Moore Than Forever (32 page)

Schooner nodded. He couldn’t speak. Looking back at the book to avoid tears, he read the first entry.

Sky Diving Blues

Flying high

a flirtation with the sun

The slow descent

to a burned Rome

The neighborhood hasn’t changed

“When did you write that?” his voice was choked.

“The beginning of sophomore year.”

He nodded without looking up and continued to leaf through the journal until he reached the last entry.

September 27th

My wishes on a million twinkling stars come true today.

Sitting very still, he closed his eyes, breathing in deeply. “The best gift ever,” his voice was hoarse with emotion, “and I promise we will fill the rest of these pages with incredible memories.”

Reaching behind a pillow on the couch, Schooner pulled out a flat rectangular Tiffany’s box.

With a devil grin, “What’s in it this time? Potato chips?”

His smile matched hers and he nodded, “Pringles,” knowing how much she hated the ‘fake’ chips as she often referred to real potato chips and French fries as the perfect food.

Handing her the box, she worked off the ribbon and opened the outer box. Removing a flat Tiffany blue velvet box, she gazed up at Schooner.

“Open it,” he silently mouthed.

Now it was Mia’s turn to try and fight tears. Lying on a blanket of silk was a white gold chain. Dangling on the end were three keys, a pink rose gold key with a heart at the top containing three small diamonds, a silver key with its heart embossed in Tiffany baby blue enamel and in the center was a larger key encrusted in diamonds and sapphires the color of Schooner’s eyes.

There they were, the three keys to her heart; Portia, Nathaniel and Schooner.

“It’s my family,” she looked up at him, her voice now choked and tight.

Reaching into the box, Schooner removed the necklace. “Turn around.”

And she did.

Fastening the symbolic necklace, he leaned forward giving her neck the softest of kisses. Mia shivered.

Standing, he helped her up from the couch. “I’ll leave you to get dressed now.”

She held onto his hand until the contact of their fingertips broke, the feeling of his touch lingering long after their separation.

“Schooner,” she called out to him as he was through the door.

Stopping, he turned back.

“I love you.”

Cocking his head to the side and regarding her, he smiled brightly, “It’s smoochal, Baby Girl,” and closed the door behind him.

Chapter Sixty-one

Photographers refer to it as ‘The Golden Hour’. It happens early in the morning shortly after sunrise and again in the late afternoon just prior to the sky’s spectacular sunset light show. With the sun low in the sky, warm golden rays bathe everything in a soft honeyed side-light.

Rows of white chairs lined the beach. Down a center aisle ran a runner of white raw silk that Elan Gerstler had his team attach to wood. At the end of the runner was a white silk organza canopy, the traditional wedding chuppah, its flowing fabric tied back by arrangements of roses in white and pale pink. The sun’s warm rays illuminated the sheer fabric setting off an exquisite, diffused glow.

At the chuppah, waiting for his bride stood Schooner Moore. Looking as one with his surroundings, he was dressed in a beige Bianco Brioni linen suit the color of the sand, his linen shirt, a pale blue that matched his eyes with thin white stripes, open at the collar. He wore no tie.

If someone had wandered onto the beach, they might have thought this to be a photo shoot for a men’s suit company, the handsome model playing the groom. Everything about the setting evoked a magical, ethereal air.

Dressed in a simple sheath dress, the color of Schooner’s shirt, Yoli came and stood next to him. His arm immediately went around her shoulder as he pulled her into him for a side hug and smile.

Strains of music began and Schooner listened closely.
What is this,
he asked himself. He knew that he knew it, but it wasn’t expected and therefore he couldn’t quite place it. As it continued to play, he started singing in his head and when he realized what it was, he actually laughed out loud.
His Mia,
he mused, as he continued to sing to himself Bruce Springsteen’s
If I Should Fall Behind.

There was a round of laughter as Portia stepped onto the white silk runner dressed in a pale pink taffeta dress. She carefully plucked pink rose petals from a white wicker basket and placed them gently on the runner. As she slowly walked down the aisle, stopping along the way to smile at people, she evoked more laughter from the crowd.

Nearing the front, she yelled out “Hi Daddy,” and Schooner beamed, waving back and laughing with everyone else.

At the sound of her voice, Nathaniel came alive in Holly’s lap, pointing and screaming, “Po, Po, Po,” to get his sister’s attention. Raucous laughter erupted from the crowd. Jumping up from his seat, a laughing Zac scooped up Portia when she reached the front of the runner and brought her back to an empty seat next to him.

With her children stealing the show, no one noticed that Mia and her parents had arrived and were standing at the far end of the runner. Laughing at her baby’s antics, Mia nerves floated out with the tide.

“So much for a classy affair,” she whispered, laughing.

Looking up at the chuppah, her eyes met Schooner’s for the first time and she could feel her smile matching his in magnitude and luminosity. His real smile had never looked so beautiful and the fifty feet she was away from him felt like miles. She couldn’t get to him soon enough.

Lois and Bob walked her halfway up the aisle and kissed her goodbye and then Schooner began his journey to meet her halfway, the strains of
If I Should Fall Behind,
still playing.

Their eyes locked upon each other, he took her arm in his and looked down at her.

Simultaneously they whispered, “Showtime,” and broke into laughter, as they continued on their journey.

Passing the front row, “Mommy, you look beautiful,” Portia was waving and again, all the guests roared with laughter. Mia blew her little girl a kiss and she blew one back.

Standing, Seth joined Mia under the chuppah. In a charcoal grey suit and a tie the color of Schooner’s shirt and Yoli’s dress, he had pulled off elegant in outfitting this very untraditional wedding party.

Mia squeezed his hand and leaned over to kiss him, “I love you, Princess,” she whispered.

He squeezed her hand back tightly. Seth Shapiro could not speak.

As the judge commenced his oration, the clouds over the ocean began their spectacular light show, beginning with a golden glow that quickly migrated to a soft orange hue, casting like colored light onto the waves.

Finishing his part, he asked Schooner and Mia if they wanted to speak.

Schooner looked to Mia, who slightly shook her head no.

“You don’t want to cry?” he whispered.

And she affirmed with a smile and a slight shake of her head.

“I’d like to say a few words,” Schooner began in a strong voice. “Mia has chosen not to speak because she doesn’t want to cry. If she cries, her makeup will get ruined and Seth will kill both of us.”

The crowd laughed and Seth turned to them, “It’s true. Smart move.”

Taking both of Mia’s hands in his, he smiled down at her. “Bet you didn’t know I speak Italian,” he began and looked out at the guests. “This woman here is my love, mi amour,” he paused. “Mi amour, Italian for my love and maybe just divine providence, because it also happens to be my wife’s name, Mia Moore.” Looking back at Mia, “Or maybe it was just always meant to be, because you have always been my love. My one true love. You know I take my promises to you very seriously, and here’s one that will be very easy for me to keep, I will spend every day of the rest of my life loving you.”

“It’s smoochal,” she whispered for only him to hear.

Looking at the judge, he asked, “Are we married? Because I really need to kiss her.”

Laughing, the judge hastened his speech, “By the power vested in me by the State of New York, I now pronounce you husband and wife. You may kiss your bride.”

“Forever mine,” he whispered against her lips, before claiming their long awaited first kiss as Mr. and Mrs. Schooner James Moore.

Chapter Sixty-two

Kissing a sleeping Portia and Nathaniel goodbye in Lois and Bob’s hotel suite, Schooner and Mia took one last long look at their beautiful babies before making their way back to the terrace.

Starting to make the rounds of bidding guests goodnight, it appeared the party was going to continue long after they were gone.

“Come,” Schooner pulled Mia by the hand after hugging their parents and closest friends, leading her through the hotel’s main lobby, they exited the front door.

“Check that out. How cool,” Mia pointed to a vintage yellow checker cab circa 1950-something.

Smiling, Schooner pulled her in the cab’s direction.

“Is that for us?” there was excitement in her voice.

“Yes, we’re actually going to get into a cab together tonight.”

“Oh wow, married life is different,” Mia joked, as Schooner opened the cab door for her.

“Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Moore,” the driver greeted them.

“Please say that again,” Mia’s delight was contagious and the driver obliged.

Pulling out of Gurney’s Inn, the cab made a right turn onto Old Montauk Highway, heading east.

“Schooner, where are we going? We’re heading east toward Montauk Point.” Mia was confused as they headed for the very eastern tip of Long Island’s famed south fork.

“You always did have a good sense of direction,” he teased.

“You’re not going to tell me, are you?” she punched him playfully in his solid upper arm.

After a few miles, the driver took a left turn onto West Shore Drive.

“Are we staying in one of the hotels in town?” Mia guessed, as they drove in the direction of the South Fork’s north shore and Montauk’s little downtown area.

“This is killing you,” he smiled, clearly taking delight in his wife’s discomfort at her lack of control.

“You suck, Schooner Moore,” she feigned anger, but her ear-to-ear grin gave her away.

Nodding, he leaned over and kissed her, “Yeah, I do, Mia Moore.”

Before town, the cab made a right turn onto Star Island Road, quickly passing over a thin causeway strip of land onto Star Island itself. One more right turn and the cab pulled up to the circle in front of the Lighthouse Building at the Montauk Yacht Club.

A bellman from the yacht club opened the cab door for Mia and Schooner. Smiling brightly, he greeted them, “Welcome Mr. and Mrs. Moore.”

Schooner and Mia walked into the building hand-in-hand. Off to their right was guest check-in, but Schooner kept walking straight and led them to the dockside back door.

Out on the promenade they walked along a dock lined with boats and yachts of all sizes that gently swayed with the tide in their berths. When Schooner steered her right onto one of the walkways off the main dock, it finally hit her.

“True Compass is here?” It was as if she’d finally solved a game of Clue.

Smiling, he nodded, “She is.”

“Where are we going?” They were at the very tip of Long Island, perched on the Atlantic Ocean, the possibilities were endless, north was Block Island, The Cape, Martha’s Vineyard, Nantucket. South was Cape May, Delaware, the Chesapeake Bay, the Outer Banks.

“Yellow, orange, red and green.”

“Is that a hint?” They continued down the walkway.

“It is.” he smiled, knowingly.

They stopped as they reached the slip where their boat was moored.

“Yellow, orange and red. Fall foliage in New England?” she guessed.

“Very good. Now what about the green?”

Mia thought for a second, “Acadia National Park?”

“Ehhh,” he made a buzzer sound, “good answer, but wrong. Here’s a hint,” and he pointed up.

“North of Maine?” she questioned. “Canada?” and then it dawned on her. The time of year was perfect, not just for foliage in New England, but if they were very lucky, “Northern lights in Nova Scotia,” she blurted out.

Smiling, he nodded.

“Please tell me all my camera equipment is on that boat.”

“You’re in luck,” he laughed.

“So, what are we waiting for,” Mia began to move toward True Compass.