The Five Year Plan (1998)

'It's kind of you to say so, Sam.'

He stretched his long arms and yawned. 'Bowen's right about one thing, though. That early night. I'm bushed. Mind if I turn in?'

'You go ahead. I'm going to stay up a while and enjoy the night air. It's not every day you set sail on a voyage across the Atlantic Ocean.'

Sam smiled politely and rose to his feet. He had no great love for the ocean. Fort Lauderdale was one of the busiest stations in the service. They'd performed over a thousand boardings the previous year and Sam never worked less than a seventy-hour week. The Coast Guard motto was Semper Paratus -- Always Ready -- and boy, did they mean it. Sam had never married. He'd never found the time, let alone the right girl. The kind of girl who would put up with a rival like the sea. Kate, he liked. But already he knew her for what she was. Someone like himself. Someone prepared to put her job ahead of any relationship. And there was no future in that for either of them. So he said goodnight and went down to his stateroom.

Kate went to the back of the bridge and stared out to sea. The ship was making good speed at almost seventeen knots, although she would hardly have noticed but for the low noise and dull vibration of the engines. The sea itself looked as calm as if they'd been sailing in one of Lauderdale's intercoastal waterways. The moon was full, as big as a soccer ball, and there was only a light warm breeze as they cruised through the night. Kate lit a Doral and meandered barefoot around the deck. In the moonlight you might have believed all of the boats on the ship were made of cocaine, they were so white. A poet at least might have appreciated Kent Bowen's half-baked theory. And it was easy to think of all their passengers as supernatural voyagers from some Greek myth, or maybe flying Dutchmen set to sail the seas forever.

Someone cleared his throat, and, turning towards the Carrera's starboard side, she found herself facing the moonlit captain of the Juarista. He said, 'Lovely evening.'

'Isn't it?' Kate put out the cigarette. She never felt she looked her best when she was smoking.

'You could ask me aboard again, if you wanted to.'

'You want a beer?'

He seemed to take this as a yes, for the next moment he was leaping athletically from his bridge to hers.

'Oh,' she said, a little nervous of him. 'Here you are. Well, well.'

'Well, it's a marvellous night for a moondance.'

To Kate's surprise Dave put his arm around her waist, picked up her slightly reluctant right hand in his left, and began to dance with her, all the while quietly singing his favorite Van Morrison song, smiling when their eyes met and without a trace of shyness, as if he serenaded a girl like this every night.

At the end of the song, when she thought he would surely kiss her, he released her hand and stepped back.

Kate let out her breath and said, 'That was nice.' She was a little shocked to hear herself add, 'I could listen to that all night.' She turned away so that he couldn't see her grimace with embarrassment. 'I'll get you mat beer.'

'No,' he said. 'Really I'm OK. I don't need a beer.' He smiled. 'I was thinking. How about you go to the movies with me tonight? The Third Man's playing at the Juarista. It's a little movie theater somewhere off the Bahamas.'

'I know it,' she said. 'It's right by the Carrera.'

'Afterwards, we could check out a cocktail bar I know nearby. The barman there makes these really excellent Margaritas.'

Kate frowned, wondering why she should suddenly be reminded of the Pier Top at the Hyatt in Fort Lauderdale.

Dave went on: 'Then, if you've still got the energy, we could go dancing.'

'I'm not much of a dancer,' admitted Kate. Didn't Howard always say so? I've seen a book of random numbers with more rhythm than you have, Kate, he had told her.

'Sure you are,' he said. 'You know all the moves.'

'I think that's you you're describing.'

'Oh, you mean moves like in chess.'

She nodded.

'As in a gambit?'

'Mister Gary Kasparov,' she said.

'Could be,' he allowed. 'Only a gambit involves some kind of sacrifice.'

'So what have you got to lose?'

Dave said, 'I had the naive idea of simply expressing my feelings as they occurred. Will that do?'

'Sure. But maybe we'd better skip the movie. We might disturb the other patrons.'

'OK, but how about that Margarita?'

'If you think it'll help with that naive idea of yours. Just the one though, and remember this. One: I'm driving home. And two: I like to lick the salt off my own lips.'

Dave helped her to cross to his boat and, while Kate cast her eye over the salon, he stepped downstairs to make sure that Al was fast asleep. The first decent girl he'd met in five years, the last thing he needed was Al sticking his nose in. Behind the polished cedarwood door, the TV was still on, but Al was snoring loudly. Dave went back up to the salon to fix the drinks.

'Al's asleep,' said Dave. 'He won't disturb us.'

'Tell me about Al.'

Dave said, 'I guess you could say that Al's pretty much the guy next door. That is if you happen to live next to a zoo, or a pig farm. But he's useful to have around, y'know?'

Kate laughed. She was looking at the mock-glass aquarium by Lalique that surrounded the sofa and thinking that the boat's interior was a lot less obviously masculine than she had imagined. Quite apart from the glass there were the scattercushions on the sofa. She had never known a man to possess cushions aboard a sportfisher.

'Nice interior,' she pronounced politely.

'It's OK,' he allowed. 'A little fussy. I'm not sure that the glass works. So I'm thinking of a refit in the winter.' He handed Kate her Margarita. 'Something more practical, perhaps.'

She sipped her drink. 'Mmmm. Just right.'

'That's the way I like them.'

'A perfectionist.'

'That would certainly explain why I'm attracted to you.'

'Flattery's my favorite compliment.'

'I'd have thought you were used to it by now.'

'Not really. My ex-husband was a little stingy with his good opinions. He made up for it with his bad ones, though.'

'The ex part sounds good.'

'He's well out of my life,' she lied. 'Short on compliments, but he'd always take his hat off to a pretty woman. Only trouble was, it never stopped at just his hat.'

'Philanderer, huh?'

'Like his name was Phil, and er... he came from er... Philadelphia.'

Dave grinned. 'Who writes your dialogue?' he said. 'I love the way you talk.'

'Little guy, with a battered Remington, upstairs in my head, looks a bit like William Holden.'

'William Holden. He used to be big.'

'He is still big,' declared Kate, with mock solemnity. 'It's his arteries that got small.' She was pleased that he liked the way she talked. Howard had never cared for Kate's wit. She was always too quick for him and he had hated that. Sometimes she was too quick even for herself, saying things, funny things she would later regret. If her mouth had been a gun she'd have been the Sundance Kid. But in her own opinion it wasn't that Howard had lacked wit or intelligence, merely that he took himself too seriously.

'It's good that you and I share a sense of humor,' she had once told him. 'The only trouble is that I've got 95 per cent of it.'

There was certainly nothing wrong with David's sense of humor. Kate was pretty keen on the way he talked too. She said, 'You're not so badly off yourself. After all, you've got Van Morrison on your case. I always liked Van the Man. Where are you from, Van?'

Dave smiled and looked away for a moment. 'It doesn't matter,' he said. 'What matters most is where you're going and how you get there.'