Come Into My Arms Jack Pt 01

CHAPTER 1

Five dolphins played off the bow wave of the Lady Helena and then sliced forward like torpedoes just below the surface. Sunlight glinted off the crests of the swells rolling through the Hauraki Gulf and the spray thrown by the bow waves.

Idyllic, spoiled only by the thump-thump of the big marine Caterpillar down below.

Something a little smelly arrived beside Jack Garland as he watched the dolphins and a metal mug of hot coffee with one sugar banged on the safety rail beside his left elbow.

"You need a bath," Jack said, not unduly critical.

"How would you know? Had one last week, or perhaps the week before. Anyways bathing ain't healthy, Washing removes natural oil from the skin."

Jack said dryly, "The healthy part comes in the things soap and bathwater remove."

"That's debatable."

'I'm not debating. Don't board my ferry until you've bathed thoroughly and splashed yourself with that Mr Man I gave you last Christmas. How much is left?"

Digger shuffled his feet. "Hasn't been opened."

"Christ Digger, tidy up or you'll be paid off. Do you understand?"

"Aye, aye Capt'n."

"Don't be impertinent."

"Jack, I remind you your father didn't bath either."

Jack hid his grin. "Yeah, and look where that got him? He couldn't hold on to a woman longer than two weeks after his last bath."

"Your mum stayed around long enough to have you and then stuck around until you turned fifteen before she took off."

That verbal counter-punch took Jack low and hard. "Well my mum was a resilient Kiwi, wasn't she? Why she married a bath-shy Englishman I'll never know."

Digger snorted. "I've told you a thousand times why. When he sailed a

British destroyer into Auckland here for a joint naval exercise and she was invited aboard with her parents for a goodwill cocktail party and saw him, black-hair crew-cut, six foot two in his crisp Number One uniform, she was impressed. Then she looked into his sorrowful brown eyes and she flipped."

"I don't like being reminded of her, She ran away on me."

"You said she cleared out on your father, God rest his soul."

"Same difference. Bugger off ex-Petty Officer Frank William Nightingale."

"No need to be abusive Kiwi. I'm going. My engine has a warmer personality than you."

Jack sipped his coffee. His mother he hadn't seen for fifteen years was arriving next week for the handing over of his replacement ferry on his thirtieth birthday. He wasn't looking forward to the meeting. After divorcing his father and Jack (well, that's how he viewed it) she'd gone to live with her aunt in Boston and ended up marrying the widowed surgeon next door. He died leaving her even wealthier. She would be making big money on her own account as a leading child psychologist.

Yeah, what a joke that title was in leaving a screwed-up kid in her wake. Jack hadn't married or allowed any woman to have a meaningful relationship with him after what his mother had done to him.

The dolphins had gone but Jack continued his rail-leaning, now looking ahead to

Wakefield Island twelve miles ahead. His mom as she called herself had called him one day or night in Boston time and left a message. She sounded drunk and wanted to speak to him, desperately.

He'd replayed the message four times before he felt moved enough to call the callous bitch. Oh boy, what a release that gave her. She'd told Jack walking out on him but not his drunken smelly father had been playing on her mind. Her ability to deal with it had weakened with the death of her second husband.

Jack had almost thrown his phone at the wall when she said your drunken father but he'd sighed and relaxed, knowing it was the truth.

Passengers had complained about his father's lack of sobriety for years, a few of the complaints being official, but evidence was lacking until one morning the Lady Helena ploughed into the end of one of the ferry terminal berths in the city. People were thrown about but nobody was seriously hurt. Ferry terminal officials arrived on board with two police officers who breath-tested Jack's father. The result was positive and at an official hearing he lost his license to skipper a passenger ferry for eighteen months.

Digger, engineer on the Lady Helena, had also served in the British Navy and was second in command on the destroyer Jack's father sailed into Auckland three years before they left the British Navy and emigrated together to New Zealand to work in coastal shipping. Within hours of 'the incident' Digger had applied for the license to be in command of the ferry; it was granted at a special hearing the next day as he was fully qualified and his qualifications were up to date.

Captain Cedric Garland felt the disgrace of losing his command and three months later was found drowned in his bath after having consumed a near-fatal level of rum.

Jack inherited the ferry company and when he qualified fully he took over from Digger as skipper and gave his surrogate 'uncle' a five percent shareholding in company in appreciation of his loyalty. Digger still says it's the only property he's ever owned.

That's how the operation remained until Jack received a call from his recently widowed mother.

"I want to do something for you Jack, something to win back your heart."

They ended up arguing, Jack saying it was impossible to turn back the clock.

She said every man had his price. "Let me buy you a replacement ferry for that old tub you operate."

"Don't be daft. I've designed sketches but the bastards at the boat yard reckon I'd receive no change out of two and a half million dollars. So go out and kick a dog if you want relief," Jack said.

"Good night Jack," she said quietly.

"Good night mum er mom. Well talk again eh, when I'm in a better mood."

"I'll look forward to that."

Jack forgot to call her but four days later his bank manager phoned him. He wanted Jack to call in. Well the overdraft had taken a bit of a hammering recently from an overhaul of the aging engine amounting to $28,400 so fat-guts McCrone would be holding his hand out for money.

Mr McCrone the bank manager was all smiles and his PA arrived with coffee and called Jack dear and that told Jack something was up.

"This is stupendously generous of your mother."

"What is Mr Crone?"

"Sending you three million dollars in NZ currency."

"What?"

"Sending you three..."

"I heard, let me see the letter."

"Here you are. It's an email addressed to me which came just hours before the money was transferred electronically."

'Dear Mr McCrone

I daresay you remember me as I was a friend of your wife Betty and I was formerly married to Cedric Garland and as a new bank clerk you did the paperwork for us that led to your bank advancing us the loan to have the Lady Helena built. Please call my son Jack and advise him you have received his money and it's his to drawn down as he wishes. I haven't been the kindest of mothers to him and perhaps this may make up for some of my neglect. Please give my love to Betty.

Helena Giles (formerly Mrs Helena Garland).'

Mr McCrone smiled. "You have the look on your face as if this transfer comes as a bombshell?"

"Yes."

"Well, congratulations. It's not every day one of our clients is given three million dollars."

Jack raced home and called his mum, remembering to call her mom. "I can't believe this."

"That's good. I loved doing it. Do you know it was thirty-four years to the day when I transferred that money to you that your father and I received confirmation of the bank loan that allowed us to have the Lady Helena built at Davey's Boatyard?"

"Four years before I was born, eh mom?"

"Yes but it's a wonder you weren't conceived that very night. We were doing it all over the house and on the back lawn."

"It was a big day for you both."

"And how. You father told me that evening he'd name her after me. I was over the moon and ended up terribly drunk and didn't walk properly for days as a result of all that er...well you know."

"I'll keep in touch. Good-bye and thanks. You've come back for me mom in my time of need with perfect timing. With a slow, aged boat we've become so uncompetitive on the island run and so cost-heavy the company is teetering."

"This is what mothers are for darling even naughty mothers. Good night."

Jack called Davey's Boatyard and asked to speak to Fred Davey. A woman answered saying she was Faye Davey-Ashton. "My father is semi-retired to Honolulu. I'm chief executive, may I help?"

"Yeah, I want a boat built. Can you meet me in O'Hagan's bar tonight?"

"Certainly not. You have it the wrong way around. Clients come to us."

"Sorry Faye, not like the old days eh? When can you see me?"

"Please wait while I consult my diary. "What size of boat."

"A 200-seat ferry."

"Jesus!" said Faye.

After a pause and some heavy breathing, she asked: "What was your name again?"

"I didn't give it but it's Jack Garland."

"Ah yes we've never met but I know you own Lady Helena. She travels as a bit of a dog but has good lines. I'd either get that Caterpillar rebuilt or dump it and slap in a couple of MTU's and have her moored at the island as a back-up."

"It ought to have good lines. Your dad designed and built her for my father."

Another pause and heavy breathing.

"What time do you want to meet at O'Hagan's this evening?"

Leaving the ferry wharf at 5.45 that evening with maximum loading of ninety-five passengers, Jack called Digger to the bridge.

"Sit down and pour yourself a rum. Take that second bottle home as a gift. I'm selling up in Ponsonby. I know of three people who want the old family home so will ask the real estate agents to auction it at the end of next month. I'll buy something on the island. Some of those older properties come with more than one dwelling on-site. If it has a bach [cabin] you may wish to live there. Have your meals with me if you like."

"Yeah."

"Yeah what."

"Yes Capt'n."

Jack grinned. "No you fool, communicate properly."

"Yes Jack, it would suit me to leave my sister's snooty home in Parnell and live by the water on magnificent Wakefield Island with a fishing dory waiting for me just above high water mark. You'd buy me that boat, wouldn't you, as compensation for uprooting me?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah what."

"Yeah get fucked."

"That makes you sound like your father."

There was a pause as they both thought about the late Cedric Garland, RN (Rt'd).

"Mrs Houdini has banked enough money in my account to pay for the replacement of this tub."

"Fuck me."

"If you were forty years younger and female, you could be in with a chance."

They laughed and talked excessively and had another round of planning and reminiscing on the near-empty run back to the city.

At 7.30 two young skinny guys told Jack to "Piss off" when he asked them to move along the bar because he wanted that corner. Jack looked that them, removed his jacket, placed it over a chair and began rolling up his sleeves. Standing six four and with a very wide chest he looked rather formidable, especially when his biceps came into view. The two innocent guys being harassed were now almost at the other end of the bar. Jack had no choice really to hassle because he'd told Faye he'd be backed into the left-hand corner of the bar.

Finally he saw a good-looking broad with big bangers who made immediately eye contact and waved. Jack patted his dick affectionately before standing to greet Faye who looked even better than he remembered since last seeing her when the yard did the last refit of Lady Helena.

"Hi."

"Hi."

"You look cute."

Faye smiled and said this could be her lucky night.

Two hours later Jack closed the door of her car after kissing her one last time. Her tits had been soft and lovely and her pussy was fat, very ready to eat, so he's feasted while she'd jerked him moaning, "There's no way I can take all of this Jack."

She was lying of course. It mystified Jack that males appeared to think their dick was bigger than it was while woman liked to pretend they had small pussies.

Faye said as they finally parted, both feeling pretty worn out, "I feel I've really been seduced Jack. You know we are two of a kind... promiscuous. I've heard about your reputation."

"Well tonight I can't say I have much involvement. I just lay back and you seemed to run amok."

Faye said it was unusual to be with a man who was content to allow her to do everything her way.

He yawned and said he was naturally lazy but he was happy, as she was able to induce him to fire big shots. "Call your dad and talk this over with him. Your brother doing the financial figuring will need some experienced guidance if the yard is to deliver her for around two point eight mil."

"That's a tough call Jack. One hundred and ten feet in composite, two 292 bhp engines able to push her in trials to top twenty-nine knots is a big ask."

"Tell your dad I feel obliged to get prices from two other yards, one in Aussie. He'll know what boatyards they are. Tell him I'll ensure the launching receives TV coverage."

"TV coverage guaranteed?"

"Guaranteed."

"Sounds good. Can we go out somewhere on Saturday night Jack and then come back here?"

"Have you forgotten you're married Faye?"

"Oh yes that was a hopeful oversight, wasn't it?"

* * *

Eleven months later Jack met his mom at the airport. She'd come to the launching of the new ferry with her fiancé, Jeffrey B. Holland, Commodore of the Shearwater Boating Club in Boston. Dr Holland was an international authority on cosmetic surgery particularly breast implants and breast reductions.

A couple of months earlier Jack, who'd been desperately attempting to come up with an angle for the launching to attract TV interest and had practically slumped on to his knees in thanks when his mom mentioned what J.B. her new boyfriend did for a crust. He could not believe it and finally made the decision whether to call the new ferry the Wakefield Island Express or another name that just wouldn't go away.

"Mom two things I need to say. "I want you and JB to come and jointly launched the new ferry. And mom, her name will be Lady Helena 2."

His mom began laughing and crying simultaneous and at last she managed to say what an honor it was to have her name perpetuated and of course JB would accompany her.

"He's been making noises about accompanying me and bringing his daughter."

"A daughter eh? A youngster or older?"

"Twenty-eight darling. There's something about her that will fascinate you. I... oh, there's someone at the door. Just a moment."

"No, we're almost ready to leave for the island mom. Bye."

At the airport it was almost a minute before Jack realized the woman who was hugging and kissing and crying over him screaming "Jack...my Jack" was his mother and not a forty-year-old with really great boobs and a near flawless and youthful face. He realized it must be mom when he saw the hands and neck skin of a fifty-two year old.

"This is JB Jack, the distinguished Jeffrey B. Holland."

"How do you do sir," Jack said, shaking the hand of a guy aged 50-plus who looked no older than himself.

The TV liaison officer came up beside Jack and said, "Introductions please Jack and I'll whisk our two distinguished American's off for our exclusive interview."

Jack was about to follow when a smooth American voice said, "Hello Jack."

Jack turned and almost stumbled. He was facing a quite beautiful babe, cascading brown wavy hair and with a great body and face although everything looked as if it may have escaped her father's knife.

"Cassia?"

"Yes Jack, how very nice to meet you. I love your mom."

Jack had fallen in love instantly himself with a 6ft 2in woman with sorrowful brown eyes that set his heart on fire. As far as Jack was concerned, she was the most gorgeous woman he'd ever seen.

"Are you all right Jack? You look somewhat shaken."

"Let's go and watch the interview. They'll hand us a drink because we are guests. Here, let me push these two trolleys and you handle yours."

As they entered the small auditorium all eyes switched to them. Cassia and Jack made an impressive couple.

"My daughter Cassia," JB announced expansively.

"My son Jack who is naming his new 200-seat ferry after his mom," Helena smiled happily.

The people gathered in the studio gave the young couple a round of applause as Jack was handed a beer and Cassia a Martini.

Understandably the TV interview was all about cosmetic surgery, particularly breast enhancement. The female interviewer had very modest breasts.

"New age surgery is going beyond trim and tuck," Dr Holland said. "Helena was not aware that I was a surgeon pushing to new frontiers when we first met last year. When she consulted me Helena interested me intensely because at the age of fifty-two she had medium sized breasts, one larger than the other but that's not uncommon. They were very well shaped and lifted breasts for her age. She plays both squash and tennis and exercises through yoga. I saw her as a perfect candidate for mastopexy involving glandular recontouring. During our time together we both realized we had a mutual attraction for each other but that remained undeclared until she was no longer my patient."

JB asked Helena to remove her jacket. She was wearing a flimsy shirt.

"Turn slowly from one side of the room to the other Helena. That's it. Helena now has the shape and lift of a woman perhaps of twenty-four. The enhancement involved, as I said, glandular recontouring and it also involved using the pectoralis muscle and a little internal mesh."

The media clapped and Dr Holland thanked Helena.

"Oh, one more thing," he said. "Helena finds it no longer necessary to wear a bra."

"What?" cried several women in disbelief.

"That's a fact. Rather an achievement for a 50-plus woman to wear no bra while looking this good don't you think? Why don't one of you women come and examine Helena? Is that is acceptable Helena?"

With the cameras still filming Helena smiled and said, "Yes providing she doesn't touch."

A forty-year old came forward and Dr Holland held up Helena's jacket to give Helena some privacy while the woman made her inspection.

"Ohmigod," cried the woman. "No bra, great uplift and only a tiny scar on each areola and scars in the natural fold under each breast."

Cupping her own breasts the woman producer pleaded, "Oh doctor-doctor."

Dr Holland laughed and said unfortunately he was not licensed to operate as a surgeon in New Zealand.

Jack drove the visitors to a city hotel. His mom had decided she'd rather have a good night's sleep in luxury rather than at the end of a ferry trip be asked to sleep in a flea pit. Jack had told her he'd sold their former family home a month ago for a more than satisfactory price and he'd bought the Paul's Homestead on the island that had been vacant and on the market for thirty-two months. Exterminators were called in to clean up the infestation of rats some of which were as large as small cats, not that Jack had briefed his mom on that piece of information.

He thought his mom had made a wise decision because although the workmen were almost a month into renovations they had another six to eight weeks to go.

At the hotel Jack helped Cassia to settle into her room. Well, his mom had JB to assist her with all her luggage.

Cassia had been wearing a long, unfashionable skirt and as soon as the bellhop left with his tip Cassia dropped her skirt and thereafter walked around in a top covering just the top of her panties. The longest legs Jack could remember seeing for many a day (or most likely nights) were encased in sexy top self-support stockings. He waited in vain for the shirt to be discarded, as she appeared to have quite a bit up there to show.

"Are you married," he asked, expecting the worse.