
The fourth of july holiday was approaching quickly and the Quint family was looking forward to it...but for different reasons. The folks of Amity had built Quint a new Orca this past spring, after the original had been wrecked by hurricane Lester, but he hadnt really gotten the chance to take her out on her maiden voyage yet. He wanted to do so during this fourth of july weekend because he didnt have and duties (except maybe some silly speech for the 4-H club fair). He just didnt know how Elena was going to deal with this decision, because he wasnt going to be able to take her or the kids...not on his first sail...incase something went wrong. He wouldnt have to worry about them. No one knew what could happen with a new boat...she could set in the dock for years, but when you actually started the engine and took her out and water rushed around her hull and got into parts of her that didnt get wet setting in the docks, she may just sink! One couldnt know until she had actually had her first voyage. But Elena had already had plans for them...all of them. The big island barbeque, the fair, the midnight luau...when she had told him about it all, he thought that she had every single second of that entire weekend planned - even when they were going to sleep, eat and probably when they were going to go to the damned bathroom! This irritated him to no end...he didnt like being 'tied-up' into promises this tight. Jeez...he liked a little 'breathing room'! He didnt know how she was going to take it, but he was definately going to take that boat out this weekend. He didnt want to fight with her, he didnt want to argue with her. He would take her to a few of the events at the fair, but there wasnt any way she was going to keep him from taking that boat out. Uh-uh, no way. He found the right time to bring it up to her two nights before, after she had spent all day baking cookies and pies for the big bake sale. She sat down on the sofa, next to him, after she had just put the last batch of chocolate chip-macadamia nut cookies on the rack to cool. She hadnt even taken off her apron. She wiped the sweat from her brow and looked over at him. He was reading the newspaper. He looked older, but 'distinguished' in his dark rimmed reading glasses. "I am sooooooo tired...", she said, "...Dont you or Mike dare get into those cookies or those pies!". Quint put down the newspaper, then reached over behind her and untied her apron strings and pulled it from her. Then he bent down and took hold of her legs and pulled them up onto his lap and slipped off her scuffs and began messaging her feet. He was going to get her into a calm, relaxed mood. She laid back on the sofa and got herself comfortable so she could enjoy this foot message. His hands were so big, strong and warm and they felt good messaging her. Besides...she hadnt really had one of his foot messages since...well, she couldnt remember. "Honey", he smiled softly to her, "...theres something that I want to talk with you about...". "What is it, sweetie?", she asked, smiling, her eyes closed...she was in a dreamy state, totally relaxed. "Well", he started rubbing her calves now, too, "...I want to take the boat out on her maiden voyage this weekend". He watched her face closely. She came up quickly out of her dreamy state and gave him an expression like she had just smelled something horrible. "Michael...!", she whined, "...I thought we had agreed to spend this whole weekend together...as a family?!". He deep-sighed and rolled his eyes. Here it comes. Actually, it wasnt he who had agreed...she made all the planning, without even asking him what he wanted to do! So now here comes the arguing. Well...he wasnt going to have any of it! If she wanted to whine, she could do it alone. He would just get up and get the hell out...maybe go to the grotto for a couple of beers or something...anywhere. He figured it was partially his fault, that, maybe, in loving her so much he sort of spoiled her, but he was sure paying for it, now. Deep-sighing, he said, "...I know, 'Lena...but I havent gotten the chance to take her out since I got her...what are all the islanders that built her and paid for her going to think if I never take her out???...You know with the job I have to do that I rarely have any time to do something like this...c'mon, woman!". Huffing and pouting, crossing her arms and sticking her lip out, (knowing Quint hated that 'little girl' act), she whined, "...Well....why cant you take that boat out some other time??". "'Lena...", he started, patronizingly, "...its the perfect opportunity for them to see me take her out...I dont have to work and the weathers right...I owe them all the right to see me off for the first time". He paused and then sighed again, "...Mostly important is that the weather is perfect...if something happens and I have to swim back, the waters will be too warm for the sharks...". "Dont say that!!", she shrieked. "Well?", he said, nonchalantly, his eyebrows raised, "Taking a new boat out for the first time, you dont know what can go wrong...thats why no one can go with me". She continued to pout. He leaned into her, kissing her shoulder. He rubbed and patted her arm, then laid his head on her shoulder, looking up at her with his twinkling blue eyes staring directly into hers. "It'll only take a couple of hours", he said softly, "...I'll leave early so that I can be back in time to spend the rest of the day with you and the kids...okay?". "I thought you wanted everyone to see you take the boat out", she said, suspiciously. "Well", he said, kissing her arm softly, making little circles on her skin with his index finger, "I guess they'll have to see me coming in instead of going out". He gave her his best 'sad-little-boy' expression. It worked. She looked down at him and smiled. She couldnt help it...he looked so cute and innocent. "Okay", she grinned, "...Just promise me that you wont be long...okay?". "Okay!", he chuckled, gleeful that it was all now over with and it wasnt as bad as he had anticipated. He didnt like the confrontations. He loved her, but was determined to have his way in this situation and was prepared to get down and fight about it, if necessary. Thank God it didnt come to that. He was relieved. So that was set. He laid his head down in her lap and looked up at her, grinning. "Youre that happy, eh?", she smiled back. "Yes...I am, actually", came his smart-assed reply, grinning madly. "Oh...you!...", she giggled as she began tickling him. They played around a little...until it started getitng serious, then he chased her upstairs to thier room, where they made sweet, passionate love. ********************************************************************************** The next morning, friday, he made breakfast for all of them. She came downstairs and everyone was already at the kitchen table. Quint had made oatmeal with sugar and cinnamon and raisins. Mikey had been the one to choose these particular 'extras' for thier oatmeal, but when they had all tased it that way, then preparing it with these extras became the norm. Mikey was sipping orange juice and Quint was feeding Elizabeth a bottle with one hand as he ate his breakfast with the other. "Mornin, babe!", Quint smiled at her as she walked in, "...take the baby for a minute so I can get your breakfast...". As she leaned down to take the baby, she leaned into him and whispered into his ear. "I'd rather have some more of what you gave me last night", she cooed. "Mmmm-mm-mmm!!", he grinned, before gooseing her rear-end and winking at her. They had a nice, cozy, family breakfast together before Quint had to go to the town hall to do some work. Papers to sign, discussions, meetings...activity calendars for the big picnic to go over, security planning with Martin, etcetera. This was going to be a busy day for him...and he was going to be extremely glad when it was all over. He was really looking forward to the next day, when he could get out into his new boat. It had been a long time since he had been out on the sea that he loved so much. It was a feeling of freedom that he could never verbally explain to anyone. It was something only to be experienced...to be felt...before one could truly understand it. Just thinking about setting sail again made his heart beat rapidly and his knee's shaky! He talked about it all to Martin during lunch at the SeaShell cafe. "What're you grinning about?", Martin asked him, grinning, himself. Grinning madly, his blue eyes sparkling, Quint told him, "I'm taking the boat out in the morning". "No shit??", Martin chuckled, "Finally??". Quint nodded his head as he took a bite of mashed potatoes, trying to smile with a mouthful. "Thats great", Martin said, reaching for his glass of iced tea...then saying what Quint had hoped he would say, "...Tell me what time youre going out so I can round everybody up!...I'm sure they'll all want to see you off!". Swallowing the remainder of his glazed carrots, reaching for his glass of soda, he told Martin, "...I told Elena that I'd take her out early so that I could get back in plenty of time to take her and the kids to the barbeque...". "Well?...What time?", Martin urged. "Oh...around seven, I guess...", Quint said. "Thats awful damned early, Quint", Martin complained. "Well", Quint said, wiping his mouth with a napkin, then finishing off what was left of his soda, "I do want to be back early enough to take the family out...but I want to have the boat out a few hours, too...". "You always did want your cake and to be able to eat it, too", Martin chuckled. Quint chuckled back, "You got it, chiefy!". ********************************************************************************** That night, as Quint lay in bed, thinking of the excitement of sailing again, his heart raced and he began to perspire. As he laid there, in the dark, thinking about his first voyage on his new boat, he thought about his first Orca...he thought about all the good memories that he'd had with that boat...how he had worked so hard and saved his money, putting up with alot of crap from bosses to get the money for this vessel...how he had used that boat to support three wives, how he and Elena were married on that boat, how his son (and possibly his daughter, too...he'd almost forgotten that warm, summer night when Mikey went with a friend of his from school for the weekend and he and Elena went out for the night to 'watch the stars'...) was concieved on that boat... Too many memories. He couldnt get to sleep because those memories kept crowding his mind and he couldnt relax. He tossed and turned all night, until he noticed that he was disturbing Elena, then he got up out of bed and went downstairs and made himself some coffee. It was about a quarter to five, staurday morning. He was to take the Orca II out in about an hour or so. He poured the remainder of this pot of coffee into a thermos to take with him, then he began packing some sandwiches and grabbed the half-eaten bag of potato chips from the top of the refrigerator. Then he turned to go back upstairs and get dressed. Elena was standing in the doorway. "The bed got cold", she said. "I'm sorry, 'Lena...", he said, looking a bit guilty, "I...couldnt sleep". Instead of 'beating around the bush', she just came right out and told him what she was thinking and feeling. "Michael", she said, carefully avoiding eye contact, "You know that I'm a little hurt that you chose today to take the boat out...since we were all supposed to be together, as a family...", she hesistated a little, "...since we rarely get to do that anymore...". Feeling guilty because he knew she was right, Quint said nothing. He just let her talk. He thought that this was either the start of an argument or a major guilt-trip...but she suprized him. She walked over to him and put her arms tightly around his waist, laying her cheek against his chest. "I'm just worried that you'll be gone too long...I'll...miss you...", she sighed, before tilting her head back to look up into his eyes, "...I guess I just feel a little 'jealous'...that boat will be stealing away from me my most precious moments with you...those moments are all I live for, Michael...". Her face was so sweet and so serious, that it almost brought tears to his eyes. "'Lena...", he said, quietly, softly, "...If you dont want me to go...if it means that much to you, I wont go". He held her snugly, stroking her soft hair. But she was the one who was feeling guilty, now. "I know how much you love sailing...fishing...sharking...", she told him, avoiding eye contact again, "...and you've basically given all that up to support your family", she paused to make eye contact to make her point. Smiling, she continued, "...And you've done such a good job at taking care of us that you do deserve a little time to yourself, doing something that you truly enjoy...you deserve this, honey", she laid her head on his chest, smiling, "...so, go...I'll stop being so selfish". She made him feel good. He hugged her tightly, then kissed the top of her head, "I'll be back by noon, love", he assured her with one of his knee-weakening smiles. It always worked with her...hell...it worked with all women, but he only used in on her, these days. She began to feel giddy and playful. "Mmmmm...", she said, running her finger from his stomach to his chest, tracing the stitching on his shirt, an evil little grin on her lips, "...The kids are still asleep...why dont we, er, save a little on the water bill and take our showers together?", she giggled. He gave her that same smile, with a devilish twinkle in his eyes as he leaned in for a wet, passionate kiss. "Grrrrrrrr", he growled playfully, "You come up with the greatest ideas...", he grinned. ********************************************************************************** She wanted to walk him all the way to the pier, but there was no one to stay with the children. The maid was off for the four day holiday weekend already. So she had to be satisfied with simply walking him to the front door. He slipped his free arm around her waist and pulled her tightly to his hard, warm body. He shifted the weight of his very full duffle bag onto his other shoulder so it wouldnt slip and hit her when he leaned over to kiss her goodbye. "Be careful, baby", she whispered to him, "...I love you". He left with those words...and the image of her sad, sweet smile...on his mind. ********************************************************************************** When Quint got to the pier, Martin, Roy O'Connor, Chet Williams and a few others were there to see him off. "Youre a little late, mayor", Roy grinned, nudging Martins ribs with his elbow, "Oversleep?". They chuckled. "Oversleep??", Martin exclaimed, "Looks like he over packed!...Christ, Quint...how long you plan on stayin' gone??". Quint smiled as he walked passed them and tossed his duffle bag onto the deck of the Orca II, "...Just the necessities, Brody...you've been out there with me before...you know I take extra supplies, just in case something happens...". He reached down and grabbed his huge tackle box. Damn, he thought, either this thing was getting too heavy or he was getting too old to lift it, anymore. "...Guess its just habit...", Quint finished, as he carefully set the tacklebox over the side of the boat, onto the deck. "You gonna do some sharkin'?", Chet asked. "Shhhh", Quint grinned, "If the missus heard that, she'd be sproutin' grey hairs!". The men laughed. Martin took Quint aside and whipered, "You really going sharking??". Looking around, making sure no one was listening...no one that could tell Elena, that is...he leaned over and whipered, "...I thought I might try a little while I'm out there...just dont mention it to anyone, okay, Brody?". "I dont know a thing", Martin grinned, "Besides...you know 'hearsay' isnt admissable". The two men chuckled over thier little secret. Everyone wished Quint luck and waved, as he untied the boat from the piling and shoved off. They were still waving as he sailed out of the cove, toward the ocean. He waved back, singing, laughing...happy. Quint was finally on his way back out to sea. It was almost 7:35 am. ********************************************************************************** Quint had sailed far out...several hundred miles, in fact, out into the Atlantic ocean. But the waters were still too warm to find many sharks. He hooked a couple of six and eight footers, but threw them back. He had a new, stronger vessel and she was sailing smoothly, her engine was strong and quiet. He had the equipment along with the determination to catch himself at least an eighteen footer. Besides...he was going to be in trouble with Elena when she finds out he went sharking, so he wanted something to show for the trouble! So, he sailed north, towards Nova Scotia. He remembered a spot near Bacarro Point where he'd once grabbed a twenty-one foot great white. He knew it would take him longer...that he'd probably not get back to Amity by noon, like he promised, but he could always make it up to Elena, later. The damned weekend would last four days and the fair and picnics and all that were going to be open the entire time. So why was today so important?? He could always take her and the kids tomorrow and monday, too! So he blew it all out of his mind and sailed on. All he cared about at this moment was the sea. Nothing else. He reached a spot 18 miles miles south-east of Bacarro Point, where he felt comfortable enough to shut off the Orca II's engine and set up his shark catching gear. This was at about 11:15am. He knew he wasnt going to make it back in time and Elena was going to be absolutely livid, but there was nothing he could do about it, now. He was already going to be late...there was no hurry, now...so, he settled in for the day. As he sat there, in the captains chair, his line down and the water full of chum, he drank his entire pint of apricot brandy as he waited for a bite on the line, then eventually started in on the first of his three six packs. Sometimes around 3:30pm, he nodded off. At around 9pm, a fair sized wave came up and rocked the boat, almost knocking Quint out of the chair, waking him. He was still quite inebriated and disoriented in the dark...it was so dark that he couldnt even see his own hand in front of his face. He sat back in his chair until he could gather his senses. He tried to remember where he was and what he was supposed to be doing. He finally realized it and that it was very late. Elena was going to kill him when he got back!! "I'd better get to the bridge so I can get some light on this boat so I can see where the hell the compass says I am!", he mumbled to himself in disgust. But, as he stood up, another large wave came up and rocked the boat violently, knocking Quint off-balance. He stepped backward and tripped over his fishing rod, sending him reeling over the stern. He banged his head on the transom before he hit the water, knocking him out, cold. ********************************************************************************** Maria Esperanza was a lovely girl of twenty...large, dark eyes and long, thick, wavy black hair that fell far down past her waist. She had smoothe, olive skin and long, whispy legs and a figure that many women would hate her on-sight for. But the feature she admired most was her bright, white smile. She had been blessed with perfect, straight white teeth and she took great care with them. Not many on the island had good teeth...dental supplies such as toothpaste and floss and toothbrushes were scarce on this island. She lived on Sable island, far out in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, 299 miles east of Nova Scotia. Supplies only came in once a month by plane and there usually wasnt enough to go around to all of the islanders...but she was special. She had earned the right to get the best of whatever came over from the mainland. Marias father had moved his family to Sable island when Maria was only three years old. Martino Esperanza had been a fisherman off of the tiny island of Formentera, off of the eastern coast of Spain, in the Mediterrainian sea, until one of his fishing buddies had told him of the island of Sable in the north Atalntic ocean, where there were very few other fishermen (cutting down on competition) and the fishing there was "perfecto"...how a man simply fishes for all that he can and, once a month, trades his catch for supplies. The bigger the catch, the more supplies he got...food, lamp oil, clothing, cigars, whiskey...whatever his heart desired. And, if a certain fisherman became a big enough supplier, then he could begin to order anything from the pilots of the supply plane. This interested Martino a great deal...he wanted nothing short of the best education that he could get for his only child, his precious Maria, and this seemed like a way that he could get her all of the books and learning tools that she would need and maybe, someday, he could even arrange for a teacher to come to the island for her! So, in the summer of 1962, Martino Esperanza, his wife, Wilhemina, thier daughter Maria and Wilheminas brother, Arturro packed thier fishing boat with thier belongings and sailed north to settle on the island of Sable. Martino had done well for his beautiful daughter. She was quite well educated and completely self-taught. She spoke several languages and could, if she had been in college, qualify for degrees in several fields. But her favorite subjects always had to do with sharks, Anything and everything about these intriguing creatures of the sea. This all started when she was about ten, when her father and her Tio (uncle) Arturro had brought home a ten foot Mako shark along with thier regualr catch. She had been so fascinated by its streamlined shape, dark eyes and sharp, efficient teeth, that she knew that she wanted to know as much about these creatures as she possibly could. By the time she was 14, she could accurately pin-point where a group of sharks would be, simply according to the weather and migration habits of certain fish. She could also tell what kind of sharks they would be and approximately how many there would be. Her skills and knowledge of sharks were the praise of Sable island. All the fishermen would consult with her before even going out on thier boats to fish for the day. Martino got smart and began charging them for Marias gift and, soon, the Esperanzas became the most influential people on the island. But Maria had only wanted one thing as she turned twenty...a husband. She wanted the love of a man so badly that she prayed for it every night. In her room, every single night of her life, before going to bed, she would light a candle in her window and kneel before it, clasp her hands together and look up, into the sky and whisper a silent prayer to the Gods for a light-skinned, blue-eyed fisherman to sail to her and sweep her away with his heart. She had already ad her first 'crush'...on one of the supply plane pilots when she was 13...he had golden hair and eyes the colornof sapphires and skin like ivory. But she didnt want a man whos life was spent in the sky. She wanted - no, needed - a man who could command the sea and all that dwell in it...someone that her father could approve of and be proud of. She loved her father and she didnt ever want to do anything that he would not approve of. ********************************************************************************** This warm, balmy evening, Maria strolled along the west-end beach, close to her home, watching the sunset. As she strolled lazily along the shore, she happened to look down and saw what appeared to be a mans cap, floating on the water, trying to get itself washed up on the beach. She bent down and picked it up and, as she did, her eye caught on something lying on the beach, a few yards away...something quite larger than the cap. She approached the object slowly...cautiously. It was a man, but she didnt know if he was dead or alive. She ran for help. ********************************************************************************** When the rescued man awoke, he didnt have a clue as to where he was. He was shivering cold, had on different (dry) clothing and was in someones bed, covered with what felt like a ton of blankets...in someones room, in someones house...that he did not recognize. It wasnt your average 'house', either, with plastered walls, wood or carpeted floors or paned windows...it didnt even have doors. It was more like a 'hut', made of braided bamboo reeds, but the walls seemed thick and sturdy. The floor seemed to be made of the same material, though it looked flat and solid. The windows were covered with bamboo roll-up shades (his were presently rolled down, however) and the one door into his room was covered by another longer, wider bamboo roll-up shade...which was rolled down, also, for obvious privacy. He ran his hands over his face and eyes, then up through his hair. Thats when he felt the huge lump on his head and the pain hit him. It stung so badly that it brought tears to his eyes. "Jesus H Christ!!", he yelped, wincing with the pain, trying to remember what the hell had happened to him, but...he couldnt think clearly. His head hurt him too bad. He laid back into all of those soft, fluffy pillows and tried to relax. He was almost asleep when she walked in. She had to be the most beautiful woman that he had ever seen...young, dark and shapely, with the most beautiful, taunting smile...suddenly, he couldnt feel his headache... "Youre awake", she smiled, carrying a tray that held a bowl of water, a towel, cotton swabs and a bottle of rubbing alcohol, "...How do you feel?", she asked sweetly, not taking her eyes from his. "Like my head has been operated on without any pain killers", he groaned, watching her closely. The sight of her was enough to kill the pain for him! "Whats that for?", he asked, pointing to the tray. "I came to clean your wound", she smiled, "...I have a book that says wounds must be constantly kept clean in order for them to heal properly, withoout infection...and I'm afraid that we have no doctor on this island...only a radio to contact someone on the mainland, Nova Scotia, to send out a plane if someone is seriously ill...". She talked as she dabbed the corner of the towel into the water, wrung it out, then gently, carefully cleaned his wound...standing beside him as she did so. He sat up so high in the bed that she had to stand in order to reach the top of his head where his wound was. "...We called about you and they told us to keep you in bed and keep your head high and your wound clean...and, when you were to wake up, to keep you awake for at least twelve hours and to make sure that you dont have any dizziness or sickness. They will have a plane ready to retreieve you if and when it will be needed", she told him as she continued dressing his wound. It was a nasty cut on top of a nasty bump. "Where am I, anyway", he asked her. "Youre on Sable Island, mister...what is your name?", she enquired, giving him a puzzled look. He thought for a moment or two, but couldnt honestly remember his own name. He thought and thought until the sting of the alcohol on his cut distracted him. He winced and sucked air...it hurt! "Well", she smiled as she put away the alcohol, "...For now, I will call you 'Blue', for the color of your eyes". Her smile made him feel calm and relaxed. "Are you hungry, senior Blue?", she asked. "I guess I could go for a sandwich", he smiled. "A...sandwich?", she asked inquizitively, a puzzled expression, "I'm not sure what that is...". He grinned, "...Its two pieces of bread with some mayonnaise, mustard and some meat and cheese in between...". "Oh!", she exclaimed happily, "...A brylaco!!", she smiled. "I guess...", he shrugged, smiling. "I'll get your brylaco, senior", she bowed slightly, still smiling, "...Would you care for anything else?". Her spanish accent was thick, but her english was good. Oh, he could think of something else he wanted, right at that moment, but he doubted that she would be on the menu, so he kept his mouth shut. "I sure could go for a cold beer", he grinned, not sure that his 'nurse' would allow it. "One brylaco and one cervesa, coming up, pronto!", she smiled as she walked out through the shade covered doorway. She came back about twenty minutes later with a corned beef sandwich ("brylaco") and a 'dos eques' (two X's) beer (cervesa). He drank all of the beer and ate most of the huge sandwich as she sat in the chair next to the bed and talked to him about everything and anything that she could think of. But, when he ws finished, he wanted to go back to sleep. "Oh, no!!", she exclaimed, "...The doctors said that you must not go to sleep for twelve hours after you have awaken!...You could go into a coma...maybe even die!...No, no,no!". She looked frightened. "what is your name, girl?", he sighed. "It is Maria, senior Blue...Maria Esperanza". "Maria...", he smiled sleepily, "I'm very tired...I cant stay awake on my own...unless...you have any ideas about how to keep me awake...", he grinned and evil little grin, a touch of mischeviousness in his eyes. "I do, senior Blue!", she grinned, as she jumped up out of the chair and ran out of the room excitedly. But what she had in mind was definately not what he had in mind! She had brought in her father and her uncle and introduced them to Blue. The three men talked and played cards all through the night, though 'Blue' had to be reminded often how to play these seemingly familiar games. That bump on his head had really affected his memory. But, all night, Blue couldnt seem to keep his eyes off of the beautiful Spanish lady setting in the corner - who, also, couldnt keep her eyes off of him. ********************************************************************************** Elena stood on the beach, staring out over the moonlit ocean, a mixture of both anger and fear coursing through her. She'd been there for hours, either pacing back and forth or just stnding there...watching for Quint. He was nine hours late. Finally, she gave up and walked back to where Martin, Ellen and the kids were setting on a blanket on the beach, watching the fireworks over the water. "Martin", she asked him, inquizitively, "...Do you think Quint is just 'late'...or do you think somethings happened to him?". She stood there, her arms folded, looking more like she was 18 than 38. "After all", she continued, "...he said he didnt want to take any of us with him because, when you take a boat out on her maiden voyage, that sometimes things can go wrong...". "Dont worry, Elena", Martin assured her, "Quint is a top-notch sailor...he just got out there and was enjoying himself thats he's lost all track of time. Hes probably thinking that he can make it all up to you later...and I bet that hes also figuring that hes going to be in a lot of trouble when he gets home, so he's making the most of it, because he probably wont be able to go back out again for awhile". Contemplating a bit before continuing her questioning, she asked, "...You had luch together yesterday, didnt you?". Martin nodded 'yes'. "Well...", she inquired, "...how did he seem to you?". "He was nervous", Martin said, nonchalantly, "After all...he hadnt been out in quite awhile and he was anxious to get out there...he loves sailing". But Elena kept pacing back and forth. "Martin...", she pleaded, "if he doesnt come back tonight, will you search for him?...First thing in the morning?". "I promise", Martin assured her, "...but I know I wont have to...he'll probably come home, drunk as hell, singing at the top of his lungs - ready to make up with you, cuz he knows youre going to be angry at him!", he chuckled. "Elena...", Ellen said softly, understanding her worries, "Why dont you and the kids stay with us tonight?...If youre worried so much, its good to have someone to talk to...". "Thanks, 'El", she said, "...but I want to be home when he gets there". She turned and gazed back out over the ocean, "...because when he does finally show up, theres going to be one hell of a row!!". "Then how about us taking the kids?", Ellen suggested, "That way, they wont have to hear it...besides...it'll keep Mikey from picking up on your worry". "Thank you", Elena said withoout turning around, "...I guess that would be best...". Since it was getting late and the booths from the fair were all closeing for the night and the lights were all going off, they all decided that it was time for them to go home. Martin and Ellen followed Elena home, then took all of the kids home with them for the night. Elena went into the cold, dark, empty house alone...her friendly smile now replaced with the frown that she had hidden all night. She felt so tired and so worried...so depressed...not knowing where her husband was, wether he was dead, dying or dancing! The problem for her was that she didnt know wether to be sad, worried or angry. If she could just pick one emotion, she could go with it and work on getting it out of her so that she could relax a little. She decided not to worry...at least, for the moment. She went into the kitchen for something to eat, but settled only on coffee. She'd hoped the caffiene would keep her awake, but she got sleepy, anyway. She didnt even bother to shower or change. She just laid down on the bed, pulling a throw blanket up around her to ward off the chill of the night. All of a sudden, a flood of tears burst from her and she cried until she shook. Then, she fell asleep. ********************************************************************************** The next morning, on his way to the station, Martin checked the docks...the Orca II was still not there, so when he got to the station, he sent Simms out, right away, with the police cruiser to look for Quint out on the water. Perhaps the old salt got too drunk last night and was still passed out on deck...but he would rather be safe than sorry. Simms was still out at 1pm when Elena called...the minute she had woke up. "Have you found him yet, Martin?", she asked. "He never showed up at home, huh?", Martin asked...hoping that Quint would have got home, they fought and Quint left again, angry. "No", she said, "He hasnt been here". Trying to keep her mind off of worry - since he seemed to already be worrying enough for the both of them - he told her, "Ellens got the kids back over at the fair...she didnt think you'd mind...". "I dont mind, Martin", she said, her spirit sounding weak, "...I'll fetch them in awhile...but, right now, I just want to know what to do about my husband...". She wouldnt give it up. "Elena...", he sighed, not really wanting to go into details with her...ploice business sometimes wasnt very nice to hear...besides, he didnt want to worry her even more than she sounded right now, "I have Simms out on the boat, looking, now...he hasnt repoted back in yet...". "As soon as he comes in, will you call me, Martin?", she pleaded, "...please??". He promised her that he would let her know something just as soon as he knew something. Just as Martin hung up the phone, Simms walked in. "What did you find?", Martin asked anxiously. "Nothing", Simms sighed, "Absolutely nothing. No sign of the mayor or his boat". "I wonder where the hell he could be?!", Martin was getting frustrated. Quint was a seaman. He knew the waters better than most people know thier own neighborhood streets. He's survived sharks, hurricanes, kamikazee attacks and personal tragedies. Martin was continually amazed at Quints survivability. But luck always runs out, eventually... Besides worrying about Elena, Mikey and little Liz, Martin had a bigger problem. The mayor, his boss, was missing. That reason alone meant that he had to pull out all the stops in searching for his best buddy. "What do you want me to do, chief?", Simms asked. "Stick around", martin said, "I'm gonna call the Coast Guard". "You think we should?", Simms asked, worried. "What do you mean?", Martin asked, curious. "Well", Simms continued, "...Thats going to create a pretty big scene for the tourists...might scare 'em...especially after all that hooplah back in '75 with the shark attacks and all the CG's prescence...". "Shit", Martin spat, "Youre right...I didnt even think of that". "Besides", Simms continued, "we dont even know if the mayors out on a 'toot'...hes done it, before...sailing up the coast, getting himself all tied up in knots with liquor and never even being able to explain how he managed to sail home...". Martin grimaced. He didnt like Simms talking about his best friend that way, but...it was true. They all knew it. Quint liked to drink...and when he felt that his responsibilities were getting too 'heavy', he'd take off, booze it up for a couple of days then come home - sober up, rest, then he'd be back to normal again. Only there was nothing that Martin could think of that was particularly 'stressful' in Quints life, now. He seemed like a happy man. Before Quint would take off any other time and go on his 'bender', he would be quiet and moody. He didnt seem that way at lunch, day before yesterday. Then again, thought he loved his wife and kids with a passionate fierceness, after a certain number of years, every man starts feeling that 'trapped' feeling...even Martin had felt it at one point in his marriage. Just most men dont act on it. One thing worried Martin...Michael Quint wasnt 'most men'... "Bullshit!", Martin thought, to himself, "...I know Quint...he's a big flirt, but hes loyal to his wife...!". Then he pushed the thought right out of his mind. "Okay", Martin told Simms, "...This is what we'll do, instead...I'll call a buddy of mine, who operates a CG helicopter...I'll ask him to fly up and down the coast to see if he can spot anything. In the meantime, if you hear anyone asking anything about the 'copter, tell them nothing more than the CG is doing training excersizes. If he does fins something, then me, Baker and Burns will go out to it and deal with it. You stay here and manage damage control, alright?". "But what if youre CG buddy dont find anything?", Simms enquired. "I'll deal with that when we get there", Martin said, a little impatiently, "...in the meanwhile, it'll buy us some time...it'll give Quint a few more hours to get back home...if he is out on a 'toot', that is...". As he walked to his private office, Martin said, "...And if Quint does roll in here after having been on a bender, Elenas chewing out is going to seem like love-making compared to what I'm going to do to him!". Simms laughed. Martin called his buddy, Rob Damon. He was at the New Bedford CG station on the mainland, ready to gas up and go...he was going out on a test flight. Martins timing was impeccible. "Robbie...I need a favor...a big one...and I need to know if you can be quiet about it", Martin said, into the phone. "Sure, Brody", Rob said, "My lips are sealed...whatcha need?". "The mayors missing", Martin said, hesitantly, "...he took his boat out, yesterday morning and he hasnt been seen nor heard from, since", he sighed, pausing, "...Could you just fly around a bit...see what you can spot from the air?". "No problem", Rob said, "I was just getting ready to fuel the helicopter so I can take her for a test spin...she just had some work done on her. Youre timings perfect. As far as anyone knows, I'll just be testing out the 'copter". "Great!", Martin exclaimed. "I'll be out an hour or two, though", Rob said, "I hope there aint no rush...". "No rush, Rob...just do what you can and get back to me as soon as possible", Martin smiled. But when Rob called, it wasnt what Martin wanted to hear. When the phone rang, Martin jumped on it, first ring. He'd been catching up on his paperwork to kill time as he waited for that call. "Amity police...chief Brody speaking". "Brody", Robs voice came from the other end of the line. Martins heart raced with anticipation, "...Theres a boat...", Rob deep sighed, "it appears to be abandoned, just floating about forty miles east-south-east of Nova Scotia...". "Nova Scotia?!", Martin exclaimed, "...How could you fly all the way the hell up there??". "I didnt", Rob said, "I heard it come over the two-way, while I was in the air...they described it as an old-looking boat, but in good condition...sound like the one youre looking for?". "Yes...it does", Martin sighed, "Well...whats happening with it?". "The Harbour patrol at Clarkes Harbour is gonna two it in", Rob said, "I wasnt the one who saw it, so I couldnt keep it from getting reported". "Thats okay, Rob...I appreciate your help...I owe you one", Martin told him, trying not to sound as worried as he was, "...I guess I'd better call Clarkes Harbour...I need to see that boat". Martin hung up the phone by useing his index finger on the reciever button. He let up and waited for a dial tone. He got Nova Scotia information, then the number for the Clarkes Harbour harbour patrol...then put in a very hesitant call to them. This all was starting to give Martin a bad feeling. "This is police chief Martin Brody, Amity island...in the united states", Martin told the dispatcher, "I need to speak with whomever is in charge about an abandoned boat you just recovered". He was put on hold for about ten minutes. The long wait made Martin more nervous. "This is the harbour master", a deep, stern voice said from the other end of the line, "...how may I help you, chief Brody?" Martin explained to the patrol master about thier mayor and how he's missing...and how that may be his boat that they had just found. "Well, sir", the patrol master stated, "...there was no one aboard, but it appears that there was some kind of an accident, though...dont look good for your mayor, if this is his boat...". After a shocked pause, Martins police personality kicked in, "...The name of the boat is the Orca-two", Marti told him, spelling it out, just to be sure. "Hey, Simon!", martin heard the patrol master yell to someone in the background, "Whats the name on that abandoned boat that we just hauled in?". Martin heard someone yell something inaudible to the patrol master in the background. "Shes called the Orca-two, chief", the patrol master confirmed. Martins heart dropped in his chest. "I'd like to charter a plane and fly up to check the boat out, if I may", Martin told him, half-heartedly. "Be glad to have you, sir", the patrol master said. Martin found Simms, told him what was going on - and, above all, to keep quiet about it all. He told him to tell Elena, only if she called, to tell her that he was simply out looking for Quint, personally...and nothing more. Then Martin called the island airport and chartered a plane to fly him to Clarkes harbour, less than an hour by air. ********************************************************************************** Martin was greeted personally by Fred Pierceson, the patrol master he'd spoken with, earlier. Fred took Martin right over to the hangar where the Orca II was being held, in police custody. Since it had been abandoned in thier territory and there was suspicious circumstances surrounding this boat and its owner, the Orca II was now property of the Clarke Harbour police. So, before Martin could check over the boat, they had to call the Clarkes Harbour police chief , Chief Petrie, in. "You know the mayor and his habits well?", chief Petrie asked Martin. "Yes, I do", Martin said, "I've known the mayor several years, even before he was mayor". "Then, please...look over this boat and tell me what you think may have happened to your friend", chief Petrie urged. Martin walked all around the boat before getting up into it, all time under the watchful eye of chief Petrie and patrol master Pierceson. Martin found an empty bottle of apricot brandy and several empty beer cans...all the stuff Quint drank. Quints fishing rod was missing and there was a good amount of blood, all over the stern. Martin felt sick to his stomach at the first thought that raced through his mind... "Well?", chief Petrie asked, "Any answers for me, chief Brody?". It took Martin a few minutes to get himself together. "One of two things, fellas...", Martin said, as he jumped down from the step ladder he used to get up into the boat, removing his sunglasses and wiping his arm across his forehead to wipe away the perspiration...Martin really wasnt feeling too well, "...either the mayor was drunk and fell overboard, or...", Martin choked out the second possibility, "...a shark got him". "A shark?...", Petrie asked inquizitively. After all, how the hell was a shark going to get someone on board?? "Mayor Quint was a shark fisherman", Martin explained, "...thats what he was going to be doing when he went out...he could have pulled a big one on board and it got Quint before Quint could kill it". "Yes", Fred pondered, "...that could be the reason why he was all the way up here...our waters are cooler...more sharks around...". Petrie asked Martin what he wanted to do with the boat after they were finished writing thier reports on it. Only Martin didnt know what to do with it. He'd have to tell the mayors wife...he asked them to give him a couple of days. Martin thanked Fred and chief Petrie, told them that he would be in touch, then got back into the cab that brought him from the airstrip and headed back to the plane. Martins heart sank. It looked like quints luck with life had finally run out. How the hell was he going to tell Elena?? She was a nervous wreck, already. She didnt look stable enough to handle this. After all, finding Quints boat - in that condition - left out all hope that Quint was just out getting drunk and or laid somewhere. Martin decided to put off telling Elena until he could do a blood test on the blood on the boat. Maybe that was shark blood? Maybe Quint ran across some poachers in the area and they kidnapped him? Maybe Quint just got off on some island somewhere and the boat came untied from its anchor? Martin knew these were long shots, but as long as there was the possibility that his friend could still be alive, he wasnt giving in, just yet. He could requisition Quints medical files and match them with the blood on the boat. But Martin discovered that he was hating his instincts...they wouldnt let him have any hope, at all. Martin got off the plane in Amity, got into his police truck and went straight to his office - to get drunk. ********************************************************************************** As dawn broke through the small reeds of the roll-up shade over the bedroom window, Martino and Arturro decided to end the poker game with 'senior Blue' and go get some breakfast and some rest before going out fishing for the day, leaving Maria alone with him. Wilhemina would be off in another part of the island, visiting with friends. Maria was asleep, over in that chair in the corner, where she had been all night. Blue laid there, gazing at her, in the soft glow of the lamplight. He enjoyed the sight of her long, smoothe, olive-colored legs, crossed delicately at the ankles. She wore sandals and a long, flimsy dress with a tiny floral pattern of pale, pink flowers all over it. Her hair was pulled to one side and fastened with a cloth covered elastic band. He visually studied her hair...from the top of her head, down over her shoulder, draping softly down over her small but firm breast, down past her waist and puddled together in her lap. He wanted her. Badly. He decided that he was going to get up and wake her. He wanted to hear her voice, see her smile...but, when he raised up, his head throbbed painfully. He fell back into bed, moaning. That woke her. "Oh, senior Blue!", she exclaimed, jumping from her chair and going to him, setting gently on the bed beside him. She placed her delicate, cool hand on his sunburned face, "...Does it hurt badly?". "Not as bad as yesterday", he grinned, through throbbing pain. "Ohhhhh", she pouted, pampering him, fluffing his pillows and stroking his face and hair, gently rubbing his temples with her fingertips. Blue thought of just wrapping his arms around hr and pulling her to him and kissing her, passionatley, but eventually decided against it...after all, if she would be receptive to his advances, he didnt think he could actually do anything, the way his head hurt. But she was quite enticing. All of this attention from her...the way she smelled...a soft, floral fragrance, the way she sounded, the way she felt, her body heat eminating from her in waves...was unnerving him. "Have you remembered who you are, yet, senior Blue?", she asked, too softly for the way he felt, right about now. "No", he said, his head laying back on the pillow, staring up at her as she gently messaged his temples. He was smiling, "...but I have remembered a song about Spanish ladies, that I must have sang quite often...". She smiled down at him. Last night, she wondered if this was the sapphire-eyed fisherman that she had been praying for...? One thing she did know...she was beginning to feel quite passionate about this mysterious man with the beautiful blue eyes. She thought that she was loseing her heart to him. "Sing it to me", she smiled. "Fairwell and adieu to you fair spanish ladies", he sang softly, smiling, "...fairwell and adieu to you ladies of spain...for we've recieved orders for to sail back to Boston....", he abruptly quit singing and a serious expression came over his face. "Whats the matter, senior Blue?", she asked, alittle alarmed. "I just remembered something...", he said. "What?", she asked. "Something about Boston...", he told her, thinking, "...I think I've been there...". "Do you have someone there we should get a call to...? A...wife, maybe?", she began to pout, but tried to hide it. But he saw it...and smiled. "You dont want me to have a wife, do you?", he grinned. "I prayed for you, Blue...I have prayed for you all of my life", she blurted out. He sat up, slowly, propping himself up on one elbow. He didnt care this time how much his head throbbed. He placed his free hand behind her head and pulled her face close to his and kissed her sweetly. "Oh, Blue...you are the one...", she swooned. He grinned madly. He kissed her again, longer and more passionate, this time. As he kissed her, he slid his hand down her back, then tightenbed his arm around her waist. She put her amrs around his broad shoulders and leaned in close to him. He slowly sat up, not taking his lips from hers, then ever so slowly maneuvered his body around to where he was now laying atop her. "I want you...", he moaned softly to her, his eyes pleading with hers. As he pressed his body into hers, she could feel that he wanted her. Suddenly, she pushed him off of her. "I have to keep my virtue true until my wedding night, Blue...I must...", she panted, swooning from her raging desire, "...We cannot go any further...". Ouch. He didnt want to hear that. Now he had two 'head' aches. But he let her go. He laid back onto the pillows, breathing heavily, his head and loins throbbing wildly. "I'm so sorry, senior Blue...", she worried, "I should not have let you kiss me...". "Never mind about it, Maria", he said, a bit impatiently, "Please...I need some rest...". She stood up, frustrated and embarrassed, then quietly left the room. Later, as he lay there, he wracked his mind about who he was and where he was from. The only thing he knew about himself, at this point, was that he had washed up on shore of Sable island with a nasty bump on his head, he'd remembered some song about 'Spanish ladies' and felt a connection to Boston. He wished he could know his past. He also felt that he had been married at some point, recently, because he had a white ring of skin on the third finger of his left hand. It was a thin line...like a wedding band had been there for a long period of time. But, no matter how hard or how long he thought about it all, he just couldnt remember anything. That night, he dreamed. He dreamed he was standing on a short, wooden pier, watching a little boy with reddish-blond, curly hair running to him, calling him 'daddy'. Standing on shore, behind the boy, smiling, was a beautiful, ivory-skinned woman with rich, deep auburn hair, wearing a long, flowing, white dress. He felt a great love for them both. As he walked toward them, a huge, massive shark came down out of the sky and swallowed them up...but a thin, dark man with glasses, in a policemans uniform, shot the shark several times with his gun, When the shark died, it spit out the woman and the child, alive and well, but frightened. But Blue mustve been on a boat, because he was sailing away from them...he couldnt get to them...and they were calling to him... But before he could hear what they were calling him, Wilhemina Esperanza brought in his breakfast. Jeez...he didnt realize that he'd slept all day and all night, too. Where had Maria been? He thought she wasnt going to let him sleep? Then he remembered what had happened between the two of them and he guess that, maybe, she was too embarrassed. Oh, well...she had accomplished keeping him awake for the first twelve hours. He guessed it was okay for him to sleep after that. "Buenos dias, senior Blue!", Wilhemina greeted him cheerfully, holding a bed table with his breakfast on it, lots of wonderful smelling things to eat. "Bueons dias", he returned her greeting, "...Wheres Maria?". Wilheminas english wasnt nowhere near as good as Marias...or even Martinos or Arturros, "...Maria...she sail...woooooo", she smiled, waving her arm, horizontally, immitating waves, the water. "Where?", Blue asked. She shrugged as she placed the bedtray across his lap. She didnt understand. And Blue couldnt even remember his own name, much less wether or not he knew any spanish. Blue waved his hand across the room as if to ask 'where', then he shrugged. "Ooooh!", she chuckled, "Maria est y papa!". She put her arms together, outstretched in front of her, pressing her hands together then pulling them apart, sporradically, like she was imitating an alligator. "Maria...shark...", she tried hard to explain, "...Maria est...shark tee-cher", she got that out with much effort. Blue was intrigued, to say the least. Especially today, after the dream he had just had. As Wilhemina left the room, she said something in spanish, but he didnt understand her. He just smiled, waved his hand and said "gracias", twice. He had picked up enough spanish from Maria to be cordial. At lunch, he learned a new phrase...arroz compoya...chicken and rice. And it tasted heavenly. And, at dinner, Maria was with him. The first time he had seen her all day. They ate together in the small bedroom. "How is your head today, senior Blue?", she asked, seemingly avoiding contact with his eyes. "Much better, thank you", he said, cutting her a suspicious look from the corners of his eyes. She saw it. "Why do you look at me in that way?", she asked, curiously. "Because", he said, toying with his food with his fork, "...You know I want you, yet you tell me that I cant have you...then you come in here, with me, in the lamplight, wearing your hair long and soft, wearing that short, peek-a-boo dress...youre teasing me and it isnt nice...". He shifted his eyes back to the food. "I'm sorry, senior Blue", she said, looking shamed and embarrassed, "...it was not that I dont want you, too...but...I must keep myself pure until my wedding night...you must understand...". She never lifted her eyes. They continued eating in silence. Blue understood that she wanted to be a virginal bride and he felt guilty for wanting her so badly. He decided that he was going to pressure her anymore. She let him know how she felt...she wanted him, but she would remain pure, nevertheless. It was wrong for him to pressure her for his own desires. He finally broke thier silence. "Whats this business with you and sharks?", he asked her. "I study them", she said, nonchalantly, "...and because I know so much about them, I am paid well by the island fishermen - including my papa - to help them find spots in the ocean where there only fish and no sharks to eat the bait or the fish that they catch or tear the nets". "Thats a mighty handy talent you have", he commented, taking a bite of his dinner. "I am suprized that you were not eaten by sharks, senior", she said, nonchalantly. "Why?", he asked, curious. "There were sharks all around you when we pulled your legs from the water...they were attracted by all the blood from your head that was in the water...yet, you were left untouched", she told him as she finally made eye contact with him. She stared deeply into his eyes as she continued, "...this is why I think that you are the one that I have always prayed for...by all rights, you should have been gobbled up by all of those hungry makos". That sent a shiver down Blues spine. Things got really quiet, after that revelation. Yes, it was strange, he thought. That night, as he lie in bed, looking out from the dark room up into the sky at the stars, he made a decision... If he couldnt remember who he was by the time his head healed and he could get around on his own, he was going to ask Maria to marry him. ********************************************************************************** The blood tests were complete...it was Quints blood. Martin didnt go back to his office. He told Simms to take over for him. He had sad business to deal with. He went home. "Hi, honey", Ellen greeted him with a peck on the cheek, "what're you doing home so early?". He said nothing...he just went straight to the kitchen cabinet and took out the bottle of whiskey he kept there. He grabbed a glass then sat down at the kitchen table to drink it. There was just no way that he could do what he was going to have to do, sober. "Martin", Ellen persisted, setting down next to him, "...whats wrong?". Martin looked at her with tears in his eyes. It unnerved her. He removed his glasses and threw them on the table. He looked at her...the tears flowing freely, now. "Quints dead", he blurted out. Ellen couldnt believe her ears. She was stunned, to say the least. A numbness washed through her. She just couldnt believe it. "Wh-what happened?!", she demanded to know. Martin told her all that he knew. "Oh...my God...", she gasped, "...how are we going to tell Elena??". "We??", Martin asked, "I'm the cop...its my job to tell her...". Placing her hand gently on her husbands arm, she said, softly, "...Shes our friend, Martin...I couldnt let you go over there and tell her this, alone...she'll need us both when she finds out shes lost her husband...". She suddenyl placed her hand over her mouth and looked away, "Oh, my God...those poor babies...". She got up and ran to the bathroom. She was crying now, too. She knew how Elena must feel. All those years of being a cops wife trained her for it. There were many times in her marriage when she wondered of her own husband would be shot and killed by some robber with a gun. That night, the Brodys over thier own shock...and after Martin had sobered up a bit, they both paid that dreaded call on thier friend, Elena. She answered the door looking haggard and worn. She could barely manage a smile when she saw them. Her movements seemed robotic, as if she had been pre-programmed to make every move as she invited them inside, then offered them something to drink. "Elena...", Martin said, soflty, as he put his arms protectively around her, "...I have something to tell you...". "What?", she asked, looking between him and Ellen...the both of them standing there, looking guilty and sad, at the same time. Martin held onto Elena tightly as he nodded to Ellen, asking her, in thier unspoken language, to give Elena the news becasue he just couldnt. "Elena", Ellen spoke softly to her, feeling a bit guilty that she still had her husband and thankful that this situation wasnt reversed. She placed her arms gently around her friends shoulders as she broke the sad news, "honey...Quints...gone...". The reality not sinking in, Elena said sadly, "...But I know he's gone, Ellen...Martins supposed to be out looking for him...Martins going out to find Michael and to bring him home...arent you, Martin?", she was starting to sound a bit unstable, mentally. But Ellen continued. She wanted this all over as quickly as possible. She spoke as sympathetically and as softly as she possibly could, "...No, dear...see...Martin found Quints boat...there was...blood all over it...Quints blood...and we cant find Quint...". Elena stood rigidly, her eyes wide, her chest heaving with her breath. "Elena", Martin said, "Quint went sharking...not just sailing...it all looks as if...he had a nasty struggle with a shark...and the shark won...". It took a few moments for it all to sink in. When it did, Elena collapsed to the floor, screaming with grief. Ellen had to run from the house. She couldnt take it. Martin struggled with Elena to get her to the couch to try and get her to lay down and calm down, but he couldnt do it, so he just turned around and pounded his fist against the wall. Elena screamed and cried and pleaded with God for Quint not to be dead. All Martin could do was to thank God they had called Chrissy over to watch the kids while they did this. It was best that Mikey didnt see his mother like this. "He cant be dead, Martin!!", Elena screamed at him, her face red and wet with tears and snot, "I would know it...in my soul, I would KNOW it!!!". He turned around to look at her, "We just dont know what to think, Elena...", he said softly but rationally, "...his boat was spotted floating freely off the coast of Nova Scotia...he was nowhere on board. There were lots of empty liquor containers and a great deal of his blood, all over the back of the boat"...he paused as she lowered her head in realization and sobbed her heart out, "...hell, Elena...I've even checked for any John Does that may have shown up mysteriously in the area and there werent any...". He walked over to her and knelt beside her. He put his arm around her, gently, and continued, "...honey, we have no choice but to assume that hes dead...". "Well, then...you assume that hes dead!!", she screamed angrily at him, "I CANT!!!....I would FEEL it...in my HEART!!...And its not there, martin Brody!!...Its just NOT THERE!!!". She was inconsoleable. Martin couldnt take this. He went outside. He asked Ellen to go in and stay with her. He was going to go get blasted. Ellen stayed with Elena throughout the night. ********************************************************************************** The following day, a very tired, very hung-over Martin Brody called Fred Pierceson and asked him to fill out the necessary release forms. He would come and get the boat, himself, with the owners wifes permission, he told him...knowing Elena wouldnt care. Then he phoned the staff at the LightHouse newspaper and broke the news...the mayor of Amity was lost at sea and presumed dead. The next thing Martin did was to call Chas Reese, the candidate that ran against Quuint in the mayoral race, to see if he would be interested in applying for an emergency position as Amitys mayor until he could be properly voted in, but Reese declined. He was too busy running for mayor in his hometown of North Brookfield, Massachussettes. The only thing else that Martin knew to do was to call Larry Vaughn...his previous boss. Vaughn was excited to have the opportunity to get back as mayor of Amity...and in his saddest (and phoniest) voice, he told Martin how sorry he was. Yeah, right, Martin thought. That old buzzard would have killed off Quint himself if he could to get back this job. He never really wanted to retire...he was pushed out, by the people of Amity because of the screw up job he did back in '75. Anyway, business was business, Martin fought hard to convince himself. Life goes on and when youre a public servant, you have to serve the people, rain or shine - life or death. ********************************************************************************** As the weeks wore on, Blue felt better and better. Soon enough, the onlt thing he had to remind him of how he had ended up on this lovely little island was a little scar on his scalp, just behind his hairline over his right eye. He still hadnt remembered anything new, so he was planning on asking his lovely Maria for her hand in marriage. He guess she was right...maybe he actually was the man she had been praying for. On this night, Blue had been setting by a fire, outside, in front of the hut, helping Arturro weave a fishing net. The two men were drinking bottle after bottle of beer, telling jokes, laughing, waiting for Martino to finish packing his boat for a cold trip north to make one final big catch before the supply plane was due in - the following afternoon. Suddenly, Blue noticed Maria out of the corner of his eye, standing over by a small palm tree, in a sarong and a bandau top, fanning herself. She was covered in persperatiion and looking extremely enticing. She watched him, as well, setting there, also covered in persperation, not wearing a shirt, weaving the net. She was mesmerized by his naked muscles gleaming in the light of the fire, as they moved and twirled under his taut, tanned skin. She saw his eyes...reflecting the flames of the fire, flashing white hot sparks as they caressed every inch of her body. He had a sly smile on his lips. Thier spell was broken by her fathers voice, clling for Arturro to come aboard...he was ready to leave. "You want to go with us, Blue?", Arturro asked. "No", Blue said, handing Arturro his finished half of the net, then grabbing his shirt from the bench beside him, "...I've had far too many cervesas to be of any use to you tonight...". His eyes shifted between Arturro and Maria. But Arturro knew the real deal. He grinned as he looked between Blues eyes and Marias eyes and felt the passion there. "Okay, amigo", Arturro grinned slyly, playfully nudging Blue with his elbow, "Just dont do nuthin' I wouldnt do, eh?". He laughed. Blue grinned, then went inside, keeping Maria in his sights until he was inside. He watched from the window until the boat left the cove and sailed out of sight, then he went back out to find Maria. She had been waiting for him. "Tonight is the night, mi amore...", she whipered as she slid her arms around his neck, thier bodies pressed together in a tight embrace. "The 'night'?", he enquired, "...for what?". "You know for what, Blue...", her hunger for him showing in her eyes like a neon sign, "...marriage or no...I want you to have me...I cannot stand the wanting any longer...". His expression was serious. He wanted her so badly that he didnt give a damned about being 'polite' or 'doing the right thing' any longer. He couldnt fight it, either. His want and desire was just too strong. He picked her up gently, but swiftly and carried her inside. He carried her past her mothers room quietly. Wilhemina was there, but asleep. She had been in bed all evening, since dinner...the heat had made her quite ill. He carried her to her room - the room that she had given up to him when he had been ill and hurt. He laid her gently onto the bed and began kissing her passionately...her lips, then her body... "I know that you are the one for me, mi amore", she spoke quietly, "youre my prayer...my angel...". She panted with desire for him. "Marryme, Maria", he demanded soflty but firmly, his eyes pleading with hers as he gently slipped off her top. "Yes, angel...", she barely got out of her mouth before his warm, moist lips came down onto hers. But just as he was about to enter her place where no man had ever gone before, she raspily whipered, "...Be careful, baby...I love you...". Those words stopped him cold. A chill went through his entire body. Suddenly, every memory in his brain was unblocked, like a dam that had burst and it all came rushing back to him. He arose quickly, causing her to become alarmed. "Whats wrong, my love??", she pleaded. He sat on the edge of the bed, turning his head to look back at her, "I know who I am!...I know!!". "Who are you, Blue?", she asked, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to set up next to him, putting her arm around his shoulders. But, knowing what he knew, now, her attention made him feel extremely uncomfortable. He got up and walked across the small room to look out the window. Her fiery passion over took her, "...Lets talk after we make love, amore...I want you...I need you now...", she demanded. He returned to his place on the bed beside her and gently took hold of her arms. "I cant make love to you, Maria...I cant marry you...I have a wife, a son and a brand new daughter...". He was excited but serious. "What!?", she exclaimed, letting him feel her pain. "When you said what you just did...about loveing me and being careful...that was the key...!", he exclaimed, "...those just happened to be the very words that my wife, Elena, said to me before I left to go fishing that day!!...Hearing them again is what triggered my memory!!". "But...", she cried, "...I love you, Blue!!". "Sweetheart", he smiled softly, wanting to be as gentle with her heart as he could be, "I am not this 'Blue'...my name is Michael Quint and I am the mayor of an island named 'Amity' in the United States...I went fishing for sharks on the fourth of july holiday, when I should have taken my family to the islands celebrations...I got drunk while fishing, fell overboard, hit my head...and here I am...". He studied her face. Her breaking heart was shining through her eyes as he gazed into them. Her pain hurt him, only he didnt know how he was going to correct it. But he wanted to try. He placed his fingers gently on her cheek and stroked her soft face, "I'm so sorry, Maria...I know that its no consolation, but...if I had known who I was, what my life was all about, then I wouldnt have been involved with you...I would never deliberately hurt you...and you must believe that...". She began to cry. He held her as she sobbed. She was such a sweet girl. If things were different, if he had not remembered Elena or had never even married Elena, he would have no second thoughts about living with and loving this girl for the rest of his life. As he held her, feeling her heart break, he felt so guilty...and he kept having to remind himself of how much he loved Elena...Mikey...Elizabeth...he had to get out of here, now...or he might not be able to go at all. He stood up. He had a couple more things to say to her before he walked away. He had to make it quick. "Maria...", he whispered,"...If I really were the man you had prayed for, then either I wouldnt be married or I would have never remembered it...right?", he asked her softly. But she said nothing...she just cried. Hesitantly walked over to her and stroked her hair, but she pulled away from him and laid down on the bed, covering her nakedness with the blanket. He just stood there, staring down at her, for the longest time. He felt so bloody guilty, but there was nothing that he could do. He felt like such a shit-heel. He turned and leaned on the window sill and watched the moonlight sparkle on the ocean and the stars twinkle in the sky. He thought about Elena, wondering what she had been doing all this time...probably hurting, too. It didnt make him feel too good to know that he was causing so much pain. He wondered how he would even get out of this situation...Martino would be livid that he had broken his precious daughters heart and Quint didnt even know what he could even say to the man when he had to face him at the supply plane, which he planned on catching back to the mainland. He finally decided that he would just take things as they came, then quietly slipped out of Marias room...then out of her life. ********************************************************************************** Quint spent the night on the beach, staring out over the ocean, thinking about what he was going to tell Elena when he saw her, again...also about what he would tell Martino or Arturro when he saw them. He wondered about how he was going to get the rest of the way home...he assumed the plane would land in Nova Scotia...Arturro had shown him a map of his favorite fishing spots and had shown him where Sable island was located and Nova Scotia was the nearest mainland... He eventually fell asleep, close to dawn. He was awaken later in the day by the loud thrum of airplane engines...a sound that he had already, once in his life, associated with rescue... He watched the plane as it descended, until it was behind the trees. He could see it landing, throught the trees, on the airstrip, several hundred yards away. He looked around and didnt see Martinos boat...or anyone, for that matter, so he headed down the beach, toward the plane. There was such a crowd gathered around that plane that he went virtually unnoticed. He managed to get ahold of one of the pilots and took him aside. He explained to him who he was and what had happened. Luck was on Micheal Quints side, this day. The pilot that he pulled aside was named Rob Damon...a United States Coast Guard pilot who worked part time for Beagles Seafood company, flying in supplies to this tiny island once a month in exchange for some of the best fish that came out of the Atlantic ocean. "Damn!", Rob said, grinning, "...Your police chief has been searching all over for you and here I find you, among the natives!". "Really??", Quint grinned, feeling good for the first time in awhile. "No shit, sir!", Rob chuckled, "I was even in on the search!". Quint shook his head in disbelief. "Small world, aint it?", Rob chuckled. "No shit, son!", Quint grinned, "...Look...just get me onto that plane, okay?", he said as he noticed Martino and Arturro in the distance, coming his way. On the plane and in the air, Rob asked Quint how he was going to get back to Amity from Canada. "Oh, I dont know", Quint sighed, "hitch it, I guess...(heh!)...hell...I'll walk, if I have to!". Smiling, Rob told him, "Well, I promised Brody I'd stop in and see him sometimes...today would be just as good a day as any...if you dont mind hanging around while we get all this fish unloaded, I'll fly you in, myself...". "Dont this plane belong to the company you work for...in Nova Scotia?", Quint asked curiously, wondering how this kid could fly this plane just any place he wanted. "Yeah", Rob said, "But the plane I left there before taking this one out, dont!...I fly my plane back and forth from Nova Scotia to Boston, where I live...and, on my way home, I fly directly over Amity island, U.S.A.!", he grinned madly. ********************************************************************************** When they landed at the Amity airstrip, Quint was so happy that he felt like falling to his knees and kissing the ground. "Damn", he said to Rob, "I never thought I'd feel so good to see this bloody island!"...and he was grinning from ear to ear when he said it. Quint called to a taxi to take him to the police station. He and Rob got into the back seat. "Take me to the police station and put the bill on the towns tab!", Quint said, sounding quite jovial. The driver looked back at this oddball who was seriously telling him to charge the town for his cabfare. It took him a few seconds to realize who this oddball was. "MAYOR!!", the cabbie shouted excitedly, looking like he'd seen a ghost, "But...youre supposed to be...dead!!". "What in the hell are you talking about??", Quint demanded. The cabbie told him what was written in the newspaper, two days before. Quint suddenly realized that he was going to have a tougher task explaining things to Elena than he thought. What a shock it was going to be for her to see him. He sighed. "Well", Quint said, "As you can see, its all been a mistake", he suddenly sounded so tired, a direct contrast to the jovial mood he'd had just seconds before, "...so lets get going so I can correct it". Rob just chuckled nervously. This was going to be something quite interesting and he was glad he was going to be in on it. When they got to the police station, Quint stayed outside while Rob went into Martins private office. Polly saw Quint and went totally pale. He set his finger to his lips to 'shh' her, then smiled and winked. But she looked like she was going to faint, so he rushed to her and helped her down into the nearest chair. "You alright, Polly?", Quint asked, genuinely concerned. She fanned herself, "I'll be okay...what happened to you??", she asked. "I'll tell you, later, gal...right now, I'm waiting to spring it on the chief", he smiled one of those infamous Quint-smiles. He heard Martins voice. It was like music to his ears. "Rob!!", Martin exclaimed, "How ya been?!". "Oh", Rob grinned, "I was out looking for sexy little island girls out in the middle of the Atlantic this morning and ran across something that you might be interested in...". He leaned out the door and wiggled his finger at Quint, gesturing for him to come into the office with him. "What?", Martin smiled. Then Quint walked in and stood there, grinning at Martin. Martin thought he was gonna shit bricks. "Quint!!", Martin yelled, "You no good son of a bitch!!", Martin was grinning from ear to ear, "I've never been so glad to see anyone in my life!!". He was laughing happily, hugging Quint, "What the hell happened to you??...You running from the goddamned IRS or something??". "Gimme a drink, Brody", Quint said, "...And I'll tell ya the whole sad story...", as he sat down to make himself comfortable as he explained the last few weeks of his life to his friend. ********************************************************************************** When Quint was through with his story, the three men sat solemnly and silent, until Martin asked Quint a question that, maybe, he shouldnt have. "Quint...do you love that girl...?", Martin asked as politely as he could, knowing it was none of his business and that he might be opening a can of worms that was better left closed. "Yes", Quint told him, unhesitantly, not making eye contact, just staring down at his whiskey. "What about Elena?", Martin asked softly. This is when Quint did make eye contact, "I'm here, aint I chief?", more of a statement than a question, "I could have stayed on that island, lived worry-free for the rest of my life, with that young, beautiful, sweet girl...but I came back...Elena has my children, brody...and I've never stopped loving her...never will...so?...whats the damned point?...I cant live in two places at once. I had to make a decision. I had already married Elena, put in years of memories in with her and I've given her my two kids, who, by the way, need me and depend on me...with Maria, it was all still brand new. Completely 'untouched', so to speak. I had to come back to my kids, if for no other reason...". "Good man", Martin smiled, toasting his friend. "Here, here", Rob agreed, joining in on the toast. But Quint didnt feel like toasting. He couldnt get Maria out of his mind...and she had already infiltrated his heart. He worried about how he was going to act around Elena. He loved his Elena, yes...but now he loved someone else, too. He didnt know how he was going to find a way to live with himself after all of this...two women in his heart would make it heavy and hard to deal with. ********************************************************************************** A few hours later, Martin and Quint pulled up in front of the little cottage on OceanView road. Elena had moved there after Larry Vaughn moved into the mayoral mansion when he took over Quints mayoral duties. Quint just sat there. "I'm nervous", he confided to Martin. "You should be happy!", Martin told him, in a sort of big-brotherly way, "So act like it". That really wasnt all that hard for Quint to do, he already was happy...just nervous. He blew it off...he figured it was just his guilty conscience. Martin got out first, then Quint got out, hesitantly. Martin was the one to knock on the door. He wanted to prepare Elena for the shock. Quint stood to the side, out of view. "Elena, sweety", Martin smiled, "...brace yourself...". "For what??", she asked, wide-eyed and unsure. Thats when Quint stepped to the side to stand in front of her. She fainted. Quint grabbed her before she hit the floor and carried her inside. As he did, Mikey saw him. He ran to him and jumped on him, hugging him tightly, "DADDY!!!", he squealed. This was when Quint realized, in his heart, that he'd made the right decision. ********************************************************************************** Months went by and Maria never left his mind, or his heart. She was there, every minute of the day. He had thought, many times, about telling Elena about her, to get it all out into the open...he never liked keeping secrets from her...but, he kept Maria in his heart, only to himself. He had hurt her...he saw no reason to hurt Elena that way, too. One cold, rainy night, about a week before Christmas, Quint locked himself in the bathroom and wrote a long letter to Maria, pouring out his heart to her, explaining his decision, even including pictures of Mikey and Elizabeth. Then he sealed the envelope, stamped it, then got on his coat and told Elena that he was going to do some Christmas shopping. He took the letter downtown and mailed it, stopping in at the flower shop to send her flowers, but there was no way they could send flowers out that far, so he decided against it. He guessed it really 'wasnt meant to be'. Three weeks later, he recieved a reply letter from her, addressed in care of the police station. Martin had already agreed to it, so that Elena wouldnt find out. He took the letter outside to read it in private. He cried as he read what she had wrote to him... Standing under the porch to be near the light where he could read and stay dry from the rain while doing so, he read how she had finally found the right 'blue-eyed fisherman' and had married him and they were expecting thier first child in the spring. She told him that she still held him in her heart, but that she finally realised that he was right when he told her that they really werent meant for each other. She thanked him for having the foresight to see that and the courage to walk away from her. She also thanked him for his respect in not taking advantage of her in a time of ignorance, leaving her pure and virtuous, just as she had always wanted to be when she finally married. He re-read the letter, just to make sure he would not forget what it said, before he crumbled it and threw it into the storm drain. He watched the rain water carry it down into the depths of the sewer, knowing it would sail out on the waters into the ocean beyond...carrying his love for her, with it. He was glad that she was happy, now...the pain he caused her obviously gone, now, but he felt a sadness...a loss...and then a relief. He walked off of the porch steps, into the cold, wet rain, thankful for it...the raindrops disguised his tears. But he was relieved...he was home, he was mayor again, he got his boat back and he was fishing often (though he didnt sail out too far, anymore and no more drinking while out on the boat). Best of all, he had his family. His kids. But then there was still that part of his heart that would always love Maria, no matter what. He knew it would always be there. He took a deep breath, eyes closed, squeezing out the last of his painful tears, then looked up at the sky...he was taking his emotions and putting them into thier proper place...a place deep inside of him, locked away until if and when he ever wanted to take them out again. He walked down the street, toward home, singing softly: "Fairwell and adieu to you fair Spanish lady... fairwell and adieu to you, lady of Spain... for I'd recieved orders, for to sail back to Boston... and so, nevermore, shall I see you again...". **************THE END*************************