Saltwater in the Bluegrass (14 page)

“Mr. Stringer, this is Hadric Vaughn of Vaughn Chevrolet here in Pompano.”

“Yes.”

“Johnny Newman and I were talking the other day. He said that you were having some work done on your classic.”

“He did?”

“Good man that Johnny. He’s the best in these parts with a paint sprayer”.

“I agree.”

“Mr. Stringer, Johnny said I could call you Jimmy, is that alright?”

“Sure, no problem, whatever,” I said.

“And you can call me Vaughn.”

“Ok.” I was starting to wonder where this was going. I sat quietly listening. The coffee was working.

“Jimmy, are you still with me?”

“Yeah, I’m still here. What can I help you with?”

“I have this brand new black Corvette in the show room. I think you would be very interested in her. Johnny mentioned you had said something to him about a new model when you were at his place on Saturday.”

“Yes, you’re right. I would like to drive a new model around town when I am going to the grocery store, you know, keep the miles down on my 1963.”

“Perfect. Stop by today when you get the chance, and we’ll take this beauty out for a spin. It has one of the new 5.7-liter, 405

horsepower engines with a 6-speed transmission. She’s a real sweet little baby.”

“I bet she is.”

“I’ll count on seeing you, then.”

“Let me tie up a few loose ends around the office, and maybe I’ll see you later this afternoon.”

At this point I wasn’t sure if Uncle Buddy or Kristina would call, and I didn’t want to schedule anything until they did.
By afternoon I had made plans
to meet Buddy and Kristina, this time for a fish sandwich and some oysters down at the Parrot Head Pub. It was an excellent plan. It was just what I needed. It had been more than a few weeks since I had had any good oysters, and I was already missing them. April was going to be my last chance for oysters for a while, since it would be September before they would be back in season.

Before leaving, I walked down the dock, around the harbor pier, and watched two local fishing boats coming in to unload their passengers. It had been a beautiful morning in the harbor. A light breeze was keeping things cooled down for the most part. A narrow band of clouds was quietly making its way down the coast as the sun rose and the horizon made its position known off in the distance. I decided early that I wanted to drive by Vaughn Chevrolet and check out the new Corvette that Hadric had told me about. Billy Morley, the owner of the Pompano Beach Resort and Harbor Club where I lived, had inadvertently helped in my decision making. He had been so impressed with the amount of dirt I had dug up for him on his wife over the past six months that he decided to give me an extra parking pass down near my boat slip if I wanted. I had graciously accepted the idea.

The more I thought about it, the more I decided I really did need something sporty parked in my second parking space. By afternoon I was the proud owner of my 1963 Corvette’s younger brother. As for my meeting with Buddy and Kristina, cocktails flowed and supper ran long. Kristina explained to her father and me more about her life with the Ingrams and how she had bought this and that. I just shook my head.

It got me thinking how some people spend their entire life just buying stuff. I almost hated the thought of walking out into the parking lot and getting into my shiny new Corvette after listening to her go on and on about buying things.

I still wasn’t sure how I was supposed to help Kristina. I wasn’t a body guard. That wasn’t my line of work. I wasn’t going to hold her hand while she sat around back home waiting for someone to show up and kill her.

After supper, I went down to the harbor to watch the sunset. I stopped over at Derek and Sonya’s on my way to the
Brenda Kay II
. The protected water in the harbor was as smooth as glass; still their sixteen marker flags flying high on the riggings above their boat were filled and moving back and forth with a fair southern breeze. Then there were the tropical colors the harbor came to life with each evening.

Derek and Sonya were having a cookout for about twenty people under the pavilion next to the inlet where the boats make their way in and out to the canal. Steaks were on the grill and lobsters were boiling in big pots over on the fire. Drinks were plenty, a popular pastime, and over on the stereo a collection of Steve Goodman, Hayes Carll, James McMurtry, and Steve Earl was playing.

Sonya gave me a warm smile and then introduced me to one of her closest friends in the world, Mandy.

The pleasure was all mine, she was a nice girl with long legs and a pretty smile.

I shared some small talk about my boat and new car, and she told me about her graduating from Tallahassee State Community College and the prospects she had for future employment up the coast. As the night continued we danced to several songs while watching boats coming and going out of the harbor twilight.

Soon it was dark. It had been a lovely evening. A typically relaxing gathering, as most parties are down in these parts. As written many times, “In the tropics they come and they go.”

I finished my drink, said my good-byes, and returned to the
Brenda
Kay II
around eleven thirty. The harbor had quieted down around ten. Quiet time is expected and strongly appreciated by the locals. I made sure everything was secured and then went inside.

Around midnight, I found myself unable to sleep. Uncle Buddy was bouncing around in my head. I knew the remedy. I needed a walk on the beach. I got up, threw on some shorts and my shoes, grabbed a cold bottle of water from the fridge and my keys, and then left. From the Beach Club, it’s a two-mile hike down to the pier and back, twenty minutes each way, assuming, of course, that I don’t stop to talk or navigate a new direction by running into someone else along the way. I decided since there was a full moon and I was not tired that I would take a walk and head in that direction. The marina was quiet, the inlet even quieter.

Derek, Sonya, and Mandy were
still cleaning up the party when I walked past. Derek was busy taking down the PA system, while Sonya and Mandy were gathering up the last of the trash and sweeping around the fire pit. I asked if they needed any additional help taking down the tables, the decoration, or moving the empty kegs to the parking lot.

“Hey, Jimmy, I appreciate it, but, no, we’re fine,” said Sonya. “We have everything under control. We’re almost done here anyway.”

“You’re up late,” Derek said as the last of the speaker wire was gathered and twist-tied.

“I couldn’t sleep,” I said.

“So, where you headed?” Mandy asked, displaying a smile and a lot of warm eye contact.

“Nowhere in particular; just taking a walk,” I said. It was good to see her again. Mandy reminded me a lot of Texi when I first met her, but then again at night, alone, along the beach, waves and women are as indifferent as the winds that blow.

“Are you heading down to the beach?”

“I was thinking about it.”

“Really?” she said.

“Thought I might take a walk down towards the pier and back. Clear my head. See what’s out there. It’s a nice evening.”

“It sure is.”

“Why, you interested in joining me for a midnight stroll?”

“Along the beach at night with a man I just met a few hours ago?”

“Yeah,” I said.

“I don’t know; sounds kind of risky to me.” Then Mandy paused, and started laughing.

“Something funny?” I said.

“Promise you’re going to protect me?”

“I doubt very seriously that you need protecting. You look like a woman who can take care of herself without too much trouble.”

“That’s true. I’m pretty good at handling myself, you know, things that come about.

“So, then, is that a yes?” I asked.

“Sure, it sounds like fun. Let me get rid of this broom and grab my jacket.”

I meandered over to the stairs leading down to the sand and waited. Mandy gave her apologies to Sonya for bailing on the last of the cleanup duties.

“I should have known,” Sonya said. “Thanks, Jimmy. I should have known you’d steal away the only help I have.”

“Was it hired help?”

“No.”

“Then I’m sorry about that.”

“Oh well, have fun,” she said as we left.

“We will.”

Paradise; it’s a wonderful place to be for two people who want to be together. Too many times down in these parts, especially here around the harbor, you see a beautiful boat up for sale because two madly-in-love-people were just mad to begin with and bragging rights became more important than simply working things out. It’s the basis of the same old story and the same old song and dance; nothing more, nothing less.

The walk down the beach was enjoyable, alone with the sound of the ocean and soaring ospreys and the tide working its way onto the beach against our feet. Out at sea the horizon was lost due to the darkness. The full moon lit the way as the harbor lights of the pier gave us our direction. Many a heart has been lost this way, by the sounds of romance and the everlasting allure of being with someone you like.

Halfway down the beach Mandy laced her fingers through mine. I obliged the thought. She then tugged at my hand, arching her back and smiling, closing the distance between us.

“It sure is nice out here, tonight,” she said.

“Yes it is.”

She wanted to stop, hug, hold each other and kiss, so for a brief moment we just stood there looking at each other.

“Maybe I’m the one who needs protection,” I said.

“Maybe,” she said, then closing the distance.

I could feel her body radiating heat through her light clothing. I lifted her close to me, her jacket open, her hands moving up my side, the open palm of my hand touching her face. For a moment I lost all sense of time. After a couple brief nudges and illustrative touching, several long, passionate, soft, warm, open mouth kisses, her lips moving against mine, I stopped and smiled back at her.

“Something wrong?” she asked.

“No, nothing is wrong.”

This wasn’t the place or time. I didn’t want her to get a headful of wrong ideas. We took a moment to regroup, and then, arm in arm, continued walking, this time more slowly.

“Come on; let’s keep moving.”

“Are you sure?” she asked.

“I’m sure,” I said.

It would have been an illogical action built on an illogical emotion. Tonight she wanted more than I was willing to give. It wasn’t right. I’m not wired that way. I was always taught to think in terms of “how might this affect me tomorrow?” For now, this would not have been fair to either of us. At this moment I wanted to walk with a friend and clear my head, nothing more.

No strings. No commitments. No rushing into anything that might effect me in the morning. Besides, I couldn’t get Buddy or Kristina off of my mine.

As for tonight, moving to our own rhythms, we just continued walking, holding hands, and talking in generalities. We returned around one a.m. We said our goodbyes. I went my way, and she went hers.

I returned to the
Brenda Kay II
, closed up the hatch, secured the tie downs, set the security, and went inside. I needed to sleep, knowing I had a lot of things to do tomorrow, but sleep would not come. I still could not get over how much one person can change when dominos start to fall, and Kristina was a sad example of the consequences. I remembered Texi’s brother’s tape. I liked what I had heard so far. I got up, threw on some shorts, went upstairs, grabbed a few grapes from the crisper, and then went back outside. The harbor was at peace. I fell into the hammock, pushed the play button, and quietly listened to Side B.

Time definitely changes people, and the next track on the demo fit right into the mood. Looking out through the lights of the harbor, I could tell that morning was not that far off.

Charlie Ingram stood
to the right of the moving sidewalk while people in a hurry moved past him on the left.

It had been quite awhile since Charlie had been in Louisville. The new additions to the airport brought out his sightseeing tendencies. Part of him was glad to be home. The other part was skeptical of the visit, and he wondered if he could get through the visit before once again leaving town.

There were book and magazine stores, clothing stores, bars, and food courts strewn throughout the terminal, all waiting to serve the traveling passengers as they waited for their next flight.

“Things sure look different,” Charlie thought to himself. There was a much different look to the newly remodeled Standiford Field International Airport since the last time he had been here. Walking towards baggage claim, Charlie picked up on the new décor and the mannerisms of the people. It did not take long for him to remember that he was in college basketball and horse racing country.

The atmosphere hit him as soon as he got off the plane. To Charlie, it was home, plain and simple. There was nothing he could do about it. It was a place he could run to when needed.

Then again, it was also a place he had run from on many occasions. To Charlie, Louisville and its memories had brought forward a love–hate relationships. It had been three years since he had placed his feet in the bluegrass. It had been four years since he had set foot on the Ingram Estate. It felt good being here, even if it was only for a short time. This time he would stop by the house he had grown up in. He was sure of it.

Charlie followed the signs, walked down the stairs, grabbed his bags from the carousal, and within minutes he had rented his car—a Jaguar.

He started the engine and was on his way, heading east. Within minutes he could sense his stomach starting to tighten the closer he came to his home in Indian Springs. This was not the time or place to run into family, especially not his older sister. Charlie quickly pulled off the road, making a quick U-turn, and within a few minute’s time had changed his plans and was now heading east towards Lexington. Jenny Jenkins was there; she was only sixty miles away. Charlie needed time to get used to the idea of being back in the same town as his sister Katherine. Today wasn’t the day; maybe tomorrow.