“'... and here we are with nothing holding us back— once we forget everything except ourselves and the boat. The boat will make our dream workable. This lousy hunk of sand is nothing, but there are other islands. Right this second we can pull anchor and head for Cuba. We stock up on food and gas, sail around until we find the right island for us: one where too many nosey people won't spoil our dream, our balance. For the rest of their lives Nancy and Mickey do nothing but take life easy. We can do it hands down if we both keep that balance in mind and remember to think only of the present. Our own little world starts as of now. It hasn't any past—and tomorrow is what we make it. Will you buy that?'
“'Glad you mentioned buying. What about the dream-busters like food, gas, clothes? Or do we use dream bucks?'
“She was sitting—as usual—on the suitcase. She stood up, stepped away from it, told me, 'Mickey, open my bag —slowly.' She pointed toward it, and me, with her purse gun. I opened the suitcase. It was packed solid with bills: hundreds, twenties, fifties.
“'It's our magic carpet, Mickey. If we live modestly, but comfortably, there's enough there to last us from now on. Money won't be our problem, it will be up here.' She touched her blonde head. 'As long as we have sense enough to only think of the present, and that may not be easy all the time, we can make it. In other words, Mickey and Nancy are born as of this second!' She held out her arms.
“'You mean the three of us: you, me, and your gun?' “She dropped her arms so fast I thought she was set to throw a punch at me. She said, “There you go, spoiling things! You must learn to stop that, if we are to have balance. I mean really stop it, not even a joke or a small wisecrack. You could have sailed away last night, no one made you stay, or come here. I'm not forcing you to live with me, I'm asking. If you say no, that's it. Why must you always bring up my gun?'
“'Because it's always with us, a part of the present.' “She shrugged. 'You have a couple of rifles under that canvas. And I saw a fighting knife in your cabin. I didn't say anything about them. In time the gun will go—I'll throw it away. In time.'”
“That's the story, Hal,” I said, nodding at the wall clock as I stood up. “Time and tide, and all that—I have to go. The point is, I bought the dream deal and it's worked ever since. It was kicks seeing you and perhaps we'll run into each other again. But do me one favor. Don't ever ask around about me.”
“Mickey, I never saw you,” Hal said, following me up and out to the cockpit, his face ready to bust with questions. I didn't say a word but started the Diesels. Hal nodded as he listened to them, said, “Good clean power.”
Making sure the sail tracks and slides were clear, I started to untie the main sail from the boom, had the halyard ropes ready. I pulled the fenders on board as Hal jumped on the dock without my telling him, and tossed me the bow line. He couldn't hold his curiosity in any longer. As Hal untied the stern line he asked, “Mickey, how long ago was all this?”
“It wasn't yesterday.”
“But you're still able to tell it word for word?”
“Don't put me on the witness stand, Hal. I'd hardly forget something like this, or any of the details.”
“What happened to the first Sea Princess?”
“Rammed by a freighter and went down,” I said, lying smoothly. “Good-bye, Hal. Stern line.”
He threw me the line as he asked, “But Mickey, what happened?”
“We made Cuba after a rough trip,” I said, and put the wheel over as the Sea Princess pulled away from the dock. I waved at him.
“But the girl?” he shouted. “Where did she come from? How did she ever get on the island? And the gun and the money? Why was she on the run?”
The satisfaction I felt at this moment was almost childish. I knew it, yet I was enjoying it to the hilt. As the Sea Princess swung out to the harbor, headed for the channel, I called back, “You want the truth, Harold?”
“Of course,” he yelled.
“You forget that balance,” I yelled back.
He cupped his hands in front of his lips. “Mickey, you said the truth!”
“Okay,” I shouted back, giving the motors the gun. “This is the truth: I never bothered asking her!”
I didn't have the nerve to turn around and look at his stunned face.
II
For the last nine months or so Rose and I had been living in the Cayman Islands, about five hundred miles from Haiti. I went to Cuba for supplies every two months, or to Port-au-Prince, or to Kingston. Of course I could have bought most of what we needed in Georgetown, on Grand Cayman, but Rose was leery of us attracting attention, insisted I go elsewhere.
It usually took me about a week to make the journey to Haiti, and less to Cuba. I always anchored at night because there was a lot of boat traffic, and also I didn't know the waters well enough to take a chance on lashing the wheel while I got some shut-eye. I had mixed feelings about these little trips. I like to travel so I looked forward to them as a change from our little island, and I was also jittery. Rose would never go along and I was always surprised to find her when I returned, somehow expecting her to vanish as mysteriously as she had appeared. I think in the beginning she had the same feeling about me, that I might be taking off with the money she gave me for supplies. The money was a big problem with us for a time. In fact it took a hurricane to straighten Rose out about me and money. But I left the money with her when I went for supplies and that made me nervous, figuring she might be robbed or killed if anybody else got wind of the dough.
Now, as I sat by the wheel, waving at beat-up fishing boats, keeping the Sea Princess down to her sailing lines and racing toward Jamaica, I kept thinking about Hal. I'd lied to him. While that grandstand exit of mine was true— I never had asked Rose what she was running from—still, I sure wanted to. Not because I gave much of a damn as to what she had done. I was very fond of Rose and a man likes to know his woman's life almost as well as he knows her body. In time, piecemeal, she had told me much about herself, her childhood... but when it came to how and why she'd been on that two-bit Florida Key, Rose clammed up tight.
I never saw a woman, or a man, so terribly frightened. They—or he—or she—had really put fear into Rose. And it wasn't the type of fright that eased with time. Like I wanted her to sail with me to Haiti and Cuba, to see the sights, the towns, but she had this deadly fear of being around Americans, or tourists of any kind. On “our” island with Ansel and his family, the other islanders, she was at ease. But let her see a stranger, especially an American, and Rose went stiff with fear.
It was crazy because generally Rose is like me: an easygoing character too dumb to worry about things. Her fear didn't worry me—it annoyed me. I was getting a wee bit bored with the life we were leading. We had money and Rose was a beautiful woman and at times I would get to thinking how we could live it up—for awhile—in Miami or New York. I'd never lived big in my life and now the money gave me the itch.
But it was out until I knew the kind of jam Rose was in, for I sure didn't want to risk anything happening to her. That was what she couldn't understand—if I knew what the trouble was I might be able to protect her better. Like my showing off for Hal instead of buttoning my lip. Of course Hal was okay, but unless I knew what the score was, I could easily talk out of turn without even knowing it. A guy can't make like a dummy all the time.