WELCOME TO THE WORLD
CHAPTER TWO: THERE’S A BOAT THAT’S LEAVING SOON FROM NEW YORK
Disclaimer: Annie and Lori are the mothers. I'm just babysitting.
Rating: Smooth as silk, sweet as cream, PG at best
From shore to ship was simple, Jack thought, and well it should be, seeing as it cost a little more than a new barn. With everything else going on, he'd surprisingly little idea of the processes involved: Ms Warren had been a great help and he’d put himself, his hopes, and checks totaling just over $360,000 made payable to the Cunard Line in her hands in the expectation it’d be money well spent. Still..."Crap" he heard himself say when he added up the numbers again in his head. "See the world for a little more'n $1500 a day. Apiece. Before the bar bill comes, too...Ah, well, it's done and now whatta we gonna do?"
He found his faith well-placed for the first time as the four of them walked together in the general direection of the ticket counters along one long wall of the terminal. As they did, a stylishly uniformed woman he took to be about 27 or so approached and said, first to Jack, then Ennis, through a blinding smile “Mr. Twist?, Mr. Del Mar? Welcome to the world.”
Almost instantly scanning her clipboard, then turning the top page to read a second sheet, she momentarily missed the look of shock on Jack and Ennis’ faces. Running a blood-red nail down her list, she turned her gaze to Peter and then to Liz and looking back at the list said “and these would be your guests onboard today, Dr. and Mrs. Llewellyn? Perhaps because she'd always used her maiden name professionally, Liz didn’t respond immediately, leaving only Peter, his professional aplomb intact, to answer “yes” for all of them. Seeing the puzzled looks on three of the four faces, she laughed lightly and said apologetically “I am so sorry, I’m not a psychic, just someone who’s forgotten her manners. Let me introduce myself. I’m Robin Warren and it’s indeed a pleasure Mr. Twist, and Mr. Del Mar as well, to meet you after all of our chats on the phone. And you as well, doctor, and Mrs Llewellyn.”
Seeing the confused looks lessen but still linger, she went on “it’s nothing really. Of course we have your pictures, gentlemen, from the passport and visa forms you sent us, although I must say neither of them - and particularly yours, Mr. Del Mar" raising one eyebrow almost imperceptibly - "does you justice, as well as the names of your guests. Much as we'd like, it's not possible to greet all our passengers by name, but as this is your first time with us, and, honestly, because I so enjoyed speaking with both of you on the telephone, I made it a point to try and meet you before you boarded the ship today. It would be my pleasure to make the formalities a bit easier for all of you.”
Turning first to an assistant behind the counter, she retrieved two badges marked “Visitor” and after initialing them, pinned the first to Peter’s jacket then started to do the same for Liz who, thanking her, took it and attached it to her collar herself. “I wish we could do this as much as we have in the past, but nowadays security requires us to limit the number of visitors on sailing day. Of course, we were happy to oblige you, Mr. Twist, when you asked if the Llewellyn's could join you and we're happy to have them onboard too, if only for a few hours now. It’s not as much fun as it used to be without a ship full of bon voyage parties, but the rules are the rules, even if we don’t make them.”
Returning her thousand-watt smile to them, she continued “If you‘d be so kind as to stand on that taped line, gentlemen, we’ll sort out your paper work and set up your shipboard accounts and identification cards. Could I impose on you both to take out your passports for a moment?” Jack, the paperwork and documents still in his topcoat pocket, simply handed her the whole folder, still dumbstruck by both her appearance and demeanor, the exacting but friendly way she was personally handling every detail of the boarding process, a process he could see (and hear) otherwise occuring to his left: hundreds of passengers in long lines approaching the other counters weren’t enjoying this part nearly so much.
In a minute or two she had them photographed by a digital system that produced small navy-blue ID’s, each the size of a credit card with their names embossed in gold lettering and identity information encoded on the back. “You’ll use these”, she said, “for identification purposes getting on and off the ship, for access to your suite, and for any purchases you might make onboard. We use a cashless system on QE2 so you needn’t trouble yourselves with pocket money: just present the card and sign the slip for anything you buy. You can check the running total at your conveneience by speaking to the purser or one of his staff.”
After another busy minute she handed the folder and his passport back to Jack, then took Ennis' hand in hers as she returned his virgin passport, shook it, murmuring again what a pleasure it was to have finally met, thanked them all for their patience, and walked them the twenty-five feet to the gangway, a structure something like a more flexible jetway in the shape of a crooked vertical "Z" permitting passage from fixed pier to floating ship despite the changes tidal rise and fall made to their relative positions. Ennis still hadn’t said a word to anyone except a quiet "thanks" to Ms. Warren, his eyes instead filled with the activity around him and the giant ship now visible - though mostly as a dark blue wall - through the doors from the terminal to the pier itself.
Jack hadn't said much either, apart from some pleasantries about the cold and joshing with Peter, preferring to study young Ms Warren. He intrigued her: she was that efficient yet so gracious, all at once. "More money, sure, more service" he thought, but to do a job and make it look effortless impressed Jack no end. Jack had been a salesman once; he knew the value of smooth presentation beyond the sale at hand, and was more than impressed by Robin. Whether it was the money he'd spent, the emotional import he'd suppressed until now, or just a good looking woman, the sight of which he never stopped enjoying even as his attentions were directed elsewhere, he couldn't say, but he promised himself to keep an eye out for her on the trip, thinking she might teach him some new tricks.
He needn't have worried. Handing the group off to a steward who held out his hand to Liz as she approached the two steps required to gain entry, Robin left them with a small wave saying “I’ll be by to check on you later and make sure you’re getting settled. Bon-voyage, gentlemen and a pleasure meeting you, Dr and Mrs Llewellyn. I hope we'll see you later.” Jack and Ennis just looked at one another, then at Peter and Liz, then again at each other and smiling, thanked her and began their zig-zag ascent.
The gangway was fairly dark, low-ceilinged, lit from below along the sides and heavily carpeted, so the gentle incline of ramps signified their transition from the raucous sounds of the pier through the hushed tunnel and into the brightly-lit entrance hall, a round room two stories high completely paneled in red mahogany. It seemed like a short glide uphill from one world to another. Two smiling stewards greeted them at the other end, taking their hand bags and Jack’s card key, and beckoned them to one side of the reception room where formally-dressed waiters stood at attention bearing silver trays holding flutes of champagne.
“Please take a drink and kindly follow me” said a young man in a blazer whose name tag read “David” emerging from the passageway behind the waiter, while deftly shepherding the group, now six in number, to an elevator that opened at his touch. After they entered and he’d pushed the button marked “Sun Deck” he turned and spoke to them as the polished brass door of the cab closed at his back, mirroring the reflection of their own faces behind him.
“Welcome aboard QE2. We trust you’ll enjoy the voyage. She’s a unique ship, perhaps to be the last of the great Atlantic liners. Passenger ships built now are really cruise ships, designed for service in gentler climates, and quite lovely, most of them in their way, but not liners. This ship was meant to operate as the “Atlantic Ferry” carrying passengers across the North Atlantic in any weather. While she was built with some cruising in mind, and now spends more time cruising than crossing, she has, as well, served with great distinction in the Royal Navy during the Falklands War as a troop carrier. Her name is one of the most recognized icons in the world: if you say "QE2" an astoundingly high number of people from Germany, say, to Japan and now, even China, know you are speaking of this ship and not Her Majesty the Queen, God bless her. We like to think our guests, like yourselves, only add more lustre to her reputation as the finest ship afloat.” Without time for a word of reply, the brass doors slid back silently behind him, erasing, Ennis thought, the images of themselves and exiting onto the Sun Deck Lobby as David bid them "Bon Voyage".
The two stewards then led them down a short corridor to the open entrance of what was the suite’s living/dining room, a fact at first lost on Ennis as, upon entering what looked to be a lovely living room, he saw no beds. "If I'm livin' here for 110 days and nights, I need a bunk" he began under his breath to no-one in particular, but he was quiet when, from the door of another room within the suite, stepped a buxom redheaded young woman in a fitted blue suit who had been wiping her white gloved hand over a bit of molding, checking to see the cleaners had been thorough. Satisfied by her inspection, she allowed the stewards to place the packages on the dining table, bow and leave as she addressed the foursome.
“Good-day t ya, gents and ma'am., I’m Maureen Mehegan and I’m to be your butler on this voyage. You’d be Mr. Twist, I’m guessing,” she correctly addressed Jack and as he nodded in reply, she turned to say “so my instincts are right and you’ll be Mr. Del Mar. ‘Tis a pleasure to be meeting you and I know it’ll be a wonderful time for ya’ both. I’m here to help. And these are your guests? May I take the lady’s coat? Ma'am? And the rest a ya’s too?” With that she settled them into the living room, pointing out as she did the bedroom off to the left of the main entrance. Both rooms had narrow balconies, no more than six feet deep but running the full width of the suite beyond the floor-to-ceiling windows which now overlooked the scene below pierside.
“I know you must be chilled from the weather, it’s beastly cold, so let me take these” she said, scooping up the empty flutes, “and perhaps get you a nice cup of coffee or tea? Or perhaps a tincture of something a bit stronger as a restorative?”
Pete was still the only one capable of response, even sounding drolly amused by the spectacle as the other three still seemed locked in a fugue state; Jack and Ennis both with the dawning reality that this sort of “personal service” was like nothing they’d ever known and Liz overawed with the sheer - well; “grandeur” came to her mind - of it all. She guessed, correctly, that if she thought she was in the deep end of the pool, how would her two old buddies from the ranch feel? Out of their depth, she guessed; Jack’s breezy ease, so much in evidence no more than 10 minutes ago, gone. Ennis had never looked comfortable this morning since first laying eyes on her in the terminal. All she read on his face now was a term the military used during the Gulf War back in ‘92: “Shock and Awe.”
Her fears for them were put to rest in a minute or two. Maureen was arranging drinks, Peter having given their orders from memory as Jack, Ennis, and Liz peeked behind curtains and opened paneled doors like kids in an empty house, running their hands over a padded, silk-lined wall here or a marble countertop there, learning their way around the rooms from the walk-in closet “with fur storage” as Liz whispered through pursed lips, and an open safe about the size of a Coleman cooler.
They wandered on, first into one door of a rather large but blindingly white-tiled bathroom with a long tub, a separate shower, as well as a bidet and trimmed with a quantity of chrome sufficient to replating the bumpers and fins of an old Coupe DeVille. They'd entered from the large bedroom and exited out another door of the bathroom into the entry hall. Lining the back wall of the living and dining area nearest the interior hallway was a half bath, a trunk room, and the small kitchenette from which Maureen seemed to be both expanding and contracting, now serving their drinks and setting out nibbles and small plates and linen napkins but then subtly preparing her exit from the rooms, tidying as she went, the suite hers alone a moment ago, now making Jack and Ennis begin to feel this was to become their home as long as they stayed onboard.
“I won’t be keeping you now as I'm sure you’ll want to have a natter and relax. Let me just tell ya’s a bit of what t’expect in the next few minutes and then I’ll be off tendin’ to your neighbors. As I’m told you’re new to us, I hopin’ you’ll think of me - and me four colleagues who share the work for the ten named suites up here - as people you can turn to whatever ‘tis you need. We’re here to do what you need doin’ and so long’s it’s proper and legal, we’ll be fine. And if it’s not,” she said with a wink, “it might be even finer. But we’ll save that for a bit.” Her happy lilting voice combined polish and sass, and she delivered the parish notes with an Irish accent as thick as fresh cream. "There're housekeepers who'll change the linens every morning and turn the beds down at night, clean the rooms and replace anything they see has been used. I'll be wanting to hear from you if there's anything you find less than to your liking there."
“The porters and draymen will be seein’ to your bags on the pier and once they’re here I’ll see that your clothes are hung and folded and set away and the empty cases’ll be in the little ante-room you see here. Your toiletries can be laid out as you see fit; leave the kits out for me and it’ll be organized. If anything needs pressing, I’ll send it along but if there’s something you’d rather I not take, you’ll please be lettin' me know?" Continuing to the long console/desk along the inside dividing wall she pointed to a leather inbox and said “Here’s any number of guides and directories, for you to peruse at your leisure” and, pointing to a silver tray nearby “and here some invitations you’ve already received from the company and the officers. I can see to any ya’d like to respond to later today as well as see that your messages reach you. There are five phones in the rooms, with dialing directions next to each, capable of calling any other telephone on earth directly, though the prices are very dear. If you need anything at’all, night or day, closer to home here, press this button” as she pointed to a golden key on the phone’s dial pad “and one of us’ll bestir ourselves."
"Please, as I say, let us know whatever you need. I’ll be gettin’ along now, but oh, I almost forgot, don’t be alarmed if you hear people mentionin’ the ‘Irish M-M-Mafia’ to you, and soundin’ like they’re stuttering. They’ll be talkin’ about us. It’s just an happenstance, as ‘tis nothing we planned, but we’re all wimmin as the butlers and we’re all Irish and all our names begin with the letter “M”. Apart from me there’s Mary-Margaret, Marie, Meave, and Moira and if there isn’t a one of us about, another’ll do ya’ just as well we hope."
"So I’ll be off and if you like, there’s a buffet luncheon being set for you in the Boardroom while the final preparations for the turnover in the restaurants are bein’ finished. It’s opposite this side of the Boat Deck, one down, across from the entrance to the Grill from the bow and around the corner from the radio room. And of course there’s a full spread in the Lido but you needn’t be botherin’ yourselves seein' how the common folk live just yet” she said with an impish grin “plenty a time for that.” With a small bow, almost a curtsy, she was out the door and gone but only for a moment when she returned, never having completely closed the suite's entrance door.
“I so sorry to keep pesterin’ you lovely people, but Mr. Twist, might I be havin' a word with you in here?” she said, pointing to the bedroom. Jack rose from his chair and walked in following her. Without closing the connecting door, she swept her arm across the room, ending at the king-sized bed and said, simply and quietly “are all the arrangements satisfactory.” Not grasping the intent, at all, of her inquiry, Jack simply mumbled a “yes” at which she smiled, nodded and excused herself again, leaving Jack to follow her back to the others in the living room as she left the suite.
This time they all heard the door close and the lock engage and instantly, as one, burst into laughter - as much from the performance they’d just witnessed as from the sheer swank of it all. Liz started, momentarily struggling for the right words to express her take on all she’d seen and heard this morning. “I think you two are in for helluva good time” seemed to cover it and she started laughing again. Liz's snap judgement broke the ice and soon all four were babbling to each other about all they’d heard and seen.
“Well city gal, whatja think of Ms. Wurren?” asked Ennis, still a bit awestruck. “And the red-headed gal with the drinks, too?”
“Pretty efficient, I'd say, but I would be too if I had a staff of ten people like she does: I counted, that's how many it took to get us from her to here” said Liz with a little laugh, “and pleasant, too” without one, but rather a smile. “As for Maureen and the 'M-M-Mafia' girls, Jeez, she’s a hoot. I love her already and you'll have all the fun. I think you’re in good hands here." Turning to Jack, she was about to ask what'd transpired in the bedroom but her husband laughed before she had the chance.
“Oh, Liz” Peter started, “do I hear a note of concern about the lovely Ms. Warren? Afraid to entrust these guys to her tender mercies for the next three or four months? Think she's aiming to get a couple of those lacquered nails into poor Ennis' back?”
“She’s a lot prettier than I might have thought, jes from the phone and all” Jack allowed before Liz or Ennis could say anything “and I ‘spose someday some nice old fella with a lotta money might look at her and think to himself ‘I’d like to get to know her better’ - ‘s just the way the world works, I reckon. But it doesn’t look t’have happened yet, not with her standin' there workin, out on a cold day like this. D’ya think she’s a fortune hunter, Lizzy?”
“No, not that" was Liz's response "and anyway, she’d have to work awfully hard to find any buried treasure here” nudging Ennis' knee and smiling at her two friends on the sofa, "and it's probably just me, but did you see her shoes? I'm suspicious of young women who wear $600 slingbacks to work, or at least on young women who work in the daytime..." She left that thought hanging out there before returning to the question she hadn't put to him. “But tell me Jack, what did the Rose of Tralee ask you in the bedroom?”
“I dunno what that was about, Lizzy. She jes’ swept her arm at everything in the place and asked if it was OK." "A course, I said." The whole thing's nicer’n I thought it’d be, sorta like the St. Regis Hotel last night, but of course, on a ship. Very nice indeed.”
Liz waited, hearing no more from Jack, then asked “was it about the bed?”
“What ya mean, Liz? It’s a fine lookin’ bed, big’s ours at home. Haven’t slept on it yet, though” he said, winking at Ennis, “or not slept on it either.”
“I think you answered the question she was asking, albeit very nicely” said Liz and all it once it came to Jack: were the beds set up properly for two “gentlemen” as everyone kindly seemed to assume they were this morning, or at least called them that, who were traveling together?
“Oh, Liz. I tell ya, you jes open the dictionary to the word ‘dumb’ and there’s my picture” said Jack. “A course that’s what she was askin’ - 'was one a' the questions on a check-list I got, and I checked off I wanted 'em together, not apart, same way we have it at the ranch. I must be jes overwhelmed here, I’m just so taken in by t’all, is all. Didn't give it a thought so I guess it's just one more classy way of asking, though. They sure have a way a' puttin' you at ease if ya look lost, I guess, amidst all this splendor. I wonder what they're thinkin' bout us? Not that I give two damns, but I'm guessin' we might be breakin some ground here.
Looking straight at Ennis, Jack said simply, "I dunno if it's the honeymoon we never got, or it'll be the last time you'll leave the house, cowboy, but I'm feelin' a bit better now that we're here. It's gonna be a lot fer both a us t' take in the next few weeks before we get the hang a this, um, "relaxing", thing covered, but it's not lookin' like a long strech a' hard labor so far, not by any means. I think we'll do fine.“
"OK, Rodeo, that's settled. Let’s eat.” is all he got from Ennis by way of reply, and with that they headed out of the suite for the stairwell and the luncheon that had been offered them.
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Lunch had been fun. They relaxed and chatted, catching up on lives now lived a hundred miles distant rather than in Farmingdale, met some of their new "neighbors", if only to say 'hello' with vague promises to sit down together later for a drink sometime. Pete and Ennis were thoroughly engrossed, Ennis uncoiling, it seemed, catching up on news of ranch, town, and each other. Liz had a few questions of her own for Jack.
"Like what are you really up to, for starters?" is how she began. They'd spoken about Jack's concerns before, but only on the phone, and she wanted face time to read into Jack's words. "I know you've thought about all the money, and while we're not in your league, sometimes, Jack, the luxuries can be, well, not" - she waved a hand airily toward the silk-covered wall - "exactly neccesities, but you spent it and here you are. You're not one to second-guess yourself and sure, I can see that Ennis might feel like he's in over his head, but you travel enough. I mean, you don't stint yourself when it's for business so I'm wondering about you..."
Jack tried to focus what he'd been rolling around in his head all year, knowing it'd be useful to talk out his thinking on Liz. She had a way of teasing out a single strand from many threads, he'd long known, and her insight; hell, just her sympathetic ear felt pretty comfortable right now. He knew he had her to himself for an hour or so at best, what with the time before sailing slipping away, and if he thought anyone else could do better by him in the way of advice, well, he'd have seen they were here instead.
Still, his response wasn't focussed for a few minutes as he summoned his thoughts and the foursome, together again now, wandered across the hall from the Boardroom and saw it's starboard side twin, the Queen's Grill Lounge. It was empty of guests and while down the long room they saw busy activity in the room beyond, what must be the Grill itself, Jack thought, trying to visualize a floor plan of the ship he'd seen when picking out the rooms, it was quiet in the lounge. They slipped into a casual arrangement, Ennis and Pete again sitting discussing this and that; Pete about a friend's horse he'd had touble with, Ennis reminiscing a bit about Farmingdale friends but also interested in new developments at the hospital. Pete had never asked for a donation, and it served no-one they knew, given the distance, but Ennis had seen to it that the ranch corporation made a contribution; a "gesture, no more", he called it, to the hospital's free care fund each year since they'd moved and Peter had taken up the staff chief's job there. He always saw to it the check, usually for a $1000, was attached to a note saying it was sent in honor of Dr and Mrs. Llewellyn. "Can't hurt you" was all Ennis'd ever said in reply to Pete's annual thanks.
Seeing activity all around them pick up in the next few minutes as more passengers wandered by and porters hurried down the hall outside, Jack and Liz followed Ennis and Pete as they began their own tour of the of public rooms on the Boat Deck. They'd already seen another small, pretty, lounge around the corner from the buffet; they’d seen a children’s playroom and nursery; the theatre balcony; and what looked like a kennel. A kennel with a real fire hydrant for the dogs bolted to the deck outside that looked like it was used as fenced run: a "canine cabana" for the puppies, Ennis joked.
The hydrant must have been a catalyst for something, as they continued to wander, down a deck now, dropping a bit further behind their respective mates.
It wasn't a gush. “Lizzy, it’s like this” Jack began, finally in earnest if still more musing than a polished presentation like those he heard when someone was trying out an idea on him. Or selling him something. "We haven't had a good yack for so long, Liz, and I've missed you. You've been wise counsel t'me a number of times in the past and I hope to hear a bit from you on what I'm gonna say this afternoon. After I figure just exactly it is I'm tryin' to say" He began by telling Liz how he - and Junior, maybe even more than her father - knew what a spectacular success they’d made of the ranch in financial terms.
"The business itself, Liz, the ranch operation, generates more than a million dollars clear after tax, annually" he said, "and has for the past ten years." Jack, to a degree of detail about their finances he and Liz had never broached before, told her he'd sought professional assistance investing the profits years ago and while that advice carried some hefty fees, he was comfortable with the results he got from the State Street Bank’s money mangers in Boston. The moderately aggressive strategy they’d counseled, adjusted regularly as market conditions dictated, had created an additional income stream that - on paper anyway - had slightly bested the operating income for the last three years; this, according to Jack, despite his constant insistence the ranch was their focus.
"It's gotten," Jack said "to the point where we couldn't need any more money than we had. Oh, it 's nice to have", Jack allowed "and we cash the checks" but said, in sum; their financial needs were met. "We try to be generous, what with folks always comin' to us about worthwhile endeavors and I've got me some ideas 'bout that we'll talk more about when we get home. But you know the sayin' Liz, 'there's no pocket's in a shroud'? I'm not aiming to wear one anytime soon, but we're pretty simple folk, Ennis'n me, when you think about it. We've got all we need an' more."
"We haven't pissed it all away, and sometimes" Jack continued, "sometimes I think that's the thing amazes me most: I was a fuckup, even if'n he don't call me that so much anymore, when it come to money, back then. We put in the effort since, well, since we're together, and you know what that means to me, Liz, but now we got so much we cain't spend it usefully. I've given some thoughts 'bout what we might do when we're gone, too - not that we're going anywhere - but you know how it is: the damn lawyers want a piece of it with the promise the government gets less and so you hafta plan..."
Less reflective, brightening like he usually did after a few minutes in her presence, searching to find words for unspoken wishes, he recalled an episode to Liz when he and Junior talked about one lawyers’ suggestion - given land prices, proposed capital gains legislation and inheritance tax planning - they consider the possibility of gradually shifting from a ranch-based business towards the creation of a holding company, in essence managing the money; cash the focus instead of cows. She'd politely expressed interest in at least listening to the proposals over one of their "working lunches" downtown last summer.
Jack told a tale on himself, about making his feelings clear to Junior, and through it Liz, laughing how he'd suddenly shifted from his kindly-stepdaddy/senior-business-partner-mentor role with Junior into his own "special rendition", channelling Thomas Mitchell’s Georgia-by-way-of-Hollywood brogue and swelling up in the guise of Gerald O’Hara, dying Lord of Tara Plantation counseling his dispirited daughter at the end of the Civil War: “Do you mean to tell me, Katie Scarlett Del Mar, that the land doesn’t mean anything to you? Why, land is the only thing in the world worth workin’ for, worth fightin’ for, worth dyin’ for, because it’s the only thing that lasts” earning a round of applause for his performance from near-by diners, he said, and a look of mortification from Junior. It was the last she’d heard of the banker's plans, or lines from 'Gone with the Wind' or for that matter, the brogue.
Jack continued on, telling Liz he'd spared no reasonable purchase nor deferred any maintenance contributing to the bottom line of what he still called, with a wry chuckle, “our lil’ cow and calf operation.” While Junior increasingly directed the financial and administrative management of the ranch - with Allen tending more and more to the operational - Jack’s attention, he said, had shifted more toward managing the portfolio. It was something to do and increasingly, he realized, something he did well, while Ennis - without complaint, to be sure - ceded more of the daily work of the ranch to Allen. Leaving him with less to fill his days, Jack thought. Money management was not to Ennis’ taste and while he kept himself busy, it was his lack of focus that had begun to worry Jack.
On the surface it seemed fine, he told Liz, "but I'm worried. We're neither of us even 60 yet, we're in good shape 'cept for a few aches and pains, but we've lived our whole lives working hard. I think I can put myself back behind a desk to stay busy. I won't like it but I'm a realist. Maybe I'll take up golf, not that it'll do me a damn bit a' good in Vermont in February, but I'm not sure a' Ennis' nowadays. S' not like he's a bit less a' love's young dream at home, at night, neither. Hell, to me we're still kids in my head and I suspect we'd be able to show some a' them twenny-somethings a thing a two, so wrapped up in their careers 'an no time for the finer things that keep two people from driftin' apart, if you get MY drift here, Liz. I mean, we are middle aged men, even if I don't feel it, but I think Ennis' gettin' a little lost."
"And the worst thing is, Lizzy, he's gettin' back, not where we started, no, I couldn't take that; but it's like a bit a' him's bein' closed off to me. He says nothin's wrong, and I want t'beleive him, but he's different, Liz. I'm pretty sure I got no competition, he's still not queer for nobody but me," Jack said with a laugh "and I'm grateful for it. He's the rock a' my life, and happy's I am most a' the time, I feel like the rock's startin' t' shift a little, and got no idea why. You know what we've been through, all the hard miles it took to get here. Believe me when I say every stumble on the road, s'long's I learned something, was worth it, and if I could do it again, there's not a lot I'd change that I could've, except Lureen, maybe. And Bobby. It wasn't fair to her and I wasn't father enough t' him. This makin' any sense to you?"
Liz nodded, knowing there was more, holding herself back until it came, knowing springs run deeper if left to burst through the snow by themselves.
Jack's only son had died, a suicide at 16, and while 20 years time time blunted some of that pain, it'd never been erased. He wasn't as hard on himself, no one could be, as he'd been then and bounce back like Jack had. But it was baggage he seldom unpacked, even with Ennis. Liz had shared his pain then; was there for him, and was again, now, him pouring out bewilderment at his sense of confusion with one of the two men she loved too, and nearly as much - if differently - as anyone in the world, apart from Peter. Her affection for Jack, even now, two decades later, held just a whisper of "what if." She saw in herself a maternal tenderness and a sisterly love, "and he's as close to a brother as I'll ever have." "But what if..."
Liz had been wise enough not to follow her brief, disastrous first marriage with a run on a man she knew she couldn't catch. So she'd settled - not that she'd ever think of it that way - for both less; there never was a physicality to their love as she'd been tempted to reach for in a daydream but willed it gone for fear of betraying Ennis, she thought back then - and more: the tender truths she'd always shared with Jack and, really, few others. Still, all these years since.
They didn't see each other enough, and she held both Ennis and Jack close to the center of her heart, but Jack always had an edge. A tiny edge, and Ennis none the worse for it, she thought, with enough love in her heart for both of 'em after all she gave Peter. But Ennis had the girls, "a piece of himself that endures", she'd often thought, "long after we're gone." She supposed Jack thought his chance for that sort of immortality was gone, and decided she needed a bit more of him as a result. It wasn't mercy, it was tenderness, she told herself; only his due for all he'd done for her and "yes" - she'd come to peace with herself here years back - his vulnerability on offer perhaps the most attractive part of his persona. It kept them real, and it kept him sane. He bore his pain rather than bury it. Bobby died but it didn't kill Jack. "You couldn't kill Jack", she thought. "He's the Energizer Bunny of Love; you can't keep him down for long. He just keeps going and going and going."
He was "grateful for Junior, and Allen too", he confided in a low voice to Liz "cuz they're my family, my children too. Children, not by blood but by somthin' better. Choice. They want t' be in my life. I know they're happy for me and Ennis both and for what we done and for the things I done for him. They've been part a my life, some a' the best parts of it, for a long time now. Like you Liz, like you. " She wilted a little with the words then decided it'd been just a flash, chemical maybe, but her, not him, the cause. She did?
Most importantly, she knew, Jack's self-esteem came in the greatest measure from his love of Ennis. He was a part in making Ennis complete, or as Ennis’d once most memorably put it, and to a lot of people, for making him “possible.” He’d seen loss and pain, she knew, but even more the value of at least one thing, the happiness he now had in their lives together. Had he not risked it all when that postcard came from Ennis, reporting his divorce? Being honest enough to get his own? Doing nothing then, or doing less; not fighting for what he needed? It was another investment, not of money but rather love, and the chance of a spectacular payoff, one not measured in the coins of this realm. It could have cost him so much, much, more then, on that trip, than he’d invested now in “the trip.”
As the two couples, rearranged for an hour or two amidst the newly discovered wonders of the ship, wandered in and out of ballrooms and libraries and down a long, glassed-in deck, Jack continued his story to Liz. It was almost if he was summing up his life 'til now before it was over, summoning inchoate thoughts from the last few months and grateful for the best audience he knew for matters like this. She saw his breezy charm had deserted him, at least speaking to her about matters this serious. His rough schooling, he'd told her before, hadn’t come as much from books as it had from life, and he put great stock in the commonplace. Aphorisms, slogans, quotes and sayings stuck in his memory were reference points he accessed to support himself in situations like these, and one that kept coming back - author unknown to him then, he said - was Oscar Wilde’s definition of a cynic: “one who knows the price of everything and the value of nothing.” Jack knew he was no cynic, just not that Oscar Wilde had thought so until he looked it up. And smiled again to Liz as he continued.
Jack's heart "could be reliably located on his sleeve", he said, much as he’d tried - sometimes well, others not - to hide his emotions over a hundred things but above all, those about Ennis. And he accepted, even before Junior'd mentioned Allen's hopes to try to start the season himself, that all their roles at the ranch were in transition. "What sense does it make" answering the question as he asked it "to keep Allen and Junior on a leash, waiting for her Daddy and her other Daddy to cede their control over the business? Time to let 'em run, find out things themselves."
Jack knew something about short reins, about waiting and wanting, he said, even as Liz knew what he'd say next. She knew too how close he’d come to losing the life they had today before it had the chance to grow. If they were to have the same freedom, they'd needn't fight as hard but they needed it just as much, Jack concluded, and time for me, n' Ennis too, if he's still along for the ride, to saddle up so's to speak and think where the next trail leads, Liz."
..."I want to make sure her fathers’ sins won't be visited on their daughter."
That was it. He was silent for a while, looking away as he composed himself and turned back to her, the sun out again on his broad, tanned face and back in his tone...
"So you see, she's got her reasons, and I got mine, even if I don't really know what Ennis' are, or if they're any, and the means to step back and look at our life. I jes happen' to want to see a bit a' the big wide world, is all, while I'm at it. I'm hopin' it'll be the honeymoon we never had, maybe the start of something new, maybe just pure relaxin', but it's about as far as I could find to get away from the day to day, and now that I have, we're off. Wish me luck, gimme a kiss and we'll be seeing you two again before you know it. How's Peter doing with figurin' his coverage? And, hey, thanks for keeping it secret. I can't wait to see the look on Ennis' face. Remember my plan and I can call the hotel the night before if there's anything changed."
"Jack, you're too much." He'd left Liz unaccountably speechless, not a frequent occurence in their relationship. It was like a jetboat ride through the swamp ending in sunlight. "You're doing right by all of you, Jack. I just love you so much, for, what, how can I say what I mean? For everything. For loving Ennis so much - God, I still get goosebumps thinking about you two, your story; in love since 19; married; kids; 1300 mile drives to see each other for what, a week? And that's not even starting on what you two've gone and built since. There's a movie in it, cowboy, and I wish I knew how to write it."
"But I'm more grateful that you think of me like this, that you can just lay out your heart like that, and that I get to listen. So what if whatever it is isn't solved here, now, today or next month? You love him so much, Jack Twist. I'm just blinded by what you're trying to do - and Peter is too - what a one-off fabulous gesture: to show him the world just because "something" might be wrong and you couldn't think of anything better to do? Do you have a clue? - don't answer that - you know better than any of us. How many other people - even with the time and money to do it - would put themselves out there, literally, out here, now that I think of it, for someone else, like this, no matter how much they loved 'em?"
"You're not bad looking, Jack" she said, drawing back with a smiling appraisal "even in your middle age." But you need him, even now, more than anything else: it's so real. You ache for him, still, don't you? There's a lot of middle-aged people that'd give the same arm your heart's resting on to still have that"
"It makes more sense than you're letting on" she said, finally, as they climbed the last set of stairs back to the suite. "Even if you don't find what you think is there, or better, find it's nothing, at least it'll give the two of you stories to last for the rest of your lives. And time together, uninterrupted, to dig down and get at what's hurting, if there's something hurting, for both of you. Sure it's costing a lot, sure, Jack, but you've written bigger checks. You followed your gut before, Jack, for money and love, and liked where it led, so even if this is a gamble; some magnificent crapshoot, it's still money well spent."
"And Peter and me; what can I say? You better know how much you guys mean to us, but I can't say I ever dreamed we were so much a part of, all of it; of, of, your feelings for us - so - strong, oh I wish I had better words, Jack Twist - that you want us to share a part of this. I can't wait to see you in San Francisco."
"Ah, Lizzy", Jack said as he bent her into an tight embrace well back from the Pete and Ennis before turning the last corner, nuzzling her ear just a bit. "It's still like a dream, most a' the time, and you're in most a' the good parts, too. All of 'em since you showed up on the porch, Liz. I mighta done it without ya, but I don't think I'd a' wanted to. I'll miss you 'til we get to San Francisco and I'm sorry to've gone carryin' on, talkin' about the money so much. We won't miss it. And if it can't buy some happiness it's worth shit. Maybe not all a' happiness that's out there, but some."
“Besides,” he asked Liz quietly as all four found themselves back in the hallway outside the suite, “how d' you put a price tag on a dream?”
TBC as Chapter Three: Two Drifters, Off to See the World