Half and Half

           

With a set of fully-charged batteries, we swapped them for
the ones in the recorder and digital camera.  I reminded
myself again that I needed to inventory everything on this
boat so we'd know how long we could stay here if need be.  I
have to admit to some anxiety thinking about sailing across
the Pacific Ocean.

As we sat down on the port side of the cockpit to listen to
the recording our benefactor left us, I spied...

The recording would have to wait.  I jumped into the cabin
and, in a spot that wasn't immediately obvious to the eye
from inside, I pulled out a bright yellow EPIRB.  With this
I could call in Search and Rescue for us.  I first pushed
the switch to the "battery test" and got reassured.  I then
looked up to Bethany who seemed to read my mind.  The look
on her face was not one to reassure me that I was doing the
"right" thing.  She then explained her feelings.

"Not yet, Bob.  I'm not in a hurry to go back quite yet.  Or
are you?"

Oh, God.  No, I was in *no* hurry to return to civilization
quite yet, for it would mean our separation.  There was no
fucking way I wanted to be apart from this woman and, given
how her face lit up, I saw that she and I were back in
accord.

And I realized that, in the "real" world, this wasn't worth
setting off the EPIRB for since we were no longer in any
real distress.

My vision of real distress was being away from her.  The
moment hovered for a few seconds and I restored the EPIRB to
it's "ready" location.

She then hit the "play" button on the little digital
recorder.

"Hello, if you're getting this message you'll have read my
journal;  if you haven't, well..."

His voice wasn't the most comforting--  we could hear the
tiredness and pain in it.

"My name is Doug Pederson.

"When I knew I was dying of cancer and didn't have more than
two to three months left, I packed up what I could and
sailed off on my boat _Bend Zee Wind_ for this place where I
could die in peace, without what passed for a family pissing
me off and making me miserable in my last days.  I hope to
God you don't have family like mine.

"I've sailed to this atoll enough times before and I know
how to get in and out easily.  I knew this would be a nice
quiet place to meet my maker.  It was also convenient that I
own it, too.

"Hell, if you do enough digging on the boat you should find
the paperwork to transfer ownership of this atoll to you as
well.  It's a nice place for a rest.  I hope you find it as
restful as I have over the years.

"I don't know how you got here...  but there's no way to
stay here for too long since there's no natural supply of
fresh water to be had and, if you look at the trees, well,
you'll figure out that all that you can find to eat here is
fish.  I don't know if my _Bend Zee Wind_ is better than how
you got here but it's a good boat and, I'm sure you've
noticed, rigged for single-handing.  The only person who has
ever been here with me was my wife who died over a year ago.

"So, since you're listening to this recorder its because you
found my mortal remains.  Please use the digital camera to
take pictures of the site so that you can document my
passing-- that way no one in my family can try to pin murder
on you."

Beth and I looked at each other on this, startled.

"I carried the body bag that you found me in to make it easy
for you to move my body;  just zip it up.  I have four extra
lead weights in the bottom of the lazarette that will slide
into pockets.  Don't use any of the other ballast I have on
board-- you'll probably need it.  Once you're well out of
the lagoon and clear of the entrance, please drop my body
off into the ocean."

We listened to him as he chuckled on the recorder.  A funny
click and the background noise shifted a little bit which
let us know that he'd turned off the recorder and then, at
some later point, restarted it.

"It's been a week that I've gone between the Benzee and the
shore, watching sunsets.  Some have been pretty enough that
I've taken pictures which I hope you'll enjoy.

"I know I don't have much time left, maybe tonight's will be
my last sunset.  I hope God will put on a pretty show for
me.

"This morning I threw up some blood before the anti-nausea
drug could kick in.  This is really coming down to the end."

Another click.

"Yes, God showed me another pretty sunset.  He came to me in
a dream last night letting me know that a couple who can
appreciate what I've left will find me.

"I can feel myself get weak.  The internal bleeding is..."

The weakness in his voice was obvious to both of us;  we
were listening to a man literally bleeding to death, a sound
that could not help but grab at our hearts.  My eyes were
full of water so I could barely see Beth's face but I knew,
from the other sounds she was making, that we were sharing
this.

"May God bless you at least as well as he's blessed me.  I
love you both..."

We listened as the recorder was handled and placed back in
the protective case, listening to his breathing as it slowed
and the _thump_ of the case cut off the sound.

Beth and I held each other as we mourned the passing of our
benefactor.

_

We saw a very pretty sunset;  it had taken a long time for
our tears to dry.  We even went through the camera's memory
and saw that he'd taken pictures of himself, the boat and
quite a few sunsets.

I checked the EPIRB again, debating whether we should call
for help, but, again, it felt like that quick and easy a
departure would likely kill the rest of me.

That we made love every time Bethany could get an erection
out of me that day can be taken as read.  We didn't have
time for much more than clinging to each other.  I was
surprised at how often I could get an erection, too, but it
was always pleasant to be a part of something greater we
felt every time.

It wasn't until the middle of the night that I shot awake
from an exhausted sleep that I wondered...

How the *fuck* did he know there were going to be two of us?

I couldn't sleep and, to be honest, I could not leave Beth's
side either.  I did the cruel thing.  I woke her up.

One must be careful when awakening a woman from a sexually
charged dream.  In fact, one should try to avoid it if one
is trying to think over one's situation.

When Beth was done with me I had no problem returning to
sleep again.  Neither did she.

It would be several days before I remembered this while I
was awake.

_

The next day, before figuring on going over to the land to
collect the dead body, we went over the equipment of this
boat with a fine tooth comb.

I checked the dock-lines securing us to trees on the atoll.
The anti-chafing gear was in place and the lines were still
in surprisingly good condition.  I wondered about the anchor
but the depth gauge told me why he hadn't used either of
them.

This lagoon ran pretty deep.

The auxiliary was a diesel with a pretty decent generator so
it'd charge the batteries probably faster than would usually
be healthy.  There were enough solar panels mounted on the
deck that, when the awnings we'd put up weren't in the way,
would provide a fair amount of juice.

The "emergency" lifeboat kit was mounted on the foredeck;  I
didn't recognize the sealed kit but later found the book on
it.  If we needed it there was another EPIRB inside.

There was a powered water maker on-board but I found a manual
one, obviously an emergency backup.  I didn't think I wanted
to have to pump it for any length of time, though.

There were two sets of main "house" batteries and a smaller
battery in reserve to start the diesel.  All were kept up by
the solar panels.

The radio gear was nice but, well, limited.  I found a VHF
transceiver but no long-range SSB rig.  I found a radar
detector so that we could tell if a radar set was in the
vicinity but no radar set of our own.  A scanner was in the
mix as well, programmed to sweep just about all of the VHF
channels.  I set that to work.  There were multiple GPS
units and even a LORAN unit.  A fair amount of the portable
versions of this gear was sealed away in metal cases which I
recognized as Faraday cages.

For a 48 foot schooner, I was impressed.  I was also rather
intimidated by the fact it was a schooner.

I've sailed catboat rigs, sloops, cutters and yawls.  I've
never sailed a ketch and could only drool over the schooners
that I've seen sailing past me.  I've never even been *on*
a schooner much less sailed one, though.  Not only would I
need to learn how to manage all of the running rigging, I'd
have to teach Bethany as well.

The headsail was hanked-on rather than roller-furling.

To be brutally honest about my shortcomings, I'm a
traditionalist.  I was *never* comfortable with my sloop's
roller-furling headsail so I was pretty happy with this
setup.

Because Doug had wanted single-handing ability, he'd made
some decisions I liked, starting with a self-tending jib.
There were some genoas and even a spinaker in extra sail
bags, below, but the headsail was strapped to a small boom
secured to the foredeck.

Going through all of the lines I found that all of the
halyards had downhauls--  Doug didn't trust gravity.  Given
my own anxieties, I could well agree with his paranoia
despite the extra lines I'd need to manage.  I eventually
drew a diagram and labeled each yard and sheet that I'd need
to handle.

While I banged around on deck, Bethany was running her own
voyage of discovery below-decks.  She found all of the pots
and pans Doug had had on board for the small kerosine stove
and went over the plates and mugs to make sure they were
clean.  She then made a happy whooping sound as she found a
teapot and the makings for tea.  A quick lesson on how to
operate the stove and she started water to boil as she
continued her happy task inventorying what we had to work
with.

All of the standing rigging I could get at was in very good
shape;  the chains hanging into the water from each of the
stays showed that Doug had done his best to protect the boat
from lightning strikes by ensuring a path to ground without
going through the hull.  We'd have to pull the chains before
we could get under weigh.

The tea with honey and lemon wasn't my favorite way to drink
it being one of those who prefers to pollute his tea with
milk but the companionship of Bethany by my side made up for
a lot.

Actually, I could probably get used to almost anything as
long as I had her by my side.  In this case, I could get to
_like_ tea this way.

Our discussion over the on-board cache of foodstuffs was
both reassuring and annoying.

I'm still a Neanderthal in many ways, of which one trait was
never having developed a liking for fish.  A sailor who does
not like sea-food is... unusual.

In the back of my mind I realized that this might have to
change.

We had plenty of granola bars which were good for
emergencies, canned foodstuffs (mostly soups) but no bread.
We had beef jerky in packets, again, good for emergencies.
A lot of dehydrated food for backpacking was also available,
too, which made up for a lot, even if it would be work to
cook up.

Canned goods didn't include much in the way of meats.

All right, so we wouldn't starve.  With the count I saw we
could make up to two months of meals, assuming all went
well.

This told me we couldn't stay here for too long.

With a lack of identity papers (neither of us had thought to
ensure we carried our passports when we exited the airliner)
we couldn't just go flouncing around the Pacific and write
off our previous lives, either.  We'd have to return to
"civilization".

So I'd have to plan our return to US jurisdiction.  It would
not be easy regardless of where we chose to go, of course.

I don't know what _you_ know, but, to me, the first rule of
the sea is: "Nothing goes well".  To a sailor, Murphy's Law
is the sheerest form of optimism.  The sea culls out those
who lack cleverness in improvising since something will
*always* go wrong.  I don't know about power boaters but
every sailor I knew could clooge a solution to damn near
any problem.

Perhaps the "MacGyver" character started out as a sailor.

In any case, all of my sailing experiences were on far more
benign bodies of water than the Pacific Ocean.

So we'd be trying to sail out of here and back to Hawaii.

I sat down with the boat's reference information, a GPS,
chart, a calculator (salivating over the slide-rule in the
drawer) and a sheet of paper.  I got the distance to Hawaii
from the GPS, the length at water line for the boat and
punched up the numbers to get the maximum hull speed.

Shit.  Not even 9 knots.  Assume half that speed...

Yeah, we'd make it.  We even had fair reserves.  The fishing
gear would help as long as the fuel held out to cook it
with.  We'd be looking to heat food in some creative ways.

At least there was a fair amount of fuel available;  I don't
think Doug had used his engine much at all.  The less we
needed the diesel the more fuel there'd be to cook with.

Well, we'd see.

At least the tide was known and his advice to get and in out
of the atoll indicated the slack water at high tide was the
best since the path through the reef wasn't a straight line.

I pulled down all of the awnings and returned them to their
proper places.  The bimini stayed up.  Bethany and I made
love again before covering each other in sunscreen.  We'd
prepare for departure the following morning.

_

With the new day I started the motor and made sure all of
the batteries were up to snuff and ready to rock and roll.
While the diesel was idling I made a quick scoot out to take
the aft lines in from the trees.

I was surprised to learn that being even this short distance
from Bethany was physically uncomfortable.  It was only
about 200 feet and I was eager to get back to her.  She told
me she felt the pull to be closer to me as well so she stood
on the swim platform, the point on the boat closest to me,
awaiting my return.

My lover was a quick study;  with her help I soon had the
two dock lines that ran from the stern coiled up and stowed.
I then started to pull the forward lines in to bring us
closer to the edge of the atoll on the lagoon side.

This was anxiety provoking, of course.  Even with no
currents in the lagoon, I still didn't want the boat to rub
against the coral.  We left the motor idling (and the
water maker running to re-fill the water tanks) as we both
worked to retrieve Doug's body.

We lucked out, getting the body onto the foredeck.  Bethany
stayed on the foredeck as I released the dock lines from the
trees they were secured to and brought them back.

Before the tide reached it's peak we started out through the
break in the reef, following Doug's instructions using the
course recorded in the GPS.

Once out and motoring far enough out where we wouldn't be
pushed back onto the reef, I started pulling on the jib
halyard and cranking the winch handle to make sure it
reached the proper level of tension before locking it (and
the downhaul) down.  We turned onto the proper baseline and
I eased the sheet out and, with the wind mostly behind us,
the jib caught the wind and filled.  It didn't take long
before our speed through the water was trying to speed up
the diesel so it was time to throw it into neutral and let
it idle to make sure that we had our fill of fresh water.

We accelerated using the wind until we reached a steady
speed.  The GPS and knotmeter didn't agree, of course, but
we were moving, the swells overtaking us in a quartering
sea.

With everything going well, the last thing I did before
shutting down the diesel was to pump out the holding tank,
not wanting to drag the batteries at all this first time.

Bethany and I worked together to bring up the foresail and I
had to learn how to tune the sail via the gaff.  It took an
hour before I finally felt like I got it right.  I was glad
Doug had some books available for me to work from.

On this broad reach we soon reached hull speed, the swells
becoming less uncomfortable as we tried to keep up with
them.

It was quiet as we sailed, hearing the whisper of wind in
the rigging and the occasional odd slap of water on the
hull.  We were on our way.

The next step was to say good-bye to Doug.  We used his
camcorder to capture the moment as the bag, properly
weighted, slid over the side and sank.

_

The scanner was running but still silent, as was the radar
detector.  I looked over the autopilot and considered what
to do.

First, though, was something I needed to do, to know what we
were working with.  There was enough wind blowing so we
didn't need the main sail, but we could run through a couple
of exercises.  First, I ran through trimming exercises as we
worked through the various points of sailing.  

My first gybe on this boat almost scared the shit out of me
because I wasn't ready for it, all by not having pulled the
sails in close to the centerline of the boat.  The banging
as both the jib and foresail slammed to a stop on the other
side of the boat were enough for me to pee myself.

It was fortunate that we were still nude;  all I made was a
puddle in the cockpit that was easy to rinse away while we
giggled.  Bethany giggled some more as she sprayed me down
too.  She admitted to being startled by the noise but she
hadn't known the dangers of an uncontrolled gybe.  She
sobered when I explained.

After all, a "boom" is well-named.  If it hits you during a
gybe it's the last sound you're likely to hear.

We practiced this exercise together, me working the sheets
and her at the wheel, until we got it right and smooth.  We
talked constantly discussing the processes we needed to do
and me explaining why.  Beth was probably a better student
than I have ever been.

Beth didn't take long to learn how to handle the sheets but
she cheated by using the powered winch when she needed more
pull.

When we were comfortable, we returned to our base course
towards Hawaii and Bethany heated up some soup.

I've never been a big fan of minestrone but I was happy to
make a meal of it, Bethany sitting across from me in the
cockpit.

Lunch done I got to work on the vane steering system, trying
to figure out how to set it up.  When I finally saw how it
was supposed to work I was startled by the simplicity.

We soon celebrated when we didn't need to deal with the
wheel any more;  we made love, slow and affectionate, on the
deck in the sun, the motion of the boat seeming to provide a
cue to a slow and satisfying motion between us.

We cuddled for a while, my lover on top of me, when I heard
her go "eep".

"Sweetheart?" I asked, "Are you all right?"

She sighed, her head on my chest.  "I just remembered.  My
pills were on the plane.  I'd just gotten over my period
before flying out to Hawaii so..."

I squeezed her.  "I'm sorry, I guess we shouldn't take so
many chances."

She nodded.

I held her, not willing to let her go, scratching her back
as we lazed in the sun.

So we decided to try to abstain from sex.

The rest of the day was comfortable for both of us but we
learned quickly that night that we needed to sleep apart, so
our efforts at chastity would have to start the next day.

_

Dinner again was understated given the limited selection of
ingredients, but was a pleasant sit-down.

I checked our course (since the vane was dependant upon the
wind) and figured that we wouldn't have a problem for our
second night at sea.

Since Bethany and I had discovered the night before that we
couldn't be chaste if we slept in the same bed, I took the
berth across from the nav station.

Sleep wasn't all that restful but none of the alarms went
off indicating operating radar sets.  At first I thought my
shallow sleep was because we were moving around but I've
enough practice sleeping when I crewed for some friends who
sailed to the Dry Tortugas and, later, to Cancun.

When morning came and I went to check on where we were, Beth
got tea going for us and she didn't look like she had slept
any better than I had.

Our clothing had been rinsed out with fresh water and had
dried nicely enough but...

It felt unnatural to wear any kind of clothing.  We did it
anyway so that we'd have something to slow down our desire
to spend every day making love.

_

As the day ground on I could feel myself shrinking back to
feeling like I was only half alive _despite_ the adventure
of sailing across the Pacific.  Just a couple of weeks ago
this would have been a fantasy.  Two days before it had been
a fantastic adventure.  Today it was starting to feel like
an ordeal.

Bethany looked like she wasn't any more comfortable than I
was with the new state of affairs.

I also learned that the distance I could be away from Beth
was shrinking.  Soon it was painful to be more that 10 feet
from her and it was obvious to me that she felt the same.

We soon had a distraction:  the weather started to go bad on
us in the late afternoon and I had to bring down the jib,
tying it to its boom, before reefing in the foresail.  I got
to it before fearing that I'd fall off the boat.  I did this
despite the distraction of being far enough from Bethany
that I was sick to my stomach from it.

Bethany, I think, was anxious as well as uncomfortable, even
though I had a safety harness and life jacket on as I
performed this work on the deck.  I was seriously afraid of
falling off the boat and had made sure that she was also
secured to the boat.

With the wind increases the water got rougher and rougher,
the swells growing much higher than I'd ever seen or faced
before.  The vane-based self-steering system wasn't useful
any more given these shifty winds so I had to disengage it.

Let's just say that I'd need a lot of practice to get this
right the first time.

All right, so I was still a neophyte;  I'd never been in any
seas greater than 6-8 feet.  Yeah, I'm a wimp.

Bethany ducked below which hurt given the distance during my
time disengaging the self-steering system.  I also had a lot
to learn with managing the wheel timing changes in my rudder
to match the swells in order to avoid getting slammed
around.

I'd like to blame the discomfort I'd felt with Bethany's
distance from me as the reason for being a slow learner.

When Bethany came back out of the cabin she was naked under
her safety harness and, when she secured it to be by me, she
reached over, un-zipped my pants and pulled out my already
hard dick.

I will tell you that driving a boat while getting a blow job
is as far as I want to go in doing two things at once.  Beth
shook me up and left me wobbly, barely able to handle the
wheel.

As soon as I got my strength back we swapped places and I
guided her in smoothing the response of the boat to the
waves that tried to throw us off course before I worked the
little woman in the boat.

She was certainly loud enough when she reached her pinnacle
as we rode out the swells.  Fortunately, she recovered
quickly and her steering improved again.

It was awkward but we were soon making love-- though this
time it started out almost animalistic as we fucked each
other's brains out.  The fear of the wind and heavy waves
probably drove us to abandon the idea of maintaining
chastity.

Now far be it from me to be suspicious but the storm calmed
shortly after I filled her with another dose of my DNA, her
squealing as we came together filling my heart.

The wind had died down enough that I kissed Bethany again
and went forward to shake out the reef and bring up the jib
again.

I engaged the wind-vane again and we relaxed as the evening
arrived.  Bethany got dressed again and heated up another
meal for us.

That night we slept apart and, again, I slept poorly.  It
bothered me that I slept so much better with Bethany.

The morning brought windy conditions building up and, well,
we were scared enough to fuck again, bringing our halves
back together.  Again the wind abated after we'd reached
nirvana.

We made love again in the early afternoon and the cloud deck
started to break up.  This got my suspicions working again.

That evening, after we made love again, I held her cuddled
in my arms and said "Sweetheart, it's almost like someone
wants us to be together.  Whenever we make love it seems as
if things suddenly go better for us."

She nodded in my arms, agreeably.  "Someone wants us to have
a baby.  How do you feel about it?"

I kissed her neck and shoulder as we spooned and said "I
sure won't complain, sweetheart.  I love you."

She sighed, happy in my arms.  "I love you, too, Bob.  But
what of your wife?"

I grunted, her question having brought Eileen back to mind.
It was hard to think about her when I was "with" Bethany.
"She has to share me with you, then.  I am *not* going to
abandon you now that you're in my life."

She nodded again.  "Then we'll fuck our way across the whole
Pacific, then.  Keep us together.  Keep anyone from tearing
us away from each other."

I nodded, knowing that being apart from each other bordered
on physical pain.

_

True to the decision we took almost every opportunity to
make love together.  Sure, fucking was part of it, but being
able to lay together or sit cuddling each other worked well
as an expression of love.

We spent some time looking over everything that had happened
to us and tallied up all of the little miracles.  The sum
total made quite an impressive stack.

Of course every one of them couldn't be proven as anything
more than "the luck of the draw" and so, easily, written off
as a chain of coincidences or merely our perceptions.

Despite this subjective evidence of manipulation we managed
to make love at least twice a day without burning me out.  I
was having no problems getting it up with Bethany for some
reason but we didn't take every opportunity to make love
sexually except for one day.

Bethany is a strange woman;  we were still at sea when she
celebrated missing her period by three days.  She was happy
and she was insatiable all that day.  I lost count of how
many times she got an erection out of me and, far more
frequently, she would reach climax.  Happiness like this, I
will admit, is contagious.

It was only a week later that the radar detector started to
beep and, shortly after, the VHF radio was able to pick up
the weather broadcast by NOAA.  We were soon able to hear
reports and we announcements from the Coast Guard.  We made
regular attempts to contact them but realized that the range
needed to be reduced.

It took several hours of trying every 15 minutes for us to
be heard by the Coast Guard and we soon got directions.

With our imminent arrival in "civilization" our idyll was
now coming to an end.  Our comfortable nudity wasn't likely
to go over well with the authorities so we had little choice
but to dress up.

Here we were, we'd crossed quite a few miles of ocean in the
nude and, despite the use of sun-screen, we were both darkly
tanned.  All over.  We didn't need as much sun-screen any
more, of course, so having to re-enter civilization where
we'd have to dress wasn't what I would call a lot of fun.

It was nice how soft our clothing had gotten given how much
rain water had been used as a rinse but, even so, clothing
still rubbed us both the wrong way.

I consulted the charts to work out our approach to the
anchorage we were directed to use and we were shepherded by
a pair of patrol boats as we talked with them via the VHF
radio and explained our situation.

It sure seemed like there was some consternation that we had
been separated from the rest of the survivors of our flight
so, once we got to the dock we were hustled away for
security interviews.

I have no idea why but it seemed easier to handle the amount
of distance they put between us as we got grilled by people
who believed we were moles being snuck into the USA as part
of a terrorist cell.

We were kept apart for over two weeks of interrogation
having to tell the story of survival over and over again as
they hunted for inconsistencies in the story I told.  Beth
and I had talked quite a bit and we knew how the other had
seen things and so we were able to tell, right away, when we
were told stories credited to the other that didn't fit.

One thing that bothered me was that my questions about
Bethany and my wife were rebuffed;  these suspicious folks
were so certain that I was not who I am.

An old job I'd had while in college working for a brokerage
helped, finally, to establish my identity.  The SEC had
collected my fingerprints way back when, which, when they
were finally unearthed, worked to confirm my identity.

It was like a switch was thrown, but this wasn't really good
news.  I apparently went from being an anonymous terrorist
to an identified terrorist.  I soon found myself being taken
to task for UseNet postings I'd made over the years that
were less than flattering to the President and his
administration.

Somehow laughing at their mono-maniacal narrow-mindedness
was not appreciated but, to me, it seemed that this kind of
mind set wasn't improving the security of the country.

At this point I was wondering why we hadn't sailed in some
other direction but I knew, without good identity documents,
we couldn't have made it over the long term.

Of course when they finally released me it was accompanied
by the promise that they'd be keeping a "close eye on me".

I laughed.  "You're gonna need plenty of caffeine, folks!
People don't come much duller than _I_ do, guys.  My life,
except for this little adventure, could be sold as a cure
for insomnia!"

Gawd, what a hard room:  I didn't even get a smile out of
these people.  They *really* needed to get a life.

I then discovered that these people, if I can use the term
"people" for them, liked practical jokes.  *Cruel* practical
jokes.  So, Given that we were in Hawaii, I was soon to
discover that I was now on the TSA's "No Fly" list.  This
would normally be seen as, well, inconvenient.  This
discovery had to wait until I tried to get a flight home to
the mainland, of course.

The more immediately pressing way they tried to screw with
us was far simpler.  I have no idea why these folks had such
a desire to make people like me and Bethany as miserable as
possible, but, given the way we were re-united, I knew these
folks had a streak of cruelty that only Torquemada could
hope to compete with.

So I was out-processed and brought to a conference room
where I'd be reunited with Bethany.  I was walking on air in
anticipation of being close to her again and, when I opened
the door and saw her...

Sitting there, looking anxious, along with her parents, was
also my wife.  And my youngest daughter who looked excited.
Four people who meant something to us both.

Bethany's face lit up on recognizing me while all but my
little girl had scowls on their faces.  That's when I
noticed the joker in the deck.

There, taped to the big whiteboard, was a poster-sized
ultrasound of an early fetus with Bethany's name and
information in the corner.  Strictly speaking this was in
violation with Health-Care privacy laws, but, hey, these guys
were sure they were above the law.  So, just to push the
issue, they also included another poster-size report of the
baby's genetic inheritance, naming me for paternity.

It took less than a second to realize this was all merely
minutiae;  the most important thing to me in that moment was
that the person whose own tattered half-soul matched the
ragged edges of my own damaged half was close to me again.
I rushed over to Bethany who had stood up on seeing me enter
the room and we wrapped each other in a hug and joined our
lips, fading into bliss.

_

Bliss can't last forever, not with three angry people in the
room, all eager to play with emotional chain-saws.  We did,
however, hold each other long enough to *truly* feel the
emotional re-charging.  With this recovery of our strength
we knew we could weather this.

It started with my wife, of all people.  "You bastard!  Look
at what you've done to me!"

I looked confused since I hadn't done anything *to* her in
over a year.  "What have I done to you, hon?"

She waved her hand between myself and Bethany, then at the
posters naming me as father to the fetus my lover carried.
"What do you call this?"

Bethany's laughing eyes met mine and we both looked to her
and replied "True love?"

This was not an answer to calm her down as her eyebrows
tried to meet over her nose and she said "What about your
vows to me?  Until death do us part?  Forsake all..."

I interrupted her with "Our relationship has been moribund
for well over a year.  You had what you wanted, didn't think
I deserved any emotional support beyond the very minimum
needed to survive.  Yes, I know you're always in pain, but,
with this whole adventure, I learned that it wasn't time for
me to just lay down and die in your service.  Bethany needed
me and I needed her--  and now there's someone new who will
need us in six to seven months.  You can be a part of it or
opt out."

My wife's face showed that she was mulling over my effort to
explain the new situation.  She was not particularly pleased
by the palatability but she seemed to be calming, especially
when my daughter came around the table and climbed on my
lap.

Bethany nodded when her mother decided to speak up "We
didn't raise you to be a harlot, destroying marriages.  What
got into you?"

I could tell from watching her parents that Bethany's folks
didn't understand when she first giggled and then laughed,
almost falling out of her chair.  My wife got a funny look
on her face when she understood the humor and softened for
just a moment.  It took several minutes before Bethany's
laughter calmed down and she pointed at me "He did" before
giggling again.

There was no doubt that her mother got a sour look on her
face as her dad's face softened for a moment but got guarded
again as his wife turned to him for support.  She decided to
try to slap her daughter with words again, saying "How can
you speak like that?  How can you find being such a slut so
funny?  How can you hold your head up?"

Bethany straightened herself in her seat, her hand still in
mine as we sat side-by-side.  "I can hold my head up because
I am a responsible adult.  I can look others in the eye and
ask them if they've sailed across half the Pacific Ocean.  I
can return to my job where who I love and who loves me isn't
less important than getting my work done.  I'd like to see
if they could have clean underwear after the plane they were
riding falls out of the sky!"  Bethany's eyes met mine and
we smiled at each other, squeezing each other's hand in
unison.  She then turned to my wife and told her "As for my
relationship with your husband, I have no expectation that
he will marry me but, and hear me clearly, he and I _will_
be continuing our relationship.  He will know his..."

I smiled "The baby is a girl, Hon" since I'd checked the
paternity analysis and saw the two X chromosomes listed.

"...yes, his daughter, by me, as well as his children by
you.  Get used to me in your life and I'll get used to you.
We'll take care of you as long as you don't fuck things up
for us.  I love you because, despite all of this, *he* still
loves you, but you had better try to make it easier for me
to *like* you.  Capisce?"

My wife stared at Bethany.  "What?"

"I've discovered that if Bob cares so much about _you_ still
then you must be pretty damn special.  That he has enough
room in his heart for *me* is a wonderful thing."

My wife sat there, stunned, looking less and less like the
end of the world was nigh.  My daughter had cuddled up to me
and I introduced her to Bethany.

"Daddy, does this mean I have two mommies?"

I chuckled.  "Yes and no.  Mommy is your real mommy but Aunt
Bethany will try to be like a mommy to you too."

My daughter suddenly looked upset and asked "Does this mean
she will yell at me too?  And tell me what to do?"

"When you do the right thing she'll be happy with you.  When
you make mistakes mommy will be dealing with you, unless she
wants Aunt Beth to deal with you."

This calmed down my daughter.  "When can we see the new
boat, huh, Daddy?

Bethany's mom still looked very unhappy and her husband was
not looking comfortable.  I suspected that he'd be getting
yelled at later on.

I looked up at my wife, "Hon?  Bethany?  Want to go out to
the dock and see what the DHS did to the boat?"

Before we left I collected the posters and reports and put
them into a shipping tube that had been left standing in the
corner.  They were too good-- and too emotionally uplifting
for me-- to lose.

_

Paranoid people should not be given power tools.

The boat we'd "inherited" (once we finished with all of the
necessary paperwork) was on the hard with all of the
hardware-- and all of the through-hulls-- removed.  All of
the gear was in boxes but this boat would require a lot of
time and effort to restore to any semblance of buoyancy,
much less seaworthiness.

_

We got to the hotels and arranged for flights out.  Despite
the fact that the DHS was supposed to cover these costs (and
did) finding both Bethany and myself on the No Fly list was
not something they would rescind.  When I went to complain
to a TSA agent I'd dealt with during my interrogation he
told me I was on that list to stay.  I was also told that
even charter flights were closed to me.

It's a pity I'd've been up for "enemy combatant" if I had
lost my temper and punched him out.  He laughed at my back
as I walked out.

Fucking smug bastard.  I'd've liked to have seen him deal
with what Bethany and I had.

I wouldn't be able to get back by air and I soon discovered
that none of the freighters heading for the mainland were
willing to take me (or Bethany) as a passenger either.  The
DHS and TSA were *not* friendly in the slightest.

In the meantime we had little money.  We also had a boat we
could work on but wasn't livable even on the hard.

My wife and daughter flew home in order to keep expenses
down;  Bethany's folks weren't happy to leave her with me
but they had their own jobs and lives to get back to.  They
left after her mother tried to hammer Bethany for ruining
her life by fucking around.

Ha!

Getting back in contact with our employers was interesting
as we restored our workplace connections albeit at a
distance.

The local office of my company was helpful as I got a new
laptop computer and spent time catching up on a lot of
e-mail.  I was just glad that I hadn't been listed as dead
or otherwise terminated despite the time spent missing.

Bethany's employer had a harder time dealing with getting
her reinstated as a living, breathing employee.

Our inability to fly anywhere and being in Hawaii wasn't
initially a big plus with either of our employers.  In fact,
for a while there I was facing the threat of termination
because I was of limited utility...

...Until my employer discovered an advantage to my current
location.  I was soon working with both testers in the
continental US and developers (and a help desk) in both the
Phillipines and India.  Having a foot in each "working day"
was soon discovered to remove a "disconnect" in management's
food-chain.

Bethany's employer wasn't as flexible but she ended up
becoming the nucleus of a local help-desk in Hawaii.

The hell of it was the cost of living in Hawaii which is not
low by any stretch of the imagination.  Neither of our
employers were going to adjust our pay rates and, at least
for me, I had to keep Eileen financially afloat.  We didn't
have much choice but to live in the marina where the Coast
Guard was kind enough to deliver our boat to and where we
were re-assembling it.  I admit that it was a relief that
the DHS hadn't sawed the hull into a jigsaw puzzle.

Our first efforts had to be getting the through-hulls all
re-installed.  In many cases we had to replace the fittings
and I replaced the parts with marelon instead of bronze.

We had to take a hotel room for a couple of days when the
bottom got sanded and re-coated with anti-fouling paint.

_

Our biggest surprise was a shock.  Doug _had_ left us a nice
present after all.

Not an electrical shock, thankfully.  No, it had to do with
that odd "extra" ballast.  There were a bunch of lead "pigs"
that had been placed in the bottom of the bilge which, to my
eye, _really_ didn't fit the finish and elegance of the rest
of the boat.  They were, after a bit of research, not part
of the original equipment.  Doug had slipped a joker into
the bilges.

What they were was a hidden cache of money.  I was curious
and cut open one of these pigs to discover a gold ingot that
had, to all appearances, been dipped in lead.

No, these weren't painted to look like lead.  That would
have been obvious right away.  It would take more effort to
get the lead off of them but it looked like an interesting
project.

Bethany and I replaced the ballast anyway, knowing that it
was money in the bilge.

We were understandably very happy when the State Department
showed signs of latent sanity by finally giving us
replacement passports.

We still weren't allowed to fly, of course.  No, that would
have been far too simple.

My wife finally managed to sell the house and my proxy was
critical in the closing.  Our old boat was also sold.  With
money in hand, my wife and daughter flew out shortly after
_Bend Zee Wind_ was re-floated.

We had the paperwork _and_ the money, now, to quit our jobs
and flounce across the Pacific.

We were free.

_

|_Epilogue_

We visited the atoll and saw that the US Navy, under the
guidance of the DHS, had apparently gone over it with a fine
tooth comb.  This comb had pulled all of the trees out.  No
really permanent damage to property, of course, but just an
annoyance.

We didn't even enter the lagoon;  there wasn't much point
since it was just a circle of sand sitting on top of some
coral.

Oddly enough, a lot of Eileen's physical problems faded with
time away from the stresses of land;  cruising the ocean
seemed to agree with her.  With weight loss and a healthier
diet she was able to reduce her need on the myriad
medications she'd been on.  Best of all, of course, was that
she was able to cope with sharing me with Bethany.

Bethany's daughter Roberta was born in Guam... so there was
no problem making sure we had the paperwork.

It's funny, but it looks like we won't have to dig into the
cache of gold Doug had left us-- there were people who paid
for our story.  We sold the rights to various folks but the
studios acknowledged that it'd be hard to stay accurate to
our real story.

It's funny how things work, though;  given all of the varied
systems on-board that I expected to fail whilst we sailed,
the most serious failures were contraceptive.

What was wonderful to me has been how Bethany didn't mind,
and, with each child, we both felt a little more complete.