13. Rick - Old Friends, Better Lovers
Chapter thirteen
Rick - Old Friends, Better Lovers
E die and I have been friends so long that we can almost read each other’s minds. That is until she goes all rogue on me then I throw all the marbles in the air, cuss a blue streak, and wait till the dust settles. There was an old saying that “Necessity is the mother of invention” and though I didn’t understand many of those old sayings, I understood when Edie told me she was rebuilding Cory’s old boat entirely by herself. She couldn’t afford to pay someone else to do it, so making that old boat sea-worthy was one of those tasks, a necessity. She got some advice from a marine mechanic in exchange for home-baked cookies. (No, that’s not code for something else, at least that’s what Edie said.) That information helped her rebuild the engine. She replaced several rotten boards on the hull and put a new layer of fiberglass on The Everglades Queen.
Edie and I have done some crazy things together like having a double wedding the second time around for both of us to the same men we’d married before, (that’s an entirely different story and one we’ve chosen to try to bury.) We probably should have buried the men. Did I say that? Oops! Anyway, this was a stretch when she told me she planned to become a fisherman, even though I knew she was a country girl at heart and grew up on the river. I voiced my doubts but we rarely took advice from each other; we’re both strong-willed and hard-headed and can get into trouble all by ourselves.
After three months of back-breaking labor, she was ready to set out into the Everglades outer islands on the edge of the Gulf of Mexico to work on the lofty financial goal she had set for herself. She would never admit maybe this was a bad idea but it was too late to turn back now. The old Salties laughed her to scorn and I listened to her sob on the phone but she was determined and soon, she was doing the laughing. “If women can pump out babies, we can catch fish,” she laughed. Edie wasn’t just fishing, she was catching. Nothing deterred her and her bankroll was getting fat.
It had been two years since she launched her old boat and began this journey. I thought of my friend every night as she sat in her beat-up old boat; I worried and prayed for her relentlessly. The sky was black as pitch except for the billions of tiny phosphorous torches glistening across the water. She told me she had seen things in the water, coming out of the water, and rising above the water that she would never tell. She didn’t want to take a chance on being labeled a lunatic though other fishermen told similar stories that she knew were true but she kept her mouth shut. She didn’t even confide in me.
One particular night, the air was tortuously hot, thick, and sticky- too hot for February. She opened a new pack of Marlboros. Maybe the smoke would deter the swarms of mosquitos fighting for her blood. Uninvited hordes of them invaded every orifice of unprotected skin; their buzzing was deafening. The relentless savages never desist, ensuring the survival of their species, much like Edie.
She clicked her lighter to inhale that welcomed drug, that hit of nicotine, and wondered where she found the strength to work through this hell each night. Throngs of unsuspecting anglers never find their way out of these twisted mangroves sprawling their fingers to devour them. She checked the tide and movement of the currents then decided where to set her nets. If the tide was falling and she set them in a shallow area she’d have to wait six hours for the incoming tide to retrieve them. Spending longer there than she had to was not her goal. If the tide was rising her nets would float too high and her potential catch would escape out the bottom.
There’s quite the learning curve to net fishing unlike putting a worm on the hook waiting for the tug on the line. Kudos to my dearest friend, but I learned more about fishing than I ever wanted to know. It’s funny how you never notice a Buick until you buy one then that’s all you can see or talk about- much like Edie and her fishing adventure. I wish she’d talk about cooking, sewing, or anything but fishing, but I’m pretty well-educated now thanks to Edie.
She slowly released her nets, nearly two miles of them, and closed the gap at the end. If she was lucky, she’d have a big catch and wouldn’t have to reset them again tonight. Now it was time to wait and think. I remember the story she told of the horrifying night five months ago when she was sure she would die there in the darkness alone.
Waiting, just like tonight, for the fish to begin showering and hit her nets, her real-life nightmare began. Suddenly a gigantic splash hit the water on the port side and before she could react even bigger splashes hit on the starboard side drenching her, the roar of an airplane engine overhead, blinding lights in her face, and a man’s voice roared through a bullhorn. “Put your hands in the air, little lady and we’ll try not to kill you.” Boat engines came to life, and urgent voices and commands were retrieving the drop though she couldn’t see anything. In what seemed like forever was only a couple of minutes and then she was plunged into the dead-still blanket of terrorizing darkness.
The Everglades was one of the nation’s hottest drug entries in the U.S. but this was too close for comfort. She knew exactly what this was and she felt so vulnerable it was hard for her to go back out there. The drug traffickers knew she was there but she wasn’t so savvy. She was thankful they didn’t put a bullet in her head and feed her to the sharks. I clearly remember the terror in Edie’s voice when she called me the following morning. I thought maybe she’d give it up and come home, but that’s not who she was.
It had been forty-five minutes since she set her nets but she still hadn’t heard the fish shower. That’s the sound of their bodies slapping the water as they’re trying to escape the nets. They were moving slower than usual but finally, after ninety minutes, she thought they might be ready. She began the chore of pulling the nets out of the water by hand- yard after yard. She never knew what might be in those nets. She had pulled up small sharks, eels, water snakes, octopi, and other strange sea life she couldn’t identify. The light from the single bulb wired to the battery was dim, just enough to barely see. It wasn’t the best catch. There were hundreds of big Sail Catfish with their long poisonous dorsal fin. They’re nearly worthless except for bait for crab traps but had to be carefully removed from the net without getting stung. One sting could paralyze her hand for hours. She couldn’t afford that.
Three hours later, she secured her nets and four hundred pounds of mullet and jacks were iced down in her coolers as she headed for the fish house. Sipping her morning coffee out of her thermos as the sky began to lighten in those gorgeous melon colors of winter, she rewarded herself with another cigarette. She should quit, but not today. She tossed a fish to the ever-hungry alligator Alli who waited patiently by the bridge for the treat Edie saved for her. She had started their morning ritual early in her fishing life. Edie always called to Alli who surfaced right on schedule. She expected a nod of thanks but it’s hard to tell if an alligator is grateful according to her. Edie unloaded her catch, refueled for her next excursion, collected her cash, and headed for home. There was a certain ‘Atta girl’ pat on the back she awarded herself after each successful trip and I’m right there to second that.
Pulling up to her dock in the quiet cove, she couldn’t miss an Airstream camper hooked to a shiny pickup truck. What the hell? Then she saw him sitting on top of her picnic table with his long russet hair cascading down his back wearing his aviators looking toward her and the rising sun. Looking slightly familiar and resting his elbows on his knees, he made one subtle movement to wave at her then a slow nod with a small sexy smile on his lips. She felt her knees buckle slightly; she had questions and hoped he had answers. Getting her balance back, she slowly walked across the grass toward him.
“Rick…Rick Janssen? Is that you?” she choked. He flipped his long silky hair and removed his glasses as he looked her over from head to toe. Now if you know Edie like I do, you would hope this is a good thing for her. It’s been a long time since Cory left and she’s done her best to care for her girls and keep them happy.
“Yep, it’s me, Edie. You’re a sight for sore eyes- gorgeous, more beautiful than ever.” He smiled and blew her a kiss. “No offense, but you do smell a little fishy!” They both laughed at the icebreaker he tossed at her.
She didn’t know where to start or what questions to ask. She had so many and though he had just been a casual friend several years before, he looked as good as a cool shower and a snuggly down comforter. When she knew him he was a talented and creative artisan in the glassblowing business.
“Listen, Rick, before we get down to the important stuff, I have things to take care of then we can take time to catch up.” He nodded his head in understanding.
“What can I do to help? Point me in the right direction and I’m good.”
“Gee, a man who offers to help. What a novel idea. So…ah… how good are you, Rick?” Edie winked.
As he stepped from the table, he stretched and recited that old country song, “I’m not as good as I once was, but I’m as good once as I ever was,” he laughed.
“That remains to be seen Rick, but I plan to put you to the test,” she stifled a giggle. He helped her carry the large containers holding her nets then he rinsed them off. Saltwater shortens their durability. She showed him how to hang the thousands of yards of monofilament to dry and explained that there would probably be black snakes stuck in them within a couple of hours. She had to figure out a way to keep the snakes from the nets though they were harmless. The fish smell lured them and she had to carefully remove the snakes a scale at a time which took forever depending on how many were tangled in. Rick and Edie washed down the boat and coolers to allow everything to dry for the next trip that night.
Next on the schedule was her shower, then kissing and tickling the girls awake, getting them ready for school, and the next seven hours were hers. With their lunches packed, she put the girls on the bus and was ready to give Rick her full attention. She wasn’t sure what that would entail but as her friend, I hoped it would be good for Edie. She made the executive decision to make some breakfast so she ground some coffee beans, squeezed orange juice from the trees in the yard, sliced cold ripe papaya, and buttered toast from home-baked bread. They talked about times past as their familiarity became more apparent and comfortable. It had been almost four years since she saw him.
Before Sean’s tragic death, she worked part-time for a local TV station doing special interest stories. She met Rick when she interviewed him for a documentary about local artisans. They filmed a nice segment that gave his business a boost and he was grateful for the free marketing. The items he created were beautiful and unique. They hit it off as friends. She still had many pieces he crafted for her- maybe not in her Hope Chest but tucked away for the sake of art and fond memories. She confessed to me that even back then, he made her heart beat faster when she saw him. He was a bit flirty but never out of line- always respectful.
He stood and poured them more coffee. “I guess you’re wondering about my visit, huh?” he smiled.
“Now that’s the understatement of the century. I haven’t seen you in four years and that was 1500 miles from here, then unannounced you show up in this Podunk fishing town in an Airstream and you found me. What’s up with this?”
He nodded. “I looked for you several times but when I thought I was getting close, you had moved. Then I heard about Sean, so sorry by the way, and couldn’t help but be curious. I’m still doing my glass blowing and enjoy traveling to all the warm places around the country in the winter to show my art at the craft fairs. It’s much better than freezing my ass off in Illinois. Oops, sorry,” he laughed.
“Okay, so why here? Everglades City of all places?”
“The annual seafood festival is in ten days and brings in over 40,000 people. You know that, right?”
She offered him a totally ‘dumb blonde’ nod. “Duh,” she said.
“You’ll find this hard to believe but I was having a beer with some friends, and told them I was thinking about coming to this festival before heading to Key West, and one of the guys said you were here at your dad’s place. How lucky was that?” So, he stood, pulled her to her feet, stretched out his arms, and said, “Here I am.”
Before she could react, he pulled her tight against his body, brushed her hair away from her face, began massaging her tense shoulders, and smothered her lips with his full amazing mouth while walking her backward toward the bedroom. She could take this many directions and she could beg forgiveness for her transgressions. She could apologize for being so weak when it comes to men but if you’ve gotten this far, you know Edie by now. She should have regrets, but what’s the point at this late stage? With Rick, she could have fought the urge but she was thin, tan, toned, and lonely, and standing before her was this delicious man aching to have her. Sometimes a woman has to take what she needs.
Some logistics needed to be worked out to keep the girl’s curiosity at bay while making them happy. Rick and Edie spent two weeks of fun and frolic in the sun, in the dark, in the bed, in the ocean, in the boat, in the Airstream and anywhere else the urge hit. They laughed and played like kids. It was a great break for her, a morale booster, and a stress reliever. When the seafood festival was done, Rick packed up his camper, his memories of the fun time they shared, and with that casual wave and sexy smile, adjusting his aviators and flipping his beautiful hair, just like that…Rick was gone.