Chapter 52

Even cruising with the current, getting the BETH ANN back to Mr. Crane's dock took some time, but not as much as going to the Swamp House. As soon as we docked, Mr. Crane went to fire up the grill, and I carried Jennifer off the boat and up to her grandfather's house. I set her down just inside the solarium door where Sherrie took over her care.

The afternoon sun was quickly slipping away, and I got the boat shut down and hooked up. Mr. Crane had power and water plumbed out to his dock, making my overnight stay even more appealing, since I wouldn't be running on the generator all night.

Not wanting to intrude, I lounged around the upper deck of the BETH ANN, waiting to be asked to join the Crane family. Mr. Crane eventually figured it out and came huffing and puffing to tell me to "get my scrawny butt off that boat" and help him grill. Jennifer was waiting when I appeared on the terrace. She rolled her chair towards me and reached for my hands. Giving both hands to her, I leaned in and kissed her on the cheek, telling her she looked lovely in the dress she was wearing.

"Mommy picked it out, and I chose the accessories," she said, turning her head from side to side so I could see the clip on earrings and matching bracelet.

"Well, I think you are beautiful and that your mother has very good taste, especially in little girls." That started another round of giggles as Jennifer made much of my compliments, and Sherrie played along.

Mr. Crane was busy grilling, and Sherrie was cutting up vegetables. I rolled up my sleeves, grabbed a knife and showed off my skill by slicing tomatoes and green peppers. Sherrie noticed how quick and efficient I was handling a knife and commented "Brian, I see that someone has trained you so that someday you'll be useful as a husband."

Mr. Crane jerked his head up when he heard Sherrie refer to me as husband material, and I noted his look of interest. I suddenly had no doubt that he would at least think about matchmaking and made a mental note to keep that in mind.

Jennifer loved the whole event. She went on and on about how nice it was outside, how much she loved bar-b-cue, and on, and on, and on ... To keep it real I distracted her with questions about her home in Denver and the things she liked to do.

"I like to draw. I'd like to draw you," she said pointing her finger at me.

Sherrie objected, "Jennifer what have I told you about pointing at people? It's not polite. Now what do you say to Brian?"

Her eyes darkened just a bit, and she said, "Mommy's right. I'm sorry for pointing at you."

How could anyone even think about being cross with this child? "I know you are, and I still think you're the most beautiful girl in the whole world. So there." She giggled. Who would have thought I would try out my best pick up line and get laughed at by ten year old? Hummmph.

When I looked up from Jennifer, I noticed both Sherrie and Mr. Crane were looking at me with something between amazement and amusement in their eyes.

The grill made a popping sound and broke the sudden change in our mood. Mr. Crane hopped up and went back to work. Sherrie got busy setting paper plates and accessories around, while I made a nuisance of myself.

Jennifer noticed my uselessness and suggested I tell her a story. Thinking it over I asked Sherrie, "How much time do I have to enthrall this girl with my tale?"

She looked perplexed for just a second, then caught on and said, "Daddy should be ready with the meat in about eight to ten minutes, so it will have to be a short story."

I gave Jennifer a serious look and said, "Young lady. There are no short stories. There are some people just who have short imaginations. It's like short people, who live short adventures, because they shorten the fun, by having short bravery, and don't play short stop, or wear short skirts." I was on a roll. "If you have just a short time, for a short vacation, you should order short bread, to avoid winding up with short wind, and short memories, because you settled for going on short excursions." Nothing I said made a bit of sense, unless you were a sick, little ten-year old girl, with a saint for a mother, a coward for a father, and prince for a grandfather. She needed to laugh, and I seemed to have found the key to her funny bone - at least for a little while.

"I don't what I'm going to do with all this SHORT stuff around here. I feel so shortened, by the shortening in my short pockets. It's such a burden," I said with mock seriousness.

"We'll have to start this tale of adventure later. That's what we'll do. Ok, short stuff?" and everyone giggled, Jennifer the most. God, I loved this child, already.

I put my head next to Jennifer's and whispered silliness into her ear, while Sherrie and Mr. Crane completed preparations, often taking time to check out our conversation. I told Jennifer to look critically at Sherrie as soon as I stopped talking, pretend to be thinking about what I said, and then nod and whisper something in my ear. I told her it would drive her mother crazy.

And it did.

By the time supper was on the picnic table, Sherrie was probably convinced she'd made an egregious error, letting me invite them to go for a ride on the Beth Ann. Jennifer, on the other hand, told me I was her brand new, very best friend. SO THERE!

Things settled down, and we ate heartily. Mr. Crane had the gift of bar-b-cue excellence, and I told him so. "Son, if you don't STOP calling me Mr. Crane, I'm going to bat your brains all over this yard. My mother named me Jeremy, and I am so sick of being called Sir and Mr. I'd like to crown the next person that does so, starting with you. You hear me?"

"Yes sir, I do," I said dead pan, getting a laugh and breaking the tension.

It started to cool off and get dark, so Sherrie asked me to join them inside for a piece of homemade apple pie she'd baked the night before. Who was I to deny myself such essential sustenance? It took a few minutes, but we cleaned up the picnic table, put away all the implements, threw out all the trash, and wiped up all the ant-tempting spills.

Mr. Crane's home was gorgeous. I said as much and that got him rolling. "Mrs. Crane picked this out a couple of years before I retired. She wanted to be in warm weather, and I wanted to be on the water. I love to boat, fish a little, and swim – though you do not swim in fresh water in Florida, unless you would like to be alligator dinner.

"We found it all right here." He went off somewhere in his head, remembering better days with his bride. By tacit agreement, the three of us let him have time to reflect.

After the wait to give her father time, Sherrie said, "Brian, we are getting very close to Jennifer's medication and bedtime. Once she takes her last round of drugs, she goes out like a light for six to eight hours. If you want to tell her a story and not wait until tomorrow, now's the time."

"Do you bathe Jennifer and then do other things for a little while until she is all dried off?" I asked.

Sherrie gave me another look full of surprise. "Well. Yes. That's exactly what we do. Why?"

"Well, I was thinking. If you bathe this little bundle of beauty and call me when she's all fixed up and beautiful, I could tell her my story while her medication kicks in. If we don't make it to the end, there's always tomorrow morning ... unless you have other plans. In which case, I'd get going and not inconvenience you in any way."

Jennifer grabbed my hand. Jeremy raised both of his in a STOP gesture, and Sherrie couldn't answer quickly enough. "No. No, no! We are very free tomorrow, and if you were willing to put off leaving a little while in the morning, I'm sure little Miss Smarty Pants, here would love to hear the rest of your story." That got all three of them smiling. There was definitely more to this than met the eye, and I suspected I was going to hear all about it, either while Sherrie bathed and got Jennifer ready for bed or right after she was in bed.

I kissed Jennifer's hand and assured Sherrie I was happy to delay my departure until I could complete Jennifer's bedtime story. Sherrie pushed the chair away for Jennifer's bath, leaving Jeremy and me alone, which I think was the agenda. He had something to ask me, I was sure.

He looked at me for some time, measuring me or sizing me up - I wasn't sure which. Eventually he decided – something - and said, "Brian, what is your schedule? Are you even on one?"

"Mr. Crane," I began.

"Brian. I asked you nicely to call me Jeremy. I know it might go against what your parents taught you, but let that go and humor an old man, Ok?

"Now tell me your story. What is a young man like you doing tramping around the country in a yacht?"

"Yes, sir – Jeremy," I said, trying it out on my tongue. "Sir, last summer I was in a very bad accident that killed what was left of my family. I spent the summer trying to live through two brain operations to cut off a reoccurring aneurysm. As far as I know, I died twice - once in the car and the other time on the table in the emergency room.

"I have no family. Neither of my parents had siblings which means no cousins, aunts, or uncles, and my grandparents are dead. Do you have any idea how depressing it is to wake up every morning, with nowhere to be, no one to call, and no family to remember on Christmas, or Mother's Day?

"I had to get away and heal up both physically and emotionally. My mother and I spent the one and only vacation we ever had together, on a houseboat. We were happy then. It seemed like a great idea to buy this boat and head out on a journey that would keep my mind occupied, keep me from feeling sorry for myself, and give me time to get over it all. I needed time to get over everything.

"So far, it's working." I hadn't intended to tell him so much, but he caught me at a weak moment. "As to your question, sir, I'm not expected anywhere, by anyone, anytime."

Mr. Crane sat back and contemplated my disclosures, then excused himself to answer a call to nature. I told him I was going to check on the boat to make sure everything was fine. "You come back and meet me in here - as soon as you're done! Ok?!" He said that with command authority. He knew how to get his way.