So, this is my first post of 2026 and my 21st year writing these short stories. What a kick in the ass that is! Time flies when you’re havin’ fun.

Willie has been on my mind (alas, not Georgia), and I read an interesting article about him last week in the New Yorker, titled How Willie Nelson Sees American. He’s 92 and still has a unique point of view. Once you meet the man you’ll never forget him, and after reading this article I was reminded why that will always remain true. As music always matters, why not walk down memory lane with him and see what you find in your memory warehouse. I hope you find your way to his rendition of September Song.

Part Seven

Hank looked at the apparent wind display and winced: the last gust had clocked-in at 67 knots and the had Goose shook it off – but only because the waves had blocked some of the wind. Both boats were dealing with twenty foot waves now, for the most part, but every now and then a sneaker caught them off-guard. Judy was exhausted and it was now too rough to even consider having Huck go over to lend a hand, but the good news was that the Hydrovanes were working as advertised and steering both boats without problem. Both boats were flying storm staysails and storm tri-sails on their masts, and the forecasters were still saying the wind would be tapering off ‘anytime now.’

The wind hadn’t gotten that memo yet, however, and it was still kicking the snot out of them.

He changed pages on the chartplotter and noted the seawater temp was still 37 degrees, and in 48 hours they had made good a solid 220 miles from St. John’s. Of course that meant they still had 1200 miles to make Reykjavik, but at least nothing on either boat had broken – yet. Huck slipped open the companionway and poked his head out into the space under the dodger and smiled.

“You want a sandwich or anything?” he asked.

“No point,” Hank replied. “As soon as I choke it down it comes right back up.”

Huck popped down below and came up with a Gatorade, the red kind, and handed it to Hank. “See if you can hold this down. You need a Zofran?”

Hank shook his head while he grabbed the bottle, then he slammed it down. “Thanks, Amigo.”

“Hey, no sweat. You want me to take it for a while?”

Hank had realized that Huck was stronger than an ox and was no longer bothered by seasickness. On the other hand, the wind and the waves still scared him, and when the boat heeled in a big gust he still got kind of weird, like the ‘world-is-coming-to-an-end’ kind of weird. Hysteria, Judy called it. Almost like he was losing control. So…Hank still kept an eye on Huck when he took over at the change of watch. 

“Come on up when you’re ready. I want to tighten the bolts on the Hydrovane again.”

The VHF squawked. “Hank, you on frequency?”

“Judy! How’re you doing? Did you get some sleep?”

“Yup, but my Hydrovane is making funny noises.”

“Get a 10mm socket and tighten those two bolts I showed you. It’s on the right mounting bracket on my unit. Try that one and let me know.”

“Okay, will do.”

“Damn,” Hank sighed, “one of us needs to be with her until we get out of this crap.”

“You want me to try and…”

“Hell, no. At 38 degrees you’d last thirty seconds in this water before you were fucked up.”

“I know, man. Just askin’…”

“As soon as it’s safe, Amigo.”

“Okay, Hank. Now, how ‘bout a sandwich.”

“Maybe. Just no tuna fish, okay…?”

+++++

They enjoyed three days of benign conditions, with temperatures in the low-50s and winds out of the west at 15 knots. Huck managed to hop aboard The Untold Want and get Judy below for a full night’s sleep, and when she woke the next morning he handed her a bowl of hot oatmeal, then some scrambled eggs on toast. With a chaser of blue Gatorade. Judy smiled and ate everything, then went to call Hank.

And she received no reply. 

She tried again. No reply.

She slid open the companionway and looked ahead and saw that the Blue Goose was sailing merrily along, and Hank appeared to be sound asleep, though still in the cockpit. She went back down the steps and turned to Huck. “How long have you been over here?” she asked.

“Hank dropped me off as soon as you went below. I turned off your alarm so you could get some sleep.”

“Yes…but…how long have you been here?” 

“Maybe 18 hours? Why?”

“You need to get back and relieve Hank!”

“He said he’d call when he needs me.”

“So he decided I need help.”

Huck nodded. “Yup. He was real worried about you for a while.”

She shook her head and sighed. “Yeah, I was too, so I guess I should be thankful. I really needed the sleep.”

“I know. We could hear it on the radio.”

“Really?”

Huck nodded. “So, can you take it for a few hours? I’ll do the four-to-midnight watch if that’s okay with you?”

+++++

Hank jerked up and shook himself awake, then heard the insistent beep again. He slid down the cockpit seat to the wheel and looked at the chartplotter and saw the red radar guard zone alarm flashing, and he muted the audible alarm while he shook the cobwebs out of his skull.

There! Right at the edge of the 36 mile ring on the radar. Two big returns. No…three. Make that ten…

He shook his head, changed the range to 24 miles and the targets disappeared, and when he ran the range back to 36 miles dozens of targets appeared. And that just didn’t make sense.

Then it hit him.

Icebergs. Those are icebergs. Dozens of them – and dead ahead.

He went to the radio and called Judy.

“Is your radar picking up targets about 35 miles ahead?” he asked.

“I was just about to call you. Could those be icebergs?”

Hank chuckled. “It’s either that or the Spanish Armada.”

“How close do you want to get to them?”

He thought about that for a moment then replied. “Maybe a quarter mile, enough to get some good shots of the boats around the bergs with the drone.”

“Huck says he wants to take the Zodiac over and walk on one.”

Hank shook his head. “Of course he does.”

“Okay. I’ll try to talk him out of it.”

There was a thin layer of mist hanging over the water that morning, so binoculars were pointless for anything more than a mile out, so he watched the radar then scanned ahead visually, looking for small bergs that might not show up on radar. 

Fifteen minutes later he began seeing little chunks of ice, some the size of a basketball, others the size of a small car, and none of them were showing up on radar…

So he let out the main and furled the genoa, dropped his speed down to 3 knots, then called Judy. “We’re coming up on some growlers, too small for the radar to pick up. I’ve slowed down to about 3 knots.”

“Okay, got it,” Huck replied.

“Is she asleep?”

“No. Making breakfast.”

“You had any sleep?”

“Lots. I’m good. How ‘bout you?”

“I was asleep when the radar alarm went off, so I think I got about three hours.”

“Judy’s making breakfast burritos. Want one?”

“No, I want two. Maybe three.”

“They’re pretty big, Hank.”

“Then two. That ought to do me.”

“Wow…”

“Huck, I haven’t eaten in two days!”

“Neither have we.”

“Okay, well, I’m coming over now, and putting some fenders out.” 

“It almost looks calm enough to raft up for a few minutes.”

“Almost,” Hank sighed, “but not quite.”

“Okay. I’ll hand over a plate when you come alongside.”

Judy was on deck when he came alongside, and she stepped over with two plates, then stepped down into the cockpit with Hank.

“Here you go. Breakfast in bed!”

Hank smiled as he took the plate, then he sat behind the wheel and wolfed down a whole burrito in three bites. Judy shook her head, amazed, then took a small bite. When she looked up Hank had already finished his second burrito.

“You weren’t kidding, were you?” she asked.

“I could eat three more. I’ve never been so hungry…”

“I’ll make you a big lunch. Now go down and get some sleep.”

“No way.”

“Hank, you slept out here all night. You’re pale, you need hydration, and you need deep sleep. Doctors orders, so go below and hit the sack. I’ll wake you when I think you’ve had enough.”

+++++

The way ahead was relatively clear of big icebergs, but the smaller ‘growlers’ were now everywhere. Most of the small stuff was easy to spot, but Huck was up on the Goose’s bow, pointing out when to turn port or starboard, and Judy was following just a few yards behind Hank. Whenever a larger, car-sized berg appeared, Huck shouted out the alarm and Hank cut the throttle and drifted in the direction Huck pointed. 

The latest ice report indicated this ice field was about 20 miles across, and they’d already traversed half that distance when the way ahead began to look impassable, with the growlers packed so tightly the area was turning into a solid sheet of uninterrupted white. Hank saw an opening to starboard and took it, Judy turning where he’d turned, and about a half hour later the ice began to thin again. Two hours later they were back in open water, almost all the large icebergs showing ten miles off their port beam. Hank opened the weather app on his iPad and the latest updates streamed in via StarLink, and as he looked at the forecast for the next day he groaned. Another low pressure system was coming down the Labrador Sea, following the same track as the one that had just slammed them, and instead of ten days of good weather it looked like they might get half that number.

They were now almost 250 miles due south of Nanortalik, Greenland, which put them, according to the chartplotter, 717 miles from Reykjavik. So they’d covered half the distance in eight days, one day longer than he’d expected. Because they’d slowed to deal with the ice, of course. But now they needed to put some distance between them and this new low pressure system, and that meant raising sail and pushing hard. He waved at Judy then pumped his fist, their agreed upon signal to pull alongside for a chat.

“Got time for a sandwich?” Judy asked as she pulled alongside.

Hank nodded. “We got another storm coming, same track as the last one. We need to put some miles between us, and fast, so let’s eat and then get all sail up and see if we can’t outrun that thing. I’ll take a nap, and Huck can come take over for you in four hours.”

“Okay. Can Huck take the wheel while I make sandwiches?”

Huck jumped but his timing was off, and Judy’s boat fell away as Huck’s foot bounced off the rail, and just like that he was in the water. His Mustang life vest popped and then inflated, scaring him, then shock of the icy water caused him to scream out in pain; Hank started the engine and put the wheel hard to starboard, and he dropped the main while the boat began to lumber around the turn. He rolled in the genoa and got behind the wheel and made a course correction, then got the folding boarding ladder in the port-side boarding gate deployed. He tied a bowline in the main-sheet and tossed it down to Huck as the boat drifted to a stop, then he pulled him over to the ladder.

“Can you make it?”

Huck looked up at him, now helpless and in tremendous pain, and shook his head. Hank leaned out, got the looped main-sheet under Huck’s arms then went to the electric winch and started tailing the line as Huck was hauled back onboard. Hank got him out of the rope and down the companionway and, leaving the diesel on to provide power, he turned on the Espar heating system and grabbed a handful of towels then started rubbing Huck’s arms and legs, drying him and getting his circulation moving again. He felt a bump, a hard one, and heard Judy hopping onboard then racing down the companionway. She came in and started working on Huck, checking his vitals then getting a blanket wrapped around him. She continued rubbing him down, concentrating on his extremities…

“Hank, could you get some hot cocoa going?” she said softly.

“On it,” he said, his hands now beginning to shake as the enormity of the moment finally hit home. He shook his head – hard – then got the stove going and water on to boil. He looked up, saw Judy getting Huck’s clothes off, and a minute later she was taking him into the head, sitting him down and turning on the shower, using warm water to get the boy’s core temperature up slowly. Five minutes later she walked Huck into the forward cabin and got him under the blankets, wrapping his head in a towel and just leaving enough face exposed to insure an unobstructed airway.

She came back to the main cabin a few minutes later, and she was pale, seriously shook up.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I think maybe he got careless, or maybe he just didn’t time his jump right…”

“Goddamn…I don’t know why but I started a timer on my watch. He was in the water over four minutes…I’m surprised he’s still breathing…damn, Hank, what did we do? Are we getting careless?”

Hank shrugged. “He didn’t have his harness hooked on, we never do when we jump across. I think I need to rig a longer line to hook onto so we’re tied to the boat when we make the jump…”

“Right. Good idea.”

“Judy? Is he going to be okay?”

She nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Hank, he’s in such good shape, his heart is as strong as anything I’ve ever seen, so yeah, he should be okay in a few hours.”

“Did the shower work okay?”

She nodded. “Yes, and the heater was a great idea. Glad we have those now.”

“I’ll get a fire going. Are you tied off okay?”

She shook her head. “Just one line. I’ll go set some fenders…”

“You stay here. I’ll do it, you stay with Huck.”

She nodded and watched as he went up the companionway, and then it hit her. Hank was so much like Henry, her Henry. Resolute, and he never panicked, not once that she had seen, and his speed and concentration saved the day. He had saved Huck’s life, pure and simple, and yet all he could think about was how to fix the problem going forward. Again, just like Henry. Don’t blame anyone, just identify the problem and fix it. No hysterics, no bravado, just steady as she goes and get back to work. She got lost in the moment, thinking about Hank and Henry and even Bud, and she realized there was a straight line running between them, connecting them through time, and she of course understood genetics but had never really seen the consequences in such a direct, a profoundly direct, way. She stepped into the galley, everything the same here as on her boat, only the way food was stowed marked the difference between the two. She found what she needed and made grilled cheese sandwiches and chicken noodle soup, and soon the cabin smelled like home, her home when she was a kid, when her own mother made the exact same thing and it hit her, she was part of another line extending back in time…or forward, into the future and into the past – because such lines are infinite…

Hank came down and ate, but she was aware he was looking at her much more than he usually did, and she looked at him in kind. “What’s on your mind, Kiddle?” she asked, gently, maternally, just like her own mother had always asked when she knew something was up.

“You, I guess.”

“Oh? How so?”

“I’m beginning to feel something different when I look at you. I can’t explain it but it’s there.”

She nodded. “I know, and I understand, Hank. When you start to rely on people in situations like this a special kind of bond grows. It’s almost like a new kind of family.”

He nodded. “When did you fall in love with Henry?”

“In France. We took a long walk one evening. It was in Normandy, on a chalky white trail in an impossibly green pasture, right alongside a cliff. We came to some rocks, big rocks, and we sat and watched thunderstorms out over the sea and it was like watching life, the entire cycle of life from birth to death, taking shape and playing out, and I looked at him and knew. I just knew. I was married once before, to a really mean person, a man I met in college. He was so sweet when he wanted to be but it was all an act, a show, and after we were married he felt like he didn’t need to hide anything anymore and he became like this whole other person. He was the same on the outside, ya know? But he was hiding something monstrous on the inside.”

“Did he hurt you?”

She nodded her head, looked away. “Just once, but that was all it took. I called the police and moved back in with my parents until I finished medical school, and then one day I met Emily and suddenly I felt safe again. Or maybe I felt safe for the first time in my life…”

“Are you going to leave her after when finish this trip?”

She nodded again. “Probably. I’m not, well, I’m not into the things she is. I wanted a friend, a companion, but she wanted something else. Something I can’t give her, and that isn’t fair. To her, I guess, more than anyone else.”

“I’ve always liked her. Every time we take Daisy in for her shots I watch her, the way she relates to Daisy, the way she feels, I guess.”

“It’s not an act, Hank. She really is that way. She has a big heart, a gentle soul. I love her, and I always will, but kind of in the same way I love you and Huck.”

He nodded. “I guess I understand, but I’ve never felt what I feel now when I look at you. You’re not my mother but sometimes it almost feels that way, then it feel different than that. I can’t describe it, but I feel it.”

“Okay, thanks for telling me, Hank. And it’s okay to feel that way. Like I said, I love you guys too, I love you because you’re becoming not just friends, but best friends, and I think we always will be, too.”

“Yeah, that’s it, I guess. It just feels really strong sometimes.”

“I know, but real friendship is like that sometimes. Overpowering. When you realize there’s someone out there who really gets you. Those are great moments, Hank. Really great. Now…who gets to do the dishes…?”

+++++

They weren’t fast enough.

The storm swept over southern Greenland and turned east as steering currents from a frontal passage coming up from the Great Lakes pushed the storm east, and directly at The Blue Goose and The Untold Want. Hank felt the change almost a day before the first winds hit, before the dark gray storm clouds appeared along the western horizon, and a quick glance at the chartplotter revealed a 300 mile gap between them and Reykjavik. 300 miles was three days, give or take, so at least two days of the storm and a final approach into an unfamiliar port. 

And right now there was no place to run, nowhere to hide, no island redoubt, no harbor of refuge. Just 300 miles of open North Atlantic Ocean, and with water temperatures now down to 35 degrees. In other words, even more deadly. Huck still wasn’t a hundred percent, and his fingers were still numb 20 hours after he went overboard. He also seemed more hesitant walking around on deck, like the experience had really messed with his head.

When the first icy fingers of wind struck they did so gently, almost seductively, daring Hank to leave too much sail up, to not be prudent and start reefing the main and rolling in the genoa. He’d heard their music before and wasn’t falling for it this time.

So Hank didn’t listen, as warm and tender as their music at first appeared to be. He rolled in the main to the third, deepest reefing mark, the point where the sail’s reinforcement was strongest. He went forward and pulled in the genoa and the staysail, then hoisted the storm staysail on the Pro-furl furler. He folded the bimini and lashed it, and when Judy saw what he was up to she began to do the same.

And then Huck saw her, and he looked at Hank. “I better go and give her a hand,” he said.

Hank nodded. “Ready when you are.”

“You know, Hank, I’m not sure I’ll ever be ready again.”

“Okay, understood. You want to take the wheel. I can go over if you don’t feel up to it.”

Huck looked down and shook his head. “Man, I don’t feel right. Something’s fucking with me, Hank. I’ve never been scared like this, like I am right now.”

“I understand, Amigo. We’ll just take it one step at a time, okay?”

“I feel like I’m letting you guys down, ya know…”

“You’re not, Huck, so don’t sweat it.” He picked up the VHF and called Judy, told her he was coming over and Huck came and took the wheel as Hank disconnected the Hydrovane. Hank hooked onto the new, longer safety line then went to the boarding gate, waiting for Huck to steer them into place. He jumped over without incident and changed out Judy’s sails while she steered into the wind, and when he went aft to the cockpit she was looking at him.

“How’s Huck?” she asked.

“Still pretty freaked out.”

She nodded. “Want me to make a couple of sandwiches?”

“Sure. That’d be great. I’ll take the wheel now,” he said as he went to the wheel and checked the chartplotter. He steered until they were back on the correct heading, then set the Hydrovane to hold the same angle to the wind.

She came up with four sandwiches in a sack and took the wheel. “See if you can get him to come on over after he eats. Tell him I could use a hand.”

He looked at her and nodded. “Understood,” was all he needed to say, because they were thinking the same thing. The first thing you do when you fall off a horse is get right back on. You never walk off, you never give in to fear.  Bud had told him that a million times.

She steered over and watched as Hank handed Huck a sammie, then a second one, and she watched them talking and laughing a little, and then she felt something wrong, something big, and she turned around and looked behind them.

The dark gray wall was getting closer, and she turned and looked at Hank.

He looked at her and nodded.

There was no need for words now. He knew what she was going to say, and probably before she knew it, too. They were on the same wavelength, operating in some other zone, someplace she had never been before, and when she realized that she was suddenly unafraid. 

“How strange,” she said to the wind. 

When she looked at Hank a few minutes later he was looking at her, and then he smiled.

And when she saw Henry inside that smile she knew everything would be okay.

+++++

“Oh fuck!” Huck screamed. “Judy! Hold on to something!”

The wave had crept up on them, silently, like it had been stalking them. And now it had decided to pounce.

The waves and swell had combined now, combined into something new and fierce. Tall things, now just big. Tall, but this one reared up like a cobra getting ready to strike as it came up behind them. Huck had one chance to get this right, to steer a little to starboard and try to surf across the face of the wave before it broke and fell on them, and he turned the wheel, felt the stern lifting and the rudder biting hard, trying to overcome the wave’s boundless force. The Untold Want slid to starboard and began surfing along the side of the wave, and as he held on tight he guessed it had to be 25, maybe 30 feet tall, but right now this wave felt mean and angry. He found the slot, the way out and in an instant they were free of it. Free of this one, anyway, and he looked to his right, tried to see the Goose and he just caught sight of her red running light, up on the bow pulpit. Saw her rising to meet the same wave, then falling off and surfing down the back side and he smiled. He smiled because he knew Hank was smiling, and inside that one singular moment he felt truly connected to Hank – like maybe they had been friends before, but this storm, like all the storms they had endured before this one, was a forge. A forge that had cast them into something beyond brotherhood.

And Judy, winching in the staysail then letting it out, controlling their speed on each concussive gust, on the front of the next wave, and then again, coming off the backside and into the next windshadow, deep inside the next looming trough. 

Steer up the backside and point into the wind a little, then look behind and gauge the distance to the next face, get ready to fall off and surf the face of the next one.

Hank was struggling because he couldn’t leave the wheel so had sheeted his lines in, and the Goose went from overpowered on the crests to underpowered in the troughs, so he compensated with the various wind angles by steering, and his shoulders were beginning to burn – because they’d been at it now for 12 hours straight. And still, there was no end in sight.

Except Reykjavik. 

Their last ace in the hole…and the only hand Hank could play now…was to get them into Hafnarfjordur, into the marina on the south side of Reykjavik, or possibly the Snarfari Docks, deep inside the city, but while both offered protection from the storm, getting into either presented serious challenges. Getting into any slip in 80 knot winds was going to be a bear, and with Huck on Judy’s boat he would have to do it alone.

His phone rang.

The number popped up on his iPad, which was mounted under the dodger, beside the companionway, and he sighed. It was his grandfather, but taking the call now meant leaving the wheel, and he just couldn’t do it.

The line went dead, then a text appeared. The iPad was too far away to read, but he could pull up texts over Bluetooth on his chartplotter and the text popped up, overlaid on the current active chart.

“Have a slip for you at the Snarfari Docks, more protected entrance than Hafnarfjordur. Your fathers and I standing-by to help with lines.”

He dashed forward and replied. “Received. Huck with Judy, bad out here.”

“We’re here so take your time. We have you on AIS.”

Hank made it back to the wheel in time to counter the rising stern, and he turned, looked at the wave and groaned.

“Oh, you’re a big one, aren’t you?”

The wave was curling now and about fifty feet above him, the roaring noise of the falling crest wiping out all other sound – and in the next instant he was under water, his body being pushed forward into the companionway slides. His line held and he tried to pull himself back to the wheel – but it felt like the Goose was beginning to roll so he reached for the binnacle and held on tight…

But the Goose held on, she didn’t roll. She shrugged off the wave and stood tall, and Hank found himself face up on top if the dodger, his legs caught up in the mainsheet traveler. He pulled himself free, saw Huck and Judy fighting the next one as he fought his way back to the wheel and reoriented the Goose to the waves. Next, he started the engine – more to make sure the fuel pumps hadn’t been compromised in the near-roll, then he set up an intercept course for the approach to Snarfari.

He called Judy, told her their destination and that Bud, Henry, and Carter were already there, waiting for them.

“How far are we now?” she asked.

“Fifteen miles from the lighthouse on Gróttutangar, another three to the marina after that.”

“Okay. Are you okay? It looked like you rolled a few minutes ago…”

“Yeah, close call. Look, I think I broke some ribs…”

“Is it hard to breathe?”

“No, but there’s a sharp pain on my left side and it hurts to twist my body.”

“Then don’t! I’ll come over and check you out when we get closer.”

“Okay. Out.” He knew that wasn’t going to happen, not until they were in the marina, and right now the storm wasn’t letting up. And steering hurt. A lot.

He had to start coming to port in order to get on the new heading, and to make matters even more interesting they were now approaching a lee shore. The storm was, in short, pushing them towards the rocky coastline, and if they couldn’t get far enough to the north to enter the harbor, their trip would be over, their boats dashed against the rocks.

So now they had to ride dead downwind, with the waves coming directly from the rear. And if he surfed off the backside of these wave, he’d have to go to port, towards the north, where the waves appeared to be even larger.

But there were no other options now. He was running out of luck, and right now it was either make this happen or lose the boat. 

+++++

“This isn’t funny!” Huck snarled. “God! If you’re doing this, would you knock it off, please? Now?”

The wind speed was a constant 65 knots, gusts were now approaching 80 knots. The wind was blowing so hard that waves were now having a hard time forming. They were being blown flat, and the spray felt like a shotgun blast to the face.

And that was exactly when the snow started. Fat and wet, horizontally blown snow was suddenly streaking by at 65 knots, coating the inside of the dodger, the standing rigging, and soon, the back of his jacket. And his neck. He’d almost been able to see the lighthouse on Grotta Point, at least he was certain he’d seen the light, but not now, not with this snow. The chartplotter was standing in for his eyes, the radar too, but radar was less effective in heavy snow. The hull was bouncing around so erratically that even the readings from the depth-sounder were unreliable, leaving the only human sense that mattered, vision, shut down and irrelevant. Both boats were relying on instruments now, like pilots flying in fog…

But…

…his ears were working and they heard breaking surf. He double-checked their depth; it now showed a solid 25 feet under the keel, and according to the bottom contours on the chart, that put their boat about 300 yards from the point, and the lighthouse. Judy sheeted in the main and they picked up speed, then they saw the light on top of the lighthouse, like a dim flash inside deep blue-gray fog. Really, it was more a diffuse brightening within the fog – and snow – and wind driven spray, but it was there, really there, and right where it was supposed to be.

The Blues Goose was a hundred yards behind them when the Untold Want made the turn and fell within the windshadow of land and a sudden urban landscape, and almost instantly the wind speed fell to 20 knots, then 15. Hank pulled alongside and the three of them exchanged a quick glance, and a half hour later they pulled up to the marina.

Huck saw his father standing there and at first wanted to cry, then he realized that no, big boys don’t cry.

Judy saw that Emily hadn’t come and she sighed, but she understood. Emily’s letter had spelled it out in plain English. They had reached an end. It was time for them to move on to the next chapter.

Judy knew that was true, but even so, the sudden emptiness of the moment hurt. Hurt more than she had expected it might. And Huck sensed that. He sensed her sudden loneliness, the deflation of no one waiting on the dock – for her.

“Hey Doc,” he said to her, breaking her reveries, and when she turned to him he continued. “We did it. You and me, together. We did it.”

She smiled and nodded. “We sure did. Your father looks so happy to see you.”

“And I feel happy to be here with you, like you’re my new bestest friend ever.”

She looked at him, puzzled now and wondering where this was coming from. “You okay?” she asked.

“I’m not sure. Not really, but I’m glad you and Hank are here.”

She nodded. “Me too. Can you believe how fast that wind disappeared? What a hoot!”

“And no waves,” Huck sighed. “My shoulders are burning…”

Hank pulled ahead and swung a lazy arc in front of his family and the CBC news crew – who were on the dock recording everything, which meant they were going to record their docking, and when Huck realized that he looked at Judy and shook his head. “You want to take it? I don’t want to screw up on camera.”

“You’re doing fine, Huck.”

He nodded and watched as Hank backed into his slip, his father hopping on board and throwing dock lines to Bud and Carter. He executed the same sweeping turn, then backed into the slip next to Hank’s – and in that moment he seemed to deflate as two weeks of solid tension evaporated. It was raining here and he just didn’t care. His clothes were soaked, his skin moist and chafed in spots, but he didn’t give a damn. His took lines from Judy and he helped them tie-off, then Carter came aboard and went straight to his son and held him close.

Huck grabbed hold of his old man and didn’t let go for a very long time.

The CBC camera crew recorded it all, but the reporter kept back. She had been instructed not to intrude on the moment.

+++++

Bud had decided he wasn’t going to mention the missing logbook to anyone, not even Hank. Hank probably had every reason to know, but the decision, ultimately, was Judy’s. If she was planning on using the log to go back to France, to Henry and her daughter, there really wasn’t much he could do to stop her. He’d told her of the dangerous possibilities, and she was an adult. She could make her own decisions.

Which was why, when Judy first hopped down to the dock in Reykjavik he ignored her. Carter was with his son Huck, Henry with his son Hank, and then there was Judy Stone, all by herself. And he couldn’t do it; he couldn’t ignore her, not when she was alone like this.

“How are you holding up?” he asked as she wobbled around the dock, trying to shake off being on solid ground again.

“Is it just me, or is the ground moving?”

He grinned. “It’s you.”

“I’ve never been so happy…when I saw the three of you up here I was about to cry. And we need to get Hank to a doctor’s office. I think he’s got some broken ribs and we need an x-ray to confirm.”

Bud nodded. “To the doctor’s office, now!” he said to his son.

Henry nodded. “Got it.”

“How did you know he was hurt?” Judy asked.

“Just a precaution. We got in two days ago and spotted out all the places we thought we might need to visit. What broke on your boat?”

“Nothing, really, but Huck went overboard.”

Bud stopped walking and looked at her. “How long was he in the water?”

“Four minutes.”

“Damn it all!” Bud grumbled. “Did he forget his safety line?”

“It was too short, so yes, he unclipped before he jumped.”

He nodded then resumed walking. “We rented a van, and we’ve got a bunch of rooms at the Hilton. The hot water seems endless, and I got you a room with a jacuzzi.”

“Oh, bless you. I’ve been dreaming of boiling myself in an endless bath…!”

“There are hot springs here, assuming that volcano doesn’t eat it for breakfast tomorrow. Swimsuit optional, I hear.”

“Really…? That sounds fun. You want to go?”

He looked at her and chuckled. “We went yesterday. Nice water, very hot, but yeah, I’ll go with you – if you need a chaperone.”

“It might help Hank,” she added hastily.

“That it may. Well, here we are,” he said as he opened the sliding door for her. As soon as everyone had piled in Henry got behind the wheel and drove the few blocks to the Landspitali University Hospital. 

“The doctor in the emergency department gently palpated Hank’s chest then sent him straight to radiology. The x-ray revealed two broken ribs on his left side and one on the right, and the doctor wanted to know how this had happened.

So Hank told him, and the more he described what had happened out there during the storm the more alarmed the doctor became. “You are out there alone and you are twelve years? This is madness! Madness!”

After the doctor finished wrapping Hank’s chest with thick, heavy white tape, the entourage returned to the marina to secure the boats from the storm, which had followed them into the city, then they went to the hotel. Huck had a room with his dad, and of course Hank was staying with his dad, which left Bud and Judy – in two separate rooms. But as tired as everyone was, and even with three of them in dire need of a shower, no one wanted to do anything but talk.

About the storm. About everything that had happened, but especially when Huck went overboard. Carter listened, appalled, then proud of them all. He too could see what was happening now. His boy was turning into a man over the course of one summer, one month, really, and it was astonishing to watch the transformation. Hank talked up Judy’s burritos, Judy talked up Huck’s tuna salad, and slowly but surely Huck’s eyes grew heavy. Then Hank’s did too. Judy called time and they got the boys to their rooms and tucked in, then the adults went out to dinner.

And they talked and talked, mainly about the storm and the toll it had taken on the boats and their crews. Judy had been terrified twice, when Huck went into the water and when The Blue Goose had almost rolled when that colossal wave hit her. Which was when Hank’s ribs got busted, she reminded them. The Goose was on her beam ends, her sails in the water and it looked like the cockpit had flooded, but the boat righted and Hank was okay, or at least he had  looked alright.

But that moment, Judy said, had marked a moment in her life bigger than anything else she had ever experienced. She made another startling admission then, too. She was beginning to love the boys almost as if they were her own boys; the feeling was that intense. When they did something impressive she felt impressed, but she also felt proud, and these feelings were all very unexpected to her.

Bud sat back and tried not to interrupt this manic display, because he knew she really needed to vent, to get these feelings out in the open. Henry knew enough to let her talk, but Carter wanted to know all about his son’s trip into the icy cold North Atlantic.

“There’s not much to tell, really. He misjudged the distance and he’d taken off his tether so he could jump across. His life vest inflated as advertised, and Hank got to him faster than fast, and Hank had also gotten him up on deck by himself, and down below – by himself.

And Carter Ash was as mystified as he was grateful.

“So, what you’re saying is that Hank saved my boy’s life?”

“Oh, yes, without a doubt. I think not one of you appreciate just how calm he is, but especially when things are going wrong. Hank just keeps his cool and carries on. It’s impressive to watch, really.”

“Henry, I had no idea,” Carter sighed. “You have one helluva boy.”

Henry nodded but he just looked down into his drink, then he looked up – at Judy.

“Where were you during all this?” he asked Judy.

“I got out of his way, then after Huck was safely aboard and the waves settled a little I went over and tied off to the Goose and went below to help. Everything happened so fast, we didn’t have time to think. Everything was just pure adrenaline and instinct.”

Bud looked at Henry, then at Judy. “So, what say we load up after breakfast and head over to the hot springs again. I bet the boys could both use a long soak.”

And that was the cue to break off the interrogation for the evening, because that’s what it had turned into. Two overprotective dads trying to figure out what went wrong – when nothing unexpected had happened. Going overboard was predictable, and Hank had everything onboard to pull off the rescue. And so he had, under the most difficult conditions imaginable, but he had.

And once Judy was in her room, Bud turned and lit into his son.

“Damnit, why did you turn that into some kind of FBI interrogation? She’s done nothing wrong, Henry, nothing. And if you can’t be nice to her, then just leave her the Hell alone.”

Henry turned and looked away. “Is that what I was doing, Dad?”

Bud nodded. “Both of you were. It was a tag-team match, like watching two bullies beating up on an innocent bystander. And Henry, it wasn’t enjoyable to watch. You each owe her an apology.”

“Damn, Dad, what’s with you? You falling in love with her?”

Bud wheeled around and got in his son’s face. “Don’t you ever speak to me like that, not ever again.” And with that, Bud turned and stormed off down the hallway to his room, and he even slammed the door as he went inside.

Henry stood there for a few minutes, wondering what the hell had just happened…

…then it hit him.

‘If I’m that obtuse, that much of a bully, have I been doing the exact same thing to Liz? Have I been running all over her, pushing here around – just because I can? Do I owe her an apology too?’

And he’d left her in Norwich – again. With his mom. Because her psychiatrists had told him it was too soon. She shouldn’t travel yet, she was emotionally too unpredictable, even on her meds, and might end up arrested by Homeland Security for making a disturbance on the flight.

But she was home, without her husband and one of her boys. Alone, again, to drift within her dreams once again.

+++++

How, she wondered, could that man be such an asshole – while his son was nothing less than a saint? Was it Bud? Had Bud made all the difference in the boy’s life, had he learned from the mistakes he’d made when he was raising Henry? Or had sailing played a role, because the self confidence Hank displayed didn’t just spring up out of nowhere. Yet his father was almost arrogant. ‘No, he is arrogant!’ she said as she washed her hair for the second time. The water was not quite hot enough but it was getting the job done, and she was looking forward to going out to the hot springs in the morning. Maybe the warmth would finally penetrate the cold that seemed to have taken root in her bones, a cold she just couldn’t shake.

+++++

They came out of their changing rooms into a low ceilinged rock passage that led to some stone steps, and the steps led to a pool with another tunnel like exit that took them out into a series of pools that twisted and turned until they were in a rock lined infinity pool perched above a ledge overlooking the North Atlantic.

“Shit,” Huck sighed, “we were right out there yesterday morning.” He was pointing to the sea and he wasn’t incorrect. 

They had sailed right by this place, the Sky Lagoon, a hot springs located almost right in the city center, and the place was gorgeous. The water temperature was hovering right around 40 degrees celsius, while the wind, on the other hand, was still ripping in from the northwest. And it remained as unseasonably cold as it had been yesterday.

Judy sunk down to her neck and literally shivered, not because of the cold air but because the enveloping heat felt so good. She wanted to lay back against the rocks and just sleep…so she did. And then Hank joined her.

“You don’t look right,” he said quietly as he waded over to her. “You looked like you were upset at breakfast.”

She nodded. “Because I was.”

“Is it my dad?”

She nodded. “Yes, and Carter. I think they’re mad at me for coming on this trip.”

“Why? You’ve been so cool too be with, and you’ve been helping us every day…”

“I don’t know, Hank, I really don’t, but maybe because they think I haven’t been protecting you guys well enough.”

“Protecting…enough? Damn, no way. You saved Huck after he went in the water…”

“No, Hank, actually you did, and Huck wouldn’t have gone in the water in the first place. He was trying to jump across to me, so I could get some sleep. Remember?”

“Of course I remember, but they’re ignoring all the good things you’ve done. All the good things we’ve talked about, that we’ve learned. And I hate to say it, but you’ve been the best thing about this trip.”

“That’s such a sweet thing to tell me, Hank. It means the world to me for you to think that.”

Bud drifted over and leaned into the rocks and sighed audibly. “Damn, I just about fell asleep in this very spot yesterday, and I do believe I might again. I’ve never felt as good as I do right now, right here on this rock. I could be a turtle and just bask here for the rest of my days!”

“Your wife might not like that, Bud,” she said.

“I hear Icelandic Airlines allows women on their aircraft,” he grinned. “We could just lay here, side by side on the rocks, like a couple of beached whales.”

Hank snorted and looked away.

“You be careful there, you young whippersnapper,” Bud growled – even though he was smiling. “Don’t be disrespectin’ your elders!”

Hank smiled but a minute later he drifted off to join Huck and both their fathers, but when Hank was out of earshot Bud turned his attention to Judy.

“Have you thought about what you’re going to say to him when he tells you that he’s fallen in love with you?”

She shivered – again. “Yes,” she said, before she sighed and closed her eyes. 

So he leaned back and sighed. “Good,” he finally managed to say, just before he too closed his eyes.

+++++

Bud went into the port-side salon lockers on Judy’s boat and took off the teak covers that concealed the chainplates and he used his small Surefire flashlight to examine them, one by one. 

“This one here,” he said to Judy. “There’s a little rust on this one, too. It’s 316 stainless so it shouldn’t show signs of rust so soon. That means the new chainplates we installed are probably inferior metal.”

“Inferior?”

“The supplier we’ve been using for decades closed shop during the pandemic, and we ordered these from another shop in Massachusetts. At any rate, we should change these again once you get to England.”

“Why not now?” she asked.

“We could, if you don’t mind staying here a month. That’s how long their wait times are right now.”

“Anyone else you could try?”

“I called an outfit in Charleston last night. I can get some in three days, but they’ll be made out of titanium, and they won’t be cheap. You’ve got six chainplates and they’re asking 900 a pop. Then there’s shipping and import duties. We can put ‘em in right here.”

“So, eleven grand and change…for piece of mind.”

“If I was a betting man, which I’m not, I’d say there’s a ninety nine point nine percent chance they won’t fail.”

“And if it was your boat?”

He sighed. “I’m going to order replacements for Hank’s boat.”

“Then double the order.”

+++++

The CBC reporter moved about uncomfortably in her chair, squirming a little as Hank stared into her eyes. 

“So, tell us…what was that last storm like? Is that when you broke your ribs?”

“Yes, that’s right. And it was pretty intense.”

“Oh? How big were the waves?”

Hank shrugged. “I dunno. Huck? How big do you think they were?”

Huck was leering at the reporter’s legs again, but he looked up and grinned. “Oh, I don’t know, I think up to eight, maybe nine inches…”

The reporter turned crimson and started stammering. “Inches? Surely you mean feet, or even meters…?”

“If you say so, and who am I to argue with you?”

“Hank? Perhaps you’d like to have a go at that question?”

He nodded, though he was scowling at Huck again. “My best guess is about two-thirds of our mast height, so around 30 feet.”

Her eyes went wide. “Thirty feet?”

“Yup. The one that got me was bigger. Maybe forty feet, maybe bigger, but it had crested and was breaking over the boat so I wasn’t in a good position to see.”

“I was,” Huck said, suddenly serious, “And it was the biggest wave we’d ever seen, maybe twice the height of our masts.”

The reporter blanched at that figure. “But that would be…”

“Ninety feet,” Huck stated emphatically. “It was huge and Hank never had a chance. We saw him try to surf out from under the worst part, the part that was breaking on top of him, but it caught him. We thought he was dead, the boat destroyed, but a few seconds passed and the Goose was spit out the side of the wave and dropped into the next trough. We tried to get to him as fast as we could because we could see him splayed out on top of the boat…”

“Do you remember that part, Hank?” she asked.

He nodded. “Very much so. Water had flooded the cockpit and, well, I just fought my way back down there and started working the pumps. It hurt a lot, but the water was gone in a few minutes.”

“So, are you two ready for the next part of your trip?”

“I can’t speak for Huck, but I sure am. If you’ve seen the prices in the grocery stores around here, you’ll understand why, too.”

She smiled dutifully and then turned to Hank’s partner-in-crime. “And you, Huck? Are you ready?”

“Are you going to be in England when we get there?” Huck asked.

“Why yes, I am.”

He leered at her legs again, then looked up at her eyes and smiled. “Then I’ll be ready.”

+++++

Hank was down on his belly scrubbing out the bilges on the Goose, as two plastic squeeze bottles of honey had split open in the knock-down and drained their contents inside one locker, only then two pints of rich, delicious honey had oozed down into the lowest spot on the boat: the bilge. After untold days sloshing around down there the entire boat now smelled like rotten flowers, and everything in the bilge was sticky, including the fuel tank and the emergency bilge pumps. He had unscrewed and pulled up all the floorboards over the tanks to get to the entire area, and was only now taking a sponge and diluted bleach to the entire, effected area, while Huck was taking the sponges that Hank handed up and then squeezing them into a bucket. When one bucket was full, he went topsides and carried it up to the marina’s bathroom and dumped the nasty water in the toilets, then he trudged back to the boat for the next round. Six hours later the bilge was dry and both of the boys were exhausted.

The next day was spent at an Icelandic version of a mariners’ market and everyone gasped when they saw the prices of even basic foodstuffs. They had put off buying fresh vegetables and fruit until the last moment and even these were obscenely expensive at this store, and then Bud reminded them that literally all the food on the island was imported – aside from a few things grown in greenhouses. Milk and cheese, too, were a bargain, but most people on the island didn’t regularly eat beef, or most any other animal. “And after seeing these prices I can understand why!” Carter grumbled. Seafood was the cheapest protein available, and it wasn’t cheap, but they stocked up on cod and whitefish, and a couple of large salmon filets, then hauled everything to the boats and put the fresh fish in their refrigerators. It took another day to unpack the food lockers, then repack them with all their new stuff.

The chainplates cleared customs and Bud supervised their installation, first on the Goose then on the Want. He then went topsides and retuned the rigs on both boats and, as the sun was still out, helped them disassemble their cockpit winches, grease them and put them back together. Everyone went back to the Hilton covered in lithium grease and sawdust.

“Who doesn’t love the smell of WD-40!” Bud declared as they sat for a last supper together.

Everyone raised a hand.

“Well,” he sighed, dismayed, “that settles that.”

Ten days after their arrival Bud cast off the Goose’s bow lines and tossed them to Huck, while Hank backed out of their slip, then he went over to The Untold Want and cast off Judy’s lines.

Before she backed out of her slip he looked at her and nodded, then spoke quietly, yet carefully, so she would hear him. “Be careful out there,” he said, speaking directly to her soul.

She nodded, then slipped the transmission into reverse and backed into the fairway. She turned and waved to the men on the dock as she followed Hank out the docks area and towards the open ocean once again.

© 2025 adrian leverkühn | abw | adrianleverkuhnwrites.com | and this is a work of fiction, plain and simple. Thanks for dropping by, and we’ll see you soon for the conclusion.