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Chapter Two
That was two years ago and Kate had spent as much time on the water in the boat as she had on land. There was such a freedom in being able to just exist – no time clock, no rush hour traffic, and no stress. Kate would often sail to an island where she could scuba dive local reefs and wrecks. Of course, there had been a couple of scary moments both in sailing and scuba diving where she had to confer with other vessels, but found that all the seaman were very willing to share their knowledge and their passion for the sea. Often they would come aboard to admire the “The Rose”, throw back a few whiskeys or gins as they told glorious stories of their adventures.
Now Katlin pointed the “The Rose” south towards Key West. It would take hours, six to eight, to get there but Kate never felt the twinge of impatience. Being on the “The Rose” slicing through the water, listening to waves slap against the hull was the real purpose to any trip. Nothing could ever match the pleasure of being on the water.
This trip was more about getting the “The Rose”’s annual service. Marcus Randall, a friend in Key West, was the only person Kate trusted to do service work of any kind on the “The Rose”. Marcus cared about boats more than anything else on the planet. Not just boats, but ships and watercraft of every size. When he’d get into the spiritual aspect of the boats, men rolled their eyes but Kate felt she understood. “The Rose” certainly felt alive and spiritual when caressing the ocean surface.
Marcus was a delight no matter what his disposition about boats. Kate had taken him to the movie “Titanic” when it was in the theaters. Marcus remained untouched by the emotions flowing from the screen until the ship hit the iceberg. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the Titanic’s hull slipped beneath the waves. Kate had almost giggled at his reaction, almost. But she too felt a deep sorrow for the proud Titanic.
Marcus was a thirty six years old, ex-psychology teacher who deemed after almost ten years teaching that the human race was hopeless. He’d spent the last three years repairing, salvaging and building boats, a skill he learned from his father decades earlier. His father, Norman, was proud that his wayward son had found his way back to the family business.
A tall 6’4”, Marcus was lean and tan, not an inch of fat on him. With brown hair and big brown eyes, women literally threw themselves at him though he pretended not to notice. Kate was sure it was all an act but in the 2 years she’d known him he had never dated. Kate had asked him once, point blank, if he did indeed like women. Marcus had smiled his most winning, white smile and assured her that, if he wanted to date, women would be his choice.
Kate, intrigued, had asked Norm about his son’s lack of womanizing. Norm had shook his head, a sad expression creasing his weathered face. It was something too painful to discuss, he had told her. Kate had briefly considered letting her computer whisk through cyberspace to look for clues but realized Marcus would tell her if he wanted her to know. She had backed off, never again broaching the subject directly.
Still, Kate always looked forward to seeing Marcus. If they had time, they’d hit up the clubs to tango the night away whenever she was down that way. Marcus was wonderful at tangoing, at all the waltzes too. Kate loved the feel of their bodies moving together in the tight choreographed moves.
