I felt my phone buzz in my pocket. I pulled it out. UNKNOWN. I knew the call wasn’t coming from Courtney, and anything that read UNKNOWN was not, at the moment, in my wheel house of family and friends. That’s why they invented voice-mail.
A half minute later I played back the message: “Sean, it’s Andrea … I just wanted to let you know that I’m glad the young woman … your niece … was cleared of those charges. Things, as you can imagine, have been pretty hectic this last week going into the election. I called to just say hello and wish you the best. We still had … we still have a daughter together. I have to believe what I did twenty years ago was for the best. I hope you understand that, and find it in your heart to forgive me.” She paused, seemed to clear her throat, and her voice changed into a campaign patter. “I know you don’t care for Lloyd, but the country needs a man like him now in these troubled times. Take care, Sean … I …” She disconnected.
I glanced down at Max and said, “The delete button is a wonderful thing. What do you say we go for a boat ride? We have a special passenger to pick up. Ready?”
She cocked her head and barked once. We left the cemetery and headed to Ponce Marina. From there our destination would be somewhere beyond the horizon of the sea.
104
For a woman who hadn’t spent much time on boats, Kim Davis was a natural on the water. We’d taken Jupiter south to the Florida Keys, Kim, Max and me — final destination unknown. But the stopping off point was a layover on the Caribbean side of Key Largo. It was a harbor I used to sail in an out of when I lived in Miami.
We spent four days there, anchored off Sexton Cove, a place of mesmerizing blue-green turquoise water. We snorkeled and spearfished in the gin-clear water, grilled fresh yellowtail, snapper, and lobster in the cockpit. The cove was bordered by sugar-white sand beaches dotted with leaning coconut palm trees. We took the dinghy to the beach and played like teenagers on spring break, Kim laughing, Max doing her happy bark. We took long walks, soft sand between our toes, and the sweet smell of blooming hibiscus on the gentle trade winds.
On the third day, I taught Kim how to SCUBA dive. After practicing in the shallow cove, I took Jupiter into Pennekamp National Park and dove the coral reefs. I held her hand underwater and guided her around the shallow water reefs. Her eyes grew wide behind the glass of her mask when she spotted a large leatherback turtle swimming by less than twenty feet from us. We swam through clouds of multi-colored fish, hovering above French Reef, the coral and sea ferns in a kaleidoscope of purple, lavender, salmon reds and pinks.
When we finally got to the surface and swam to Jupiter, Kim was awe-struck. We climbed on Jupiter’s dive platform, opened the transom door and were greeted by Max. The three of us sat there, Max standing to keep her balance.
Kim pushed her mask on top of her head and looked out over water the color of a fresh-cut lime. She said, “I can’t ever go back. Not after all this. When we were below, I could have caught a ride on the back of that sea turtle. I love Ponce Inlet, love our friends at the marina, but down here in the Keys … this is like another world, something I’ve seen in magazines and travel shows. I’ve never felt more alive, healthier. The sun, the fresh seafood and this special world. Are you sure we’re in America?”
“When we get down to Key West it’s debatable.”
She looked up and smiled. “And, Sean O’Brien, I never knew sex at sea was even better than on land.” She laughed. “I think it's the sea, the boat … and the man.”
I smiled. “I’m not so sure about that last ingredient.”
“I am.”
“I’m glad you are enjoying all of this. We both needed to get away, to put some stuff in the rearview mirror and focus on the horizon.”
“And what a big horizon it is. What’s in that direction?” She pointed to the west.
“Mexico.”
“And back the other way?”
“The Bahamas. Bimini is only about eighty miles from us.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Have you ever been there?”
“Not since Sherri died a few years ago. Max and I sailed to Bimini out of Fort Lauderdale.”
“I’d love to go one day.”
I heard the buzz of my phone on the cockpit table. I got up. “Don’t answer it, Sean. It might destroy the magic of this world. Civilization be gone!”
“It could be Courtney.” I stepped to the table. Dave was calling. “Sean, how are things?”
“Good, what’s up?”
“I won’t ask you where you and Kim wound up.”
“Good, then I won’t have to lie to you.”
He laughed. “Have you been following the election?”
“No. Made a point not to bother.”
“Well, Logan is about to make his concession speech. It wasn’t even close. He lost by more than a twenty percent margin.”
I said nothing, the call of a gull over my head, the sea lapping against Jupiter’s hull.
“Are you still there, Sean?”
“Yeah, I’m here. Can’t say I’m surprised.”
“Me either. You, my old friend, are one of a few people on the planet who managed to influence the results of a presidential election.”
“Only by default. The only political strategy was about staying alive.” I looked over at Kim as she set Max on her lap. “And it was about keeping two women I care for alive, too.”
“How’s Kim?”
“Doing well.”
“That torc you asked me to investigate, well I did a lot of research.”
“What’d you find?”
“It’s very rare and very valuable. Most of the torc is solid gold, inlaid with some silver and iron. But the history of it makes it even more valuable. More than two-thousand years old, dating back to the days the Romans invaded Ireland. Hell, Caesar could have worn it after taking it from a Celtic holy man. It has, as you may surmise, pagan religious significance as well. Collectors of this kind of ancient art will pay a lot to get it. Museums, especially those with extensive historical collections, will jump at the chance to own it. Based on my research, I’m estimating that this will command a price of near a million dollars.”
“See if you can sell it.”
“Sell it? Are you sure?”
“Positive. If you get a million, take five percent for yourself. Put half a mill in a trust for Courtney. I’ll pay off the remaining taxes on the property in Ireland. You can wire whatever’s left to my bank account.”
“And which account would that be?”
Kim smiled and set Max on the cockpit. “It’ll be a new account, one I open in Bimini.”
“Bimini?”
“Yeah, Dave … Bimini. I’ll send you the routing number. Thanks … we’ll see you in a couple of weeks.” I disconnected and set the phone down.
The sun was dropping in the western sky, the bulbous clouds filling with shades of blood red, mauve, copper, and flamingo feather pinks from the sky to the sea. A school of brown pelicans streaked across the horizon. Kim stepped closer to me, her hair wet from the dive, her eyes filled with the colors of the sunset. I cupped her tanned face in my hands and we kissed softly, her lips held a slight taste of sea salt, her skin warm from the sun.
Kim slowly ran the tips of her fingers across my bare chest. She tenderly touched the new scar near my birthmark. “I was so afraid for you, Sean. So afraid they’d destroy you. And now you return from your dangerous journey with another war wound.” She touched my birthmark. “I think this little birthmark protects you.”
“You do?”
“Yes, it was stenciled on by a higher power. That’s a real tattoo, one that you never want to remove.” She kissed my chest.