She looked at her watch, the only thing she had on. “It’s an hour before dawn. I’ll make some sausage biscuits and bring them down there.”
Pulling on a clean pair of shorts and a T-shirt, I left the bedroom. Finn and Woden lifted their heads, one lying on either side of Alberto’s makeshift bed.
I went to the little galley and poured two cups of coffee. I’d set the machine up the night before. The aroma of fresh-brewed Costa Rican Tarazzu caused my nostrils to flare.
The dogs rose and went to the door, so I opened it to let them out. The closing of the door woke Alberto.
He sat up and looked around. “Is it daytime yet?”
“It will be in a little while,” I replied. “Savannah is going to make breakfast and bring it out to the dock for us, so we can get the boat ready and watch the sun come up.”
Alberto’s new clothes were in a suitcase beside his bed. He got up, picked out a pair of shorts and a T-shirt and was dressed before Savannah came out.
“We’ll have to do something about that suitcase,” I told him. “But since we’re leaving in just a few days, that’ll have to do for now. Once we get to Ambrosia, you’ll have your own bedroom and dresser.”
“Really? I never had my own room,” he said, as Savannah entered.
I wondered just how much of his memory he’d regained.
“Not even before your dad’s accident?” Savannah asked. Then she turned quickly and faced him. “Oh, I’m so sorry. You probably don’t like talking about that.”
“It’s okay,” he said. “It was a long time ago. I don’t remember a whole lot from when I was little.”
He’d been five when his father was killed. I couldn’t recall a lot from when I was that age either. Yet, he’d retained the ability to play chess, and play it well. He must have continued playing someone after his father was killed.
“I mostly slept on the couch after Dad died,” he explained. “Me and mom lived with her friends sometimes and sometimes in the car.”
Savannah covered her mouth with her hand to stifle a gasp.
“Well, this is just temporary,” I said. “On Ambrosia, you’ll have a whole suite to yourself.”
“What’s a suite?”
I chuckled. “It’s a small room with a separate bedroom and bathroom. You’ll even have your own TV.”
“You mean it? I can’t wait.”
“Y’all go on,” Savannah said, shooing us toward the door. “I’ll bring breakfast down in a few minutes.”
“Come on,” I told Alberto. “You can help me get the boat ready.”
I flicked on the light below the house as I started down the steps, illuminating the dock area.
“Are we taking the big boat?” Alberto asked.
“Not for this job. The Revenge is for the ocean.” I walked around to my Mirage Maverick in the far bay. “We’ll take this one.”
I stepped down into the flats skiff and used the key fob hanging in the ignition to open the big outer doors.
“What’s this one’s name?” he asked, looking down from the dock.
“It doesn’t have a name,” I replied. “It’s just a work boat. Good for shallow water, but not for offshore.”
“You sure have a lot of boats,” he said, looking around the docks.
“Each has a different job,” I explained. “That other Maverick belongs to my daughter, Kim. The big center console, El Cazador, is for small groups fishing the Gulf.”
“That means The Hunter,” he said.
I nodded as I went to the end of the middle dock and opened the storage closet. “For hunting grouper and snapper on reefs.”
I chose three light rods with spin-casting reels and handed one to Alberto. “Think you can handle this?”
He took the rod and held it horizontally in both hands. “I think so,” he replied. “Dad took me fishing some when I was little.”
“Let’s stow these onboard,” I said, stepping down into the boat.
I eased the tip of one rod into a holder under the starboard gunwale, then settled the handle into place. I did the same with the second rod, leaving the upper holder for Alberto.
“Right there?” he asked, pointing.
I nodded and he carefully slid the tip into the hole and placed the handle into its cradle. Then he stood up, grinning, and looked around again.
“What’s that one for?” he asked pointing to my little eighteen-foot Grady-White center console.
“That one’s kind of an all-purpose boat,” I replied. “We use it mostly for bringing groceries from Marathon and reef fishing with just two people.”
“Does it have a name?”
“Pescador,” I replied.
“That means fisherman,” he said. “How come they have Spanish names but you don’t speak it very well?”
“How do you know I don’t speak it?”
“Because Savannah had to tell you what I told her.”
“Ah, yes,” I said. “Well, I understand more than I speak, but I know enough to get by.”
“And that one?” he asked, pointing toward the homemade boat tied up behind the Grady. “What’s it for?”
“That one’s called Knot Late,” I said, sounding out the name on the transom. “She only has one purpose.”
“What?” he asked walking around behind her and looking at the woodwork and the spelling of the name, Knot L-8 on the transom.
“She’s for going real fast,” I replied. “Nothing else.”
He smiled, staring down at the sleek runabout. “Can we take it?”
“She doesn’t make much of a fishing boat,” I said. “And we have work to do. She’s just for fun and showing off. But we can take her out one day this weekend.”
I started the Maverick’s outboard and Alberto came back over to the boat. I helped him in, then untied the lines. A couple of minutes later, I tied her off to the south dock and killed the engine.
“What do we do now?” he asked, looking around in the dark.
“Now we wait,” I replied, pointing toward the east-northeast, where it was starting to get light. “The sun is going to come up over there. Just to the right of that island in the distance.”
“And we’re just
