Sea Air (7 page)

“Paul always gets his fish sticks first!”

“Yours will be here soon, Carla.”

“But I want to be first!”

“Daniel doesn’t have his food yet, either.”

“Who cares? He’s still a baby!”

“No, I’m not! I’m three. Momma, I’m not a baby.
Emma
’s a baby.” The boy pointed at a child around the age of one who had just wiped mashed-carrot-covered hands on her father’s shirt. Emma began to scream and spread carrot puree all over the table. The mush sprayed onto Carla’s pink summer dress, as well as onto a poodle belonging to an older couple at the next table. Over the general chaos, the children’s father met my eye and gave me a look that seemed to say,
Stay single. Whatever else you do, do
not
do this.

Feeling thankful that the disaster had nothing to do with me, I got up and left, bought a fish sandwich at the next corner, and strolled back toward the port.

Stay single, huh? Well, I was on track for that, at least. One thing was certain: I was done with diapers! Had Mathis experienced the same joys of fatherhood as the stressed-out man in the restaurant? I wondered. Undoubtedly. Having three kids meant that he’d had an eventful life. There are plenty of reasons why a person might want to vacation alone. For Mathis, this week was probably just a nice interlude. Maybe he needed a distraction while fresh paint dried on his boat, and that’s all I’d been. “Hi, Nele” . . . “bye, Nele,” and then he untied his boat and sailed away. I suddenly felt terribly alone.

On my way back to the rental, I made a quick decision: I would leave the next day. Screw the rest of my vacation! Even sitting through a meeting with building department directors and mayors was better than moping around the North Sea feeling sorry for myself. I was able to make a living, and I could choose to be happy with that. What was with my ridiculous obsession with the horizon, anyway? What could possibly be beyond it that was so important? That was one good thing that had come from this vacation: I was getting over my illusions.

“Thanks for
that,
Mathis,” I said as I unlocked the door to my apartment building.

“You’re welcome. For what, though?”

My mouth fell open and I felt my heart drop. I turned around. There he was, right in front of me on the sidewalk, a big grin on his face. “Have you eaten dinner already?” he asked.

“Well, no. Actually, I was just going to . . .”
Say it!
I told myself sternly.
Tell him you were just about to pack your things and leave. Say good-bye and never see him again
. “Uh . . .”

“Shall we go back to The Skipper?”

Crap. Why did he have to show up now? I felt overwhelmed by an urge to tell him off. What was he thinking, leaving me alone for days without calling? Leaving me alone on that overcrowded ferry to the island, and in that restaurant with the carrot-smeared children. He’d made me suffer through sleepless nights and filled my well-deserved vacation with confusion. And . . . I looked into his beautiful blue eyes. Oh, I wanted to tell him off all right. But why did I think I had the right? He hadn’t promised me anything. In fact, he wasn’t guilty of a thing—not even of kissing me. He’d been nothing but a perfect gentleman. That was the problem.

“Nele?”

“All right. Just give me a minute to change.”

“I’ll wait out here.”

I flew upstairs and through the apartment, barely able to think. Mathis was back! I scrambled to figure out what to wear, trying to imagine what he’d like. I tore through my clothes and picked the cheeriest thing I could find, a summer dress, but it looked like it had spent the week wadded in a ball. Quickly, I dug out my travel iron and sang my mother’s praises. (
When will I ever use
that? I thought when she gave it to me for Christmas.) Feeling better in my fresh clothes, I ran down the stairs, forcing myself to take them one at a time despite my excitement. My suffering of the last few days was forgotten. Mathis had remembered me and returned. I could see the beauty in life again.

At The Skipper, I ordered both an appetizer and an entree to celebrate. All of a sudden, I felt like I was starving. Mathis, too, seemed famished and dug into his food.

“How were the last couple of days?” he asked.

Lonely
, I thought to myself. “Pretty uneventful,” I said. “I mostly just vegged out. I went over to the island on the ferry. It seemed like a good idea at the time.”

“What happened? Did you get seasick?”

“Seasick! On a ferry? Please. I may not be a local, but I’m not
that
bad.” I told him about my experience at the restaurant.

Mathis laughed. “Oh, yes. I remember. You need to be brave to take kids on vacation, especially to a restaurant. I’ve been there. Kids take a lot of work, but it’s all worth it. I spent as much time with my kids as I could, whenever I could.”

I swallowed hard. So much love emanated from his words. I could tell he was the very best of dads. I wished he could have been Paula’s.

“How old are your children? Still little?” I couldn’t believe I brought myself to say the words.

“Not quite. Lars is thirty, so he’s out of the woods. The other two are younger. Arne is nineteen and in college. Malte’s fifteen.”

So, the children weren’t all adults yet, as I’d been hoping.

“I imagine Paula’s dad is very proud of his daughter.”

I could tell he really wanted to know the truth.

“I wouldn’t put it that way.”

“Why not?”

“He hasn’t seen her in five years.”

“Ah. Because he didn’t want to or because
you
didn’t want him to?”

“A bit of both.”

“I see. I suppose he doesn’t pay child support, either.”

“Definitely not.”

“How do you feel about that?”

“It’s fine, honestly. I’m thankful for every day that I don’t have to see him. He can keep his money, as long as he stays away.”

“That sounds pretty bad.”

“Really? It sounds wonderful to me. One of the best things that ever happened in my life was getting separated from him. I’m better off on my own.”

“Sounds like you’ve had it with men.”

“I thought so until pretty recently.” I couldn’t believe I’d dared to say such a thing.

“So, what’s making you reconsider?”

I tried to figure out how to steer the conversation back onto safer ground. “Uh, do we want another dessert?”

“You decide. You’re in charge.” It was clear that he meant the change in topic and not just the food. This was my big chance to tell him that I loved him.

“I think I’ll have the vanilla ice cream with hot cherries,” I said.

“I’ll join you.”

Mathis ordered, then turned his gaze on me. The look he gave me made me feel hot, then cold.

“My boat is ready,” he said at last.

“Your boat is . . . Oh. That’s wonderful.” I wondered if this was the moment when he would announce he was leaving on that world tour he said he was going to take.

“I’m taking the boat out tomorrow to test my work.”

“Tomorrow?”
I didn’t even try to hide my shock. “When will you be back?” I asked, sounding forlorn.

“We’ll have to decide that.”

“We?” Of course, he would be taking his wife. Maybe his sons, too. They were probably already on board, and he’d slipped out so he could tell me good-bye. I knew I should have walked away when I had the chance.

“I thought you might want to come along,” Mathis said.

“Me? You want
me
to come with you?”

“Who else would I want to take?”

I looked at him doubtfully. Had he really just said that?

“I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do,” he assured me, interpreting my dubious look differently than I meant it.

“Well, I would hope not!” I gave him a smile that could have meant anything.

“So, you’re coming?”

“Why not?”

“In that case, we’d better eat quickly and go back to get some sleep. We’re casting off with the flood. I’ll pick you up at five.”

T
o my surprise, I slept like a log and woke feeling fresh and rested at four. I grabbed a few things for the day and shoved them into my backpack. The forecast for the next few days called for perfect summer weather, so I took only light clothes. When Mathis rang the doorbell just before five, I was ready for whatever adventure lay ahead.

“Did you sleep well? You certainly look like it. Let’s go.” Mathis grabbed my backpack and carried it to his waiting minibus.

“You definitely have the right car for a large family,” I said in a quiet voice. My heart hurt.

“Most people would probably use it that way,” he admitted. “I use it to haul parts for working on my ship. Tools, planks, canvas, and so on. It’s perfect for the job.”

“What do you do for work, when you’re not doing this?” So much for my resolve to play it cool. I was starting with personal questions . . . and it was barely five in the morning.
Good job, Nele
, I told myself.

“I’m an independent architect. I also own some properties here and there, mostly along the Baltic Sea.”

“And who keeps things going when you’re not there?”

“I’ve got a staff.”

“They can handle things when you aren’t around?”

“Of course. That’s why they work for me. You should always hire people even more skilled than yourself, Nele. That way, you can enjoy your hobbies in peace, without putting your business in jeopardy. I figured that out pretty early on, and it’s worked out great for me.”

“How many people does it take to keep your business out of jeopardy?”

“Fourteen.”

“Wow! Aren’t you the fine catch!” I slapped my hand to my mouth, embarrassed, but Mathis just grinned.

“The tax man certainly thinks so. But you know how that goes.”

“Absolutely. They love me, too.”

“Oh, I’m sure they do,” Mathis said.

What a sweetheart!

Mathis’s boat, the
Spieker
, was gently rocking at the wharf. Freshly painted and polished, it glittered beautifully in the sun. Somehow, it maintained the charm of an old shrimp boat while looking as seaworthy as a modern ship.

“I’ll show you the cabin first. You can stow your things there. I see you packed lightly. That’s good.”

Feeling proud of myself, I followed him and was amazed by what I found. I haven’t seen a lot of boat cabins in my life, and those were only on TV. This one was brighter and more cheerful than I would have thought possible for a former fishing trawler. The main decor was white and blue, right down to the curtains and bed linen. The berth where Mathis slept was huge.
Room for plenty of fun,
I thought.

“Have you ever sailed before?” he asked.

“I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“Then it’s high time you learned. You can help me get ready to sail if you want.”

“I’d love to.” Setting out into the world on a sailing vessel with Mathis as the captain was almost enough to make me cry with happiness.

“Okay then, sailor, all hands on deck!”

I had just set my foot on the first rung of the ladder when my eyes fell on a small cabinet with sliding glass doors. It held only a few things, but one item in particular drew my attention: a small, shiny harmonica.

“Is that the harmonica?” I looked at Mathis. He looked to see where I was pointing.

“It is. Harm Voss’s harmonica. Everything in this cabinet is special to me. This pipe, for example.” He pulled an ornately carved wooden tobacco pipe out of the cabinet. “It belonged to my grandfather. He carved it himself. And this”—he pointed to a skipper’s cap—“was a gift from the helmsman of the
Gorch Fock
.”

“Can you really play the harmonica?”

“Of course.” He picked it up and started to play a sea shanty. I was surprised by how much feeling he was able to put into the song. Before he put the harmonica back, he threw me a wistful look. I wondered what he was thinking.

“Let’s get going.” Mathis climbed up the stairs, and I followed without another glance at the cupboard of treasures.

With Mathis in charge, everything ran like clockwork on the ship. The day quickly warmed up, and when Mathis pulled off his jacket, I could see the lines of his muscles under his white T-shirt. The sight of his strong body did even more to make me feel heated than the sun did. I forced myself to take a long, steadying breath.

Mathis stood at the helm and looked calmly out to sea, his features starting to relax. At sea, he looked years younger than he did on land, and happiness shone in his blue eyes. I could almost see little Mathis from the children’s home. I imagined his eyes looked the same now as the first time he was allowed to sail.

“Hey, Mathis, can I ask you a question?”

“Anytime.”

“When did little Mathis sail for the first time? Did he have to wait until he was grown up?”

“Come and sit with me, and I’ll tell you. But first: In a box below in the cabin, you’ll find croissants and a thermos of tea. Could you bring those?”

I quickly jumped down. Then, our breakfast in hand, I sat next to Mathis and listened.

Mathis and Uwe had a hard time settling back in at home. Their parents worked a lot and didn’t have much time to listen to their stories, even though the two boys were dying to talk about the sea, the beach, the lighthouse, and, of course, Harm Voss. They had to settle for telling each other bedtime stories, most of which centered on their future as seafarers. This is what got them through the long winter. Their brother, Jürgen, always lay nearby in his bed, reading and showing no interest in their stories. That made it even more surprising when one evening in the early summer, he suddenly inserted himself into their conversation.

“You two really like boats, right?”

What a question! “Sure,” Mathis said. “Why?”

“Is the sea really that great?”

“You bet!” Uwe bounced his head in affirmation.

“I guess you wouldn’t be impressed by a stupid river.”

Mathis and Uwe shrugged. “Well, it’s not the sea,” Mathis admitted. “But you can still go boating. You just can’t be a seaman.”

“But would that be a good place to start?”

“Maybe.” Mathis thought about this. “I guess so. But we don’t have a boat, so what difference does it make?”

“I don’t know. Just asking, I guess. Good night.” Jürgen turned toward the wall, and soon the boys heard him snoring faintly.

When they got home from school the next day and sat down to eat, Jürgen gave them a huge grin. “Do you two want to go to the river later?”

“The river?” Mathis’s fork stopped halfway to his mouth. “What for?”

“Oh, you’ll see, if you go. What do you say?”

“You’ll have to take care of them,” their mother told Jürgen. “Remember, they can’t swim yet.”

“I will. It’s time they learned anyway. I’ll teach them.”

“Who else is going?” Momma looked doubtful, as always.

“Ludwig and Konrad. Don’t worry, Momma. They’re the best swimmers I know. We’ll keep them safe.”

“If you say so.”

Mathis and Uwe beamed. Finally, they would be able to play on the water again, even if it was just a river. As soon as they’d eaten, Mathis took his old bike from the shed and attached Uwe’s trailer. By now, Uwe could walk a little again, but he still wasn’t strong enough to ride a bike. A neighbor had taken pity on the boys, who he’d noticed were stuck at home while the other kids wheeled past, so he built this sturdy trailer to carry Uwe comfortably.

At the river, the two boys looked around anxiously to see what Jürgen had waiting for them. At last, they saw it. Jürgen’s friends, Ludwig and Konrad, arrived at the river—on a river raft! The raft was fairly wide, with room enough for several children. The young men moored it in a shallow place so that all three brothers could climb on easily.

“Jürgen, this is great! Did you build it by yourselves?” Mathis’s eyes were wide with astonishment.

“Konrad’s father is a carpenter, and he helped us and gave us the wood. I knew you’d like it! But you’re going to have to learn to swim fast. Momma won’t let you keep coming here if you can’t swim.”

Mathis and Uwe both shouted, “No problem!”

Within two weeks, both boys could keep themselves afloat. They spent the whole summer on the raft, playing pirates and conquering islands, diving for imaginary treasures and boarding enemy ships. Konrad’s father built a second raft, which made their games twice as fun. They always got home in time for dinner, and to their mother’s delight, Uwe was suntanned and significantly stronger by the end of the summer.

As the days grew shorter, it became too cold for rafting and the three boys reluctantly looked for other things to do. During the evenings, they sat by the fire and read pirate stories to one another, then played out the scenes using pieces of wood. A set of tin soldiers that had belonged to their grandfather served as pirates. Then, one night that fall, their father came home carrying a big box in his arms.

“Well, boys, did you play sailor again today?” he asked with a grin.

The boys looked at each other, puzzled. What was going on? He usually just ignored their games. They nodded.

“How would you like to build your own fleet? Look at what I’ve got!” Proudly, he opened the box and waved them over to look inside. He pulled out the contents, piece by piece, as the boys’ jaws dropped. There were large saws, small saws, a carving knife, screws, nails, strings, and glue—everything they needed to build a ship.

“What do you think?”

They carefully touched all the beautiful things. “Is this really for us?”

“Of course! Now you can make your own ships. The wood is outside. It wouldn’t fit in the box. You can have it, on one condition.” He held up an index finger.

“Yes . . . um . . . what?” asked Mathis.

“That you let me build the ships with you!”

The three boys laughed and cheered. After dinner, they all got to work. Even Anna joined in by sewing the sails.

Years passed in the Hagena household, and Mathis, Jürgen, and Uwe grew into young men. Mathis could hardly wait until he was old enough to go make his way in the world. He went to school halfheartedly—a mediocre student at best. On the other hand, Uwe made up for his small size by becoming a star in the classroom, which made Mathis an even more reluctant student. The constant comparisons got on his nerves, even as he found himself pushed into an increasingly demanding caregiver role. He still had to do physical therapy exercises with Uwe and take him everywhere he needed to go. And whenever Uwe’s handicaps kept him from participating in some activity, Mathis had to stay at home with him while his friends went out and enjoyed themselves. More and more, Mathis got the feeling that he’d been born just to take care of Uwe, especially since his conception was an accident that happened when his father was home on leave from the front.

Mathis began to withdraw into himself, and Jürgen did the same. He often sat brooding in the corner. And then, one morning, he just disappeared. His bed was empty, and he’d left most of his clothes behind. Only his duffel bag was missing. On the dining room table, they found a note that said, “Going to sea. Don’t worry. Jürgen.” Nothing more.

Their parents were beside themselves with worry. They called the police; Jürgen was only seventeen. But the Hagenas’ eldest son remained missing. One day, a postcard arrived from Australia. And then another, this one from South America. Other postcards followed. Jürgen had been hired as a cabin boy and he really had gone to sea! Mathis’s heart ached. Why hadn’t he been the one to come up with the idea?

It took a year, but Mathis’s father finally located the ship on which Jürgen was sailing. He and Mathis drove to the Port of Amsterdam, where the ship was moored. Mathis spotted him first. Jürgen had a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. Mathis ran over to the gangway. When Jürgen saw them, he didn’t look scared. Rather, he waved cheerfully. He accompanied his father and Mathis home, and his parents signed him up for a maritime training school. In time, Jürgen became captain of a large ship.

“I graduated school today and I want to be a captain like Jürgen,” Mathis announced one night at dinner. He was finally eighteen years old.

His mother dropped her fork and stared at him in horror. Then she started to cry. “I’m worried enough with one of my boys at sea. No, Mathis. It’s out of the question. You can’t do this to me, too.”

Mathis got up without a word and went to his room. He’d seen this coming. But this time he wouldn’t give in, even if he had to leave at night in the fog, like Jürgen did.

After a couple of hours, his father came to his room. Mathis expected the worst, but his father surprised him.

“Mathis,” he said quietly, sitting next to him on the bed. “Your mother is really worried about Jürgen. I don’t think we can do this to her.”

Mathis started to protest, but his father raised a hand. “Hear me out. I’ve got an idea.”

“What is it?”

“There’s one solution your mother might agree to.”

Mathis gave him an anxious look. “Yes?”

“You could go into the German Navy.”

“The Navy?” Mathis was quiet for a moment. He hadn’t even considered the possibility. “I’ll have to think about it.”

“Of course. Take your time. You don’t want to rush into a decision this important.”

“Thanks, Father.”

He nodded and left Mathis alone again.

A few months later, little Mathis Hagena’s dream finally came true: He boarded a huge sailing ship. It was the training ship for the German Navy, the
Gorch Fock
.