Chapter 15

Dana's Turn:

I'm in Houston and we're going to spend the day doing things I've always wanted to do and Ed's going to do them with me.

We had a wonderful, glorious night together. I think I really like having around the clock Ed. That's probably a good thing since I plan on marrying him in a bit more than a year. Timeline, okay? January I turn fifteen. A year later I'm sixteen and according to sources I found online, in Louisiana I can get married with the permission of a parent or guardian.

Since that's my Gramma and she condones me hanging out with Ed unsupervised overnight, I'm thinking that "Gramma, I want to marry Ed," will be first, no surprise, and second, assured of positive outcome.

That's what I think of the sandy-headed guy sitting across the booth at breakfast. Good 'un, as Gramma says when she lapses from her 'consummate English teacher' persona back to her East Texas Piney Woods roots. Ed's a good 'un.

Since we have a day's worth of walking planned for today, I don't feel bad about my breakfast – scrambled eggs, biscuits and gravy and a couple of strips of bacon. Coffee afterward gives us a chance to chat about where we're going and what we're doing.

Zoo! Zoo, zoo, zoo! I have Ed's camera, a nice midrange DSLR, carefully ensconced in his camera bag. It's a good camera and he's got some good lenses. We've done some wildlife shots back home where a few minutes on the road gets us into the coastal marshes. We talked. He says that at the ranges we're shooting today, we don't need the tripod. I'm learning a bit about photography.

Ed's sitting there with his coffee mug in his hand, looking at me. I know what that means.

"You're cute, too," I tell him.

"You read my mind."

"It's easy. I know you. Your expressions. I'm not some self-centered little pneumocephalic bimbo."

"Pneumocephalic? Where'd that come from?"

"I dunno," I chuckled. "Somewhere. I could've made it up. You know – 'pneumo' for air, 'cephalic' for head."

"I figured that's what you meant. Just never heard it."

"And I'm NOT one."

The waitress returned with Ed's credit card. He scribbled a good tip and a signature and we headed out the door. In the car I continued my line of thought.

"You and me. It's like this," I said. "I'm totally into you. A hundred percent. You're totally into me, a hundred percent. None of that 'fifty-fifty' stuff."

"Okay, princess," he answered.

"So, yes, I've been watching your face ever since you 'n' Gramma picked me up that day."

"And I have my own file of expressions, little one."

Giggle. "We do, don't we? Just fit together."

"And that's the way we should be, sweetness."

We got into the zoo parking lot before the place actually opened. That's fine. There's a park outside the zoo proper. We got out of the car and walked around in the crisp autumn air under glorious blue skies. Ed took pictures of me. We found another couple taking pictures of their children and got them to snap a few of me and Ed. Nobody knows us here and if you don't dig, I don't look TOO young, so Ed risked a couple of us holding hands, one with my arm around his waist, those sorts of pictures.

One day I'll be able to show them to somebody besides Gramma. That's the downside, you understand. Ed and I – totally in love, committed – we have to hide things because of numbers.

Still – here we are on OUR weekend and we're enjoying it. I can hold his hand. Even if somebody we know DOES see us, it's just a 'friend' thing, okay? It's not like I'm sitting in his lap, wiggling my butt, kissing him. That will happen later, I'm sure.

They open the gates and we're in the zoo. I love it, at least the part of being able to see all the animals. Still... "I feel sorry for them, baby," I tell Ed. "I like our wildlife preserve. Everything there comes and goes as it pleases."

"Unless the big one decides to make a meal of the small one."

"There is that possibility."

"Nature is cruel."

"Life can be cruel," I responded.

"Those animals are protected, fed, cared for. And this zoo tries hard to make them happy and comfortable."

We were in front of the wildebeests, gnus, whatever your preference is. This zoo has a small group of them. They're social, and a solitary gnu would be a sad thing. Metaphor. A single Dana could be a sad thing.

Petting zoo. "I'm not too old, am I, Ed?"

"No. Go ahead."

So I'm in the fence with a bunch of younger kids, okay, let me say 'children', because there are real kids – baby goats – and adult goats and sheep and ... Ed's over there shooting pictures like crazy.

"Only time I've been happy with the thought of you kissing somebody else," he laughed.

"Goats got weird eyes," I said. "Yours are pretty. I could stare for hours..."

"You stare for minutes, then things get all sticky."

Giggle. "Sticky is good!"

His cheeks reddened.

I dove in. "Really good!"

We walked around for hours, sat a bit and drank some horrendously expensive lemonade and ate an equally expensive snack to tide us over until we determined that we were pretty much zooed out.

That's okay. Saturday traffic on the road out of Houston to Galveston's not too bad. Our plan was to snack for lunch, which we did. Ed swears that there's good seafood in Galveston and we're planning on getting our share.

Museum in Houston? That's going to be another weekend. Flexible schedule, you know. When I announced the change, he laughed. "Then you're confident that we can stand each other for more than one weekend?"

"Honey child," I retorted, "You're gonna have me forever. So our next trip is going to be about museums."

There's a lot to see in Galveston. We strolled The Strand, visited the Elissa, leaving me more impressed that my Ed knows as much about so many things as he does.

"Renaissance Man," I say.

"Hardly."

"I think so. You know a bit about everything."

"Keeper Of Obscure Knowledge. That's KOOK."

"You're not a kook. You're a gentle, kind, intelligent man."

"Who finds himself madly taken by a cute, precocious, intelligent girl."

"The way it should be," I said.

"Yep. Pretty much."

We ended up at the seawall.

"The proverbial 'long walk on the beach'," he smirked.

"I can check that block off my list now," I countered.

"I need to see that list."

"Nope. But if you're worried, you're making satisfactory progress."

"Thank you, ma'am," he grinned.

It was a nice walk along the beach. The crisp northwest wind from the cool front pushed the waves down and kept the temperature cool despite the absolutely clear skies.

We watched a guy and girl flying kites in the brisk breeze. Looks like fun. Lacks practical application, I think, but the aesthetics of colorful airfoils cutting patterns against the blue sky has to count for something. Everything doesn't have to have a practical use past the part where it looks good to the eye.

We drove back to The Strand and walked the short walk to the restaurant. While we were enjoying appetizers in the waning daylight, I looked out the window overlooking Galveston Roads. All the marine traffic between Houston and the Gulf of Mexico funnels through here, so there's a lot to see.

We were talking about two big ships, one of containers, the second a tanker, when I spotted a sailboat under full sail working its way purposefully up the channel.

"He's doing things the hard way," Ed said.

"Hard way?" I asked.

"Yeah. Wind's just barely far enough off his nose to sail into. Close hauled."

"You know about sailing?" I asked.

"Yeah. Me and another guy had a boat until three years ago. He moved. I let him buy me out."

"Sort of explains some of the books on your shelf. Joshua Slocum. Sailing Alone Around the World."

"I had my daydreams."

"Alone?"

"Never imagined I'd have YOU."

"Why'd you give up on the boat thing?"

Ed's turn:

"Too many irons in the fire," I said.

She looked into my eyes. Her grey eyes can do a soul-searing version of 'serious'. "So you got me. Take some of those other irons out of the fire."

"Never thought about it..."

"Think about it. I have dreams too, you know..."

"And they include sailboats. You never said..."

"You've become the center of my life, Ed. How big is that one?"

I looked. "Thirty-something feet."

"How much does something like that cost?"

"One that floats? Ten K. Brand new? Quarter million."

She gave me one of those looks. "Something that's used but in pretty good shape."

"Twenty to forty K is a nice range for the low end of thirty feet. It'd be an older boat, but if the engine's good and the sails're good..."

Her eyes took a far away look. Horizons. Sunsets in the Gulf of Mexico.

"Can we see what one's like inside?"

"I know a couple of dealers around Kemah," I said. "Tomorrow?"

She smiled.

The entrees arrived. Like we expected – good seafood.

"That's your adventurous streak?"

"What?" she asked.

"Sailing?"

"Yeah. I thought it was silly girl daydreams, but I like dreaming." She smiled. "You were in 'em before I ever met you."

"You're sweet, baby. Thank you. Not powerboats?"

"No. Maybe I'm wrong, but I don't think I'd like the engine noise and the rushing around."

"A brisk wind and sailing's kind of noisy too."

"Okay. YOU tell me it's the same."

I closed my eyes for a second. "No, it's not nearly the same."

"See!" she said. "You closed your eyes and remembered..."

"Y'know, little one, you might be onto something. Let's get us on a boat or two and see what you think."

"They're ... that one ... pretty big. You could live on it, huh?"

"Some people do."

"How about two people for, say, a weekend or a week..."

"Yeah. Doable."

Giggle. "Another way to get you away from prying eyes," she smirked, then she forked a savory broiled shrimp into her mouth.

Me? I'm thinking. I never considered buying my own boat because frankly, the idea of being THAT solo wasn't appealing to me and finding compatible partners for sailing wasn't easy. Across the table? Compatible. Smart. Fit. Cute as hell. I'm running the numbers in my head. Bank account's plenty fat. Invested all of Dad's insurance and the lump he left in the bank when he passed away. If any of that could put a smile on this girl's face ... who am I kidding. She's always smiling. And since she showed up, so am I.

Little thing knows!

"You're really thinking about it, aren't you?"

"If you're going to be my crew."

"Maybe I want to be the captain."

"Maybe you will be."

We finished our meal and walked out into the cool of the December evening, heading to the car.

"Well," I questioned, "Did I make a passing grade today?"

"Exceeded expectations, Ed. But then I knew you would. Loved the zoo. Loved Galveston. And we haven't even gotten to the hotel yet." Smile. "I'm sure that it will exceed expectations as well."

We checked into another hotel, positioning us for tomorrow's activities, even though they'd changed. I thought about what we looked like. Wasn't too much strain to get 'father-daughter' out of it. She carried her bag. I carried mine.

Nice room. Same deal – two queen beds. She dives into one, pulling covers back, sprawling. "Making it look slept in," she giggled. "We can do all the nasty stuff in yours."