Another Chance
Chapter 36

Copyright© 2014 by Old Man with a Pen

A little experiment: I eliminated the ellipses because some readers don’t like to be reminded that it might be necessary to think; that there might, just maybe, be a place where the author wants you to remember that real people work in starts and fits; that humans don’t normally think like a textbook. A brain that thinks in straight lines is bordering on insanity.

Grace said, “If you don’t know her, what was she doing talking to you?”

So I explained about the bobcat kitten rumbling through my head like a Panzer IV retreating from Kursk.

“All I was doing was asking the kit her name, the girl was passing through and thought I was talking to her.” I explained.

“Well ... it’s a good thing,” Grace said. “At least she thought you were talking to her and not the kitten.”

“I guess,” Hello Isabelle.

Greetings human.

Umh. That sounds ominous, I thought.

Not at all, I approve. You asked the rescued what her name was instead of naming her on a whim.

“Sometimes, I have found that cats will name themselves if you let them,” I said.

“Just for the hell of it,” Grace suggested, “Let’s take the K5 out.”

“You mean, Get away from the coming storm?” I suggested in return.

Grace giggled, “That, too.”

She turned to Isabelle and Isabelle ran to the boat house.

“There’s too many kits, we need to help haul,” Grace said.

“Where did my kit go?”

“She’s onboard already,” Grace said. Grace pointed to a short tail in the air with a head down in a food dish.

I went to the boathouse just as Isabelle was coming out with two kittens in her jaws. She had them both by the scruff.

Oh, very good, Isabelle.

It’s hard to catch two, she thought at me, They keep getting away.

“Get the sleeping bags, David,” Grace said. “I’ve got the kittens.” And she did. So did I, get the bags.

We loaded up, Carole Ann was already on the boathouse roof, tanning, that is if keeping an eye out for approaching people is tanning. Just in case you’re wondering; minus the mast, measured from keel to cabin ventilators, the K5 is almost three stories tall. She is nearly thirty feet. When stored for the winter, the boat would be lifted completely inside the house, with steel beams and decking laid so the boat could remove tension on the canvas and rubber lifting straps. Adding the five or so feet to keep the boat out of the icy water and the necessary breathing room at the cabin top the boathouse was easily 40 feet tall. The boathouse is exceeded in height only by Gustafson’s Store, and the watertower. Pentwater is a short town.

We dropped and coiled the warps, Grace powered us away from the pier and motored out past the old mill building and into the little bayou. A small 30 foot long sailboat is hard to see in Little Bayou because of the curve of the shoreline. The K5 is far from small, so quite a bit of her is exposed. Big Bayou wouldn’t work at all. It’s not really deep but the whole bay is exposed to a view from the north.

As we made the turn around the dropped anchor, we could see the Newspapers and TV trucks violate our yard back at the boathouse. This should be interesting; Carole Ann is all-over tanning on the boathouse roof and the cameramen are heading up the steps.

Oh JOY! The Coast Guard 36 is heading our way.

Was heading our way.

Where in the hell are they going?

Ah! Ensign Olsen is rescuing Carole Ann from the depredations of the “NEWS.” Good man!

“Grace?” I said.

“Yes, David?” she replied.

“I think our ensign is sweet on Carole Ann,” I pointed out several cameras making decent splashes in the lake in front of the boat house.

Grace said, “I know Carole Ann is hoping so, because she has had a thing for him ever since he was assigned to us. Pentwater. David?”

“Yes?”

“Have we been here too long?”

“How so?”

“The Clotitier’s oldest boy is, I don’t know. Would sniffing around me like a dog be a polite way to say it?”

“Jacques Clotitier?”

“Uh huh.”

“They never look at Michiganders for mates.”

“I know, but. He’s of an age and they’re having a new boat built. They never build a new boat unless one of the boys is getting married.” She looked distressed, “I’m not old enough and they have been known to be less than romantic about courting.”

“Rumor has it that the last boy went to Saint Pierre for his bride. She’s a beauty. Why would Jac look at you?”

Talk about the wrong thing to say!

 
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