Far Country (18 page)

           
The water surrounding the doomed freighter was clear and the sunlight from
above brightened the area around the wreck, making his head lamp
unnecessary.  Steve switched it off and began exploring the sea floor
outside the hull.  A couple of sharks cruised nearby; harmless mostly, but
always a presence to be monitored.  Steve circled farther out from the
remains of the wreck and pulled out his new and very expensive underwater
camera to take a picture.  His fins stirred up the sandy bottom and
beneath the swirl, a glimmer caught his eye.  He reached down and brushed
away more sand.  Steve grinned, at least as much as his breathing
apparatus would allow him to, and lifted up a very dainty china teapot with
only a hairline crack along the base.  He gently dropped it into his booty
bag and turned to look for Beth. She was waving at him from a rocky outcropping
that had most likely been the one that had killed the ship seventy-five years
ago.  Beth tapped her wrist, letting him know that it was time to head up.
Too soon, as far as Steve was concerned, but he gave her a thumbs up sign, and
together they kicked toward the surface.

           
George, her young partner in the scuba diving venture, was dozing on the bow of
the little cabin cruiser that served as their diving platform.  Beth
hailed him as they swam toward the boat.  He immediately sat up and waved,
then made his way aft to give them each a hand up the ladder.  As they
removed their gear and stowed the tanks on the rack, George set out drinks and
sandwiches for them to enjoy during the hour long cruise back home.

           
Steve observed the young man as he went about his chores. In many ways, George
reminded him of a younger version of Chuck. In fact, he could easily imagine
Chuck as a beach bum in his youth, and for a moment, Steve wondered where Chuck
had grown up. George had the same curly bleached out blonde hair and brilliant
blue eyes shining out of a handsomely bronzed face. He had an easy
accommodating manner  that made him very likeable, but it was also clear
to Steve that George knew what he was doing, and the accommodating manner would
harden quickly if you messed with anything to do with ‘his’ boat. George was
blessed to have found a job that combined his two passions in life: working on
boat engines and maintaining his already impressive tan.

           
As George cranked the engine to life and turned the wheel of the cabin cruiser
back toward home, Steve and Beth munched on the sandwiches and compared
finds.  He examined two medicine bottles Beth had uncovered, and she exclaimed
over the delicate teapot, agreeing that his mother would certainly appreciate
his discovery.

           
This was only Steve’s third dive in the ocean, but he knew he was hooked. 
A thought that made him a little sad, since he would probably be leaving for
Hanging Rock in just a few weeks. He felt stronger every day, and expected the
doctors would release him by late June. It didn’t matter, though.  Steve
had already purchased his own wet suit and oxygen tanks, and now the camera. He
would stash them at his mother’s house and use them whenever he could get free
from Hanging Rock for a couple of days.  For the first time in six years,
Steve was not looking forward to leaving Jacksonville.

           
He looked over at Beth, who was now stretched out on the cushions, reading a
novel.  She glanced up at him and flashed a smile.  “You want to try
and go out again later this week?” She called loudly, over the growl of the
engine.

           
“Sure!” Steve answered eagerly.  “I’m off Tuesday, what about you?”

           
Beth shook her head.  “I think I’m scheduled to work.  I’ll call you
and let you know.”

           
Steve sighed to himself. If Beth was working then he was on his own Tuesday. He
was not certified to go diving on his own, nor did he have access to a boat.
The prospect was gloomy.  Tuesday would be a wasted day.

                                   
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Tuesday morning dawned bright and sunny, although Steve was not aware of it until
around 8:30.  He awoke to the unmistakable scent of freshly baked cinnamon
buns rising from the kitchen. 

           
 Blearily, Steve threw on some shorts, splashed his face with cold water,
and stumbled down the stairs, just in time to kiss his mother good-bye at the
door, as she headed off for her volunteer shift at the hospital.

           
“Smells great, mom, thanks,” he said, inhaling appreciatively.
There were
certainly benefits to living back at home again,
he thought.   He
couldn’t remember the last time he’d had homemade cinnamon buns.

           
His mother smiled.  “The coffee’s on. Let the buns sit a few minutes to
cool before you drizzle them with frosting,” she admonished.  “I hope you
weren’t planning to go out this morning.”

           
Steve was puzzled. “Why?” He asked.

           
“Oh, well, it would have been a shame to have the buns go to waste,” she
replied vaguely.  “I remember how much you used to like them and I just
got the urge to get up and make them today.”

           
She seemed slightly evasive, but Steve let it pass. “Don’t worry about those
cinnamon buns, mom,” he replied, giving her a peck on the cheek.  “I have
plans for each and every one of them!”

           
His mother reached for her purse and sunglasses on the table.  She gave
him a warm smile.  “I’m glad I got the notion then,” she answered. 
“So you are staying home today, then?”

           
Steve shrugged.  “Beth hasn’t called yet, but we might go diving later
today. I don’t know yet.”

           
Laura Williams frowned a little. “Oh.”

           
Steve raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Why this sudden interest in where I’m going to be
today?”

           
Laura gave him an innocent smile.  “I just remembered that
Tassie
said she would drop off some knitting patterns this
morning, and I forgot to tell her that today was one of my volunteer days,
that’s all.  Would you be a dear, and hang around until she drops by? I’m
sure it would be no later than ten.”

           
Steve smiled. “Sure mom, no problem.”

           
Laura smiled again and sighed happily.  “It’s good to have you home
again!” She exclaimed. “Since your dad passed on, I’ve missed having someone I
could depend upon for little things.

           
I know what you mean, mom,” he agreed.  “I’ve enjoyed being home with you,
too.”

           
Laura finally glanced at her watch. “
Lordy
, just look
at the time!  I’ve got to fly!”  She gave her son one more kiss on
the cheek and hurried out the door.

           
Steve sighed. It had been nice being home, but living with your mother once
you’d been out on your own had its good points and bad points, he
reflected.  It was probably a good thing that she didn’t get these
domestic urges too often.  Most of the time she was quite willing to let
him live his own life, now that he was more mobile, and she had returned to her
community charities and volunteer work.  They were usually quite
comfortable with each other, although she didn’t quite know what to think about
his sudden interest in religion. Despite his frequent requests for her to
attend church with him, she steadfastly refused, saying she had never felt the
need to dabble in ‘all of that’.  Steve wasn’t ready to give up,
though.  Sooner or later, she would realize that it wasn’t some passing
fad for Steve, and then her curiosity would get the better of her.  
Stretching, Steve followed his nose back to the kitchen and eyed the two huge
trays of cinnamon buns with some surprise.  Did she think she was feeding
an army?  He’d weigh 300 pounds if he ate all of these! Still, it was nice
to be spoiled sometimes… 

           
He poured a cup of coffee and scooped up a steaming roll, tossing it from hand
to hand to keep from burning his fingers. He took a nibble of the corner and
closed his eyes in bliss.  It was every bit as good as he recalled. 
Steve saw that his mother had left the newspaper by his chair, so he settled
down to read, and to do as much damage as he could to all those cinnamon buns.

                                   
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Steve was on his third bun and second cup of coffee when he heard a blaring car
horn accompanied by loud beach music and hoops of laughter approaching from the
far end of the block. 
College kids  home for spring break?
He
speculated, pausing with the coffee cup halfway to his lips. He set the cup
down abruptly, though, when he realized that it was
his
name being
screamed out as the vehicle drew closer to the house.  At a loss, Steve
lifted a white lace curtain in the front sitting room and peered out of the
window. A gray SUV roared down the street and took the turn into his driveway
on two wheels. As he watched, Steve’s puzzled expression quickly gave way to a
joyful grin.

           
Pete was at the wheel, but Chuck hung over the back seat, blowing the horn like
a madman, while Deborah hung out the window, waving and screaming his name at
the top of her lungs!  Steve opened the door and stood on the front porch,
just staring at the little SUV in disbelief.  As he watched, Pete staggered
out of the driver’s seat, squinting in pain and shaking his head. “A person
could go deaf in there!” He called to Steve in mock irritation, hooking his
thumb at the vehicle.  Then he grinned and hurried forward to shake
Steve’s hand and to embrace him in a huge bear hug.  Before Pete could
release him, Deborah and Chuck were also out of the car and joined the pair on
the porch, Deb calling “Group hug, everybody!”

           
Steve led the way into the house.  He checked his watch and shook his head
in wonder. “It’s only 9:00! You must have left the park at….” He paused to do
the calculation in his head, but Chuck broke in.

           
“Four in the morning, my friend.” He announced, stressing each word loudly and
impressively. “Just to visit you!”

           
“Your sacrifice is duly noted and appreciated,” Steve replied solemnly. Then
his face split into a huge grin. “This is great! You must be starving, come in
the kitchen!”

           
They settled around the table while Steve started another pot of coffee, fried
some bacon and scrambled a batch eggs. Deborah’s eyes closed contentedly as she
sipped on the fresh coffee and nibbled the still warm cinnamon buns. “These are
wonderful!” She sighed. “I can’t believe your mom actually made them.  She
must have gotten up about the same time as we left to get them ready before she
left for the hospital.”

           
Steve turned from the stove, where he was dumping the last batch of eggs into a
bowl.  “How do you know what time my mother needed to be at the hospital
this morning?”

           
Deborah’s green eyes met Steve’s as she smiled mischievously.  “I called
her last week to find out what days you had off.” She took another sip of
coffee and added, “We had to re-arrange half a dozen shifts to get all three of
us off at the same time!”

           
Steve glanced at the trays of cinnamon buns,. Already nearly two thirds of them
had been devoured in the last ten minutes.  “That explains her sudden urge
to make me cinnamon buns,” he said. “She always made them for special occasions
when I was a kid, and here I thought she was just spoiling me.”

           
He placed the bowl of eggs on the table and sat down with them.  “So how
long can you stay?” He asked hopefully, suddenly realizing how much he had
missed them all.  Even his problems with David and Deborah seemed too
distant to make the unexpected party feel awkward.  They had emailed each
other a few times over the winter, and her excitement about Steve’s conversion
on Moore’s Knob had soon dulled the feeling of betrayal and hurt he’d felt when
David had suddenly appeared in the parking lot.  And although he had not
spoken of it to anyone, the confrontation on the Wall had made him realize that
Deborah was not to blame for anything.  

           
“We have to go back tonight, amigo,” Pete replied sadly.  “As Deborah
said, it was quite a feat to get all three of us free for twenty-four hours.”

           
“I don’t doubt it,” Steve agreed.  “But now that you are here, what would
you all like to do?  We can hang out here, be lazy then go out to eat
later, or I can take you on a tour of Jacksonville, which will kill about, oh,
maybe twenty minutes if we stay at the
Beiruit
Memorial for at least ten, or we can go to the beach…? What’s your pleasure?”
He asked looking around the table.