"So Far Away"
Written by
Beckers
**Chapter Three**
David Grief could never recall a time when he had slept so soundly. If it hadn't been for an irritating shaft of light which had rudely directed itself over his left eye and cheek he might not have awakened until noon.
Yet, he was conscious now and as his eyelashes flickered he noted the sound of daily activity outside, and he became aware of where he was -- and who he had been with. Partly dazed, Grief grinned, recalling the night and what it had disclosed. "Oh, lady." he murmured, sing-song, but it was with a relaxed and grateful smile. Had he but known ... And now he turned slowly over, wanting to feel her warmth again but also knowing they needed to talk.
The space next to Grief was empty, void of all human life, and he lifted his head off the pillow, looking about the area, listening for her - perhaps - in another room. "Isabelle?" he asked but there was no reply. Untangling himself from the sheets and sitting up, Grief looked over to her open closet. He stiffened. The long garment bag was missing. He pulled himself widthwise over the mattress to look at the floor near Isabelle's chest of drawers. The valise was gone …
"Damn!" Grief cursed and, nearly panicking, propelled himself out of the bed. He dashed to the bedroom door, looking down the hall, searching for her. "Isabelle!" -- 'She would not just leave …' His heart argued with what seemed reasonable. Grief glanced momentarily downward and saw that his own clothes, those which had been thrown carelessly onto the partially carpeted floor last evening, were neatly folded and lay in a tidy heap on a stool.
Quickly, he dressed and - knowing where she must be - Grief ran for the harbor.
***
"I'm sorry, son, but that freighter left over two hours ago." The elderly native clerk announced, gently scratching the back of his silver-haired head. "Although, it did have a small list of passengers. They were all going as far as Australia. A drop off."
"That's the one." Grief said, finally feeling as if he might be getting somewhere. He had been trying to get information from the docking clerk for over ten minutes but he was a crusty old man that appeared to trust little or no one. "Was there a woman on board?" Grief asked, "She's in her late twenties, about this tall --" He lifted a hand to indicate measurement, "-- and has dark hair."
"Pretty?" the clerk asked.
"Yes, and she's English."
Leery, the waterfront clerk began to flip through his ledger when all at once he looked up and, eyeing the questioner intently asked, "Are you David Grief?"
"Yes."
The clerk stared at him a bit longer, as if trying to get the captain's description down, then he pulled something from underneath the counter. "This is for you." He pushed a sealed envelope in Grief's direction, "Your right. She was a pretty young lady, from what these old eyes recall, and she was sad. Tormented, I'd say." His eyes narrowed with accusation, "Are you her husband? Did you hurt her?" he asked in a manner that only the very young and elderly could get away with.
"No, nothing like that." Grief assured, "We're just …" He stopped himself from almost saying it. 'We're just friends'. How utterly unfitting that phrase seemed. "Thank you." Grief took the letter and walked away, ripping the envelope open as he made his exit.
****
He was drinking too much and knew it. It was just past three o'clock in the afternoon. He sat alone at his favorite table at Lavinia's, pouring yet more whiskey into his glass, and staring into space. The letter lay atop the tabletop, opened and slightly splattered with liquor.
Clare watched him from behind the counter where she was helping the tavern's keeper. She then glanced at Lavinia, who had also been eyeing Grief, as she accepted money from a few slightly inebriated patrons.
Lavinia looked at the concerned Clare and nodded. No need to worry. She had taken care of matters.
With shaking hands and bleary vision, Grief focused once again - for he had read it ten times already - on the letter and read it silently to himself:
~~~~
My Dearest David,
This is by far the most difficult letter I have ever written in my life. But before you read further you must know this: Last night was without a doubt the loveliest evening of my entire existence. It was as if my soul was dancing beneath starlight and you were there to lead, to embrace me with your affections, to show me light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Never before had I felt such passion and tenderness. Never have a man's kisses felt so perfect and pure. You brought out something untouched in me, David Grief, something nameless and untainted, an emotion I thought long dead but now, I discover, was merely dormant. My gratitude knows no bounds.
But now - today - we must face some truths. As incredible as that experience was, my dearest Captain, it was only what it was. We did what we did because I needed you and you … you were lonely and a little sad. I know you do care for me, David. I have no doubt about that. But you also understand the bigger picture far better than I ever did. We are both too selfish an animal to ever be together, occupying the same space at the same time. I realize this now and I know, in your heart, you are agreeing with me. We *are* too much alike and anything more than what we shared last night … it would only serve to make us miserable. It could never work. Never.
Besides, your true devotion lay with another woman. We both know who she is. I am not going to mislead myself into believing you ever fell out of love with her. How can I when I've seen you watching her, yearning for her, thinking you made an enormous mistake when you and she parted. Go to her, David. Go to the woman you love and tell her you made a mistake. You need her desperately and if the passion you and she share is anything like what we experienced last night … you will be happy together for a long, long time.
Thank you, David Grief. Thank you for the courtesy and attention you've shown. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for sharing, even if it was only one flawless night, a part of your soul that will never belong to another woman, as it did with me. Mark it on your calendar, David. I will.
You changed my life and will be in my thoughts and heart forever.
With Deep Affection,
Isabelle
~~~~~
****
When Mauriri entered the bar Grief had finished with his first bottle and he had motioned over to Clare to get him another. Sizing up the situation, the Polynesian took the bottle and an extra glass from the countertop. He made eye contact with both Clare and Lavinia and silently ambled over to Grief's table. He sat in a chair opposite his friend and poured them both a finger full. "Beautiful day, David. You should be out in it. Maybe checking out The Rattler before our next big haul."
Glancing at his friend then at the whiskey glass, Grief nodded. "You're right, Mo. You're always right." he said but it sounded less than a compliment. "It's time to go on, yet again, like nothing has happened. Where would men be without that ability? You ever wonder? Oh, I know. They'd be drinking their sorrow's away, at a south seas bar, knowing one day they'll get it right."
"Get what right, David?"
"Women."
Mauriri nodded and suppressed a sigh, "What happened?"
"You don't know?" Grief leaned back in his chair and looked up at the thatched roof above him, "She left."
"Isabelle?"
"Yes, Isabelle." Grief picked up his glass and downed the whiskey with one swallow.
"Did you tell her Lavinia, Clare and Colin and I were willing to help rebuild …"
"Yes, I told her and she made it very clear she would not be looked upon as a charity case. She took a ship to Australia this morning."
"The freighter?" At Grief's nod Mauriri took the bottle and poured him another finger full. "Makes sense, I guess. She'd want to be with Dante one last time before she loses him for good. But I'm still surprised. Isabelle's not usually so impulsive. Running a business gave her patience. Something must have happened. What do you think could have made her want to leave so soon?"
Grief stared at his drink and said nothing.
Mauriri spotted the open letter laying on the table and picked it up.
"No …" Grief started, reaching forward but suddenly stopped when Mauriri looked at him, inquiring. Again, Grief sat back in his chair and watch his friend as he read the intimate correspondence. He was waiting for Mauriri's expression to change at some point but the Polynesian was passive. Even when he finished reading and refolded the letter, when he slipped it back into its envelope, his expression did not betray him. He merely picked up his own drink, tossed it back, then looked out of the bar's open front, at the beach beyond. He was silent for too long. "Say something, Mauriri." Grief demanded.
Unhurried, Mauriri looked back at David then to the table top, drumming his fingers gently on it's surface. Then, with a sigh, he asked: "Is she right? Do you still love Lavinia?"
Grief glanced at the beautiful bar keeper as she smiled and served her patrons. "I'll always care for Lavinia." he said, "But do I think we have a future together? No. That's past. We've both moved on."
"And what about Isabelle?"
"You said yourself that she is nothing but trouble. You were right."
"If it were a hundred years ago I'd agree with you, David."
The men met each other's eyes.
"What do you want me to say, Mo?" Grief put his glass down with a loud 'thunk' and appeared suddenly defeated, "We had our night and she left. Does it matter how I feel now?"
"Yes, it does!" Mauriri was stunned by the utter gullibility of the man. How could someone who claimed to be as worldly as Captain Grief be so blinded when it came down to the female of the species. "Do you love her?" he asked again, this time his tone demanding a truthful answer, not a glib comment.
"Yes." Grief said and was astounded by how comfortable the admission was as it passed his lips.
"Do you want her here?"
"Yes."
"Then go find her and bring her back!"
"She doesn't want me to …"
"So what! When did that ever stop you?"
"What does it matter if I love her but she doesn't love me? I can't force her to return."
Mauriri tossed his hands up in frustration, "Did we read the same letter?" he asked, "The woman is crazy about you, David. Her pride and fear isn't going to let her admit it, especially if she thinks your heart belongs to another woman, but one sure way of letting her know where she stands is to *go get her* and tell her how you feel. From there you two can make some decisions."
Nervous, Grief sat up straighter in his chair. "What if we go all the way to Australia and I discover …You could be wrong, Mo!"
Rolling his eyes, Mauriri explained: "You may have far more experience than I do with women, David, but I think I can safely say that I know them better. I have a wife, children and the good sense to know love when I see it and read it." He tapped the envelope for emphasis. "Go to her, David. Bring her back. Tell her you love her."
"When did you become so smart?" Grief asked, with an amazed grin.
"About the same time I realized my love life was more satisfying than your own."
"Will you come with me?"
"I'm not sure I should."
"You should. I'm going to need all the morale support I can get."
"You know, I think you're right." Mauriri glanced at both Clare then Lavinia - a thought entering into his head - and he smiled. "We'll take off first thing tomorrow morning. It'll give you enough time to sober up and I have some personal and business dealings to get straight before we leave."
"Business?" Grief questioned.
"Never mind." Mauriri stood. "Go rest up on The Rattler, David. Then get her prepared for the trip. Remember, dawn."
'Australia.' Grief thought, watching his friend's back as he left. What would they find there? Friend, foe or lover?
((to be continued))
Written by
Beckers
**Chapter Three**
David Grief could never recall a time when he had slept so soundly. If it hadn't been for an irritating shaft of light which had rudely directed itself over his left eye and cheek he might not have awakened until noon.
Yet, he was conscious now and as his eyelashes flickered he noted the sound of daily activity outside, and he became aware of where he was -- and who he had been with. Partly dazed, Grief grinned, recalling the night and what it had disclosed. "Oh, lady." he murmured, sing-song, but it was with a relaxed and grateful smile. Had he but known ... And now he turned slowly over, wanting to feel her warmth again but also knowing they needed to talk.
The space next to Grief was empty, void of all human life, and he lifted his head off the pillow, looking about the area, listening for her - perhaps - in another room. "Isabelle?" he asked but there was no reply. Untangling himself from the sheets and sitting up, Grief looked over to her open closet. He stiffened. The long garment bag was missing. He pulled himself widthwise over the mattress to look at the floor near Isabelle's chest of drawers. The valise was gone …
"Damn!" Grief cursed and, nearly panicking, propelled himself out of the bed. He dashed to the bedroom door, looking down the hall, searching for her. "Isabelle!" -- 'She would not just leave …' His heart argued with what seemed reasonable. Grief glanced momentarily downward and saw that his own clothes, those which had been thrown carelessly onto the partially carpeted floor last evening, were neatly folded and lay in a tidy heap on a stool.
Quickly, he dressed and - knowing where she must be - Grief ran for the harbor.
***
"I'm sorry, son, but that freighter left over two hours ago." The elderly native clerk announced, gently scratching the back of his silver-haired head. "Although, it did have a small list of passengers. They were all going as far as Australia. A drop off."
"That's the one." Grief said, finally feeling as if he might be getting somewhere. He had been trying to get information from the docking clerk for over ten minutes but he was a crusty old man that appeared to trust little or no one. "Was there a woman on board?" Grief asked, "She's in her late twenties, about this tall --" He lifted a hand to indicate measurement, "-- and has dark hair."
"Pretty?" the clerk asked.
"Yes, and she's English."
Leery, the waterfront clerk began to flip through his ledger when all at once he looked up and, eyeing the questioner intently asked, "Are you David Grief?"
"Yes."
The clerk stared at him a bit longer, as if trying to get the captain's description down, then he pulled something from underneath the counter. "This is for you." He pushed a sealed envelope in Grief's direction, "Your right. She was a pretty young lady, from what these old eyes recall, and she was sad. Tormented, I'd say." His eyes narrowed with accusation, "Are you her husband? Did you hurt her?" he asked in a manner that only the very young and elderly could get away with.
"No, nothing like that." Grief assured, "We're just …" He stopped himself from almost saying it. 'We're just friends'. How utterly unfitting that phrase seemed. "Thank you." Grief took the letter and walked away, ripping the envelope open as he made his exit.
****
He was drinking too much and knew it. It was just past three o'clock in the afternoon. He sat alone at his favorite table at Lavinia's, pouring yet more whiskey into his glass, and staring into space. The letter lay atop the tabletop, opened and slightly splattered with liquor.
Clare watched him from behind the counter where she was helping the tavern's keeper. She then glanced at Lavinia, who had also been eyeing Grief, as she accepted money from a few slightly inebriated patrons.
Lavinia looked at the concerned Clare and nodded. No need to worry. She had taken care of matters.
With shaking hands and bleary vision, Grief focused once again - for he had read it ten times already - on the letter and read it silently to himself:
~~~~
My Dearest David,
This is by far the most difficult letter I have ever written in my life. But before you read further you must know this: Last night was without a doubt the loveliest evening of my entire existence. It was as if my soul was dancing beneath starlight and you were there to lead, to embrace me with your affections, to show me light at the end of a very dark tunnel. Never before had I felt such passion and tenderness. Never have a man's kisses felt so perfect and pure. You brought out something untouched in me, David Grief, something nameless and untainted, an emotion I thought long dead but now, I discover, was merely dormant. My gratitude knows no bounds.
But now - today - we must face some truths. As incredible as that experience was, my dearest Captain, it was only what it was. We did what we did because I needed you and you … you were lonely and a little sad. I know you do care for me, David. I have no doubt about that. But you also understand the bigger picture far better than I ever did. We are both too selfish an animal to ever be together, occupying the same space at the same time. I realize this now and I know, in your heart, you are agreeing with me. We *are* too much alike and anything more than what we shared last night … it would only serve to make us miserable. It could never work. Never.
Besides, your true devotion lay with another woman. We both know who she is. I am not going to mislead myself into believing you ever fell out of love with her. How can I when I've seen you watching her, yearning for her, thinking you made an enormous mistake when you and she parted. Go to her, David. Go to the woman you love and tell her you made a mistake. You need her desperately and if the passion you and she share is anything like what we experienced last night … you will be happy together for a long, long time.
Thank you, David Grief. Thank you for the courtesy and attention you've shown. Thank you for being there for me. Thank you for sharing, even if it was only one flawless night, a part of your soul that will never belong to another woman, as it did with me. Mark it on your calendar, David. I will.
You changed my life and will be in my thoughts and heart forever.
With Deep Affection,
Isabelle
~~~~~
****
When Mauriri entered the bar Grief had finished with his first bottle and he had motioned over to Clare to get him another. Sizing up the situation, the Polynesian took the bottle and an extra glass from the countertop. He made eye contact with both Clare and Lavinia and silently ambled over to Grief's table. He sat in a chair opposite his friend and poured them both a finger full. "Beautiful day, David. You should be out in it. Maybe checking out The Rattler before our next big haul."
Glancing at his friend then at the whiskey glass, Grief nodded. "You're right, Mo. You're always right." he said but it sounded less than a compliment. "It's time to go on, yet again, like nothing has happened. Where would men be without that ability? You ever wonder? Oh, I know. They'd be drinking their sorrow's away, at a south seas bar, knowing one day they'll get it right."
"Get what right, David?"
"Women."
Mauriri nodded and suppressed a sigh, "What happened?"
"You don't know?" Grief leaned back in his chair and looked up at the thatched roof above him, "She left."
"Isabelle?"
"Yes, Isabelle." Grief picked up his glass and downed the whiskey with one swallow.
"Did you tell her Lavinia, Clare and Colin and I were willing to help rebuild …"
"Yes, I told her and she made it very clear she would not be looked upon as a charity case. She took a ship to Australia this morning."
"The freighter?" At Grief's nod Mauriri took the bottle and poured him another finger full. "Makes sense, I guess. She'd want to be with Dante one last time before she loses him for good. But I'm still surprised. Isabelle's not usually so impulsive. Running a business gave her patience. Something must have happened. What do you think could have made her want to leave so soon?"
Grief stared at his drink and said nothing.
Mauriri spotted the open letter laying on the table and picked it up.
"No …" Grief started, reaching forward but suddenly stopped when Mauriri looked at him, inquiring. Again, Grief sat back in his chair and watch his friend as he read the intimate correspondence. He was waiting for Mauriri's expression to change at some point but the Polynesian was passive. Even when he finished reading and refolded the letter, when he slipped it back into its envelope, his expression did not betray him. He merely picked up his own drink, tossed it back, then looked out of the bar's open front, at the beach beyond. He was silent for too long. "Say something, Mauriri." Grief demanded.
Unhurried, Mauriri looked back at David then to the table top, drumming his fingers gently on it's surface. Then, with a sigh, he asked: "Is she right? Do you still love Lavinia?"
Grief glanced at the beautiful bar keeper as she smiled and served her patrons. "I'll always care for Lavinia." he said, "But do I think we have a future together? No. That's past. We've both moved on."
"And what about Isabelle?"
"You said yourself that she is nothing but trouble. You were right."
"If it were a hundred years ago I'd agree with you, David."
The men met each other's eyes.
"What do you want me to say, Mo?" Grief put his glass down with a loud 'thunk' and appeared suddenly defeated, "We had our night and she left. Does it matter how I feel now?"
"Yes, it does!" Mauriri was stunned by the utter gullibility of the man. How could someone who claimed to be as worldly as Captain Grief be so blinded when it came down to the female of the species. "Do you love her?" he asked again, this time his tone demanding a truthful answer, not a glib comment.
"Yes." Grief said and was astounded by how comfortable the admission was as it passed his lips.
"Do you want her here?"
"Yes."
"Then go find her and bring her back!"
"She doesn't want me to …"
"So what! When did that ever stop you?"
"What does it matter if I love her but she doesn't love me? I can't force her to return."
Mauriri tossed his hands up in frustration, "Did we read the same letter?" he asked, "The woman is crazy about you, David. Her pride and fear isn't going to let her admit it, especially if she thinks your heart belongs to another woman, but one sure way of letting her know where she stands is to *go get her* and tell her how you feel. From there you two can make some decisions."
Nervous, Grief sat up straighter in his chair. "What if we go all the way to Australia and I discover …You could be wrong, Mo!"
Rolling his eyes, Mauriri explained: "You may have far more experience than I do with women, David, but I think I can safely say that I know them better. I have a wife, children and the good sense to know love when I see it and read it." He tapped the envelope for emphasis. "Go to her, David. Bring her back. Tell her you love her."
"When did you become so smart?" Grief asked, with an amazed grin.
"About the same time I realized my love life was more satisfying than your own."
"Will you come with me?"
"I'm not sure I should."
"You should. I'm going to need all the morale support I can get."
"You know, I think you're right." Mauriri glanced at both Clare then Lavinia - a thought entering into his head - and he smiled. "We'll take off first thing tomorrow morning. It'll give you enough time to sober up and I have some personal and business dealings to get straight before we leave."
"Business?" Grief questioned.
"Never mind." Mauriri stood. "Go rest up on The Rattler, David. Then get her prepared for the trip. Remember, dawn."
'Australia.' Grief thought, watching his friend's back as he left. What would they find there? Friend, foe or lover?
((to be continued))