cast off and disappeared. The asshole even kept my things and left without paying the slip fee. Management here wanted me to make it good!

"So, here I was, stuck in New Jersey, with no clothes, no money, nowhere to sleep, and a local business insisting that I owed them money. The restaurant just happened to have an opening... it's not like I haven't waited tables before... and my girlfriend agreed to let me stay with her for a little while, and even loaned me some clothes. That's how I ended up here.

"I've got to find a place of my own now, though," she continued, unhappily. "My girlfriend has been transferred to DC, and I can't afford to take over her lease. Are you gonna do your usual party in Florida? Can I come along for awhile?"

Carl had to think about her situation for all of about thirty seconds. He sat down at the nav station, and after retrieving a key from his pocket, he opened its drawer and extracted a VISA gift card worth five hundred dollars.

"You have a berth with me," he told her, "I need crew and you need passage. It'll work out. Go buy some suitable clothes in the morning. I'm planning to cast off early after noon tomorrow, so you need to be back aboard before then."

"One advantage to waiting tables," she said grinning, " is that they really don't pay much in salary. Most of what you make is in tips. I don't have to give much notice in order to leave. I also don't have anything at the apartment worth going back for, so if I can borrow a T-shirt, I can just stay here tonight."

"Sounds like a plan," he replied. He continued, "I'd like to catch up on more news with you, but it's way past my bedtime, I'm going to turn in." as she borrowed his cell to call her roommate

Having said that, he made to secure the main hatch, and when he turned back around, she was nowhere to be seen. Assuming that she'd made for the head, he proceeded toward the master's stateroom.

On entering, he was surprised to see that she'd made herself quite at home there, and was waiting for him nothing more than a smile. The sight was quite inspirational, but somehow he didn't feel right about it.

"Umm... I actually intended for you to use a different berth... " he said, as her face fell.

"Carl," she pleaded, "I know this isn't something you'll require of me, but it's been a very long while since I've had any cuddling from someone who really cared about me. Can't I stay, please?"

He still didn't feel good about it, but he relented for just the one night, on the condition that she didn't expect him to get physical with her, and that she had to wear something besides skin to bed. She agreed immediately, and donned one of his larger T-shirts.

"Is that all you're going to wear?" he demanded.

"I'm completely covered," she exaggerated. " And besides, you've seen and even touched more of me than I have exposed right now. Come on to bed."

Carl reluctantly obeyed. He normally slept in the nude and Terry knew it, but given the temptation that she represented, he only stripped to his skivvies this time, causing her to frown.

"I'll behave," she promised. "Why don't you get comfortable?"

"If I get comfortable, I might not behave," he answered, "and it just doesn't feel right at the moment."

Understanding dawned then, and her eyes flew open in surprise. "You have a girlfriend! You've got to tell me all about her!"

He shook his head as he climbed into bed. Opening his arms, he said, "In the morning. I'm exhausted."

"Okay," she relented, "but tomorrow morning I'm going to make you tell all!" Then she moved into a cuddle with him, and they both fell asleep.

---

The next morning Carl awakened from pleasant dreams, to find that his morning wood was, indeed, nestled in the cleft between a pair of smooth, firm buns. It took a few moments, but suddenly he remembered who his spooning partner was, whereupon he carefully moved away. He tried to exit the bed without waking Terry, but just as he stood up, she rolled his way, smiling and eyes wide open.

"You didn't have to move," she pouted. "It felt nice."

"Yes, I did have to move," he retorted. "My bladder is about to burst. Besides, it felt too good." She gave him a predatory grin as he entered the head, closing... and locking... the door behind himself. When he finished, she'd already left the stateroom, so he dressed before going to the main cabin.

He found her in the galley, still only covered by his T-shirt, preparing breakfast.

"So tell me about this girlfriend," she ordered, as she turned the eggs. Of course she knew exactly how he liked them.

"It's funny," he began, "but I really don't know a great deal about her." While they ate he went on to describe Amanda, how they met, and how things had developed between them. Terry had been listening carefully, and when he finished, she didn't immediately speak.

"So you don't really know whether or not she's going to be part of your life," she observed.

"I guess that's about it," he replied. "At this point I'm just hoping."

"So why the self-imposed celibacy? It's not like you to bet the mortgage when someone else is dealing."

"I don't know," he said. "I've never met anyone like her. I connect to her on a level I 'm unfamiliar with, and I really want to see where it goes. I guess I'm concerned about how she might react, even though there's no specific commitment on either part, right now."

Terry nodded. "Okay," she said, "but if Little Miss Mandy Good 'N Sweet doesn't show up soon, I'll expect you to take care of me... and to let me take care of you! At least until we part company..."

By then they'd finished breakfast, and since Terry had cooked, Carl automatically took over clean-up duties. This surprised her somewhat, but she happily returned to the stateroom to don the work clothes she'd shed the night before, in preparation for running her errands. As she headed for the main hatch, she detoured near Carl and gave him a peck on the lips.

"I'm headed out to perform as per orders, sir. Are there any others you wish to issue before I go ashore?"

"None that I can think of, at the moment," he replied with a smile. "Remember, I need to cast off soon after the noon hour."

"Aye, aye, sir," she replied as she left, giving him an exaggerated salute.

Carl busied himself with a quick inventory, then called a provisioning company with an order for the necessary stores. He checked Pixel's safety equipment and found that all was in order, then left to settle with the dockmaster.

The slip fee wasn't cheap... four dollars per foot overall length, for boats under seventy-five feet. Pixel's one night in the transient docks cost him $164.00 (plus applicable taxes), which is nearly the cost of a night in a nice hotel. Maybe even with a buffet breakfast thrown in at no charge. Fees like that are the reason that many cruisers often anchor out.

Of course, if he'd waited another couple of weeks, the rate would have dropped to two-fifty per foot, but then he might've frozen to death before morning! Another factor for cruisers to consider is how long they plan to stay at dock. Weekly rates, while still not cheap, are much better. So much so, in fact, that it's like getting two days free! Monthly rates are even better than that.

In any event, Carl didn't flinch at the cost - for him money wasn't a problem. He returned to Pixel and moved her to the fuel dock. Filling her tanks would cost real money. While that was happening, he decided to make a call.

"Hi," he said to the receptionist, "this is Carl Schroedinger. May I speak with Ms. Bonaduce?"

"I'll check sir, please hold," she answered.

A moment later a panicky Amanda came on the line. "Carl! Where are you? Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," he assured her. "I'm in a nice marina in New Jersey, with a great view of New York and Miss Liberty. It just took longer to get here than I intended because I was single-handing."

"What does that mean?" she wanted to know.

"It just means that I was traveling alone. Because of that, I had to stop moving more often, to avoid getting exhausted. Anyway, I've taken care of that now."

"Oh? How did you take care of it?"

"I hooked up with an old sailing chum of mine, who needed passage south. Terry is a highly respected and competent mariner, whom I've known for a long time. Now we'll be able to travel around the clock and still not get too tired."

"How do you do that?"

"Pretty simple, actually. One person stays awake and drives the boat, while the other one sleeps. Then they trade off. It's called standing watches."

"Oh... that makes sense."

"Well, we're about to move again, this time I'm headed offshore, in order to get around New Jersey. I wanted to let you know, in case you tried to get in touch, that you might not be able to reach me by cell for a couple or three days."

"Hmm... I don't like the sound of that..."

"No help for it, I'm afraid, but if you'd like, I can call you again when I get back in range."

She thought that was a good idea, and gave him her cell number. "Use this instead of the office number," she admonished. "I may not be here when you call, and I would worry if I don't hear from you."

"Okay," he agreed. "Umm.. I don't want to seem pushy, but if you're really worried about me, you could join me and keep an eye on me..."

"I'll think about it," she responded primly. "In the meantime, just don't you forget to call!"

"All right," he sulked. "But I have to go now, the fuel tanks are almost full, and I have to get provisions loaded. I'll call in a couple of days. 'Bye now."

"'Bye," she said softly, as they broke the connection.

Finished with fueling, he moved Pixel again, this time to the courtesy dock, which was closer to the parking lot, and therefore easier to load provisions from. Terry and the delivery truck from the provisioning company arrived at nearly the same time.

Terry went below to stow things as Carl and the deliveryman moved boxes from the truck to the boat. Soon, the entire delivery was safely on the deck, and Carl paid the deliveryman off.

"You want me topside or below," Terry asked Carl.

"I'll start topside, and we'll switch off about halfway through," he answered. "Before we start, though, let's move these crates closer to the main hatch."

Once the boxes were all in position, Terry went below and Carl handed them down. It's hard to say who worked harder. The worker topside had to lift and move boxes through the main hatch, while the worker below had to take the entire weight of each box and deposit it gently on the cabin sole. Around halfway through, Carl went below and sent Terry topside, to finish the process.

With everything now inside, they still hadn't had lunch, so Carl called for pizza delivery. While they were waiting, Carl and Terry set about breaking crates and stowing individual containers. That took quite awhile. So long, in fact, that they missed their intended launch, but that was all right: the pizza was late arriving too.

As they were eating lunch, Carl apprised Terry of his intended route. "For this leg of the trip, we're going to do an outside run down the Jersey coast to Delaware Bay. We'll have weather systems coming through pretty regularly, and the winds will be against us, but there's nothing for it but to do it." He paused to chew, and Terry nodded. She'd done that run many times before.

"We'll head up the bay," he continued, "and take the C-D over to the Chesapeake. From there we'll hop down to Annapolis, and visit for a day or so." she was visibly pleased. It had been some time since she'd seen her parents. He went on, "I'm planning to do this all in one leg, working around the clock, so we'll have to alternate watches." She nodded her agreement excitedly. "Okay then, that's the program. You want first watch or second?"

"If it's okay with you, I'll take first watch," she answered. "Six on, six off?"

"Yep!" he responded. "Okay then, let's cast off and get underway!" He crumpled the remains of his pizza inside the paper plate and shoved it into the garbage bag. Terry started the engines, and while they warmed up, she and Carl loosed all but two lines holding them to the dock. When she returned to the helm, Carl finished casting off and stowed the dock lines, while she powered gently away from the dock.

Carl kissed her cheek and said, "I'm gonna catch some shut-eye. Take good care of my baby. Call me if you need me." Then he went below.

She headed down the Hudson River, dodging commercial and recreational traffic, and out through the harbor. Once she was a reasonable distance offshore, with the wind out of the southwest, she set a heading of 150Âș magnetic to begin the first leg of the journey. She snapped a tether to a jackline, then locked the wheel while she set the main and a 160% foresail. With sails set, she killed the engine and turned control over to the autopilot for awhile.

At first, she took long tacks, in order to reduce the total number, but as the wind direction became less favorable she had to tack more often, which combination had the effect of reducing distance made good. Nonetheless, by the end of her watch she'd made about 14 nautical miles.

The pattern continued throughout the voyage, as weather systems moved through. As each low pressure passed by, the winds would start out from the southwest, then clock through West, to north, before starting all over again. They were fortunate that most of these systems stayed well north of their position, even though that sometimes meant unfavorable winds. At least they didn't have to deal with the gales.

---

It was dark as Carl rousted Terry. He'd taken Pixel east of the Reedy Island Bar, to an area where the water was 10 to 12 feet deep, and he wanted to drop anchor. Terry was appropriately grumpy at having her off-watch period interrupted, but Carl didn't want to try the C-D transit at night. Too many horror stories were already on the books about that. They would anchor and wait for daylight.

When the anchor was set and the boat was appropriately lighted, Terry stumbled back to bed, grumbling, and Carl settled in the cockpit with his cell phone.

He dialed Amanda's cell number and she answered, sleepily, "Hello?"

"Hi babe, this is Carl."

"Carl! Thank you so much for calling! I've been worried sick..."

"I'm sorry darling, but I told you I'd be out of pocket for a few days...."

"I know," she admitted, "but it just seems so long, and your route seemed so dangerous..."

"It wasn't bad at all, just tiring, and remember, both Terry and I have been sailing for a long time..."

"Oh, all right... What are you doing now?"

"Besides talking to you?" he quipped, "I'm sitting at anchor in the upper Delaware Bay, waiting for morning."

"Why is that?"

"Well, I need to take a shortcut, using a nearby canal, in order to get into the Chesapeake Bay, so that I can stop in Annapolis."

"Couldn't you have just sailed all the way down the Chesapeake, then gone up to Annapolis?"

"I could have," he responded, "but it would have added several days onto the trip, not to mention how much I hate backtracking."

"Okay... how long will you be in Annapolis?"

"Just a day, or at most, two. I want to be in Norfolk before November."

"I see... you're still trying to beat winter..."

"True..."

"Will you be in a marina there, like the one you were at in New Jersey?"

"I'll take a transient slip there, yes, but the LLM is in a class by itself, and hopefully, where I'm going won't be as expensive!."

"I know you're joking now... you've never complained about spending money before..."

"Caught!" he admitted, "but still, it's true that LLM is probably out of reach for most cruisers."

"So, what about the marina you're going to use in Norfolk? Do they have a website?"

"It's called the Tidewater Yacht Agency, and it's really in Portsmouth, which is somewhat west and south of Norfolk. I don't know if they have a website."

"Oh... I just thought I'd try to track your travels..."

"The best way to track them would be to participate in them..."

"Carl, please..."

"Okay, okay. I just really want to see you again."

"I know, and I want to see you too. I just have a hard time with cutting loose and taking off."

"I'm sorry baby. I'll try to not be a pain in the ass."

"It's okay... By the way, thanks for the flowers..."

"Oh good, you got them. Were they pretty?"

"Very. They're beginning to droop a little now, but they're still beautiful... but don't buy any more until you can bring them to me personally...please?"

"You didn't like them? I'm sorry..."

"Oh no! I loved them, but they remind me that you're far away, and I find that frustrating..."

"How about the phone call, doesn't it do the same thing?"

"It does and it doesn't. At least we can talk, and that doesn't seem as bad..."

"Well sweets, I think we both need to get some sleep. You okay with that?"

"Yeah, but call me when you strike out for Norfolk, please?"

"Will do..." he paused, "Amanda, I hesitate to say this, but you affect me in a way I've never felt before. I don't think you'd believe me if I told you how I feel about you..."

"You've got that right! You hardly know me..."

"How do you feel about me?"

"I can't tell you , or maybe I just don't know yet. Anything I said would give you too much power over me at this point...Please say goodnight?"

"Goodnight, sweetheart..."

"Goodnight... sailor..."

---