"Any name you want written on her?"
"Yes, The Seacomber."

"Arianne," Katelyn called as soon as they heard the bell ring, "could you please open the door? Both Granny and I are busy." "Sure," she called out from the piano, getting up, "I'll get it."
It was the 16th of August, Arianne's birthday. And, she had officially asked everyone not to turn up or create any sort of celebration for the day. Even after a month, she wasn't over with what happened with Ira. She was still disappointed. But, deep within her heart, she wanted him - only him - to turn up and spend her birthday with her.
"Daddy," she was miles over elated as she shrieked out, seeing her father as soon as she opened the door, early in the morning. And, there stood Mr. Kendrick Smith in front of his daughter, ready to take her in his fatherly hug as she jumped in glee. "Daddy?" Katelyn expressed her surprise in the kitchen as she and her mother were expecting some other name to be heard. "Ken's come?" Granny asked, leaving her work and following her daughter out, "you knew he would?" "Arin talked to him two days ago," she informed, "she didn't say anything like that."
"Look, Mamma," Arianne rushed into the vestibule, "Daddy's come. To surprise me." And behind her appeared Kendrick, with his travel bag behind him and a couple other bags in his hand. "Oh, Ken," Granny smiled at her ex son-in-law, "how have you been?" "I'm good," he hugged the old lady and turned to his ex wife. Arianne, from a distance, stared at her parents expectantly as he asked her mother, "how are you?" "I'm good," Katelyn managed a smile, "and you?" "Fine," he said and the young one sighed.
"Where's Ira?" Granny asked Katelyn in whispers as they continued waiting and acting busy in the kitchen.
"I don't know, Mom."
"When the bell rang, I thought it was him."
"I did too. And, that's why I asked Keira to get it."
"What if he arrives now?"
"I don't know. He'll meet her father. I think Ira's man enough to handle that."
Just then, the bell rang again. "Good Heavens!" Katelyn murmured and, deciding unanimously, they peeped out of the kitchen. Arianne sat on the sofa with a new book in her hands; no Kendrick anywhere in the room. "Arin, where's Daddy?" Granny asked, coming out of the kitchen. She answered without looking up, "he went to get the door."
And, as expected by Arianne's foremothers, at the door, Ira and Kendrick stood facing each other.
"Whom are you looking for?" Kendrick asked as he saw a very handsome young man standing with a travel bag behind him just like his.
"Hello, Mr. Smith, I'm Ira...Ira Armstrong."
"I asked you something."
"I came to meet Arianne."
"And, you are?"
"Ira Armstrong."
"What are you to her?"
"I'm...her...friend." He said in a way as if he was confused himself.
"Oh! What do you do?" Kendrick kept asking him questions, keeping him standing there until he was satisfied with his answers.
"You already know the house, I see. Come in."
Inside, Katelyn and Granny stood beside the sofa, wondering what took them so long to come. Arianne, inattentive and nonchalant to what happened around, kept concentrating on her book.
"Anne," Kendrick called her daughter as he came back inside, Ira following him shyly, "do you know this guy?"
"Who?" she turned around from the book and when she saw Ira standing behind her father, she could not help but smile huge. But, as soon as he smiled back, the haunting memories of the last month took her smile away. She frowned and said, "yes, he's Ira Armstrong. I know him."
"What's going on, Kate?" Kendrick asked Katelyn and Granny as they hurled him inside the kitchen to keep Ira alone with Arianne, "who's this guy? He came here before? Why did anyone not tell me about him?"
"We wanted to," Kate said, "okay, see. Let me tell you from the beginning. So, these two, they met at a party Theresa threw..."
"Who's Theresa?"
"Ken, you know this. She's Arin's roommate at the college. Well, yes, so these two...they met at her party and Ira is Theresa's cousin. And, then, after a few weeks that they met, Arin had to come down here. So, they missed each other a lot. And, Ira wanted to spend his birthday with her, here. So, that's why, he and his parents spent a week here with us."
"His parents came too?"
"Yeah," Granny looked up from the oven, "the Armstrongs are lovely."
"Why did I not know?"
"You were in New York when they came. So, we decided to inform you when you return. But, then, just on the day of his return, Ira and Arin had a little brawl. So, she decided against telling you, as she thought it was unnecessary."
"Oh, what's he doing here now? I don't think the brawl is over yet."
"Hmm...it isn't. Whole month she hadn't spoken a word to him. So, he thought that her birthday might be the right time to convince her again. He's got some gift which he thinks will surely melt her heart."
"How do you know so much?" Kendrick was baffled at her knowledge about the stranger guy.
"Well...even though Arin didn't talk to him, I kept in touch with him."
Kendrick seemed lost in thoughts for a while. He looked out of the kitchen at Ira and his daughter. They seemed to be in a deep conversation. As he tried to grasp what they were talking about, Kate spoke up again, "Ira's a really nice person, Ken. He genuinely cares about Arianne. He's a great guy. I think we should think about him."
"Why?" he murmured.
"Because, your daughter is badly in love with him. Badly!"
"I don't wanna go anywhere with you, Ira," Arianne tried keeping her voice as low as possible when Ira tried convincing her to go to the marina with him.
"Everyone's going, Arianne," he said, still trying.
"How do you know?"
"Well, I just know. I'll ask them and they'll say yes."
"So take everyone. Why are you after me?"
"Because, it's for you. Your birthday. Arianne, please. Just once. Forgive me."
It broke her heart all the more. She didn't want him to beg to her for forgiveness. She just wanted him to hold her to him and tell her what he had said a month back was a complete lie and that she had always been and will be the only woman he loved and wanted to cherish and protect forever. But, she knew it was just an expectation.
"I think we should go," Arianne's Daddy tried convincing her when he got to know what the conversation was about, "it's your birthday. What would you do sitting at home? Plus, he's come this far, from Seattle just for this. So, we should go and see. If you don't like it, I promise we'll come back right that moment."
"Daddy," she rolled her eyes at everyone, "really?" She rose from the couch and left, taking the stairs for her room. "Armstrong," Ken poked him with his elbow as they sat adjacent to each other on the sofa, "do I really have to teach you to follow her?" Embarrassed, Ira treaded the stairs and as soon as he reached Arianne's room, she slammed the door on his face and shouted from inside, "I'm not going anywhere, you understand?"
"Neither am I," he replied, "I'm not going anywhere until you come out and accept to go with me. I'm going to stay here, outside your door, until you come out." For a long time, there was no reply, and, after a while, suddenly, very quietly, the door opened and Arianne popped her head out.
"Where is it that we're going?" she asked innocently. He smiled adoringly at her and said, "to the sea." "Okay," she said, "give me five minutes." "Okay," he replied, feeling relieved and stayed outside her door.
"Katelyn," Ira called out as he walked down the stairs, Arianne following him shyly, in her favorite shirt and shorts, with her camera in her hand, "you all ready to go?" "I guess," she said, looking once at Granny, "it's better you two go and spend some time. We're fine at home, you see." "No," Ken protested, "we're going. We're all going. Kate, take your car out." Kate tried changing his mind with her facial gesticulations, but he just didn't listen.
"Why are we going to the marina?" Kendrick asked as Ira drove the car out of its usual place. He looked back at him once, hesitating to say and then at Arianne beside him on the passenger side, and said, "it's a surprise."
"Surprise!" she murmured under her breath, "like I haven't had enough!"
"Pardon," Ira said, looking back again at her.
She made a face and looked out, ignoring him. When he asked again, teasing her intentionally, she clenched her jaws as if in anger and said in clear staccato, "look. In. Front. And. Drive."
It made her want to cry all the more to see Ira that way. Struggling to find his way back to her heart. Like a lost traveller. Going round and round the same way, without recognizing the road that needs taken.
If only she could tell him that her heart, her body, her soul was all his, only his.
"We're almost there," he said, trying to cover his excitement and anxiety, as he looked at her, seeming deep in thoughts, playing with the buttons on the camera.
Ira took a while to come out of the car after he parked at the marina's parking space and everyone else stood outside, facing the ships and the boats and the dock and the sea. After Ira had left, Arianne's only trusted and beloved companion was the sea. She had spent time conversing with it like she used to after being conscious of her parents' divorce. Many nights, she sat or stood in her balcony and just talked. Alone. Not to herself. To the sea.
Did it respond? Of course it did. Only she knew what it said, though she had a hard time believing its roars and rumbles.
"Why do you think he did that?" she had asked one night. The waves, when broke at the shores, tried consoling her, "it might have been some confusion, some mistake that he'd soon correct."
"What if he never understands?"
"Oh, he will. Otherwise, you'll charm him into understanding."
Her tears came rolling down, a milder form of the sea waves. She had continually cried that night, like she had most other nights. She thought of him when she was awake and, even while sleeping, she dreamt of him. Of him taking her to places she had never gone, telling her stories she had never heard, letting her read poems she had never read, giving her the happiness she had never experienced.
"He's your Prince Charming, isn't he?" The sea might have bellowed the question and she had answered,"the only one."
Her thoughts were put to a halt as, suddenly, a beautiful satin handkerchief wrapped around her head, succumbing her eyesight to utter darkness in the day. "Hey," her fingers fluttered to her eyes as Ira blindfolded her, signalling everyone else to start walking.
Seeing them go off a distance, he brought his face down to her ear and whispered, "do you trust me?"
Her fingers reached out to feel his face beside hers. His strong jawline, his sideburns, his handsome nose, though not new to her touch, felt nice to touch. "What kind of a devil question is that?" she asked, "and, what is all this?"
"Do you trust me?" he asked again.
"Of course I do." There was not even the slightest hint of any perplexity in her words.
"Good girl," he whispered, "then, take my hand. I'll lead you." "Okay," she said, giving him her hand.
He led her through the marina, her eyes closed and people around staring at them like it was some magic show going on.
"How long?" she asked, following his directions, gaining his support through his hand. "It's barely 2 ft. from where I parked the car you know," he said, concentrating more on her feet and how he could guide her better, "it's a bit more to go. Don't worry. I ain't leaving."
Arianne gulped empty air as the words made her want to cry. How ironical! She tried hard not to cry, not to show him how sad she was, not to let him know what his departure had caused to her. "I know," she said, not letting go of his hand.
"What are we supposed to look at?" Kendrick asked as Ira stopped them and reaching till them, stopped her too. "Are we there?" she asked, trying to feel his face with her shaking hands as his went up to the back of her head.
"Yes," he said and slowly undid the knot behind her head. She could hear the sounds of the lapping of the sea water on to the wood of the boat station and the hulls of the ships, voices of people walking away and nearing them, birds above, and a specific and distinct sound of water-borne vessels dragging in or out to the sea. As the blindfold came out, and she was allowed to look up, she saw what she was supposed to.
"The Seacomber," she gasped out the name as the beautiful boat stood gracefully in front of her eyes, behind the rails that separated the boats from the dock. What did he do? "Happy birthday, Anne," he whispered in her ears again.
Anne!
She could barely credit her intelligence that urged her to believe the obvious fact that it was a birthday gift from him. Why did he do it?
"What is this supposed to mean?" she asked, her voice low, only for him to hear. Her family waited around them, trying to comprehend what was happening. "It's your birthday," he said, "and this is a gift."
"You bought it?" her voice rose, "and, you're giving it off to me as a gift?" He stayed mum, not knowing what answer would pacify her better. "Yes, I believe so," he finally said, conscious of her family's eyes on them.
"Ira, you bought this?" Katelyn repeated her daughter's question, "for Arin?" "Yes," he said, looking back at her. "Why?"
"Don't you know, she always wanted one?" He looked around at Arianne's Daddy, who seemed just as ignorant as her mother. Only her Granny seemed to be knowing the fact he stated and she stood, smiling and looking adoringly at the young man she badly wanted to see as her grandson-in-law.
"What? You don't like it?" Ira asked politely, as if talking to a child.
"Are you crazy? You bought me a ship?"
"It's not a ship. It's a boat."
"Whatever! It's beautiful. How much did it cost you?"
"You don't need to know."
"Tell me," she poked him as the whole gang advanced towards the ramp.
"No way!"
The beautiful boat, as it awaited its beautiful owner, stood at the slip. Arianne bent forward over the rails and dragged her fingers over the name written on the woody hull. The others along with Ira were supposed to get on to the boat. But, her father reappeared beside her as she tried taking a picture of the name, "The Seacomber".
"Hey, Daddy."
"Don't you wanna go?"
"Yes, just a second."
He waited while she took a picture again, not satisfied with the last one. "Tell me, Anne, is Ira a nice guy?"
"He's the nicest man I've ever met," she said, giving way to the smile and the blush she had longed to.
Kendrick put his arm around her and softly, in a very fatherly manner - like he had never before - asked, "do you wanna marry him?"
"Marry?" her smile increased on both sides.
"Yes, I mean, if he's so nice and...he takes so care of you and your wishes and fulfills your dreams that even we aren't aware of. What's wrong in marrying him?"
"Daddy," she said, still not wanting anyone to know about Savannah, "not now at least. I need to complete my degree first. Then, go on and look for higher education or a job. I'm not gonna marry him or...or anybody unless I'm as stable as him in life."
Kendrick smiled, looking proudly at her.
"But, Daddy, you're not gonna talk to him about this. Not now! Okay?" He nodded.
"Hello," Arianne called out at a stranger on the boat as she and her Daddy walked up the ramp and stepped into the deck.
The man, probably a bit older than Ira, looked up from untying the lines - a work he seemed to be doing with extreme concentration. "Hi," he said, with a heavy English accent, and a smile to just drool over. He was strikingly handsome, with captivating green eyes that shone and sleek back-brushed long black hair. Very attractive!
"Hi," he continued, producing his hand, "I'm Jeremy. You must be...?"
" Hello, I'm Arianne."
"Figured. And, hello, Arianne's father?"
"Hello, Mr. Jeremy," Ken shook his hand.
"Oh," Ira appeared suddenly through the cabin door, "you guys met? Anne, this is Jeremy. This boat belonged to his father before...you know...now."
"Oh," Arianne's eyes lit up with the information as Ira took her side while Ken went over to go into the cabin, "such a pleasure!"
"He's come today to teach us some first principles about sailing."
Jeremy spoke to Arianne when Ira went down again to fetch the others. He told her how very fond his father was of the boat, and that it was the one where his parents married and remarried on their 35th anniversary, before both of them passed away in a miserable car accident. "Why did you sell it off?" she asked, "hasn't it got a much greater meaning in your life, much more than just a boat?"
He smiled, showing off his perfect teeth and pushing his hair behind his ears, said, "yes, but I couldn't put it to much use. You know, after office, and the day's work, I couldn't find time for sailing. And, this was here in Miami, when I was staying in New York. It was a burden. So, I let it go."
"Are you English?"
"I don't know how people get it so easily?"
She smiled. "It's your accent. Well, why do you stay here? And, not in England?"
"I don't know. When I was fifteen, my parents had a falling out with my father's parents and they decided we must move to America. So, we came. We came by the boat." He said in a dramatic tone and waited.
"Really?"
"Yes. And, we were here. And, then, I went to New York for a degree in Accountancy. And, stayed there."
"So, how much did you sell this for?" She finally asked the question she had kept the conversation up for.
Jeremy gave her a sly smile. "Hmm...Ira knows you quite well enough."
"What?"
"He had warned me already you'd ask this. And, I'm sorry Arianne, I'm bound to the man who paid me. I can't tell you."
"This is the switch to the engine," Jeremy spoke while his hands worked simultaneously to show Ira and Arianne how to sail. The rest sat at the seat that occupied the sides of the front deck. He pressed a small red button on the control panel and the engine roared into life.
"We need the engine just to get out of the slip, and then, when we fall into the Intracoastal, you shut it down. Sailing is not much of a leisurely hobby, as you see."
The Seacomber slowly slid out of her slip and then cleared the marina to head over to the Intracoastal. At once, Jeremy cut the engine and immediately put his gloves on to raise the sails.
"Heads down, everyone," he called out, "the boom would move over your head." In a flash, everyone ducked and the boom swung over their heads and, when it was a perfect position, Jeremy left the lines and in a fluid motion, got back to the wheel, in between Ira and Arianne.
"Shall we go inside?" Granny, tired of watching the class on sailing, shook Katelyn, who in turn asked Kendrick. And, together, the three left the young ones to themselves and went back into the cabin.
The Seacomber gained speed within a few minutes, and Jeremy, rubbing the sweat from his forehead, kept looking around and about to make sure everything was alright. "Here," he held his one arm out and made space for Arianne in between him and the wheel, "the baby belongs to the lady."
"I don't think I will be able to do it," she said, nervously taking the wheel, and quietly measuring the amount of flirtation in the sexy, husky British voice. "I'll show you," he said, enclosing her with the both of his arms. Ira, whose attention was so captured by seagulls and taking their photos, turned around immediately and frowned at what he saw.
The sight of a flirtatious Jeremy, with his arms around the girl he was doing so much to win over again enraged him. Why? As Jeremy covered her palms with his, and stuck to her as the boat swayed, making her seem intimidated, he could not help intruding. "Easy, Jeremy," he cut their conversation off and, removing his hands from over hers, placed his instead, "she's learning. Why don't you get the jib?"
Jeremy, confused as to what drove Ira to be that way, went over and looped a rope across the jib line and came back to put it through the capstan of the wheel. "What is this for?" Arianne asked as Ira took over Jeremy's position. "This is sort of auto-pilot," he answered from behind her as they took their hands off the wheel, "I think we can go back in and join the others." "Cool," she said and turned to go in.
"I'm sorry I'd have to put this on you again," he took out the same satin handkerchief he had in his pocket and again put it around her head. Jeremy smiled as he watched Ira helping her through the door of the cabin. He had been the one - the only one - witness of the struggle and the pain Ira took in making the boat worthy of gifting to Arianne.
"Why are you doing all this?" he had asked in the same morning as he saw Ira take out stuff from his baggage and carry it inside the cabin.
Up he went the ramp with the heavy stuff, across the deck, into the cabin, chose a place to keep it, and back he came all the way. Five to six times he did that, before he came to rest and answered his question, "this girl...she's precious to me. And, I..." he panted, "I've broken her heart. I know there's nothing I could do then. But, I can do this now. Right?"
Jeremy believed he had met a person who - like they said - could die for their love. Love?
"We're here," Ira said as he finally helped Arianne down the stairs to the cabin below the back deck. As Jeremy came down too, following them, he saw what he had done to the interior. "Let me see!" Arianne struggled out of the blindfold and when she saw what everyone were staring at, she gaped with an emotion she could give no name to.
On a side was a table that could seat not more than four people, and beside the door, on both sides were a sink and a refrigerator and a stove burner. And, further in front was a door, ajar, leading to the sleeping cabin. But what struck everyone - and was meant to struck - were six canvases standing at six points, holding six beautiful portraits of Arianne.
"This is amazing," she could barely whisper as tears rolled out of her two eyes and she rubbed them off immediately. For a month, they had cried with anguish, and, today, they cried as if lamenting for the time she wasted in anguish. She could see how much Ira had put in to convince her to restoring their relationship. But, she could not understand what he wanted.
She was well aware of Savannah. Dawson had told her about how she was and how much he hated her. But, Ira? What kind of feelings did Ira have for Savannah? What kind did he have for her? If it were nothing at all, why did he work so hard and put in so much of investment in winning her back?
He was a mystery. An open book a minute, but a locked treasure box right the next. It was hard keeping up with him. But he understood her. Knew her dreams, her wishes, her desires. Paid attention to what she spoke, remembered it even after a long time. She loved that about him. But, then, she loved everything about him.
She stared at the pictures. Three neatly and beautifully sketched faces of her, learnt from her pictures that he had taken on occassions. One oil painting of her, with the background of greenery and flowing water, probably from the time they went to the stream. One ink art of her with a horse she assumed to be Blackjack, and another simple water color painting of her and himself, wearing the dress and the shirt of same print they wore on his birthday.
She wanted to run into his arms and cry with her head on his chest. She wanted to tell him how miserable she had been all month. She wanted him to put his arm around her, like he always did and just listen to her. Not say a word. Just like before. After all, he was the only one she had the audacity to tell all her feelings to. But, she could not have her bravery rise up to that level where she could tell him she loved him. "Thank you," was all she could manage, turning to him.
"Why are we heading back?" she asked when she came out of the cabin, noticing Jeremy steer the wheel so hard the boom swung over their heads again. "We have to," he said, "I need to catch a flight. And, Ira said you guys need to catch up with some seafood lunch. So we're going back to the marina." "Why?" she looked back at Ira, who stood by her side, too close but not touching her, "it was so good here."
"We'll come again in the evening, okay? We'll take her out."
"Really?" He nodded at her excitement and finally put his arm around her.
"It was a pleasure meeting you," Arianne shook Jeremy's hand as he left his father's boat to her and departed for the airport in his rental car.
After having a great seafood lunch at a cantina at the marina, Kendrick finally decided to leave with Kate and Granny. They took a cab and leaving the car for the young ones to return with, left for the home.
Kendrick Smith loved Ira Armstrong. He was surely the kind of man he wanted for her daughter. Smart, confident, firm and bold in his way of talking, well-earning, living life on his own terms. His tired face even showed how hard he worked for the money he was being paid. Almost like himself! And, the way he cared about Arianne was commendable.
He loved the boat, loved what he did with the paintings, loved how courteous he was in his behavior with Katelyn and Granny, loved how possessive and concerned he was about Arianne. In his every behavior, Kendrick found him promising to himself, Arianne and everyone around that he'd take well care of her and never let her be unhappy or even be the cause of it. "Kate," he called out to his ex-wife who sat with her mother at the back seat of the cab, "you were right. We should think about him. And, I will."
As the cab proceeded, he found himself recalling the time when he was to convince Katelyn's parents about their marriage. Kate's father, Mr. Daveson was a man of morals and cultures. American though he was, he could not accept the fact that his daughter would be married off to a man two years younger to her. He had raised logics and had tried to pursue them into not marrying. But, with a little help from Ken's parents and Kate's mother, they did marry.
And, alas, Mr. Daveson's predictions proved right. Their marriage didn't last long. Why didn't it? Did they really not love each other at all? If it was so, then why did he never feel attracted to any other woman in his life? Why was Kate the only woman who aroused him, even after 12 years of divorce and separation?
Were they not compatible? Then, how could their pre-marital relationship last five long years before they could build up the courage to face their parents? Maybe, the only facet of the issue was that they did not even try to solve the issue.
Taking for granted that what her father had said was correct, neither Kate nor Ken tried talking and working out on their problems. If they did, maybe the marriage could have been saved and Mr. Daveson could have been proved wrong and they would have been celebrating their 25th anniversary this year. This year when Ira arrived in Arianne's life.
It pleased Ken to see that Ira was in many ways like him. But, it pleased him more to see that in some ways he wasn't. He didn't leave his issue, his brawl with Arianne as it was. He took the heed of solving it and rested only when he did.
Ira and Arianne spent the afternoon visiting Wynwood. They visited the art galleries that Ira had liked the last time they came here, and pointing at paintings, he told her why he loved them. " Look at the colors she used," he said pointing at an abstract painting, "it's so...so..." "Vivid?" she asked, staring at his lips as he struggled to find a word. "Yes," he said, looking back at her, "it's vivid. As if it was a real landscape."
He had a knack for art, she discovered, as she watched him talk like that about that painting. They met a few indigenous artists and as Ira engaged himself in talking to them, she trod away and walked alone outside the gallery.
Alone? She did not feel alone or lonely anymore. Ira was with her. True she still wasn't sure of his feelings. But, she was sure of his presence. And, as long as he'd be there, she was willing to give up her fears and memories and cherish the togetherness he had come this far to celebrate.
She clicked a few photos as she walked through Wynwood. An old couple, doors to galleries, unkempt palettes of artists, half-finished paintings. Ordinary things.
As she walked back to the gallery they had gone into, she noticed Ira standing outside. Waiting for her. As she neared him, he looked up and for a moment, lost himself in her. She looked beautiful, a different kind of beautiful than what she was in the morning. She seemed happier, more contented and blissful.
"Guessing you did a bit of photography?" he said.
"Guessing you had a bit of a chat?" she smiled as they met and soon started showing him the photos she clicked. "Rearing the ordinary to become extraordinary in a click," he said, looking at a picture. She smiled, seeming very elated. "You know exactly what I want to hear," she said.
They stared at each other for a while, both drawing to each other and feeling the sudden strong urge to kiss. Dreading her heart to break again, she turned away immediately and bit her lip. "We should go," he said, "it's almost dark."
They had coffee at the marina before heading for The Seacomber again. She held his hand, like before, as the beautiful boat came into her sight. She still couldn't believe it. "Tell me how much did she cost you?" she asked again. He smiled and said, "it's a gift. You don't need to know. Stay ignorant. Sometimes, ignorance is really bliss."
"Did you loan money?"
"Loan? Why would I?" He laughed out as he gave her a hand to climb aboard.
"Boats don't come cheap, you know."
"But, it's secondhand, you see."
"Okay, but, how much will that lessen the amount?"
"Much," he said and, just like Jeremy had worked in the morning, he worked with the lines for a while before he held out his hand to her again, "you don't wanna sail your boat?"
"You do. I'm not sure of it yet."
"It's yours. You should be."
She rolled her eyes at him and went to stand in between him and the control panel. "It's ours," she said, pushing the button to start the engine. The Seacomber went out into the water and slowly started combing the sea.
After a distance much away from the marina and other boats or ships, Ira dropped the anchor and set the sails to slow down the boat.
"How did you buy it? Jeremy said she was always here in Miami and he was in New York. How did you get in touch with him?" She started talking when he came back to where she was standing.
"Christian Grey!"
"What Christian Grey?"
"We...I mean some of us employees and him...we had a meeting and - I don't know for what possible reason - he arranged it in his boat 'The Grace' and, so, I asked him about his broker. He asked what I wanted and why I wanted what I wanted. I told him and he introduced me to his boat-specialist Liam McConnell. He got me in touch with a real boat broker, who in return led me to Jeremy."
"But the boat was here in Miami. How did you buy it in Seattle...without seeing it?"
Ira smiled, looking directly at her. "Tell me," she urged again. "A week after I left last time," he said, looking away, as if shameful for what happened before he left, "I came back here again. For the boat."
"Really? Where did you stay?"
"There are many hotels in Miami."
"Why didn't you come stay with us?"
"This wouldn't have been a surprise then. Let it go, Anne. Shall we get a drink?"
"Okay,"she said, feeling like an errant child, scolded for being too curious, and watched him leave for the cabin.
Her heart swole with the pain of keeping her love a secret inside it. She died to tell him. But, she was so afraid! Afraid of being let gone and having her heart broken down into pieces she'd never be able to pick up again.
"Here," he handed her a glass of cold champagne, taken out from the refrigerator downstairs, and clinked it with his bottle. She drank it down slowly and looked away. The red of the sky, due to the setting sun, felt vivid. "Give me the camera," he said, putting his bottle down.
She handed him the camera and for a while, he made himself busy with taking pictures of the red sky, the distribution of clouds, the faraway horizon. And, she made herself busy with watching him. She poured herself another glass of champagne and as the boat swayed with the current, she let herself sway with the drink and the very handsome view of a beautiful man.
Finishing with that one she poured herself yet another glass and went up to stand at the rails. She lent and rested herself on the rail to stare out. The only sound that came was of the water and a swishing of the breeze. For a long time, she didn't talk, neither turned back to see what Ira was doing. Only heard the camera click a several times. When she turned, she saw it was her whose photos he was clicking.
Ira watched her for a long while as she stood there, with a beautiful posture and her hair flowing back. He had seen her before in the clothes she was wearing - the same shirt and the same shorts. But, for some reason, it felt like the clothes didn't fit her well enough anymore. They seemed larger for her. As if she had lost weight. He couldn't help clicking her photos as she stood there.
He loved the lull of conversation between them. The silence, much as it was alien with Savannah, it was natural with Arianne. He liked the fact that she was no more disappointed at him and was talking to him. He liked the fact that he had succeeded in what he attempted.
"Don't click my photos," she innocently covered her face with one hand as he clicked a couple more and then let it go. When she turned back again, he went to his bottle of champagne. He had just a gulp when he noticed how close Arianne was to the railing. She could not fall, he was sure but it somehow flamed up a fear in him. An unbearable fear of losing her again...forever.
"Anne," he called, "come back to me. Come here." She turned, wondering what made him sound so afraid. "What happened?" she came back and sat on the seat with him. "Nothing," he hid his fear, "nothing really," and went to stand at the wheel again.
She took another glass and as the drink relaxed her mind and soothed her system a bit, she went up and stood beside him. Even though she wouldn't have gone on with this in her complete senses, she poked his arm and when he paid her his attention, asked, "how is Savannah?"
Ira frowned. He was happy as long as she hadn't asked him about her. All morning and afternoon had been perfect, just like he had wanted. And, he had hoped the rest of the day would be perfect as well. "She's fine," he answered, halfhearted.
"How is it going with her?"
"Fine. Nothing spectacular."
"Why not?"
"Nothing. We're just busy with our lives, I guess. She's not ready for a full-blowing relationship."
"How can she not be? I mean...when you're in love, how can you control wanting to be together?"
How true! How ironical!
"She can, I think," he said with a sigh.
Arianne stayed mum for a while. She was still unsure. Was Ira happy with Savannah? Or was he happier now when he was with her?
"She likes the way we are now," he said again as he noticed her measuring his words.
"What are you now?"
"I can't explain," he said, "but, it's good. I like how we are."
"Do you still stay at her apartment?"
"Some nights. She doesn't like my apartment."
"Why?"
"She says it's cheap for her."
"She said that?"
"Yes."
"Oh!"
He said he was happy. Maybe he was true. Maybe!
As Arianne stood that way, her expressions blanched off her face, he wondered whether his words had hurt her again. He knew talking of Savannah would hurt her anyway. Which is why he didn't want to talk about her. If she had not pestered him, he wouldn't have said.
He pushed her slowly to make her stand in between him and the wheel again. This time facing him. She still looked away, down at her feet. Nervous and restless. He hated it. Hated seeing her that way. Why was it so that he was responsible for all her sadness when he wanted to keep her as happy as she deserved to be?
"Look at me," he urged her. She looked up, trying hard not to cry. Trying hard to hide her despondence. But, it was hard eluding his eyes. He knew her well enough.
"Are you gonna cry?"
"Why would I?" She looked away again.
"Anne," he held her - like she wanted him to - and stared into her eyes. She rested her hands on his shoulders, feeling the polite strength in his hands as he held her, imprisoned between him and the steering wheel. Despite himself, the conversation about Savannah, Savannah herself, he desperately wanted to kiss Arianne. Her innocence, her fear - everything made him want to make her his again.
"What do you want, Anne? Tell me everything you're feeling right now," he whispered very softly.
"I'm drunk, Ira. What I'll want, you'll never be able to give me."
As her tears escaped from her eyes and her breath staggered, he, very quietly rubbed them off and kissed her forehead. And, as he let her rest her head on his chest, she cried more savagely than ever. All her agony since last month, all came out in one go. When he asked her why she was crying, she could not give any explanation. She did not even want him to know. She wanted him to be blissfully ignorant of her feelings, her pain, her sorrows, her love. Blissfully?
She fell asleep in the car on their way back to the house from the marina. Even after he parked the car in front of the house, and called for her, she did not make any attempts in getting up. She looked so peaceful, so serene sleeping, that he even felt guilty trying to wake her up. So, letting her sleep, he dragged her out of the passenger side and carried her inside the house. And when he carried her into her room upstairs, without much ado, he realized she really had lost a lot of weight.
He undressed her and slid her nightwear on her. Just when he was about to rise and leave, she, half out of her slumber, stopped him. "Stay with me," she whispered, her eyes barely opening. He said nothing but climbed on to the bed beside her.
Turning to him, she smiled an utterly ataraxic smile. "Thank you for everything, Ira," she said and clutching at his t-shirt, rested her head against him. "Thank you too, Anne," he said and kissed her hair while she was already asleep.
In the morning, he was no more there beside her. Neither was he downstairs. He had returned to Seattle in an early morning flight.
It made her sad again. But, this time, when he called while she arranged her portraits in the lobby, she talked to him and promised to talk again whenever he called.

Thanks, The Seacomber!