Chapter 23.1
He woke to the sounds of the ancient village coming back to life. No cars. Still no cell phones. Smoke from fireplaces and old kitchen stoves. He heard a horse-drawn cart roll by on the quay and smiled as he made his way to the head, but with no one on board, not even Clyde, he suddenly felt more alone than he ever had in his life.
"But why now?" he said to the stranger in the mirror.
Was it because the last six months had been an aberration? An aberration that had redefined his expectations of what life could be.
"Or maybe, what might have been?" the stranger in the mirror said.
Had he chosen, he wondered, to follow a path different from his father in a fit of defiance, perhaps even repudiation? Or had he, more likely than not, simply drifted into the loneliness that had defined his life - after Claire and all the emptiness that followed?
The face in the mirror was quiet now, the eyes empty...almost hollow.
"Or did you never find your soul after that night?"
The face in the mirror smiled a bit at that, but then it turned and walked away.
+++++
He walked around the old port until he found a place cooking breakfast, and he marveled at the tastes of things cooked with simple fire. Croissant baked in a wood-fired oven was a revelation. Eggs harvested an hour before they hit the skillet had a flavor he'd never experienced before, and a slice of freshly smoked fish almost brought tears to his eyes. He looked back on a life consumed with factory processed foods and he knew the answer even before the question formed in his mind: the heat had been turned up too slowly, the frog had failed to jump out of the water in time...and suddenly, when he looked up from one more burger and fries grabbed on the run, it was too late.
He saw a woman hop off a boat and walk his way, and when she sat at a table near his he smiled.
"Is that yours?" he asked her.
"What? The boat?" she replied, in the pure, easy-going lilt of a California Girl.
"I haven't seen a Westsail in years. You've kept her in good shape."
She nodded. "Almost lost her in that damn storm. Raced in under bare poles, bloody near piled up on the rocks a couple of times."
"You single-handing?"
"Yes."
"When did you cross?"
"Last April. I left from Oriental."
"Me too, from Mystic."
"Oh? What did you come over on?"
"A Nauticat, but I picked up a Hallberg-Rassy a month ago."
"Oh? Is that yours tied up over on the quay?"
"Yup."
"So, you're from Newport Beach, too. Small world," she sighed. "Where you headed?"
"Paris. The Arsenal."
"Yup, small world."
He had to laugh when he heard that.
"What funny about that?" she asked.
"Can't you hear them?" he replied.
"Hear what?"
"The cosmic tumblers falling into place."
She smiled at that, then for the next hour or so they compared notes on how they might go about getting their masts pulled before heading up the Seine. When it was time to head out he hesitated but looked at her one more time.
"Want to grab some dinner tonight?" she asked, her eyes twinkling a little.
"I was just about to ask you."
"He who hesitates is lost," she said, grinning. "Look, we're on the same errand, so maybe we can work on this together, maybe finagle a better price in the process."
"Spoken like a true cruiser."
They both laughed at that - just as Clyde hove into view, walking across the little bridge over the lock by the carousel - and Taggart stood and whistled once (loudly), causing the old pup to look his way.
And that was all it took. Clyde ran as fast as he could right up to Henry and sat on his feet, looking up expectantly as if to say "I need some salmon, please."
"He's yours, I take it?" she asked.
"Yes, and pardon my French but I don't even know your name."
"Tracy," she said, smiling and holding out her right hand.
"Henry," he said, taking her hand in his. "And this wayward beast is Clyde. He's been out running with his buddies for a few days - haven't you, Buddy?"
Clyde barked twice, loudly.
"Uh-oh, I know that bark."
"Time to find some grass, I take it?" Tracy said, smiling at the pup.
"Yup. There's a little park right by the boat, too."
"I'll meet you there in a few minutes," she said, then she made her way back to the Westsail.
He turned to Clyde and grinned. "I'm not even gonna ask where you've been. I hope she was worth it."
"Woof!"
"Why'd I know you were going to say that?"
They walked back to Time Bandits - without a leash - and Clyde hosed down everything, holding the heavy load until he reached the grass, then he cut loose.
"Jesus H Christ, Dude! What have you been eating?"
This followed by a long, low rumble, then a slow, hissing fart - that whistled a little on the closing notes.
"Dude...I don't know you..." Taggart snarled, as nearby pedestrians began pinching off nostrils while looking his way...before they fled in terror.
+++++
They met again for dinner, at the same little bistro he'd taken Mike and Anton the day before, and not quite knowing what else to order he asked for the same thing he'd had yesterday. Tracy followed his lead and asked for the same, though she begged off having wine with her meal, and luckily the owners had enough food to pull it off again.
"So, Tracy from Newport Beach," he said casually if only to get the conversation going. "Where'd you go to high school? Harbor High?"
"Yup...you too?"
He nodded. "Okay, I gotta ask. Your last name is?"
She grinned. "Tomlin," - then she saw his face. "What's the matter?"
"And let me guess," he said as he tried to catch his breath. "Your mother's name is Edith."
"How'd you know that?"
"Does the name Henry Taggart mean anything to you?"
