Sweet Dreams, Irene

“Jack?” I pleaded.

Jack took one step toward him and he scurried beneath a cable TV van across the street. He crouched there, watching Jack. I could swear the cat was smirking.

“I can’t wait for Frank to get around to installing that cat door,” Jack said. “Are you sure you want Cody inside?”

“His di

Jack laughed. “He’ll be all right, then. It wouldn’t hurt Cody to miss a meal. But I’ll put a water dish out for him.”

The moment Jack opened the front door, of course, Cody hauled his gray buns back through it in a four-legged flash. No use starving if we weren’t up for playing hide-and-seek with him. He had achieved one of his standing goals, to make me late whenever possible. Jack took it all in stride. He locked the front door and helped me out to the car.

We traveled at a snail’s pace through late afternoon traffic until we made the turnoff down to the marina, which was virtually deserted. I looked for Lydia’s car but didn’t see it; Guy’s Mercedes wasn’t there either. “Don’t worry about it,” Jack said, reading my thoughts. “We’ll just have a cup of coffee while we wait for them.”

The moment we entered the small coffee shop, a large man I took to be the manager came out from behind the counter. “Hey, Jack! Long time no see! Got a message for you.”

“What’s up, Harry?” Jack asked.

Harry fumbled in the pocket of his shirt for a moment and then put on a pair of bifocals. “Let’s see. Lydia and Gee can’t make it.”

“Guy,” I said. “He’s French Canadian, so it rhymes with ‘key’.”

Harry scowled at me over the bifocals, then turned back to Jack. “I’ll let you get back to your date with the professor here.”

“Irene’s a reporter,” Jack said. Judging by Harry’s deepening scowl, being a reporter put me on a par with attorneys.

“We miss you around here, Jack,” Harry said, turning his back on us. “Drop by again sometime.”

Jack gri

“And never seen any reason to change my outlook,” Harry called out, as Jack held the door open for me.

“We’d better get going if we want to catch the sunset,” Jack said.

I tried not to make too much of “Gee” and Lydia’s cancellation, and followed Jack outside.

On board the Pandora, Jack had to do almost all of the work, but he didn’t seem to mind. He set the engine on idle, and I thought we would motor out, but we made our way out of the marina completely under sail. “Why did you start the engine if you weren’t going to use it?” I asked when he turned it off again.

“Oh, just a precaution. The wind or the current might have shifted while we were leaving the dock.”

A steady wind picked up off the starboard, and we managed to get out past the breakwater just as the sun was starting to set. The sunset was a glorious combination of colors and clouds and shafts of sunlight, making up what Lydia and I used to call “a religious sky” – a term I no doubt remembered as a result of our previous night’s discussion.

Thinking of Lydia, I began to wonder if I had let my love of the ocean overcome my common sense. Maybe this was just as stupid as going into the field that night. Maybe the message Harry the Grump gave us was as phony as the one at the hotel. Maybe Jack didn’t really have leukemia, and this was all a plan to-

“Irene? Is something troubling you?”

I looked up at him, startled right out of my maybes.

“What’s wrong?” he asked. “Do you want me to head back in?”

Concerned. Not threatening, concerned. Everything in his ma

“You want to talk about it?”

I laughed. “Not this time, but thanks.”

He didn’t press me for more. He was looking out over the water, toward the horizon. With his scars, tattoos, and earring, he could have been a pirate. The pirate was suddenly gri

“What’s so fu

“Oh, I was just thinking about Cody’s little stunt as we were leaving.”

I shook my head, picturing the imp crouched under the van. Suddenly, something tugged at my memory. “Jack? Remember when we left the house on Sunday, the first time we went sailing?”

“Yes, why?”

“That van was there. On a Sunday. As far as I know, General Systems Cable won’t come out on weekends, and they won’t come by after five. Frank had them install cable at his house at the begi

“I don’t remember seeing it there on Sunday. Are you sure you didn’t see it when you went out with Rachel?”

I hesitated. “I don’t know. Maybe I saw it both times.”

“Maybe one of our neighbors works for the cable company now. Or maybe the van arrived before five, but they were still working when she got there.”

“Maybe. But that must be one hellacious installation if they’re back today.”

“Mention it to Frank. He may remember about Sunday. In the meantime, he’s got a tail on Ga

I took a deep breath and tried to do just that. We had been sailing for a little less than an hour, and I was just starting to enjoy myself. The wind picked up as the sky darkened. Jack prepared to come about and head back into the marina, begi

Two seconds later, there was a sickening screech of metal. We both watched the aluminum mast fold at the lower shrouds, and topple to the starboard side.

36

THE TOP OF THE MAST, sails, and lines were swinging wildly around the deck. I barely managed to duck in time to keep my head from being hit by the boom. “Damn,” I heard Jack mutter, but otherwise he remained remarkably calm. He hurriedly secured the boom.

“Can we still use the engine to go back in?” I asked.

“Not yet,” he said. “I’ve got to secure all the lines first. Otherwise, we might wrap one in the propeller.”

I was reassured by the way he moved about the deck: calm, certain of his actions. When the lines were secured, he came back and tried the engine, but he couldn’t get it to start.

That earned another “damn,” but he quickly moved toward the mast. “Can you get below on your own?” he asked, as he made his way forward.

I nodded, trying not to panic.

“Do you know how to use a radio? How to call the Coast Guard? Call PAN-PAN. There are instructions near the radio if you don’t know how.”

“I know how,” I said, thinking through the sequence for a distress call. Calling PAN-PAN would signal an urgent but not life-threatening problem. One step below a Mayday.

“Good. I’ve got to try to get the mast secured before it tears the boat apart.” He attached a harness to himself, of the type that prevents a sailor from being lost overboard in a storm. Seeing my worried look, he added, “We’ll be okay.”

I clumsily made my way down the companionway steps, hearing Jack struggle with the mast. In the shadowy interior of the cabin, I found the radio and hit the power switch. It glowed to life. I switched to cha

Above me, Jack cried, “Got it!”

“Jack,” I yelled up, “the radio’s broken.”

There was no immediate answer, but then I saw him making his way below. Even in the dimming light, I could see his face was set in a frown. “We dismasted because someone pulled the clevis pin on the upper shrouds on the port side and replaced it with a wooden dowel. It was only a matter of getting enough wind in the sails when we made the port tack.”