All's Well By MOLLY MACMANAMY

In the spring of 1953 I graduated from Indiana University with a bachelor’s degree in history. There wasn’t much work to be had for a young man with a brand-new degree in history, but that wasn’t a problem because I planned on going to graduate school in the fall. Nevertheless, I wanted to work, and I didn’t care what kind of work I did. It would give me something to do, and I could use a little spending money. The economy was in a slump, however, and work, even low paying factory work, was hard to fine.         In high school I palled around with a guy named Don Mueller who had an uncle that owned a small marina near Michigan City. Harry Mueller, my friend’s uncle, always seemed to have odd jobs—cleaning boats, chipping paint, picking up bottles, candy wrappers, crumpled cigarette packs, and any number of other jobs. Harry had trouble finding good help who would work cheap and stick around for more than a couple weeks, so he put Don and me to work during the summer months when his marina was busy. He knew we’d hang around until school started.         Well, I couldn’t find work in Elkhart, so I went to see Harry. If he was still having trouble finding someone to do his crummy work I could go to Michigan City a couple times a week just to have something to do until school started. Working for Harry was better than working in a factory, and there were always a lot of scantly clad girls hanging around the marina.         Harry was a wiry man about six feet tall. When I was in high school he looked more like thirty-six than the fifty-six he actually was. When I got to the marina I was surprised to see his hair had turned mostly grey and his eyes had taken on a sunken look. He was glad to see me, though, and after I helped him moor a boat, he bought me a Coke. While we sat in the shade in front of his office he explained that his wife had died, and he was suffering from diabetes. He was a good man, a nice man, the kind of man you think would live forever. He wasn’t as spry as I remembered, but he wasn’t depressed either. He seemed reflective, however, as he lit a cigarette and stared absently out over Lake Michigan. “What the hell,” he said and blew out a bluish stream of smoke. “I had a good life. I ain’t got nothing to bitch about.”         He said he had let things go to hell after his wife died. He still worked every day but with Ethel gone he didn’t have the get-up-and-go he once had.         “Hey,” he said and sat up straight. “See that yacht down there in dry dock?”         “The one covered with a canvas tarp?”         “Yeah. Some guy left it here during the war and never came back to get it. Probably got kilt in Europe or the Pacific. I guess it’s mine now, but I can’t sell it like it is, and I’ll never fix it up. You’d be doing me a favor if you hauled the damn thing out of here. Take it home, fix it up, slap a little paint on it, and you can sell it for a couple thousand. That’s more than you can make working around here or some goddamn factory.”         We walked down to the boat and pulled the tarp off the stern. The paint was chipping off in places, but under the paint the wood looked solid. “What about the motor?” I asked.         Harry squinted his eyes. “I don’t know,” he said. “Give me a lift up. I’ll put it in gear and you turn the prop.”         I interlaced my fingers so he could put his foot in my hands, and I give him a lift to the deck. He put it in gear and I turned the prop. “Hey, great,” I said, “the motor’s not frozen.”         But how was I going to get a thirty foot yacht home. I had a ’50 Studebaker with a strong V8, but a boat that size was more than I could handle. Harry lit another cigarette and blew out another blue stream of smoke. “Tell you what, Jeff. You take it off my hands, and I’ll haul it to wherever you wanna take it.”         When mom and dad saw that huge boat docking in their backyard, you’d think it was Pearl Harbor all over again. Mom wanted to know what the neighbors were going to think, and Dad was worried about the yard. I caught Mom and Dad’s attention when I told them I could get four thousand dollars out of it if I did a good job fixing it up.         “Look, Mr. and Mrs. Franklin,” Harry said, taking a stance like I saw him do when he was giving a sales pitch, “that boat’s been an eyesore. It’s been setting in dry dock, chasing customers off for the last eight years. Jeff’s doing me a favor, taking it off my hands. All it needs is a little cosmetic restoration, but I’m getting old and I don’t have the get-up-and-go I had before my wife died. A boat like that will go for as much as five thousand dollars if he does a good job restoring it. That’s more than he can make in a factory.”         “You gonna use the money for tuition?” Dad wanted to know.         “Yeah, of course,” I said.         After a long pause, Dad said, “Okay, but you gotta fix the lawn when you’re through.”         “No problem,” I said and told Dad I needed two hundred dollars for paint remover, paint, sandpaper and whatever else it took. I told him I’d pay him back when I sold the boat. Dad threw up his hands and headed for the house. Mom shook her head in disgust. “The neighbors are going to join together in a class action suit,” she said and then followed Dad inside.         The next morning was Saturday, and I was up before seven. I rummaged through the yacht's cabin until I found the manual and instructions for the boat. The cabin had a lot of mold, but Mom could tell me how to get rid of that. Other than the mold the cabin was in good shape.         The yacht was a 1940 thirty foot Hunter Sedan Cruiser. I found that out as I sat on deck reading the owner’s manual. It was really a neat boat. It had had a dinette, a settee a head and a berth. It had a 115 horsepower Chris Craft KS 6 cylinder engine. I didn’t know Chris Craft made motors, but it was probably the same motor Chris Craft used. Anyway, my first task was to check it out and get it running.         Sudenly, a girl's voice called out from off starboard bow. “Ahoy there, Noah, where do I book passage?” I looked overboard. It was Deanna Stone, my next-door neighbor. She and her family moved in when I was in my first year of college. Her father was an engineer for the New York Central and moved to Elkhart to work on Chicago to New York run. She was in the eighth grade back then. She was a cute kid and friendly. Every time she saw me she smiled and waved, but other than that we never talked. I remember when she was in the ninth grade she was chosen to represent the freshman class in the homecoming ceremonies, and about that time a lot of guys in old jalopies started hanging around. She was a really nice girl. I wished a girl like that had lived there when I was in high school.         “Well?” she said.          “Ahoy, yourself, landlubber. You’re standing in the middle of the Tigris River, you know, so you’d better get on board before the current sweeps you away. That is if you be of a friendly nature.”         “Is that thing seaworthy?”         “Well, lubber,” I said, looking around the yard, “I can’t see what difference that makes.”         “Where’s the gangplank?”         “Starboard,” I said.         Deanna climbed the stepladder I had leaned against the stern. “God, what a mess,” she said, looking around. “How much did you pay for it?”         “Nothing.”         “You got cheated.”         “Maybe not. I haven’t had a chance to give it a good going over, but I haven’t found any rotten wood yet. It’s just dirty and needs a coat of paint.”         She looked around again then pointed to the stairs that lead to the cabin. “What’s down there?”         “That’s the cabin. Want to go down?”         She stared at the dark hole for a couple moments then said, “No. It looks like a place where rats and cockroaches and crawly things live.” She walked around the deck, looking unimpressed at the helm and control panel. “It has ‘Gone Fishing’ painted on it. Is that the boat’s name?”         “Yeah, I guess.”         “You gonna keep that name.”         “I don’t know. I’ll probably paint over it and let the buyer name it.”         “You’re not going to keep it?”         “No. I’m gonna fix it up and sell it. I can get a couple thousand bucks out of it.”

“Why don’t you keep it?” she said and walked over to the helm. “You could have wild parties on it and meet a lot of girls.”         “I need the money. I’m going back to school this fall.”         “Yeah? Where?”         “Indiana.”         “I’m going to Saint Mary’s.” She sat down at the helm and turned the wheel back and forth. “Can I christen your boat when you’re through? I want to hit it with a bottle of Champaign like in the newsreels.”         “Maybe. What do you think I should name it?”         She thought for a moment. “I don’t know. I think it should have a woman’s name.”         “Like what?”         “Deanna?” she said. “I always wanted something named after me.”         “Okay, I’ll name it the ‘Beautiful Deanna.’”         She frowned to let me know she didn’t like me getting familiar. She looked around again. “No, on second thought I think I’ll christen it 'The Ill-fated Jeffery Franklin.’ That’s more appropriate.”         “Aye, and we’ll hoist the Jolly Roger and go a pirating, we will,” I said with a bad pirate accent.         Deanna giggled then looked down into the cabin again. “I gotta get going. I gotta meet a friend.” She took another look around and started down the ladder. Half way to her house she turned. “Nice meeting you, Jeff,” she said, walking backward a couple steps.         “You too, Deanna.”         If ever there was a fabulous girl, it was she. I wished it was college she was graduating from and not high school.         I had to go to the marina in Michigan City to buy parts for the motor. I got plugs, points, spark wires, a distributor cap, air filter, a case of motor oil, and a new battery. After I installed all the new parts and changed the oil I spent an hour trying to get it started. I ran down the new battery and had to attach jumper cable to my car battery and crank for another half hour before I got the points set and the timing right. At half past eight that night the motor spit and sputtered and finally fired up. After warming up it purred like a kitten.         I spent the next week chipping paint off the port side of the hull. It took seven gallons of paint remover and a large bottle of aspirins. Twelve and fourteen hours a day of scrapping paint can create a whole lot of pain in your back and arms. But it was worth it. The boat had spent most of its life in dry dock and the cedar planking on the hull had no rot. After inspecting the boat more carefully I saw that the damage was only skin deep.         Deanna didn’t come around again. She was busy with graduation, the prom, parties, and making plans with friends. At least that’s how it was when I graduated. She did, however, make her presence known by all the laughing and yelling at all hours of the night.         Then late one afternoon while I was stripping paint off the starboard hull she was standing beside me. “Hi, sailor,” she said, “whatcha doing?”         She was wearing short shorts and what looked like a man’s white shirt, unbuttoned down the front and tied in a knot under her breast. I felt uncomfortable and she knew it. She smiled and said, “Aren’t you gonna say hi?”         “Yeah—hi,” I said. “You surprised me.”         “Looks like you’ve been busy.”         “Yeah, I have. I’m taking my time. This boat’s in a lot better shape than I thought.”         “Don’t look like it.”         “Well, it is. When I get it cleaned up and painted, it’s gonna look like it was just launched.”         “Huh,” she grunted. “Good luck.”         “What you been doing the last week or so?” I asked.         “Oh, nothing much, just goofing off.”         “Yeah, right. I hear you coming home every night, raising enough hell to wake the dead.         “I don’t raise hell.”         “Yeah, and God don’t make pretty little girls either.”         “You think I’m pretty?” she asked coyly.         “Pretty is an understatement, but, yeah, you’re pretty.”         “Yeah?” she said still acting coy. “Well, you’re handsome.” She smiled, but her smile and eyes weren’t sparkly like they were the last time we talked. Some of the spontaneity that made her such a delight was gone too.         She walked around to the other side of the boat. I scraped loosened paint off and waited for her to come back. When she did she leaned against the part of the hull that hadn’t been stripped. “What color you going to paint it?” she asked.         “I don’t know.” I dipped my brush into the paint remover. “What’s your favorite color?”         “Pink.”         “I think I’ll paint it white,” I said and started brushing the paint remover on with broad strokes.         “I’m tired of going to parties,” Deanna said, not looking at me but out over the yard. “I’d like to stay home tonight and relax, but if I do Mom’s gonna want me to clean the house or do dishes or some stupid thing.”         “Come over and help me scrape paint. It’s really fun, and all it’s gonna cost you is an apple.”         “No thank you, Mr. Tom Sawyer. What I’d like to do is go to a movie, but I don’t have anyone to go with.”         I laid my brush on the table I had made from a couple saw horses and a plywood board and grabbed a rag to clean my hands. Deanna just graduated from high school. That made her eighteen—maybe nineteen, only three or four years younger than me. She was young, but then there weren’t many girls like her around. I watched her for a moment as she dug a stone loose from the ground with her toe.         “How about I take you,” I said.         She looked up. “You want to?”         “Yeah, I’ve been working my butt off out here. I need to relax a little.”         “Okay,” she said and pushed herself away from the boat. Without further talk she headed off toward her house. “I’ll be ready at eight,” she called back.         That was quick. I felt like I had just been conned into buying something I didn’t want. But I wanted to go out with her. I would have asked her out before if she wasn’t so young. What the hell. Like I said, there weren’t many girls like her around, and she was at least eighteen.         While I was getting ready to go out I thought about how she didn’t have that spark she had the first time we talked. She didn’t keep her eyes on me like before, and her brow was furrowed at times. I told myself if I had been partying as hard as she had the last week or so, I’d be tired too. ,         When I picked her up, Deanna was dressed simply, nothing special, but she would look good if she cut holes in a potato sack and wore it. I told her she looked really nice. I wanted to say more, but I wasn’t sure my tongue would say what my brain wanted it to. I hadn’t felt that way in a while.         She smiled and said, “Thank you.”         When we walked down the porch steps she took my arm to steady herself. Not that she needed assistance; she could have jumped off the porch and hit the sidewalk running. Be that as it may, I liked the way she held on to me.         “What movie do you want to go to?” I asked once we were in the car.         She lifted herself off the seat and smoothed her skirt out beneath her. “I don’t know. How about the Starlite?” she said as she sat down.         I didn’t expect that. Most girls don’t want to go to a drive-in on the first date. When I asked her what was playing she said she didn’t know; she just liked to go to drive-ins. That was alright with me.         Moulin Rouge with Jose Ferrer and Zsa Zsa Gabor was playing. “Oh, nuts,” Deanna said, putting on a pouty face, “I really like the Theme from Moulin Rouge, but that cancan music’s too loud. I was hoping they’d have something soft and romantic.”         “Well, we can turn the sound off and turn on the radio,” I said.         “Okay,” she said and turned off the sound for the movie. She turned the radio on and turned the dial until she found Patti Page singing Tennessee Waltz.         I started to wonder what was going on. I hardly knew Deanna, but from what little I did know I assumed she was the conservative type. But she wasn’t coming on like the conservative type. She was very obvious about wanting me to ask her out. She wanted to go to a drive-in and now she wanted romantic music. Ever since I talked to her on the boat that first day I kind of hoped something would come of it. I had misgivings about her being so young, but she was so attractive I knew if given the opportunity I would try to get something going. I thought I would have to go slow, so I wouldn’t scare her away. Now she was coming on like gangbusters.         I got us a couple Cokes at the refreshment stand and then sat on the passenger’s side of the car. The movie played on, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. She looked at me, held her stare for a moment then smiled and looked away. After she finished her Coke and dropped the empty cup in the backseat she scooted over to me. When I lowered my head, she raised hers. My lips hardly touched hers before her tongue was in my mouth. We held the kiss for a long time, and when I started to pull away she put her hand on the back of my neck. The state of puzzlement that began when she said she wanted to go to the drive-in grew. I wanted to know what would happen if I put my hand on her breast, so when we finally separated I did. She didn’t push me away as I expected she would; she instead cuddled up against me and laid her head on my shoulder. She let me touch her breast and legs, but when I tried to go further she held my hand and said, “Not here.”         “Where?” I asked.         “I don’t know,” she said. “We’ll worry about that later.”         I wanted Deanna really bad, and at the same time I was disappointed that she let me touch her wherever I wanted. When she said she would go out with me, thoughts began clustering in the fogy alcoves of my mind that she might be the girl, my girl, but the way she was acting, she was anyone’s girl.         Once when the light from the movie screen was bright I noticed Deanna’s face looked angry. I asked her if anything was wrong. She said, no, but something was. She let me touch her anywhere as long as I didn’t try to take her clothes off, and yet she showed no signs of arousal. Could a woman be frigid and promiscuous at the same time? Anything’s possible, I guess. I was completely wrong about a girl I met in my second year of college. She was a sexy, outgoing girl who I thought was going to be easy. When I got her alone she kissed like there was no tomorrow, but when I touched her she pushed me away. It turned out that she was very religious and was saving everything for her husband—whoever that turned out to be. Deanna was the opposite. She was the nice girl next door who I thought would never let me touch her, but after one kiss she let me have my way with her.         On the way home she sat very close to me, but neither of us talked. I parked my car behind my boat in my backyard so we couldn’t be seen from Deanna’s house. We started necking again. This time she didn’t stop me. She let me do anything I wanted and made no move to stop me when I started taking off her clothes. Every move I made I thought would be the last. Any moment she was going to say, “I’d better go in now,” and put her clothes back on. To tell the truth, part of me wanted her to.         Up until we parked she had been confident. She knew how to tease a guy and raise his hopes, but now as I removed her clothes she didn’t know what to do. When I told her to lay down she tensed up and didn’t know which way to lay. I had to take her by the shoulders and lay her down. She was incredibly beautiful, lying there with only the dusky light of the moon and stars, illuminating her body. When I told her she was the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen she looked at me like she didn’t understand. She breathed quickly and spasmodically and she trembled, but unless I miss my guess it was from fear, not passion.         It was all too easy. She could dangle a man for months, even years, and he would cling to the precariously thin thread of hope she offered. I, however, had been with her for four hours and she was mine for the taking. She didn’t seem a bit happy with what was happening. She seemed petrified—like a condemned woman made to dig her own grave. Looking back, I should have known there was something wrong and stopped, but my analytical thought processes were utterly destroyed by my all-consuming want of her.         I had never been with a virgin as far as I knew, but she was so inhibited and so unresponsive I had no doubt she was one. One thing for sure, she was the klutziest girl I had ever been with. But I didn’t care. I wanted her more than I had ever wanted anything; all else was academic.         When I rolled off of her, she sat up and reached for her clothes. “Hey, don’t get dressed,” I said. “It’s still early.”         “I have to go in,” she said as she put one foot and then the other through the waist band of her skirt. She zipped up her skirt and grabbed her blouse. She buttoned her blouse while I sat there, wondering what was going on. She stuffed her under things in her purse, and by the time I had the presence of mind to get dressed she had her shoes on and was opening the door. She didn’t say goodbye or anything; she just ran for her house.         There were times in my life that left me wondering what had happened, but as I watched Deanna run off I was completely and utterly baffled. She came on like a cat in heat, and after letting me screw her she ran off like an alley cat into the night         If she was a virgin—and she sure as hell acted like it once I started taking her clothes off—that might account for her running off like that. But it sure as hell didn’t account for how a girl could remain a virgin until she was eighteen, and then go out with a guy she hardly knew and let him screw her on the first date. She was settling a score, getting even with some guy, and she used me to do it. I didn’t know whether to consider myself a chump or the luckiest cat in the alley.         I didn’t get much sleep that night, and I wasn’t going to get much sleep until the conundrum of Deanna was puzzled out. I ate a big breakfast the next morning and drank a pot of coffee, and for the first time since I got my boat I dragged myself reluctantly to the backyard. Until now, the visions of a newly restored boat kept my interest high. Now my only thought was what the hell was going on with Deanna. I had to force myself to think about anything else.         I scraped paint until eleven o’clock and then went in to called Deanna. Her mother told me to wait a minute. A minute later her mother came back and said Deanna wasn’t feeling well. She hung up before I could ask what was wrong.         I worked on the boat all day, and I was so exhausted that night I went to bed early and slept until seven thirty the next morning. By eight thirty I was in the backyard looking over my boat. I was tired of scraping paint, so I took the rudder off and checked the seals that housed the shaft that led inside the boat. They didn’t look good, so I decided to remove them and replace them with new ones. I slapped some paint remover on the rudder, and while I was setting it on the table to let the paint remover soak in Mrs. Stone came out the backdoor, down the steps and headed for the garage. I wave to her and said good morning. She waved and returned my greeting. Good. With her gone I could talk to Deanna.         But that wasn’t to be. When Deanna came to the door she said she didn’t want to talk to me. I asked her why, but she said it didn’t matter. She said she didn’t want to see me again and shut the door. I was curious as hell to know what was going on in that mixed up head of hers. One thing I knew for sure: the guy she got even with was, beyond a shadow of a doubt, the dumbest son of a bitch that ever cheated on a woman.         I didn’t know Deanna very well—not at all for that matter—but I wanted to see her again. Well, tough shit, buddy, it ain’t gonna happen. But then what the hell; we both got what we wanted. She got even with some guy, if that was in fact what she wanted, and I got a night I’d never forget. Besides, she was too young. I decided to go to Michigan City to get a new seal for the rudder and buy a new gas gauge.         After I bought the parts I needed I went to see Harry Mueller. He was sitting in the shade in front of his office. We shook hands and exchanged niceties, and then I pointed to the water front. “What happened to all the boats?” I asked.         “I’ve been having a little trouble keeping up—or maybe I don’t want to keep up anymore. One way or the other, I told my customers I’m retiring.” He took a pack of cigarettes from his shirt pocket and shook one loose. “I don’t need the money, and I’m tired of busting my ass every day, so from now on I’m gonna spend the summers up here doing whatever I damn well want and the winters fishing in Florida.”         “What the hell, Harry,” I said, “that’s what you’ve been doing all your life.”         Harry lit his cigarette and blew smoke from his nose and mouth. “Yeah, but from now on no more work, just fishing and sailing.”         I had only planned to stay long enough to say hi, but he told one story after another about his struggles reeling in marlin, swordfish, sailfish, tarpon, shark, and a bunch of fish I never heard of. I wasn’t sure, but I think Harry’s storytelling abilities exceeded his abilities to fish. I had a hunch that when it came to a choice between accuracy and drama, drama, without exception, won out. And a good choice it was; he held my interest all afternoon.         I worked long hours over the next several weeks. After I painted the hull I started on the pilot house. I hadn't planned on touching the top part of the boat, but my compulsive nature got the upper-hand, and I started stripping off the varnish. After I got that done I would do the deck and the cockpit’s interior. What I thought was going to take two months was going to take longer, and I had no idea how long it would take to sell it.         I tried to dismiss Deanna as a bad experience. She was young and inexperienced and wasn’t worth my time. Nevertheless, every time I heard a noise coming from the direction of her house my head spun around like a knee jerk reaction. But she never came out to the backyard. She used the front door all the time, and I couldn’t see the front of her house from where I worked.         Around eight in the evening on the Fourth of July I was sitting in the living room reading a book on boat restoration when the front doorbell rang. “I’ll get it,” Mom said, and I continued reading. “Oh, what a pleasant surprise,” she said when she opened the door.         I looked up. It was a surprise alright. It was Deanna with her parents. I gathered that she was not happy—nor were her parents. I nearly said hi to her but felt my greeting wouldn’t be returned, so I didn’t. The proper thing to do was to stand up and shake hands with Mr. and Mrs. Stone, but judging from their demeanor it was not a neighborly call. I thought I’d better remain quiet until I learned the nature of their visit. I marked my place in the book and set it on the end table.         “Do come in,” Mom said and extended her hand toward the living room. Dad stood up when they entered. I remained seated and kept my eyes on Deanna. She pretended I wasn’t there. “My goodness,” Mom said, “we’ve been neighbors for years and we’ve never gotten together. Is this a friendly visit or is there something specific on your mind? It isn’t that unsightly boat of Jeff’s is it?”         Mr. and Mrs. Stone kept glaring at me. Deanna’s eyes darted around the room, looking at everything but me. “Please sit down,” Mom said. “I made a cake for the holiday. I could make some coffee.”         “No, thank you,” Mrs. Stone said as she and her husband and daughter sat on the couch. Mrs. Stone sat on the edge of the seat with her hands in her lap. She sat so rigidly it looked as though she might break if she moved. Mr. Stone’s back was pressed against the back of the couch; his right hand gripped the arm of the couch like he was gripping a football. The muscles in his face were so pronounced you might think he was a caricature of his real self. Deanna sat between them. Even her clamped jaw couldn’t distort the soft lines of her face.         “This is not a friendly visit,” Mrs. Stone continued. “We have something very troubling to discuss.”         Dad laid his paper on the end table and sat back in his chair. As Mom sat down she said, “What on earth can that be?”         Mrs. Stone glanced at me and then away. “Your son got Deanna pregnant.”         My mouth went dry, and as every muscle in my body tightened, an icy-hot chill swept over me. I looked at Deanna. She glanced at me and then back at my mom or something on that side of the room.         “Are you sure?” my mother said after she had recovered enough to talk.         “Yes, I am,” Mrs. Stone said. Her voice had become insidiously high and brittle as she launched an escalating assault. “Your son’s much older than Deanna. She’s a very attractive girl, and your son couldn’t wait to take advantage of her. We’ve raised Deanna to be a good Christian girl, but your son no sooner graduated from college when he came home and lured Deanna into his den of iniquity. We were going to send her to Saint Mary’s College where we could look over her, but now she must shrink from the stare of others and hide her face in shame. All she has to look forward to is a life of disrepute. Your son has disgraced her and forced her into a life of shame and despair. She will never again hold her head high and walk in the midst of others with honor and pride.”         Deanna grimaced and started to say something, but she held her tongue and continued to stare across the room.         “Jeff, did you take advantage of Deanna?” Mom asked. “Did you force her in any way?”         Before I could answer Deanna blurted out, “No he didn’t. It wasn’t like that.”         Mom glanced at Deanna and back at me. “Jeff, did you get Deanna pregnant?”         “I don’t know,” I said. “I haven’t talked to her. This is the first I’ve heard anything about it.”         Mrs. Stone’s posture stiffened even more. “I will not let that boy talk to my daughter,” she said and turned to me. “You are not to go near Deanna nor talk to her, do you hear.”         Dad chuckled ironically. “Even the Court of Inquisition allowed the accused to speak if only to plead guilty. Jeff has a right to speak to his accuser.”         Mr. Stone glanced at my father, in agreement or contempt I don’t know.         “I will not let that boy speak to my daughter,” Mrs. Stone repeated.         It was absurd for the Stones to come over here, tell me I got Deanna pregnant and then refuse to let me talk to her. For Christ sake, I had to talk to her. I had to find out for sure if I was the one that got her pregnant and to find out why she acted as she did that night. She was up tight as hell. Maybe talking would give her some comfort. Ha! I was the last place comfort would come from as far as she was concerned. Unless you allow murder as comfort. But Mrs. Stone’s absurdity had gone beyond my range of tolerance. I stood up and grabbed my book then headed toward the stairway.         “Just where do you think you’re going, young man?” Mrs. Stone demanded.         “Mom, I’m going to my room. Get me up at seven,” I said and started up the stairs. I turned around half way up. “Deanna, if you want to talk to me, give me a call.” She stared straight ahead like she didn’t hear.         “Well,” Mrs. Stone said. “Of all the irresponsible—”         “Look, Mrs. Stone,” Dad said. “No further discussion will take place until the kids have had a chance to talk.”         “You look here, Mr. Franklin,” Mrs. Stone said, her voice getting higher and more brittle. “I don’t want your son anywhere near my daughter.”         I stopped outside my bedroom and listened as my father said, “We’ll let them decide that.” I went into my room and shut the door. After that, all I could hear is muffled voices until the front door shut with enough percussion to rattle my window.         In the ninth grade a bully had picked on one of the smaller boys in class. I hated that so much I caught the bully after school and kicked his ass. I felt about myself like I felt about that bully. Deanna had seduced me, yes, but I couldn’t escape the feeling that I had taken advantage of someone who wasn’t thinking straight. That wasn’t entirely rational, but that’s how I felt. I hardly knew Deanna, but I had an unshakable feeling she was a very nice person. Maybe I was deceived by her looks. I didn’t know. She had done something stupid, and I let her use me to do it. Now I felt as stupid as she and guilty for letting her do it.         Dad opened my door when he came upstairs. “You’re in deep shit, buddy,” he said and closed the door after only a second's hestation. I didn’t sleep that night, and I knew I wouldn’t sleep the next day. I wouldn’t sleep until I was so exhausted I passed out. That wasn’t much of an exaggeration.         I wanted to do something about Deanna but what? She hated me, and I hated myself even though it was she who seduced me. But no matter who seduced who, she was pregnant, and her plans and dreams of going to college were crushed. And what about me. Was I going to leave her holding the bag? I had never been in a predicament like that, and I didn’t know what I was going to do, but I did know I couldn’t walk away and do nothing. Damn!         Stripping varnish off the pilot housing wouldn't take my mind off Deanna for a second, but it was better than sitting around, ruminating about a problem that had no solution. I went out to the boat and slapped some paint remover on the pilot house and started scrapping.         I heard a noise and spun around. To my surprise Deanna was coming down the steps of her back porch. I watched her walk slowly but deliberately over to me and sit in a chair near my worktable. She looked at me but said nothing. I climbed down from the deck of the boat, and once on the ground I threw my scrapper on the table and said, “Hi.”         She nodded her head in acknowledgement. I asked her if she wanted some coffee and she shook her head no. I poured myself a cup from a thermos and sat in a chair near hers. I cleared my throat as a perfunctory gesture and said, “Well, I said I wanted to talk to you; you didn’t say you wanted to talk to me.” I put the cup to my lips, but it was too hot. I set it on the table.         “Why didn’t you use a condom?” Deanna asked, not looking at me but out past the boat.         I stood up and stuffed my hands in my back pockets. I walked back and forth a couple times, trying to think of an answer to a question I hadn’t expected her to ask. “Well, I didn’t think anything would happen. I never thought in a million years you’d let me do that on our first date. You got me so damned horny I wasn’t thinking about you getting pregnant. At a time like that a guy doesn’t think.”         She looked at me for a moment then looked out past the boat again.         “You’re so goddamn sexy I couldn’t think of anything else, and at a time like that a guy doesn’t stop and drive all over town looking for a place to buy rubbers.” I sat down again and took a sip of my coffee. ”You were getting even with some guy that night weren’t you? Some guy cheated on you, and you wanted to even the score.” I kept my eyes on her when I said, “You were a virgin.”         She grimaced and stirred slightly.          “You did something stupid, and used me to do it.”         She narrowed her eyes into a frown and glared up at me. Then she sat back in her chair and folded her arms under her breasts.         “Maybe I should have drove all over town looking for a rubber,” I said, “but if my car caught on fire that night it would’ve had to wait.”         She looked at me wonderingly, and then her expression changed and she said, “Don’t you blame this all on me.”         “I’m not,” I said. “I’ll take half the blame and half the responsibility. I just want you to know how it was with me.”         After a long silence she said, “What good does all this talk do now?”         I shook my head. “I don’t know. I just think it will help if we know why we did what we did.”         After another long silence she asked if she could have a cup of coffee. I washed a cup out with the garden hose and filled it with coffee. “Thanks,” she said and tested it with her lips. “I thought you were going to deny you got me pregnant. I can’t prove it. It’s my word against yours.”         “The only way it couldn’t be mine is if you went out with some other guy after we did it, and I don’t think you did.”         “I didn’t.” She looked down at the coffee in her hands. “You probably think I’m the school slut the way I acted.”          “I would have if you weren’t a virgin. That surprised the hell out of me.”         She frowned and sighed heavily. “I don’t know what made me do that. I found out my boyfriend was messing around, and I tried to get even by letting you do it.” She shook her head. “Doing something like that wouldn’t have done any good unless I told him what I did, and I couldn’t do that without everyone in school finding out.” She looked out into the open space beyond my boat and then stared at her house for a while before she lowered her eyes to the coffee in her hands again. “It’s one thing to mess my own life up, but it’s another to mess up yours.”         “Look, Deanna, I’m not the smartest wolf in the pack, but I know how babies get born. If I didn’t have a rubber I should have pulled it out—or not put it in. I’m not saying what you did wasn’t stupid, it was, but what I did didn’t require a hell of a lot of intelligence.”         Deanna looked up at me accusingly. “Why do you have to be so nice? It would be a lot easier if you lied about it so I could take everything out on you.”         “Well, I’m bastard enough, so if you want to unload go ahead.”         “That’s exactly what I mean. I always thought when a guy got a girl in trouble they denied they even knew her.”         “Well, what the hell am I supposed to do. If I don’t take responsibility for my part, my parents will kick me out of the house.”         “Is that why you’re not running off?”         “No. They’d raise all kinds of hell, but that’s not it. Look, Deanna, if I hit a man with my car I’d have to stop and do everything I could to help him. I couldn’t let him lie in the street and die. It’s the same with you. How can I just run off like nothing happened?”         She looked at me curiously. “So what are you going to do?”         I shrugged my shoulders. “I don’t know. We don’t even know each other.” I watched her face closely and asked, “What are you going to do.”         “I don’t know,” she said with irritation in her voice. Then, “Yes, I do. I’m gonna have a baby.”         She sat quietly for a long time then got up and started walking toward her house. She took a couple steps and turned. “I’ll be back,” she said.         “When?” I asked         She turned toward her house again and called back, “I don’t know. When I’ve had a chance to think.”         Since high school I had planned to get a bachelor’s in history and a master’s in political science. After completing my studies I wanted to go to Washington, D. C. to work as an intern to a senator or a representative, and from that modest beginning I planned on becoming congressman myself. Getting a girl pregnant wasn't a part of the plan. I could walk out on Deanna, and my parents would forget it in a decade or two, but I didn’t know if I could. The unmitigated truth was: I liked Deanna.         The next morning I had just started working on the deck of my boat when Deanna called out from below, “Good morning, Captain. Permission to come aboard?”         Surprised not only by her presence but also her high spirits, I look down and said, “Aye, permission to come aboard.”         She hurried up the gangway. “Your boat’s starting to look good,” she said as she looked the boat over from stem to stern. “It looked like a piece of junk when you got it.”         “Yeah, I’m gonna hate to sell it,” I said. I stood up and wiped my hands on an old towel. “You seem to be feeling chipper today. Any particular reason?”         “I don’t know. Yeah, maybe. Mom’s hasn’t been on my case the last two days. Sometimes things get so bad that even a little thing like that can cheer you up.” She looked around again. “Can I help?”         “You want to?”         “Well, if I didn’t I wouldn’t ask.”         “Okay, swabby. I started cleaning up the cabin. I scrubbed the surface dirt off, but it needs a woman’s touch. Go down and take a look.”         “Aye, aye, sir,” she said and started down the hatchway to the cabin. “Hey, there’s a little house down here,” she yelled back. Her head appeared out of the cabin door. “I thought the motor was down here.”         “No, it’s over there,” I said, pointing to the stern. “This is a yacht. All yachts have living quarters. That’s what makes them a yacht.”         “Well, ain’t we the high and mighty,” she said and disappeared into the cabin again. Two minutes later she emerged. “There’s mildew and mold all over everything,” she said. “I’m going home and get some bleach. That stuff’ll come right off. Get out of my way.”         She rushed past me, down the ladder and ran home. She came back five minutes later with a bucket, rags and a bottle of bleach. She descended into the cabin and yelled back that she needed a light. I had to run an electrical cord from the garage to the boat. My next project was going to be getting the boat’s generator running.         I finished stripping the varnish off and stained the naked wood before the day was over. The next day Deanna was over bright and early and eager to get the “little house” cleaned up. I asked her if she wanted a cup of coffee before she got started and she said she did. We sat and drank coffee and talked. She wanted to know all about boats, but I couldn’t tell her much. I had worked at the marina two summers but you don’t learn much, picking up beer cans and Coke bottles. When I exhausted my knowledge of boats she wanted to know about college life. I started telling her how it felt in my freshman year to be on my own. After a couple minutes she looked like she was going to cry and said she’d better get to work. I thought I said something wrong, but then I realized she couldn’t go to college now. I was having a really good time talking to her up until then.         I put a coat of varnish on the pilot house, which didn’t take long, then took a look at the generator. Best thing was to hoist it up on deck where I could tear it apart and clean it. I unloosened the bolts that held it down and Deanna helped me pull it up.         “You ever do this before?” she asked.         “No,” I said, “but it can’t be too hard.”         “Well, if you can do it, so can I,” she said and then said, “As soon as I get the sink cleaned I’ll come up and help.”         When we weren’t talking about fixing the generator Deanna wanted to know if I’d been out with many girls. I told her some but not many. I told her I was a serious student without a whole lot of money, so I spent most of my spare time playing euchre.         “You can play euchre with girls,” she said. “I play euchre, but I like pinochle better.”         The next day she brought over a deck of cards and we sat cross-legged on the deck and played euchre. She played to win, and I had to play hard to keep up. After she saw she could beat me half of the time she wanted to play for half a dollar a game. By eleven o’clock she was into me for three dollars and fifty cents. I think I got hustled.         The next day she didn’t come over until mid-afternoon. When she did come her face was distorted with anger, and I could tell she had been crying. She had been happy the last couple of days, and now she looked like she was going to explode. I put my hand on her shoulder, but she jerked it away. “What’s wrong?” I asked.         She glared at me and sniffed. “My mother wants me to get an abortion.”         “What? That’s illegal. She doesn’t want you to go to some back room quack does she? You could die.”         “She wants me to go to Sweden. That’s why she hasn’t said much the last couple days. She’s checking out doctors over there and making travel plans.” She glared at me hard. I thought she was going to tear into me, but she said, “She doesn’t care about me. All she cares about is what people are gonna say about her. All my life I’ve had to be the perfect little girl. ‘Oh, how pretty, and she’s a straight “A” student. My, you’re so lucky to have such a beautiful child—and so bright. Isn’t there anything she can’t do?’ I’m so sick of it I could puke. Every time I do something I have to stop and think if I’m doing it good enough to satisfy my mother. Not this time, goddamn it. I’m not going to get an abortion. I don’t want to have a baby, but I’m not going to kill it. I’ll go tell father Meissner. I’ll tell everybody.”         She started cryng conpulsively. I led her to a chair and pulled another chair close. I sat quietly with her until the spasms subsided then asked her what she was going to do.         “I don’t know what I’m going to do. I make one stupid mistake, and now my whole life is ruined. I wanted to go to college so bad, and now I can’t. I can’t do anything.”         She started sobbing again. I didn’t know how to handle a girl crying. I thought the best thing to do was to let her cry and get it all out.         “I don’t want to be an unwed mother,” she said between sobs. “No one is going to marry someone like me, and the baby won’t have a father.” she buried her face in her hands and shook her head. “I don’t want to have an abortion, and my mom won’t let me keep it. If I kept it I don’t know what I’d do with it.”         Her crying got to me, and without thinking I said, “We could get married.”         She looked at me. “What? We don’t even know each other.”         “We don’t have to stay married. After the baby’s born we can get a divorce. If we’re married your mother can’t make you do anything. I’ll have as much to say about the baby as you, and she can’t say a damn thing.”         Deanna looked at me and shook her head negatively. “I don’t know you.”         “Well, I can’t sit here and do nothing. You’re the one having the baby, and you’re the one who’s going through all the hell. I can’t watch you struggling with this thing while I go on with my life like nothing happened. I don’t want to get married, but it’s better than going through life, hating myself for getting you pregnant and running out. I gotta do something.”         “Oh shit,” she said and buried her face in her hands again. “Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit.”         All I could do is stand by and let her make the decisions. It’s ironic how something so good could turn out so rotten. That night with Deanna was one of the best nights of my life, if not the best. That is I thought it was until I found out she was pregnant. Now her life was in shambles. She wasn’t going to college, and my plans for going back to school were in jeopardy.         The next morning she wasn’t crying, but her face looked like it was about to crack. She stopped a few feet from me and watched me spray the side of the boat with a garden hose. She looked so gloomy I had to do something. I turned the hose on her.         “Don’t” she shouted and jumped back.         I sprayed her again.         “You asked for it, buddy,” she said and ran to her house and got the hose that was curled up by the outdoor faucet. She turned the water on and launched a frontal attack. I ran back and forth like I was shooting from the saddle, and she stood her ground and let me have it good. In five minutes we were both soaked to the skin. But she was laughing.         We put away our weapons and stood by the boat. “Look at me,” she said. “I’m drenched.”         “Yeah, look at you. You look like you’ve been in a water-hose fight.”         “I can see why you didn’t go out with many girls when you were in college. Any girl with an ounce of sense steered clear of you.”         “I have my problems,” I said, “but I have my moments too.”         “I’d like to see one,” she said and sat down.         I poured us a cup of coffee. When I sat down she started talking about politics. She was a Democrat. I told her I didn’t judge people solely on their political affiliations. Same with religion. I was Lutheran, I said, but some Catholics aren’t so bad once you get to know them. She said she was Catholic. I stuck to the high ground and said some people are nice no matter what they are. She said I’d better think twice about becoming a politician. I said I knew she was Catholic. Elementary. She was planning on go to Saint Mary’s.         I got the generator running and asked Deanna if she needed any help in the cabin. She said I’d better take a look at the stove and refrigerator. The stove was simple enough. It was made of stainless steel, so it was easy to clean. All I had to do was get some propane gas and light it. But I didn’t know anything about refrigerators. I’d have to take it to Michigan City to get it running. Deanna said she wanted to go with me.         Deanna went home and changed clothes while I put the refrigerator in the trunk of my car. It was too big, and I had to tie the trunk hatch down with rope. I went in the house and got cleaned up and dressed before Deanna did and had to wait. It was worth it. She really looked good when she finally came out, and I told her so.         In Michigan City I found a shop that specialized in boat repair. They said they could have the refrigerator working in a week. From the repair shop we went to visit Harry, but the marina was closed. I asked Deanna if she was hungry, and she said she was, so we went to a mom and pop restaurant next to the marina called “That Polish Place” that specialized in Polish cooking. That restaurant was not gourmet by any stretch of the imagination, but they had dishes that put gourmet to shame. I ordered the noodles and told Deanna she should do the same. She loved them and wondered how such a rundown-looking restaurant could have such good food. I told her Mr. Kaczmarek says, “People want good food. If I give them good food they’ll be back. If the food’s no good, fancy tables and chairs ain’t gonna do no good.”         We got coconut cream pie for dessert. Deanna cut the tip of the pie with her fork and stopped. She stared at it for the longest time. Finally, I asked her if something was wrong. She took a deep breath then said, “Did you mean it when you said we could get married until I have the baby?”         I felt like I did that night when I was ten years old and was stealing watermelon out of old man MacPherson’s patch. I had never stole watermelons before and the patch was close to his back porch. I was sure he was going to come out any second and catch us. That’s how I felt: like I had gotten myself in over my head.         The blood must have drained from my face because Deanna dropped her fork and put her napkin on the table like she was getting ready to leave. “Yeah,” I said. “We gotta do something. I don’t want you getting an abortion, and I don’t want you going through life branded as something you’re not. I feel like hell, doing this to you, so if you think it’s better getting married and divorced than being stigmatized as an unwed mother then we’ll get married.” It was like pleading guilty to a crime I didn’t mean to commit.         Deanna picked up her fork and twisted it in her hand. “We’ll get divorced right after the baby’s born, and I promise I won’t ask you for anything.” Her fingers were shaking, but she kept twisting the fork. After a moment she said, “My mom keeps telling me what she wants. She has never once in my whole life asked me how I feel. She wants me to get an abortion, so I can go on being her perfect little girl. Well, I’m not perfect, and I’m not getting an abortion. After the baby’s born we can get a divorce, and you can go your way, and I can go mine.”         I put my hand beside hers. My fingers were shaking too. “You scared?” I asked.         “Who wouldn’t be? I’ve wrecked my whole life and for what? A few minutes in the backseat of a car, and I didn’t even like it.” Her eyes shot up and locked onto mine. “I’m sorry, Jeff. I didn’t mean that the way it sounded. I’ve never met a nicer guy then you. It’s just that I was so messed up that night I didn’t know what I was doing.” She looked back down and started twisting her fork again. “The only thing I could think about was hurting him like he hurt me. God was I stupid. I don’t even like him now.” Her eyes met mine again. “I wish I could have gone out with you when I didn’t have anything bothering me.”         “Well, for what it’s worth, Deanna, I wouldn’t trade that night with you for all anything.”         “Stop lying,” she said and pulled her hand away from mine.         “I’m not lying. I really liked being with you.”         “Look—”         “Let’s leave it at that,” I said. I pushed my pie away. I was too nervous to eat. Deanna did the same.         We went to the courthouse in Michigan City to get a marriage license. If we got married in Michigan City the notice wouldn’t be printed in the Elkhart or South Bend papers. We planned on getting married when we came back for the refrigerator. All the way home I felt like Mr. MacPherson had caught me in his watermelon patch, and I was awaiting a life sentence. Deanna looked as lost as I felt.         She was jittery the next five days, but she came over early every day and got there before I did sometimes. Her mother got more frantic everyday. It got so bad that Deanna’s father fled to the basement to get away from her. Then he began leaving the house when her mother started going down there to harangue him. Her mother was always telling Deanna that as long as she lived in her house she had to do what she was told. But she couldn’t tell Deanna not to get pregnant, now that she already was, and that drove her mother nuts. It drove Deanna nuts too.         Four days after we dropped the refrigerator off at the repair shop Deanna wanted me to call to see if it was done. I did, and they said it would be ready the next day. We made plans to leave for Michigan City at seven o’clock. I didn’t know what to wear, so I got ready except for putting on my clothes and waited until Deanna went out to the boat. When she did she was wearing a nice dress, so I put on a pair of slacks, a white shirt and my dress shoes. I felt like I was dressing up to go to a funeral.         Deanna didn’t look anymore happy about the situation than I was, but she said good morning and got into the car when I opened the door for her. She sat there staring bravely ahead. The drive to Michigan City felt like a fast moving funeral procession. When we got there I asked her if she wanted to get married first or get the refrigerator. She said she wanted to get married before she lost her nerve. We waited for the judge for forty minutes. It was like waiting for the jury to come in. After we were married the judge said I could kiss the bride. That was the only good thing that happened in the courthouse. When I kissed her she put her hand on the back of my head and didn’t let me pull away for five or six seconds. I didn’t know what to make of that, but I liked it.         After we got the refrigerator we want to the marina, but Harry wasn’t there again, so we went to “That Polish Place” for lunch. Deanna said she wanted the noodles, so we both ordered them. She didn’t look at me all through lunch. She put her left hand in her lap and ate in silence. I didn’t know what to say either, but I kept looking at her out of the top of my eyes.         The next morning Deanna was in the cabin when I got to the boat. “Is that you, Captain?” she yelled when she heard me on deck.         “Aye, Matey, you’re early.”         “With Mom gone berserk I get out of the house as soon as I can and go home late,” she said as she came through the hatchway. “What are we going to do today?” She smiled at me shyly yet knowingly.         “What are you so happy about?” I said and sat at the helm.         “I don’t know. I thought I’d feel really bad after yesterday, but actually I feel a little relieved. Saying I was married and divorced is better than saying I wasn’t married when I had a baby. And no matter what my mother says, I have to have your permission to get an abortion. And the baby will have a father.”         “You gonna keep the baby?”         “I’d like to, but I don’t know how.”         “Well, we’ll talk about that when the time comes. Hey, Deanna, my boat’s about finished. I want to put another coat of paint on the hull and varnish the pilot house again, but that’s about it. With you helping everything went a lot faster.”         “Our boat,” Deanna said. “It’s our boat now. We’re married, remember.”         I must have looked puzzled.         “I’m kidding, you nut. I said I wouldn’t ask for anything, and I won’t. But I could, so you’d better be nice to me.”         “Well, that won’t be hard—especially now that my estate depends on it.”         She put her hands flat against the pilot house wall and leaned her butt against them. “I don’t feel like working on the boat today. Why don’t we do something fun for a change?”         “Like what?”         “We could play miniature golf at that place on the way to South Bend. You ever been there?”         “Yeah, a couple times.”         “Wanna go?”         “Yeah, why not.”         She raced for the ladder. “Beat you,” she said and started down.         I jumped over the side of the boat and waited for her at the car. “You cheat,” she said.         She played miniature golf just like she played euchre. The fourth hole had a pendulum over it that had to be swung before you hit your ball. My timing was off by a hair, and I bogied or double bogied every time. She didn’t. She concentrated hard on every shot and beat me three out of four games.         After she was satisfied she was the master of the game we left the miniature golf course and stopped at a drive-in. We got cheeseburgers, fries and milkshakes to go and went back to the boat. We ate and played euchre. I always played conservative, but this time I put my mind to the game. I’m always afraid of getting set, so I don’t call trump unless I can take three tricks, or I got a couple aces to back up my bars. We weren’t playing partners, so I couldn’t count on my partner taking a trick, but I figured if I could take the first two tricks I could take one of the remaining three. If I didn’t show some guts she was going to whoop me like before, so I made trump whenever I could, and after she won the first hand I took the next three. Deanna wasn’t any better at losing than she was at winning. She wanted to play pinnacle, but she didn’t want to go home to get a pinnacle deck so we played gin rummy. I beat her again and she said she didn’t know how I was cheating, but she knew I was. She said she was going to bring her Monopoly game over tomorrow, and then we’d see who knew how to play a game that took skill. I said I’d bring my chess set, and I’d show her how to play a gentleman’s game. “It a lady’s game, too,” she said. “Ain’t no way you’re gonna beat me at chess.” So we agreed to play chess the next day.         I asked her if she wanted to eat at my house that evening. She said no. She had trouble putting up with her parents; she didn’t think she could put up with two sets of them.         I went to the boat early the next morning and drank coffee while I waited for Deanna. By nine o’clock she still hadn’t come, so I figured she had something to do and would tell me about it later. I started giving the hull another coat of paint, and by two o’clock I had that done. Still no Deanna. I thought by now we should tell each other if we can’t be someplace when we said we were going to be there. I started getting angry, but instead I got to worrying. I wanted to call her, but I knew if I did I’d take a tongue lashing from her mother, so that was out. I puttered around the boat all day, polishing the brass and chrome in the cockpit and cabin. I started the motor to charge the battery. When I couldn’t find anything else to do I went in the house to my room and read my boat restoration manual. Most of all I worried about Deanna.         At ten o’clock that evening the phone rang. Mom answered it and said it was for me.         “Hi, Jeff, it’s me,” Deanna said. “I’m sorry I didn’t come over today, but I have something very important to take care of. I’ll tell you about it as soon as I can, maybe tomorrow. I’ll come see you as soon as I find out a few things. I can’t talk now. Bye.” She hung up before I could ask her what was going on. Well, she was alright, that’s the main thing, but my curiosity was about to drive me up a wall.         I spent the next day sanding the pilot house and giving it another coat of varnish. Like before I kept my eye on Deanna’s back door, and my head spun like it was on a spring every time I heard a noise coming from that direction. That night I slept in spurts         I took a thermos of coffee out to the boat the next morning, and when I climbed up on deck Deanna stuck her head out of the cabin. She was all keyed up. “Good morning,” she said with a scowl on her face. “Come down here; I wanna talk.”         She sat on the settee, and when I sat beside her she twisted around to face me. “I got some good news, but you’re gonna wanna kill me for it.”         “Well, you’ve given me some pretty bad news, and I haven’t killed you yet.”         “Yeah, well wait till you hear this,” she said and kept her eyes glued on me. “A couple days ago when we were playing miniature golf and eating down here and playing cards and all that, I felt better than I had since I caught Larry with another girl.”         “Is that your boyfriend?” I asked.         “Ex-boyfriend,” she said. Then, “I got so mad at him I couldn’t think straight, and I let you do it to get even with him, and that made me feel cheap and dirty. Then I missed my next period, and that scared me half to death. Things kept getting worse. That damn doctor of mine sent a bill to my house for a pregnancy test and my mother got a hold of it. She raised so much hell I couldn’t believe even she could go on like that, and then I had to face you and your parents, and that made me feel so dirty I…God, I felt like a slut.” She grimaced then went on. “Then my mother wanted me to go to Sweden to get an abortion, and I wasn’t going to kill the baby no matter what.”         She stopped and looked at me. I wanted to do something, but there was nothing I could do but listen. “Go on,” I said. “I’m on your side, remember?”         She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “Then we got married. That made me feel worse at first, and then I felt better the way you had been acting and all. I felt like I wasn’t so alone with you standing by me and sharing some of my problems. When we played golf and then came back here and played cards I felt like myself for the first time since I caught Larry, that…so and so. That was two days before the prom. I was so torn up inside I couldn’t stop throwing up.”         I stood up and turned to face her. “Look, Deanna, I’m sorry as hell I took advantage of you that night. I should have known there was something wrong. Girls like you just don’t do things like that. I should have waited until I found out what you were really like.”         She looked up at me rather sheepishly. “It’s not your fault, Jeff. I was determined to get even with Larry, and I didn’t care who I did it with. As it turned out I’m glad it was you and not some other guy. Maybe God’s looking after me,” she said then shook her head. Then she said, “He sure has His hands full.”         She looked at me like she was about to cry and said, “Jeff, that night after we played cards I had my period.”         “What?” I thought I heard her wrong.         “I said I had my period. I went to the doctor; that’s what I’ve been doing the last two days. He said I had a miscarriage, but I didn’t. They did the test wrong, or they got my test mixed up with someone else’s. The doctor said that was impossible, but I would know if I had a miscarriage. I relaxed for the first time in two months that day we had fun together, and my system had a chance to get back to normal. Sometimes women miss their periods when they’re under a lot of pressure or their hormones get messed up or sometimes for no reason at all.”         “Did you tell your parents?” I asked.         “God, no. All that would do is give my mother something else to bitch about.” She shook her head. “Huh,” she grunted. “Like she needed something else.”         What the hell else could go wrong? First she’s pregnant, then we get married, and then she’s not pregnant. I was married to a girl I hardly knew, and all I could think about was the mess she was in and how I helped get her there.         Jeff,” she said, this time with a look of determination. “I got into it hot and heavy with my mother last night. I can’t take it anymore. She keeps saying that as long as I live in her house I have to follow her rules. I’m eighteen; I can’t live like that anymore. I gotta get away. I got two hundred dollars saved up. That’ll keep me going until I find a job. I don’t need much. I can get a job as a waitress and make enough money to support myself.”         “You aren’t going anywhere,” I said. “I know first hand what you’re capable of when you go off half cocked. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”         “I can’t stay here, Jeff. I’m a nervous wreck. Look.” She held out her hands. Her fingers were shaking. “I’m like this all the time now. I’m on the verge of a nervous breakdown. I can’t live with my mother anymore.”         “Things will settle down, Deanna. If you tell your mother you’re not pregnant she'll get off your back.”         “You don’t know my mother. There’s never been a day in her life she can’t find something to bitch about.”         “Well, you’re not going anywhere, so get that through your head.”         “Jeff! For God’s sake, I’ve had it. I can’t take it anymore. I’m gonna go stark raving mad if I stay around here.”         “Well, you’re not going anywhere without me. There’s no telling what you’ll do when you’re pissed off.”         “Jeff, that marriage we went through doesn’t mean anything, and you don’t have to do anything. I told you that.”         “Well, the marriage might not mean anything, but you do. You’re not going anywhere without me.”         She sat for the longest time withpursed lips then finally said,“Do you have any money?”         “No, but I got a boat.”         “Is it ready to sell?”         “Yes, and it’s also ready to live in. Look, Deanna, if Harry will let me park my boat at his marina we could live in it. We won’t have any rent, and I can get a job doing something.”         She was looking at me like I was crazy, so I said, “There doesn’t have to be anything between us, but I’m not going to let you go out on your own. When I see you can make it on your own we can get a divorce.”         I thought she was going to tell me I was deranged, but she looked at me kind of bewildered, and said, “Okay.”         I had to sit down again and let things settle down. I felt like I was in one of those little glass bulbs with snow in it, and the snow was whirling all around while Deanna and I sat there, looking dumbfounded at each other.         “You sure you want to do this?” she asked after five minutes of silence.         “Well, I haven’t done anything right since I met you; why change now.”         After looking all around like the answer to her problems must be somewhere there in the cabin, she looked at me and said, “Me too.”         I want to put my arms around her, to kiss her. I wanted to make love to her in the worst way, but after all the problems I caused her I couldn’t touch her. Whatever I did I was totally convinced it would turn out bad, so I decided to do nothing until after we completed our latest hair-brained plan. After we move to the marina we could take our next stupid step.         We went to the Hotel Elkhart to use the payphone in the lobby. Deanna stood beside me as I dialed the long-distance operator to get the number for Mueller’s Marina in Michigan City.         “Mueller’s Marina,” the voice that answered the phone said.         “Harry?”         “No, this is Don.”         “Don who?” I asked.         “Don Mueller.”         I was dumbstruck for a moment. “Son of a bitch,” I yelled into the mouthpiece. “I thought you were in California. What the hell you doing here?”         “Who’s this?” Don wanted to know.         “Jeff Franklin. Jesus Christ, man, I ain’t seen you since high school.”         “Jeff Franklin? Son of a bitch, man, where the hell you at?”         Well, the conversation, for lack of something better to call it, was jovial as hell until Don told me Harry died three weeks ago. His diabetes weakened his heart, and he had a heart attack.         That was a shock. I knew Harry was sick, but even then I hadn’t thought about him dying. It took me a minute to gather myself before I said, “Why do all the good guys have to go?”         “I don’t know,” Don said. “I hadn’t seen him since I went to college, but looking back it feels like I saw him every day. He and Dad were close. God, it never occurred to me that he’d die.”         Don told me Harry left him the marina. Ethel couldn’t have kids and Don was the only nephew he had he thought could run a business. I told him if he was going to run the marina he was going to have to learn to tell stories like Harry. He laughed a one syllable laugh and said that was the least of his problems. Harry had left the place go to hell after Ethel died and then he got diabetes. Harry left a little money, but with no boats docked at the marina Don would have to take it easy until he got some customers.         When Don got through telling me his woes I told him about Deanna and me. He thought I was trying to outdo Harry in the tall-tales category, but I told him it was true, every word.         “Son of a bitch,” he said contemplatively.         Then I asked him if I could park the boat Harry gave me at his marina.         “Why, hell yes, you can,” he said. “When you gonna come?”         “As soon as you come and get us,” I said. “I got a ’50 Studebaker, but I don’t think it’ll haul a boat that size.”         “When you want me to go get it?”         “Just a second,” I said and put the phone against my chest. I turned to Deanna who had been shifting her weight from one foot to the other as she listened to the one-sided conversation. “When do you want to leave for the marina?” I asked.         “I gotta pack some things,” she said. “I gotta wait until my mother goes shopping. If she goes this afternoon we can go today.”         I put the phone back to my ear. “I’m gonna have to call you back, man. It’ll either be tonight or tomorrow.”         “Okay, let me know,” Don said and we hung up.         Deanna and I got some sandwiches, fries and Cokes at the hotel’s snack-bar and went back to the boat to eat. We played euchre at the dinette. Between every hand Deanna stood up and looked out the window. Finally, we got lucky. Her mother went shopping shortly after noon.         Deanna packed in a hurry. She packed a couple small suitcases and stuffed stuff in pillowcases and boxes. She took her saxophone and flute so she could hock them if she needed the money. Good idea. I took my shotgun and hunting rifle for the same reason.         When I told Deanna I was going to tell my parents where I was she got upset. I told her she didn’t have to worry. If I told my parents not to tell her parents where we were they wouldn’t. I told her that trust went both ways in my family. They had to give me their trust if they wanted mine. Deanna thought that was great. In her family trust only flowed one way. Her parents could change the rules whenever they wanted, but she couldn’t.         I called Don, and that night about two o’clock we hooked the boat up to his truck, and we made our way quietly out of the backyard. I followed him to the marina, and by five AM we had the boat in dry-dock. Once we got the truck unhooked we went to Don’s apartment over the marina’s office and drank coffee in the kitchen. Don apologized a thousand times for the place being a mess, but he said he had been too busy calling Harry’s old customers and hadn’t had a chance to look after the domestic chores.         “I’ll come up here and clean the place up,” Deanna said. “That’ll help pay the rent for parking our boat here.”         She said “our boat.” The sound of that made me feel good inside.         “Don’t worry about paying rent,” Don said, “but if you want to help out as a favor that’s okay.”         Deanna said she would.         Don turned to me. “Look, Jeff, if you want to help me around here until you find work I’d sure appreciate it. I can’t pay you much, but I can give you a couple of bucks for food and gas. With you here I can get this place fixed up in no time.”         “We’ll get started tomorrow.” I chuckled. “This is just like high school.”         “Yeah, but this time you brought your own girl.”         “Yeah, well, I can’t remember anything around here that could measure up to Deanna, so I brought her along.”         “You always were the smart one,” Don said and smiled at Deanna.         She blushed. “You guys better not put me in the middle of everything,” she said. “If you do I’m going home.”         “No, don’t do that,” Don said while laughing. “Cheap help is hard to find.”         I could tell Deanna and Don were going to get along, and we talked until “That Polish Place” open up. We went over there for breakfast and talked and laughed about things that weren’t even funny. We were so tired we were giddy.         We were sitting drinking coffee and talking when Deanna excused herself and went back to the kitchen.         “Where she going?” Don wanted to know.         “Beats me,” I said. I watched her go into the kitchen and tried to get a peek inside every time a waitress pushed the swinging doors open. After a couple of minutes Don and I started talking about high school and what we had been doing the last four years. Don had one more year to go at UCLA but wanted to come back here to give running the marina a shot. He said he was going to rename the marina “Third Coast Marina” because the Great Lakes had as long a coast line as either the east or west coast. If he could make a go of it, it would beat the hell out of working for someone else. He said he wouldn’t need a degree for his own business, so he wouldn’t have to go back to school to finish his last year.         I told Don I had planned on getting a master’s in political science, but I was sidetracked by Deanna. He said it was a goddamned nice sidetrack, and I should consider staying on it.         Deanna came back all smiles. “I got a job,” she said. “I start tomorrow.” She giggled. “After I talked to Mr. Kaczmarek for a while he asked me if I was Polish, and I said no, I was of English descent. He shrugged his shoulders and said, 'Eh, you were switched in the hospital,' and hired me.”         I looked at her dumbfoundedly. I looked at my watch and said, “Christ, we’ve only been here two hours and already you got a job.”         “Yeah, Buddy, you’re gonna have to get off your butt if you’re gonna keep up with me.”         Don looked at her very seriously. “I wished I could find me one like that.”         “Don’t get any ideas,” I cautioned.         Deanna looked pleased with what I said.         We left the restaurant and walked over to Don’s office. It was one of those perfect mornings with fluffy, cotton-like clouds hanging lazily over the lake, and the lake’s waters reflecting the sky’s brilliant azure. I asked Don if he could let us use a couple blankets for Deanna and let me sleep on his couch. He said he could give Deanna the blankets, but the dog slept on the couch and it was full of hair. Besides, if I slept on the couch the dog wouldn’t have anywhere to sleep. He said he would give me a blanket if I wanted it. I looked to Deanna for help, but she just stood there looking dumb.         It was a rather awkward position. Don was being really good to Deanna and me, and I didn’t want to argue with such a good host. If Deanna wasn’t there I’d ask him what the hell he was up to, but Deanna was there, and I didn’t know what to say, so I didn’t say anything.         It was awkward again when Deanna and I went into the cabin. She said it was my boat, and I should sleep in the berth, and she would sleep on the settee.         “What happened to ‘our boat?’” I said, “Your half of ‘ours’ is the berth, and I don’t want to argue about it.” That ended that.         I took off my shirt and socks and slept in my jeans—or I should say I tried to sleep. I kept thinking about things I had to do. I had to run an electric line and a water hose to the boat. Then it started getting hot inside the boat—setting in the sun with no shade like it did—and I opened all the windows. Or portholes or what ever they’re called. I added buying fans to my list of things to do.         I was hot and thirsty and couldn’t sleep, so I went to the restaurant and got two quart-size Cokes. Deanna was sitting on the settee in her pajamas when I got back.         “Is one of them for me?” she asked.         “Yeah,” I said and gave her one of the Cokes. “Christ, I didn’t think about the boat sitting in the sun. I’m gonna get a couple fans today. I gotta get a lot of things: blankets, pillows, food, something to eat with. I gotta run an electrical wire out here and a water hose.”         “Well, I got a job, so I’ll work, and you do all that other stuff.”         We sat for a long while not talking, then she said, “Did you bring a swimsuit?”         “Yeah, somewhere.”         “Wanna go swimming?”         “Might as well; I can’t sleep.”         We rooted through our boxes of stuff. She found hers and went into the berth to change. I found mine and changed in the head.         “Ready?” she called from the berth.         I said I was and she came out. Damn. She had on a bikini. A woman like her in a bikini is water torture to a man.         “Come on,” she said and ran up the hatchway. She ran out to the dock and without stopping, dove into the lake. I followed. We swam out about a hundred and fifty feet and she stopped. “I’m gonna like this,” she said, spitting water out of her mouth, “if we go for a swim every morning we don’t have to take a shower.”         “Yeah, and I’m the one who’s going to have a nervous breakdown.”         “Why?” she said and then giggled. “That’s your problem. Race you back,” she said and started back to the dock. It was all I could do to keep up.         She climbed up on the dock and sat with her legs hanging over. “We can’t stay out too long,” she said, “or we’ll get sunburned.”         Most of the time I can think of something to say, but with Deanna in that bikini you would think I was struck dumb. She knew it too.         “Well, we’d better get back before that sun gets too hot,” she said. She jumped up and started running back to the boat.         I took my time. When I entered the cabin she was drying her hair with a towel. “There’s a towel there for you,” she said. She threw her towel around her shoulders, grabbed her Coke and flopped down on the settee.         I dried my face and hair and sat beside her. “Are you having second thoughts about coming here with me?” I asked.         “No, not yet. It’s a relief not wondering when my Mom’s going to jump on me—and for what. I’m old enough. I can make it on my own.” She paused a moment then said, “How about you.”         “Well,” I said, “this cabin's bigger than my room at the dorm, and my roommate’s a hell of a lot better then the one I had at college. I’ll survive.”         “Good. We’re both happy.” She finished her Coke and looked for a place to throw the cup away. She giggled. “We don’t even have a trash can.” She got up and put the cup on the sink. “Tomorrow I’ll put some of this stuff away and we can use one of the boxes for trash.”         She looked around like she was confused or didn’t know what to do next then walked to the door of the berth. Again she seemed confused but looked at me and said, “If that couch is too hard you can sleep in here. There’s plenty of room. I don’t mind.”         A huge lump came up from my stomach and stuck in my throat. I tried to talk but couldn’t. I knew what I wanted to say, but I didn’t know if I should. Finally, I cleared my throat and said, “If I sleep with you, there’s no way I’m gonna let you go. You’re mine for keeps.”         “Well,” she said, sounding like she, too, was having trouble talking, “if that’s how you feel, it’s okay with me. We can’t afford a divorce, anyhow.”

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