Chapter 38

My grunt was so loud you could have heard it from a hundred feet away. That's if there had been anyone around to hear, which there wasn't. The little town of Bethlehem, just up river from Louisville, was so sparsely populated Hank, JoAnna, and I just about doubled their census. Not really, but you get the idea.

I grunted again as I tossed a heavy bag of ropes, bumpers, and assorted nautical gear over the rail, onto the deck, and I was finished loading my Monticello River Yacht. Hank had come through and found this one owner, seventy foot, beauty in Bethlehem, Kentucky, near Louisville. It was perfect for my trip. Hank negotiated on my behalf, with people who bought it on a lark, then lost interest. All they really wanted was to get enough for the boat to make it seem like they hadn't lost their butts on it. People are strange.

The boat had a large kitchen, with full sized appliances, with a strong water pump, so showers were going to be a pleasure. There were two bedrooms up, and two down. The two down had low ceilings, but were fine for sleeping, or just hanging out, watching TV on a rainy day. The master bedroom had a king sized bed, full sized shower, sizeable closets, and the back deck of the boat for scenery, through a full sized set of sliding glass doors. The hall bath had a sensible shower, and looked out the right side of the boat. The twin diesels were complimented by a diesel generator, a full set of solar collection panels, and some goodies that I wasn't sure about, except that Hank said they would be good to have along.

It was serviced, polished, and ready to go. Hank and JoAnna had been here to make sure the boat was seaworthy, and help me get it outfitted for the trip. Josephine at Mr. Bell's office had taken care of getting me enough cash to get through a couple of bad breakdowns, and a stack of twenty-five, five-thousand dollar cash cards, so I would always be able to pay my way. Coupled with that, I had my high limit, Amex, Visa, and Discover cards. I felt good to go.

The lawsuits were over, and Mr. Bell had so far distributed over fifteen million dollars into my trust, courtesy of the rat bastards that killed Beth Ann, and then tried to kill me. I knew if I dwelled on it, I'd go nuts. It was time to put it in the past, and go find the future. We still hoped the DOJ would disclose the facts about the whole thing, because we had no idea why those people came after me, or what they thought they had to gain by doing so. The closest anyone came to sharing information was the time I overheard Judge Jones say to one of the DOJ lawyers, "Whatever the mob thinks he knows, they're either dead wrong, or he has no idea that he knows it."

It was a Sunday afternoon in mid-October. Instead of putting things off, I was going away. The boat was fueled and fully operational. Hank had suggested running it on generator power for two days, to make sure nothing bad was going to happen, after I pulled out on the River. After forty-eight hours it still purred like a baby kitten.

At the last moment, instead of casting off, I stood on the front deck watching the river drift by. Suddenly in no hurry, the loneliness had caught up to me, again. As long as I was busy it was bearable. When I had time to think too much, it weighed me down. This time wasn't the first time, but it felt like the worst time.

When Beth Ann died things got so crazy around me that I never had time to grieve. Life was taken up with just trying to stay alive. I didn't have time to grieve for my One True Love. That's what taking this trip was about, for me. I needed time to weep on the inside, and time to laugh about how ridiculous that sounded. Most of all, I needed time to be whatever I needed to be, without the pressure of living up to someone else's idea of how things should be.

If I'd stayed in Branson I would have become lousy company, and I knew it. Alone I'd have time to find closure, and maybe find my smile once more. It had been missing since Beth Ann went to Heaven.

The new boat energized me. I loved the lines, the size, and where it was capable of taking me. If I was gone a year it didn't matter. If I took me three years, then so much the better. I had no agenda, except to go wherever I felt like going, and see whatever I could find when I got there. In doing so maybe I could find a little peace.

Colleen and Rebecca were a perfect pair of distractions. I'd needed them at that time, and it seemed like they needed me, so it was a fair trade. I felt no guilt about how it ended, and I hoped they felt the same way.

My new, nautical GPS was programmed to keep the boat in the channel, and take me down the Ohio River, towards Owensboro, Kentucky, and then on to Cairo, Illinois and up the Mississippi River to Minneapolis and Saint Paul. I had no idea how long that would take, and didn't care.

Watching a couple of birds dive for fish helped break the gloomy spell that had come over me. With a last look behind me, I cast off the lines, and motored away from the dock. Even though there was no one to wave goodbye to, I waved anyway.

Getting started was cathartic. As soon as I steered the boat into the channel marked on my GPS, and then activated the auto-pilot, I felt as if the cares of the world, and sorrows had slowly drained away. It was early fall, and the sun was lower in the sky, just off to my right, but low enough to cause a great deal of glare off the water. Colleen and I had spent an afternoon shopping for my trip, and she flatly demanded I buy expensive sunglasses. As I adjusted them I was very grateful that I'd taken her advice.

Our relationship had changed after that last night in the condo. She stayed away from me, mostly, but when we had to be together, she tried not to be withdrawn. It was uncomfortable for a while.