Sailing into Reine proved to be a turning point in Henry Taggart's life. He had, he thought later that evening, never seen anything like this place. Towering, diamond-shaped spires rising up from the sea, and an isolated, rockbound series of little harbors and anchorages, most with red and white fisherman's cottages perched on rock ledges jutting out over the water. Even from afar, the Lofotens seemed otherworldly, almost Tolkienesque, but sailing into the outer harbor at Reine left him feeling breathless and humbled.
Filling up the diesel tanks left him feeling breathless, too. One hundred gallons at the equivalent of fourteen dollars a gallon also left him feeling more than a little violated, sort of like a day at Disneyland, and the experience soured his mood for a few hours. At least until they tied up at a little fisherman's marina and he hopped off the Bandit and went for a short walk. By the time he returned he'd put it all into perspective. Sort of, anyway.
Dina had already been to the local market and picked up freshly made gravlax; she was baking bread now and Taggart thought she looked like the most contented person on earth. She was hard to reconcile, too, he thought as he sat at the chart table updating the logbook. Prickly and overly sensitive, she almost seemed bi-polar...without actually being bi-polar. No, he thought, she was more like a mother bear protecting her cubs: protective, almost viciously so. Yet if he met her on her terms she was as superficially charming as any woman he had ever known. Perplexing, he thought. Dangerously so.
And yet this woman held the keys to his very survival in her hands. She possessed the knowledge that might keep him alive, literally so, long enough to meet his final objectives, and in Bodø she had as much as stated she would stay with him for the duration in exchange for allowing her supervision of Rolf's sojourn onboard Time Bandit. So, in exchange for having his very own personal oncologist onboard, he would have to accept a superficially charming, hyper-protective man-eating bitch in his life - all without really understanding why she wanted to be here.
'What was that song? You know, the one Sinatra did...The Tender Trap? Those eyes, those sighs...'
He leaned over and watched her working below in the galley.
'She's humming a show tune...is that Hello Young Lovers from The King and I? Jesus Fucking Christ...!'
And the hell of it all?
'She's cute, that's for sure. Perfectly, totally cute. The kind of woman any man in his right mind would fall head over heels in love with, in a heartbeat. So...why is she still single? Yeah, c'mon Taggart, you know the score. A man-eating bitch by any other name is still...'
The bread smelled wondrous.
'And of course, she's a perfect mother-fucking chef, too. Hell, she probably designs goddam rockets for NASA in her spare time...'
One of his cutting boards was filling up and taking shape on the countertop down in the galley. Slices of smoked salmon and gravlax, diced hard-boiled eggs, chopped onion, and what was that? Pickled herring in sour cream? A bottle of Riesling, too?
'Man, is this woman is out for the kill tonight, or what? You'd better watch your ass, Taggart...'
He completed his observations about the passage from Bodø, going the extra mile to write up his impressions of fuel prices in Norway, then he put the logbook away and slipped into his cabin to shower and change for dinner. He tried to shave but gave up when his arm twitched and the razor flew out of the head and onto his berth, then remembered he had an electric razor in a cabinet somewhere and started digging through boxes until he found it. Cleaned up and with fresh clothes on he felt somewhat human again, so he popped up to the cockpit in order to check all Bandit's lines again. A couple was standing on the pier just aft of the boat, pointing at the American flag when he came topsides, and they seemed excited to see him.
"Hi there," the man said. "You are the ones who saved our friend, no?"
"I guess so."
"Is it true you sailed all the way from America?"
"Actually no, I rowed most of the way."
"Ah, we have heard about your humor. It is now a legend throughout Norway."
"A legend? Really? I am honored."
"Yes, news reporters refer to you as a world-class smart ass."
"Yes, that's accurate."
"So, what was it like, sailing alone across the Atlantic?"
He looked away, wondered how to answer that question...because he really didn't know the answer yet. "You know, I'm not sure I can answer that one. It was easier than expected."
"Did you get lonely?" the woman asked, breaking her silence with an odd look in her eyes.
He shook his head. "No, not really. I was usually too busy to get bored."
"Where to next?" the man asked.
"Sail around here for a while. It's amazing, isn't it?"
They nodded and smiled. "Well, see you later," the man said as they started to walk off.
"Yeah, drop on by anytime."
But the woman stopped. "Will you be going out tomorrow?" she asked.
"I don't know. Why?"
"I wondered, would it be possible to go out with you, maybe for just an hour or so?"
He looked at them. Young, friendly to the point of outgoing, probably interested in learning to sail... "Sure, why not. Come by around noon."
"Really?" she said. "Well, should we bring anything?"
"Well, it's colder out on the water, so dress in layers if you can."
