Chapter 8

Josh’s turn:

Gee’s piloting. I’m washing down the back deck and the swim step before the blood dries. On one hand, the morning was a tragedy. On the other – I saw Gee when she was stripped of normal everyday activities and thrown into chaos. She handled herself well. I’ve known some females (and males) who would have frozen in place, unable to function. Gee? She just put her head down and charged in with me.

Pretty good thing to find out about the girl you’re going to marry. I left the raw water pump running, sluicing river water over the deck as I scrubbed it down with a broom until the water was as clear as, well, river water, then I went back to Little Miss Perfect piloting us towards the park landing.

“It’s clean.”

“What a mess,” she said. “Sad. There you are, one minute everything’s idyllic. You’re on the river, the sun’s shining. The next...”

“Life is that way sometimes,” I replied.

“So hurry up and marry me.”

“License tomorrow,” I said. “Judge or somebody by Saturday. Fast enough?”

“I will never leave you, Josh.”

“Just remember that when we’re sharing the bed after I OD’d on bean and cabbage soup.”

“I can’t wait for bean soup days on the boat,” she said.

“Please be serious, Gee...”

“Why would I not be?”

“My lifestyle. It’s a lot to ask for another person...”

“I love you, Josh. I’m intrigued and enticed and excited about the lifestyle. Nobody gets this opportunity ... You offer it to me.”

I didn’t want to let her off the boat, but plans are plans. I nosed Dorable up to the empty launching ramp. She jumped out onto the finger dock after kissing me, and I didn’t leave until I saw her SUV pulling away.

I backed Dorable away from the dock, pointed her bow downriver and eased her forward. My progress at dead idle gave me plenty of time to scamper up to the upper deck. I sat back in the captain’s chair and pushed the throttle forward, the old diesel pooting away purposefully, pushing us toward the goal.

One thing about going somewhere with Dorable is that it takes place at a stately pace, offering time for observation and for thought. Today my thoughts are mixed – reliving the morning’s tragedy, thinking about how this female who walked into my life reacted in the face of a complete disruption of expected activities and came out on the other side looking forward.

Plus, I think she’s cute. Leggy thing. Does a pair of shorts and a T-shirt up nice, if you’re into that ‘country girl’, somewhat tomboyish thing. It works for me. And I’ve also seen her in a dress – one of our dates at an upscale restaurant. I think we were evaluating each other. As far as I’m concerned, she passed. The lady has poise, conducts herself well in the presence of others, is no stranger to manners and decorum.

I guess I passed, too, because last night ... Yeah. Think about last night, Josh. Piloting Dorable is something you can do with an erection.

The river was placid. There’s a very slow, languorous bit of current here under normal conditions. Today was normal. Oh, it can step up considerably if there’s been a lot of rainfall in its drainage basin, but this is southwest Louisiana. We don’t do rapids and waterfalls. Dorable’s progress is marked by a gentle vee of ripples that barely splash on the vegetated banks.

I recognize serveral of the people enjoying the day on the riverbank, most of them retirees, sitting out under gazebos attached to their ubiquitous boathouses. I’ve talked with ... well, one of them is waving me down. I can do this easily. Dorable gently noses along his dock. I toss a dayline around a piling and step off.

“Mornin’, Mister Ray,” I say, shaking his offered hand.

“Mornin’, Josh. I heard you on the radio. That accident...”

“That was us.”

“Us?”

“Me and my fiancée. We pulled three guys out of the water. Two fishing rigs and a jet ski. There was a fourth guy ... didn’t make it.”

“Doesn’t surprise me,” Ray said. “They way these fools run up and down the river. ‘Specially ‘round the bends.”

“That’s what this was. One boat swerved to dodge the jet ski, the other boat came around the bend, wide open...”

“Yeah ... I sit here on Saturday evenings and drink a beer watching the zoo ... I won’t get on the water. Still, a weekday morning...”

“That’s what Gee and I were talking about.”

“Gee? Your fiancée? That wouldn’t be Georgina? Like Georgina Bates?”

“Yessir,” I said.

“Where’s she?”

“I left her at the park. She got her car, gonna meet me at the marina. We’re going to get a marriage license when I get there.”

“Well, damn, son! Congratulations! You’re marrying my youngest niece.”

“Really? Your niece?”

“Yep. My sister married her dad. Georgina’s the happy result. Hadn’t seen ‘er in a bit, but you’re marryin’ er. Makes me happy.”

“Thank you, sir.”

He laughed. “Tell you what. You and Gee get some free time and are of the inclination, gimme a little heads up, and I’ll have us a little dinner. Get Abby to help me do somethin’ like steaks or ribs...” He grinned. “At least you’re not marryin’ one a’them vegan nutcases...”

“Nope. My catfish courtbouillon is what hooked ‘er.”

“Well, let’s do it, then. An’ like I said – any time, just tie up and plug in.”

“‘Preciate that, Mister Ray.”

“Hey, no problem. You brought me fish. I’m happy.”

“I get too many catfish. Not a problem. I gotta meet Gee in a bit...”

“Go ahead. But the invitation – remember.”

“Won’t forget.”

As I motored away, I imagine Mister Ray’s biggest question was whether or not I was going to stay on the river. Gee says ‘yes’. Me? I love the river and my life afloat, but one of the things that put me here was that I didn’t have the partner who could make me LIKE life ashore. But she said ‘river’. Gee and me on the river ... that’s a whole different set of expectations.

Two more hours of watching the scenery slide by and I’m turning out of the channel and into the marina. My slip is an easy and familiar shot, made very attractive by Gee standing on the finger pier waiting on me. Makes tying up a lot more pleasant. And then I passed Pickles to her.

She nuzzled him and he luxuriated under her attentions. We got in her car.

“Home,” she said.

“Okay. I met your Uncle Ray.”

“How do you know my Uncle Ray?”

“He lives on the river. I’ve stopped there a few times to talk, gave him some fresh fish. Nice guy. Told him I was marrying Gee. Apparently there aren’t too many of you.”

“I need to go visit. When I was a kid, spending time there was such a treat...”

“He invited us to dinner.”

“We’ll do that. Let’s go get Pickles home, then we have this task...”

“You don’t want me to follow you in my car?”

She smiled. “Nope. Want to make sure YOU show up...”

“I’m never leaving you again, Gee.”

“Not after we’re married,” she said. “It’s a dream. Tell me it’s not a dream, Josh.”

“It’s not a dream, Gee...” I glanced at the back seat, piled with clothes. “You’re serious, too, I see.”

“Of course. We’ll clear my apartment out this week.”

“Birth certificate?”

Giggle. “Yes. You?”

“I have mine,” I said. “At the house.”

We pulled into the driveway. I grabbed a load of clothes from the back seat. Gee picked up Pickles, went inside and put him on the floor. He immediately repositioned himself to the back of the sofa, a vantage point from which he could observe the interesting actions of his staff. That’s Gee and me, emptying her car. Didn’t take long. She had a few things that needed to be hung in the closet. The rest went on the bed.

“Get your birth certificate. I don’t want to be too late getting to the courthouse in case we’re missing something.”

I smiled. The closer we got to taking this action, the more real it got. Gee’s serious and I’m going to be married to her and I’m almost giddy, which is completely counter to my manhood, at least ‘manhood’ as described by most of the males with whom I associated while growing up.

Two hours later we’re holding hands outside the courthouse, in possession of a marriage license. I kissed her on the courthouse steps. Yeah, cliché, I know ... I don’t care. The smile I get in return is worth it.

We didn’t go straight home. We made another run on her apartment, loading up her car again.

“Either we’re really getting married or I’m gonna have one hell of a yard sale,” I said.

“Beast. You should be punished for that remark.” Her blue eyes twinkled with her laughter. “And this is the last run for today.”

“Plans?”

“What plans?” she asked.

“You have a job. What are we gonna do about it?”

“I’m walking in tomorrow morning and giving notice. Same thing with the apartment. We can clean it out as part of our honeymoon.”

“But work ... Two weeks’ notice?” I asked.

“My job. I’ll talk with ‘em. If they act hurt, we can wait two weeks to leave. If they don’t sound hurt, then whatever ... You tell me I don’t need the job.”

“You don’t. But in fairness...”

“I know. And that’s what I’ll offer. I’m an assistant manager of a mall store. There are three people underneath me hoping that I’ll get hit by a car and make a vacancy for them to move up. One of ‘em’s actually pretty apt to do a good job. That’s what I’ll tell the general manager.”

“Okay, then...”

“Besides, we have another hurdle.”

“What’s that?” I asked.

“I have to present you to Mom and Dad.”

“Uh ... yes, that’s the right thing to do. What if they don’t like me?”

“You, they’ll like. Engineer, right? Money in the bank. Responsible. Neat-looking. Respectable.”

“What if they ask where I’m working?”

“Tell ‘em you stepped back to be a freelance writer and photographer. I’ll tell ‘em about the house. We can both talk about Dorable.”

“Didn’t you say something about your brother?”

“Oh, dear, dear Ron. All about bimbos and beer and weed. Tends bar, I think that’s his current gig. He’s a plus. Compared to Ron, you’re a HUGE improvement. Compared to my first husband, you’re a big improvement.”

“Nice to know,” I said.

“Don’t be silly. First marriage just kind of happened. I didn’t know ... You. You, sir, I have chosen. You met criteria.”

My turn to grin. “Wow! A woman with criteria. That’s dangerous.”

“How is THAT dangerous?”

“I’ve seen it in action. Tight jeans with the requisite Skoal can imprint on the back pocket. Belt buckle that doubles as a serving tray at a tea party. Carefully crumpled cowboy hat. Boots with just the right amount of scuff. Or there are biker versions. I’m sure that there are urban versions as well.”

“Not THOSE criteria ... I’ve seen too many of my friends who thought they could get one of those, take him home and train ‘im...”