Blues in the Night
It was a bright sunny afternoon with a fresh breeze blowing from the northeast. The small sloop was making a series of very short tacking maneuvers as it made its way gingerly up the narrow channel.
The forest marched down the steep rocky hillsides to abruptly meet the sea below on both shores. The tiny but sturdy craft was tossed precariously by the rip tides created in the close waterway. The sole occupant reset her grip on the tiller and brought the sloop around in yet another tack headed toward a little niche in the eastern shoreline. She was kneeling in the boat's compact cockpit watching carefully ahead for any telltale clues on the water that dangerous rocks lay just out of sight below the surface. She held her course on a starboard tack until she was just past a rocky spur which broke the forest cover and actually spilled over into the sea.
When she was about eighty yards from the shoreline she abruptly swung the boat head to the wind bringing it to an almost dead stop in the water. After loosing the sheets on both her jib and mainsails, she quickly scrambled to the bow and let her anchor line out till she felt the anchor touch bottom. She then expertly continued to pay out enough of the line to properly set the anchor, allowing for both safe swinging room as the wind might shift and the expected change of depth as the tides came and went.
She had been so occupied with the business of sailing her small sloop, that she had not noticed that she had an audience. A tall slim young man in blue jeans, T-shirt and black leather bomber style jacket was sitting on the rocky spur smiling with open admiration at the sailing skill of the woman skipper on the neat little sloop. As she stood from securing the anchor and started to lower and tie down her sails, he arose and quickly walked back up into the trees behind him. So she never knew that her arrival had been noted.
< 2 >
When the sloop was secured to her satisfaction, Katherine went below and put a tiny kettle on the single burner in the diminutive galley. As she waited for the water to boil, she pulled a thick dog-eared ring binder out of a shelf to the left of the companionway and opened it to the last entry. This book served a dual purpose as a ship's log and personal journal. She noted her time of arrival and location of the tiny sheltered anchorage, the weather which was close to perfection for a sailor and a personal note that this seemed a great spot in which to write and create.
Katherine was just past her thirty second birthday, short of stature with what she self deprecatingly called a well-rounded figure. She had short cropped almost boyish auburn hair and blue grey eyes. When not working at her research position at a Vancouver newspaper, she was usually to be found out on her tiny sailboat or bent over a computer keyboard creating either the poetry or short stories that her abundant imagination thrived on. Now she had the best of both pursuits as she'd recently purchased a new laptop that allowed her to enjoy both leisure's at once.
When the kettle had boiled, Katherine made a large mug of steaming hot tea and taking the laptop with her, went back on deck. She made herself a comfortable workspace on the foredeck with her back leaning against a sail bag which in turn was propped against the mast. Before starting, she relaxed with the tea and surveyed her temporary neighbourhood.
The beaches were quite narrow strands, mere ribbons of sand between the water and the forest. There were a couple of other rock spurs which jutted into the channel but the one she was to the lee of seemed to be the largest and the only one which gave sufficient shelter to provide the one-craft size anchorage in which she lay. At first glance, the hillsides looked totally devoid of settlement. But when she looked more closely, she spotted at least four widely separated structures perched on the slopes and almost hidden by the forest cover.
< 3 >
One such structure, obviously a private home, albeit a large one, was nearly directly above her. She smiled inwardly thinking how often she had purchased a lottery ticket in hopes of realizing a dream home on the sea just like this one. Tea finished, Katherine turned to her laptop and let her imagination take flight.
Matt followed a well trodden path up the hill towards the big house perched above him. He shoved his hands in the pockets of the jacket as he moved in a long lazy stride. His short black hair matched the jacket and provided a contrast to his fair complexion. The eyes were perhaps his most outstanding feature, they were expressive of his every emotion and a very striking shade of green. As he made his way up the hill, he found himself wondering about the woman sailor who had chosen to anchor right in front of his house.
What made a woman want to sail alone and why was she here? Certainly, he thought, this wasn't the middle on nowhere, in fact, they weren't too far from Vancouver by either road or sea. But what brought this young woman to this spot all alone. He shrugged off the thoughts as he climbed the stairs to the deck and let himself into the house. He'd probably never know.
He went to the kitchen first to fill a kettle and make tea. While the water was heating, he checked his voice mail and found, surprisingly, only two messages. One was from his road manager who just wanted to get together sometime soon to go over details for next month's tour dates and one from a fellow musician who congratulated him on the recent Blues Award. Neither message was urgent enough to be returned right away and besides, he thought, these few days alone are my time.
When the tea was made, he carried his mug downstairs to the studio with its big windows overlooking the water below. He sat down on a low overstuffed couch, picked up a six-string guitar and started to play.
< 4 >
At first he merely toyed with the instrument, running a slide up and down and picking out series of notes almost like scales. For Matt this was very much akin to the warm up stretches done by an athlete before a game. He found it both relaxing and therapeutic. The guitar almost seemed to cry beneath his skilled hands and slowly the toying became more serious and took real form. The words may come later but he was developing a melody that seemed to haunt him with its need to be played.
After running through the basic melody several times, he paused long enough to drink the tea which was getting quite cool then he crossed to the consul where he turned a recorder on to capture the developing work. When he stood, he glanced out the window and was able to see just the top of the mast of the anchored sloop. His earlier thoughts about the woman aboard flooded back.
"What brought you to my doorstep, hmm?" he mused aloud. He ran the fingers of one hand through his short hair causing one lock to fall across his forehead. He brushed at it ineffectually and went back to the guitar. The boat anchored below and its lone occupant were still in his thoughts and he found the only images that he could conjure were of water and sails. The music took on the fluid but powerful tones of the ocean as the melody really started to materialize.
Two hours later, he finally laid the guitar aside and padded barefoot back upstairs to start some dinner. He placed a couple of small boneless chicken breasts in a spice and white wine mix to marinate. Then he took some brown rice from a canister to cook it. He would then stir fry some vegetables; snow peas, onions, peppers and broccoli to add to the rice for a great side dish to the chicken.
While the rice was cooking, he went across to the large upstairs windows and his eyes were drawn again to the small boat below. He could see the whole boat from this vantage but no one was on deck. Katherine had also put away her laptop by now and was out of his sight below decks starting some dinner of her own. Hers consisted of a can of clam chowder and a sandwich made of thick home baked bread that she had made prior to departing on her cruise adventure. Matt found himself wondering again who she was and why she had chosen this locale for her anchorage.
< 5 >
Katherine was just finishing the few dishes from her solitary supper and was looking forward to a mug of the coffee she could now smell brewing. She intended to work into the evening and so had put a full pot into the coffee percolator. The smell of the coffee was enticing to one other soul that early summer evening.
Matt had gone for his usual after dinner stroll along the beach and his eyes were drawn to the little sloop in the sheltered alcove. The craft was laying almost broadside to the beach and he could see her sides were painted midnight black with a blue white moon and icy blue stars grouped near the bow against the black field. He was now very curious to know the name of the little boat and to know more about her owner.
As he strolled along the sand, his nostrils caught the scent of a rich and delicious smelling coffee wafting across the water. Perhaps he should go back to the house and make his own coffee, he thought, as the scent tingled his taste buds. Instead his pace became more purposeful and he made his way quickly down the sand to the very edge of the rocky spur. In the lee of the spur there was a very short wooden float which extended only about ten feet into the water and was held there quite firmly by two large chains which were fastened to two very thick and sturdy posts which had been planted securely into the earth. Tied to the float was a small wooden row boat which Matt would sometimes use to do a little fishing, a pastime that he found very relaxing.
Matt quickly climbed into the row boat and bent his back to the task of rowing out towards the anchored sloop. He glanced over his shoulders frequently as he pulled on the oars to ensure his course was true. The summer sun would not go down for another two hours nearly so he was not concerned about being on the water in the dark. He kept telling himself he'd just row around the sloop, give her a look then maybe head down the shore to the next rock spur and back. After all, he reasoned, he could use the workout. The deck of the small sloop was empty, as Katherine was still finishing up her dishes.
< 6 >
As Matt gave one last pull on his oars, he came alongside the sloop at her stern and got his first look at her name. Painted on the same black field in the icy blue paint with stars to decorate it were the words 'BLUES IN THE NIGHT' and Vancouver, Canada in smaller script beneath it. Matt chuckled out loud with pleasure. What a great name for a neat little cruiser like this, he thought.
Katherine jumped at the sudden human sound of Matt's chuckle coming from so close to her. She recovered herself and cautiously took two steps up the companionway, just enough to see around her. However, Matt's rowboat was low enough in the water that it was out of sight from this angle. Katherine moved right out on deck just as Matt shipped his oars and called out.
"Ahoy aboard Blues!" he called tentatively, then smiled when Katherine spun around towards the sound of his voice and he got a chance to see the lady sailor up close for the first time. Katherine, for her part, was a little off balance by his sudden appearance in the midst of her solitude but recovered her cool quickly.
"Hi, you startled me. I was below and didn't hear you rowing up." She was assessing the young man before her. He was very handsome and the little growth of goatee and mustache gave him an almost 'bad boy' look that she found somehow quite appealing. "Can I help you?" She asked, wondering just what he was doing here, had he come from the house on the hillside and was he who she thought he was? Even in the casual jeans and turtle necked shirt that he wore she was almost certain of his identity.
"Hi, I'm Matt. I live just there," he said, pointing up the house above them. "I don't have many visiting boats here. There's really only room for one very small boat, likes yours, so....
< 7 >
Anyway, I smelled your coffee and was looking at your paint job. That's an awesome name!"
He wasn't quite sure what to say next and so fell silent.
"Thanks," Katherine said, smiling inwardly to herself. Yes indeed, she thought, this was Matt Michaels, the blues guitarist. She had known that he lived somewhere just outside of Vancouver but never dreamed of meeting him in quite this fashion. She continued, "I like the blues and it seemed to work somehow, you know?"
Matt was boldly examining her as she spoke, and he liked what he saw. Even clad in an oversize sweatshirt and canvas cargo pants, she was still quite feminine and her blue grey eyes had a wonderfully deep and dreamy look about them like the stars on her boat. Katherine felt his scrutiny and became a little self conscious.
"So did you come to borrow some coffee?" she asked. He chuckled again, a rich sound that she thought suddenly made him seem older than she had at first guessed. She was trying to remember a recent article that the paper had run about him but all she could recall for sure was he had recently won some sort of award.
"Not really, but now that you mention it...I would sure love a cup." he smiled winningly, "We could just say this is a visit from the neighbourhood welcome wagon, what do you think? Hi!, I'm Matt, welcome to the neighbourhood." He winked at her and continued, "May I come aboard Skipper, 'cause that coffee smells too good to miss."
She smiled broadly at his boldness. His green eyes flashed with enjoyment of the little game he was concocting and she found herself trusting him despite all the usual warnings she knew so well about strangers. Besides, she reasoned, he wasn't really a stranger because she knew who he was, even if they'd never met.
< 8 >
"Well Matt, I'm Katherine." She told him. "And, conveniently enough, I just made a full pot so why don't we tie your dingy here and you can share a cup with me while you tell me all about the neighbourhood." She had leaned over the transom and taken the little rowboat's painter in hand. She tied it off securely to a cleat on the starboard corner of the transom. She then lowered the little two step ladder that would allow Matt to easily climb to the deck of the sloop.
Once Matt was aboard and on a level with her, Katherine realized he was quite a bit taller than she had first thought. He was very slim but beneath the fine features she could certainly detect a strength and solidity.
Matt extended his hand and they exchanged an almost formal handshake. Katherine was again conscious of his strength through the firm grip he took of her hand. He held the grip a little longer than necessary and caught her eyes in his sparkling green ones.
"So it's official, Katherine," he solemnly pronounced, "Welcome to the neighbourhood." He broke into a boyish grin and added, "Now how about that cup of coffee?"
Katherine went below to pour the coffee. Matt made no move to follow her but instead was examining the rigging and fittings of the sloop. He was very impressed with the tidy little boat. She was very well maintained and every last line was coiled neatly evidencing the respect and care that her owner obviously felt for the craft.
"What do you take in yours?" she called from below.
"Just cream," he replied. "Is that cinnamon I smell, too?"
"Yes it is. I like to put a little in my after dinner coffee. It really adds a nice flavour" Katherine came back on deck, handing Matt a large steaming mug. "Oh, I hope you like cinnamon."
< 9 >
"Love it." he grinned, "In fact, I kind of have a taste for spices of all sorts. Nutmeg and allspice are good in coffee too." Matt followed Katherine's lead and moved out onto the tiny foredeck of the sloop. There was a thick wool blanket spread out there which made it a comfortable spot to lounge while they talked. She put her mug in a safe but easy to reach spot by the mast and he did likewise. When she settled down, she was cross-legged Indian style. Matt sat beside her but stretched his legs out in front of him keeping his sneakers off the blanket.
"So Mr. Welcome Wagon, tell me about the neighbourhood." she asked.
"What's there to tell? I live up there. There's a couple of other houses along the way there but I've never met the neighbours." He shrugged. "I'm not really home very much and when I am I'm usually working. But the scenery here is beautiful and it's just good, you know?"
"I know what you mean, Matt." she said, staring into the mug that she cradled in both hands. "I love it out here too. Whenever I get the chance to get away for a few days, I get out on the boat and just look for a quiet spot."
"So that's what brought you here today." he said softly. "I saw you arrive this afternoon. You're a pretty good sailor, Kathie. You handle this little boat like a pro." his praise sounded quite genuine and she looked up from the coffee and gave him a grateful smile.
"Thanks, she is a very forgiving little boat to sail." Katherine told him. "I've been single-handing her for almost four years now, so we've kind of become used to one another."
"That's an interesting way to put it." he mused, "Kind of like the way I feel about my guitar. Sometimes I feel that it's simply a part of me, the music's great when its like that."
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