Talei
After five full days at sea, Trace rested The Tramp Islander five miles off the southern coast of American Samoa. The crew, except for Cally, relaxed on the foredeck nursing a bottle of beer each. Cally sat at the chart desk making calls on the shortwave. He mentioned cargo and packages without any reference to what they contained.
When Cally completed the transitions, he went below. He came out of the forward companionway with a tray of seven bottles of beer. He passed them out, and sat on the deck with the rest of the crew.
“Well,” Trace said, “did you get all your calls done?”
“Yeah,” Cally said. “It looks as if everything isn’t at Pago Pago yet. We will have to stay a couple of days.”
“Makani won’t mind,” Trace said. “He won’t have to go around like a chicken with its head cut off buying rations.”
“I think it would be good if we have some sort of a story, in case somebody gets curious,” Adam said. “So we have fathers and sons sailing together, taking supplies to Nassau. Pete, what do you know about copra?”
“Nothing,” Pete replied.
“Perfect,” Trace said. “You invested in a copra operation on Nassau, and you came to find out more about it.”
“Cally,” Trace said, “You’re a developer, looking to develop.”
“I think I can do that if asked,” Cally said.
“This way, there’s no conflicting stories,” Trace said.
Makani spoke up. “And I the cook.”
“And by the way,” Trace said, “if someone asks why you, Pete, and you, Cally, didn’t fly to a closer island, you two wanted to meet up with your old buddy, Adam, for a reunion. You won’t have to fake that.”
Everyone agreed.
The next morning, The Tramp Islander docked at a pier in Pago Pago. A uniformed policeman checked passports and asked passively for information.
Two hours after arriving, a flatbed truck loaded with wooden crates parked next to the boat. The load was part of Cally’s supplies. They stowed all but one crate in the hold.
Mid-afternoon, another truck arrived with five fifty-five-gallon drums. They contained airplane fuel. It was stored on deck.
Trace got everybody together in the pilothouse.
“If we all stay on the boat,” Trace said, “it may arouse suspicion. I’ll stay here. Everyone else can take off, and please stay out of trouble.”
Everyone agreed and left the boat except for Adam. He remained in the pilothouse.
Trace sat at the chart table, and Adam sat on the bench.
“How many times have you been here?” Trace asked.
“A few times,” Adam said.
“You want to go ashore and look around?” Trace asked.
“I might, to stretch my legs,” Adam said.
“I’m sure there’s a few old places you’d like to see if they’re still there,” Trace said.
Adam grinned. “Yeah, there are old ghosts that may be around. Sometimes it’s best to just pass on by.”
They grinned at each other.
“Yeah,” Adam said, “there was an old love here. I was never going to live here, and she was never going to live in Texas. Bitter/sweet. I’d hate to show up and be the guy she never talked about, and if there’s a husband, he will see something in her eyes and mine. That’s a chance I don’t want to take. It would be selfish on my part.”
Trace ginned.
“You’re not going to let go of this, are you?” Adam grinned.
“I have no intention,” Trace said.
“Her name was Talei,” Adam said and stared out the window of the aft door. “She was ten years younger than me. Her family owned a little grocery. They had a little sandwich shop attached to it. I docked here for a month. We saw each other every day.
Trace waited for Adam to say more.
“Native, I suspect,” Trace said.
Adam continued the stare.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Trace said. He turned away and stared over the bow. He turned back to see a tear roll down Adam’s cheek.
“Sorry, Dad,” Trace said. “I should have left well enough alone.”
“No, no, no,” Adam said, “that’s okay. I told your mom and Coyote about her. And Grandpa.”
“Maybe it should just stay there,” Trace said.
“She lost a child,” Adam said. “I should say we lost a child. God, that was hard.”
“You really loved her, didn’t you?” Trace said.
“Absolutely,” Adam said, “but don’t get this wrong, your mom was The Love of my life. Nothing will ever replace her. I mourn every day for her, not in a harmful way, but in a good way. I’m sure Talei has a life and is happy. That’s the type of person she was.”
“Then let’s go ashore and have someone else watch the boat,” Trace said.
“Nah,” Adam said, “that’s okay. I’m fine here. Besides, I want to read up a little more on the Woodhaven guy.”
“Haywood,” Trace corrected, “Haywood Demeter.”
“You’ve read plenty,” Trace said.
“Apparently, not enough,” Adam said. “I can’t even get his name right.”
“Here’s what I think,” Trace said.
“Would it surprise you to know that I don’t care what you think?” Adam said.
“Yeah,” Trace said, “it would surprise me. You’re afraid of what has to be said. You're afraid of the truth.”
Adam stared out the aft door. He turned back to Trace. “What do you think?”
“I think there’s a hole in your heart,” Trace said. “I think you’re afraid the hole will never be filled.”
“It’s a big hole,” Adam said.
“You’ve filled that hole with only your imagination,” Trace said. “You just imagine things are fine with her. And someday you will come to the realization that it may not be so and you’ll be too old to do anything about it.”
“Ya let dead dogs lie,” Adam said. “I’m going below for a whiskey and some reading on Hayward Dempster.”
“That’s Haywood Demeter,” Trace said.
Adam stood and went below.
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