Ivan sipped coffee as Clay walked to the rear of Sea Lab. He undid the last line and stepped onto the deck. Once Clay disappeared inside, Ivan turned away and sat down.

He heard the two marine engines fire. They hummed as Clay allowed them to warm up while he checked all the gauges.

Ivan listened for when Clay slipped the engines into gear. They rumbled as Sea Lab eased its way into the cove. Ivan stood to watch Sea Lab move into the mouth of the cove. As she reached the Gulf, Clay pushed the throttles forward half way. In a few minutes Sea Lab turned south and Clay moved the throttles to three quarter speed.

Ivan watched as Sea Lab grew smaller and smaller until she disappeared. He went back to sit behind his desk. Ivan was thinking about his conversation with Clay. He was pleased that Clay wouldn't be leaving him. He needed Clay. He wanted Clay.

Ivan had made up his mind he'd need to need Clay from a distance for a while. Canceling his trip didn't make Ivan happy. Clay needed to go with Bill into the Pacific. He knew what happened when he interfered with one of Clay's decisions. When did he worry about the consequences for doing something he knew was right?

Ivan leaned forward to reach the phone.

"Bill Payne," Ivan said.

He waited for Bill to pick up.

"Bill Payne," Bill said.

"Ivan here, Bill."

"You need another camera? I just happen to have an extra 16mm I might let go cheap. It's the sister to the one you bought for Dylan last Christmas," Bill said.

"No, I've got all the cameras I need at the moment," Ivan said, not sure of how to say what he had to say..

"How is Dylan doing with it? Does he like it?" Bill asked.

"Like isn't the word I'd use. He hasn't taken it to bed with him yet but he doesn't put it down if he can find a reason to use it, Bill."

"I'm glad to hear that. If you don't want to buy a camera and you aren't looking to sell the one I sold you. What's up?"

"You're about to lose your prize student," Ivan said.

"What do you mean?" Bill asked.

"Clay has decided he can't go with you."

"He what? He's excited about going every time I talk to him. I'm excited about him going. What are you talking about, Ivan."

"He can't leave Dylan. You know the story. He's worried that Dylan doesn't want him to go but he won't ask him not to go. Clay's always been there for him and well, you get the idea. He told me a few minutes ago. He's gone on a dive. I'd just as soon he stay here with me but I know he needs to do this. My telling him will meet with resistance. It's just how it is between us. You can sway him. I thought you'd want to know right away. I did not call you and I never told you what I just told you, Bill."

"I see," Bill said. "I'll need to give this some thought. You say he'll be back by noon?"

"Yes," Ivan said.

Ivan poured coffee in his cup, kicking his feet up on his desk. He looked out at another perfect day in paradise. He drank coffee and manged to feel guilty about getting involved in Clay's affairs.

Ivan shrugged before yawning with enthusiasm. He looked at his worn athletic shoes. He'd need a trip to Fort Myers while Clay and Dylan were gone.

"God, I love him," Ivan said, putting his feet on the floor.

"Hey, Boss, what's up?" Tag asked as he put a ham and egg sandwich in front of Ivan. "Who do you love?"

"I love you, Tag. You are the best helper since helpers were thought up but you know that," Ivan said as he reached for the sandwich. "Your mother is a princess. You can tell her I said that. I'd starve without Twila."

Ivan bit into the piping hot sandwich and a look of bliss came on to his face.

"I waited while she cooked it. It's still hot," Tag said.

"How you doing, Tag? You know I appreciate everything you do."

"Good," Tag said, pouring Ivan's cup full before pouring his own.

"How's your mama," Ivan said.

"Standing at the stove at Mr. Harry's when I left. I don't think it was the only order for egg sandwiches this morning."

Ivan took another bite. Whatever Twila made, it was all equally satisfying. The woman knew her way around the kitchen and Tag came to work with one delicacy or another for him each morning.

Tag sat in the deck chair on the other side of Ivan's desk and he started on his sandwich. There wasn't a lot of conversation. Tag took care of the store while he was there but during the week the activity slowed considerably from weekends when the kids of campers were in an out wanting sodas, snacks, and candy.

At first Ivan didn't carry such things for campers. After milk and bread, and the milk was in quarts or half gallons for obvious reasons. Ivan began rethinking the Cove Dive, Surf, & Bait Shop.

He didn't add grocery to the sign but campers ate their weight in hot dogs, hamburgers, chips and marshmallows during a long weekend and when the weather was nicest, people came for the weekend and ended up staying a week once school was out.

There would need to be a store that sold only grocery items before long. The Dive shop wasn't big enough to carry more than a couple of days worth of things campers bought. The deliveries of food were becoming constant and the cove wasn't easy to get to for men who delivered a dozen moon pies and a dozen snack cakes.

JK's Kitchen also sold grocery items for campers. They'd go to JK's for dinner and pick up the same kind of items they got at the Dive Shop. There was no competition and they'd been planning a fast food kind of walk up arrangements for burgers, fries, and sodas that JK would operate.

Ivan talked to Captain Popov, his silent partner, about adding on to JK's, another concern Popov had an interest in, but they hadn't pulled the trigger yet. It would take months of construction and an immediate outlay of cash to tackle a project that size.

As the campground increased in popularity for folks on the western side of the state, some of the same campers came to the cove often. It was out of the way, quiet, and there were activities for everyone. They had to bring their own food or eat at JK's and there needed to be more options.

Cove Enterprises started as an idea. It had grown as the original idea took root and the possibilities were endless. Each addition to Cove Enterprises came out of a need to furnish a pleasant and fun filled vacation for anyone with a family.

Not everyone had a family, but everything added for the purpose of entertaining the family would entertain anyone who sought to get away from their mundane and ordinary lives.

Ivan began working on his books shortly after eleven. Tag stood outside and washed the huge front window. The sun was high, the clouds were puffy pillows floating across the bright blue sky. Campers walked back and forth from JK's and a few stepped in to chat.

Ivan finished doing the books for the week and he began checking the coolers and shelves to count the items in stock to see what he sold and what he needed. Once his inventory was over he sat back at his desk and started filling out order forms to restock for the weekend campers.

He looked up from his desk when he heard Sea Lab's engines. He looked at the clock. Where had the time gone? It was closing in on noon. He finished his coffee and stood to move to the window.

Ivan moved to the window and looked toward the mouth of the cove. Tag looked up when he heard the sound.

"They've been out already this morning?" Tag asked.

"Yeah, storms this afternoon. Clay wanted to get a dive in early."

"He'll be gone soon, Boss," Tag said.

"Yes, he will. Don't remind me," Ivan said.

"Sorry. It'll be different without him coming in every day."

"It will be different," Ivan said, watching Sea Lab clear the opening of the cove.

How different he wasn't able to determine at the moment.

With its two Detroit Diesel Sea Lab made a distinctive sound. Ivan always heard Clay throttling down to enter the cove at five mph. No other boat at the marina made a sound like it and no matter what Ivan was doing, if he was in the shop, he heard Sea Lab coming.

"Go get sodas. We don't want to use up our stock for customers," Tag said.

"Yeah, Tag. Check to see how crowded JK's is. Bring back a soda for each of us and get one for yourself," Ivan said, giving Tag five bucks for the purchase.

Ivan watched Clay and Dylan securing lines and they'd brought the air tanks out on deck. Clay climbed up on the pier to take the tanks from Dylan. The last item to leave the Sea Lab was the 16mm camera and Dylan placed the camera on the pier before climbing up and taking the camera once he picked the air tank up first.

His men started down the pier toward the shop. Ivan smiled. He had to be one of the luckiest men alive and his men had come home.

"Hey, Babe," Ivan said, sitting back behind his desk when Clay came in the front entrance.

"Hey, Ivan. Dylan is filling the tanks out back. I want to go out again day after tomorrow. I've got some things to do at the lab tomorrow and we need to dive on that reef again," Clay said.

"Good dive?" Ivan asked.

"Yes, it went well," Clay said.

"Dylan take the 16mm down with him?"

"Yes, he takes it every time now. I keep my eye on him but he's pretty steady with it. I still worry," Clay said, sitting in the deck chair on the other side of Ivan's desk.

"You look tired, Babe."

"I am. This has been a difficult few weeks. I knew I couldn't go two weeks ago. I kept thinking I'd find a way but I can't. I suppose it keeps me up night."

"You mean, after I keep you up nights?" Ivan said with a smile.

"After you keep me up," Clay said.

Tag came in the front door with four sodas. Dylan came in the back door and he placed the 16mm camera on the out of the way shelf where he kept it while he was in the shop.

Tag handed each of them a soda and he took one for himself.

"Oh, my," Clay said. "This is good. I am thirsty," Clay said.

"Me too," Dylan said. "Thanks, Tag."

"No problem, Boss," Tag said. "Just earning my keep."

"How many people at JK's?" Ivan asked.

"Too many. It's crowded. I'd wait to twelve thirty or after. This crowd will be gone by then," Tag said.

The phone rang.

"I'll get it," Ivan said. "Hello."

"For you, Babe," Ivan said, handing Clay the phone.

"For me. No one knows I'm here," Clay said, looking at Ivan as he took the call.

"Oh, Bill. How are you?" Clay asked hesitantly. "I've been meaning to call you."

Clay looked directly at Ivan while he listened.

"Yes. Yes he did. Yes he does. Yes I will," Clay said in a neutral voice that gave nothing away. "Yes. Bye."

"Short and sweet," Ivan said.

"Short and sweet. Funny he called now," Clay said. "I don't know how he knew I'd be here."

"Lucky, huh," Ivan said.

"Lucky," Clay said without sounding like he was lucky.

He handed the phone back to Ivan and he stared at him.

"Who was it?" Ivan asked innocently.

"You didn't know who might be calling me at the shop at this time? The time I told you I'd be back?"

"How would I know? All he said was, 'is Clay there?'"

"You had something to do with that call," Clay said solemnly.

"Me," Ivan said more innocently.

"You," Clay said bluntly. "Taggart, Dylan, go outside and entertain yourselves. I've got something to say to Ivan and it isn't for the ears of children."

"Geez," Dylan said. "We aren't children, Dad."

"Go!" Clay said loudly.

Ivan stood behind his desk as Dylan went out with Tag right behind him.

"You called Bill," Clay said, moving around the desk that was the only thing between them.

Clay grabbed Ivan and the kiss was sudden and passionate. He trembled as he held the man he loved and the kiss went on. When Clay stood back to look at Ivan, he had tears in his eyes.

"Now, I've only got one problem," he said, tears rolling now.

"What's that, Babe?"

"You just had to get involved so you could make it even harder for me to leave you. I love you so much, Ivan Aleksa."

The next kiss lingered as they both considered the next two months. After the kiss, Clay kept his arms around Ivan, resting his head on his shoulder.

"We haven't been apart since you came home," Clay said.

"No," Ivan said. "Good thing for me, huh?"

"Very good. I didn't know we were going to make it, Ivan. Now I think I love you more than ever."

"Because I was gone and I came home?"

"Exactly," Clay said. "You've kept your word. You said you'd stay and you have stayed," Clay said, stepping away to look at him.

"I have," Ivan said.

"Thank you. I didn't give a thought to Dylan going. It's a research trip with serious adults doing serious things. It never crossed my mind to ask Bill if I could bring Dylan."

"Bill has that filmmaker going along. He teaches photography when he isn't taking pictures," Ivan said. "I think Bill imagines exposing Dylan to him can't hurt," Ivan said.

"We'll see," Clay said, not convinced.

"You going to tell him he's going today?" Ivan asked.

"We're going diving in two days. I'll talk to him while we're out. He's just got used to the idea I'd be gone for two months," Clay said, kissing Ivan again.

It could have been the best phone call Ivan ever made.

Clay sat back across from Ivan once Ivan went back to doing his paperwork. Dylan came to the front door and looked inside before opening the door.

"You two aren't doing anything obscene, are you?" Dylan asked in his careful voice. "You know Tag wouldn't be the same if he caught you two smooching."

"We're real men. We don't smooch," Ivan said. "We kiss."

"Oh, I didn't want to hear that," Dylan said in mock horror. "I'm an impressionable child, you know?"

"You've never been a child," Clay said. "Nice try though."

Ivan went back to his paperwork, Clay sipped his soda, and Dylan stood watching his two dads, wondering what was going on.

"Everything OK?" Dylan asked.

"Everything is fine," Clay said.

"Who was on the phone?" Dylan asked.

"Wrong number," Clay said.

"It took a long time for a wrong number," Dylan said.

"I was being polite," Clay said.

"Since when?" Dylan asked.

"What are they talking about?" Tag asked Ivan.

"Who knows," Ivan said.

"Who was on the phone," Dylan said. "Sounded like you two were about to go to war again and now everyone is all ... all ... like this."

"You hungry, kid," Ivan asked.

"Yes," Dylan said.

"Good," Clay said, standing up. "Let's go eat. What do you want us to bring you back, Taggart?"

"Fried clams. Double order if you guys don't eat them all."

"Double order of clams it is," Ivan said. "And you've earned it."

"I haven't done anything yet," Tag said.

"You will," Ivan said, moving toward the front door.

"I'll hold down the fort while you're gone, Boss," Tag said.

"Good," Ivan said, holding the door open for his men.

Dark clouds billowed up in the southwest. The day was warm and blue skies were still overhead. It would be raining cats and dogs by the time they were ready to return to the shop.

Dylan walked with his fathers unaware anything had changed. What changed would effect him more than anyone.

Dylan pushed between his fathers as they walked. He placed one arm over Daddy-O's shoulder and the other over Clay's.

What was on their minds at that moment was fried oysters with hush puppies or fried clams with hush puppies.

They were equally delicious. Maybe fried oysters and fried clams.

Big fluffy clouds billowed across the early morning sky as the Sea Lab made it's way out of the cove and into the Gulf of Mexico. Clay pushed the throttle halfway forward once he hit open water. After five minutes the boat turned southwest and putting his hand back on the throttles, he moved them to three quarter speed.

The water was calm and there was an insignificant breeze coming from the northwest. The bow of Sea Lab tilted upward as Clay monitored his gauges and checked the horizon for any sign of other craft in the direction he was moving but he was alone on the Gulf.

They'd go in this direction for nearly an hour before he'd anchor over a fishing trawler that had gone down in a storm almost fifty years ago. The Cuban captain managed to radio his location before the Feliz went down. The reef that claimed the shipwreck was a good example of how the sea makes everything its own in time.

Dylan stood beside his father with binoculars up to his eyes as he swept the horizon to see if anything was out there.

"Anyone out there?" Clay asked.

"It's smooth and clear, Dad. How long ago did the boat we're diving on sink?" Dylan asked.

"Nearly fifty years ago. The Feliz was a fishing trawler with six hands. It was caught in an unnamed storm in 1937. When the cos guard arrived, there was only wreckage the day after the storm passed. Divers began diving on it in the later half of the 1950s."

"How many hands on board?" Dylan asked, thinking about the loss of life.

"They think six but they aren't sure. Fishing boats are often family affairs and there aren't records of who the crew might have been. It was a Cuban boat. When the first divers went down there, twenty years after the Feliz sank, the reef was well established by then. They made no attempt to get inside the wreckage."

"They don't take bodies off shipwrecks?" Dylan asked.

"The respectful thing to do is to leave the wreck alone if there isn't a compelling reason to disturb the dead. The thinking is, after so many years the crew belongs to the deep. The ship is the monument to those who lost their lives," Clay said.

Dylan needed to think about that one. How would he feel about it if he was one of the sailors on a sunken ship. He had no answer that was better than the one his father gave him. Leave the dead be lone if there is no reason to do a search," Clay said.

The Sea Lab cruised at a comfortable speed. Dylan kept an eye on the horizon with the binoculars and Clay kept his eyes open for anything that appeared to be out of the ordinary.

Clay scheduled several dives for the week before he left for the summer. He wanted to give Dylan as much of his time as he could. The dive on the Feliz was one of those.

It was an easy undertaking. It sat upright on the bottom in sixty-five feet of water. The reef had formed around the hull of the ship. Dylan would be able to get some great shots of a reef in the shape of a ship. It stood alone as the only remarkable feature on the bottom.

Dylan was going along on the summer research trip but he didn't know it. Clay would tell him on he was back after the dive. First Dylan would get to do what he loved doing. He'd be thinking it was their last dive together for a while. That's when Clay would tell his son, Bill invited him to go along.

It took a while for Clay to come up with a plan that would leave Dylan feeling good about the sudden change. Instead of being separated for the summer, they'd be going together.

A pod of dolphin leaped and swam along beside Sea Lab. Dylan picked up the camera he kept close by, racing for the bow. By falling on his belly and planting his elbows to steady the camera, he shot the lead dolphin before panning back to the trailing members of the pod. Clay smiled as his son did his thing. One thing was for sure, a scene like that never got old.

The dolphin leaped and performed for the camera before braking away to continue the journey they were on. Quickly Dylan stood, watching them go and holding the camera at his side. When he turned to return to the bridge, Clay was struck by how much Dylan looked like Ivan when they first met the summer they both were fourteen.

On each dive Dylan made new discoveries about the underwater 16mm motion picture camera. It was the same process with each of the cameras Dylan used.

He had to take pictures to see how the picture looked. The more he used a particular camera, the more he knew about what it could and couldn't do. Experience taught him how to get the shot he wanted. He learned how to use shadows and how to get the best result when he filmed things in brilliant light. It took time to learn.

The 16mm was the most complicated camera he'd used. The operation of a motion picture camera underwater isn't too different from taking underwater stills. There was a big difference in the results you get with motion pictures. Adding motion to the picture created stunning results.

Add motion to what you are photographing and the story you are telling becomes far more compelling. While stills had a place in the work his father did, motion pictures brought what he did to life. The 16mm opened an entirely new door into photography.

He'd used canister after canister to film My Life At The Cove. After getting the editor, he could see each frame he took. He could see the movie in his head and as he cut and spliced, he saw his story as it came together. These mechanics gave him a new appreciation for the 16mm camera his father bought at a garage sale.

He could work with the film he took to creating exactly what he decided needed to be in a film about his life. Editing film gave him better appreciation for what he put on film. Some of it wasn't worth the time of day and other shots were priceless. Seeing the difference was what Dylan believed a movie maker did.

Clay was allowing Dylan to bring the 16mm camera on dives with him which meant he was about to learn more about his father's world. He was going to tell his father's story and one day he planned to take an audience on the journey with him.

Clay eased the throttles back, watching the sonar screen to see the reef once it appeared. He let Sea Lab idle as forward momentum slowed before dropping the anchor. He shut down the engines when the anchor was in place.

Dylan heard the change in the engines as his father throttled back. It was the signal for him to go inside and bring the diving gear out on deck. His father would be down in a minute, and they could get into their equipment and be in the Gulf in five minutes.

Clay came off the bridge and stepped onto the deck. He checked the gauges to make sure the tanks were full. They'd be underwater for forty-five minutes. That gave them five minutes of air left, plus a five minute reserve.

"I checked them, Dad. They're fine," Dylan said, dropping the flippers, face plates, and modified wet suits beside the air tanks. Once the gear was on, Dylan picked up the camera off the canvas deck chair. He attached the tether to his belt to keep the camera from getting separated from him.

By this time Clay was on the ladder and Dylan caught him falling backward into the water. Dylan followed his father. Once underwater they moved together toward the reef that came into view about halfway to the floor of the Gulf. It looked like a fully formed reef that was shaped like a ship.

Sea life was abundant. Dylan wanted to start filming. That's not how it was done. They needed to get to the reef first. After surveying the location he placed the tripod, making sure it was level before attaching the camera. He'd check to find his father and get him in the viewfinder before he'd begin using up film. Clay was where the action was and once he'd gotten footage of Clay at work he'd decide on what other shots might be worthwhile.

Dylan used the closeup function to photograph Clay close up. Once he established this shot he backed off to follow his father as he checked different sections of the reef. Today he was mostly at the center and toward the left of the reef. Dylan was almost at mid ship and it was an easy spot to get the pictures he wanted.

The dive could be described as routine.

It was twenty-five minutes into the dive and Dylan was photographing a school of large fish off to the right of where he'd set up the tripod. He turned away from his father in an effort to follow the large fish as they swam from his right to his left a few feet above the reef. Where he found another large fish swimming into the frame. It was a tailor made shot as he followed the fish above where Clay worked. It was a good dive and Dylan let his mind wander. He was still under the impression that this would be their last dive together for the summer. Dylan wanted to spend some time with Ivan, but he helped his father pick up the trash each morning. But he'd pick it up without his dad stopping for a cup of coffee before he went to work.

Clay would be drinking coffee somewhere in the Pacific Ocean and this was to be their final dive. That was on Dylan's mind Thirty minutes into the dive when Dylan heard his father blowing air bubbles above him and even further to the left of where he filmed.

They were two thirds through a routine dive and Clay blew bubbles for a second time. It finally got Dylan's attention. When he looked at his father he was signaling for Dylan to surface. He was above Dylan and a dozen feet farther away when he signaled more frantically the second time.

He intended to finish the film in his camera so it was ready to be sent for developing. He intended to finish his last dive until August. He knew better than to defy a signal his father gave him but he considered it for the first time. Clay had two months to get over it.

He wasn't sure his father wasn't putting a limit on his dive today. He had plenty of air and plenty of film. He wasn't ready to surface. He was not a happy camper.

His father remained near the right side of the reef. He showed no signs of being ready to surface.

With one powerful kick he left the bottom with his equipment stowed. He saw the brilliant rays of the morning sun beaming into the the clear green waters as he neared the surface. He swam to Sea Lab and climbed the ladder.

He grumbled to himself as his feet hit the deck and his flippers, face mask, and air tank followed. He placed the camera on the canvas deck chair where he'd sat on the way to the dive site.

Dylan knew how lucky he was to be part of this family and getting to do things most kids his age couldn't even imagine. He didn't why he was so angry but he was.

He was angry with Clay.

He was angry with the man who had been there almost every day for almost fourteen years. He was angry with himself.

He didn't recall having that kind of anger before.


Send Rick an email at quillswritersrealm@yahoo.com

On to Chapter Eight

Back to Chapter Six

Chapter Index

Rick Beck Home Page

"The Gulf and the Horizon" Copyright © 2022 OLYMPIA50. All rights reserved.
    This work may not be duplicated in any form (physical, electronic, audio, or otherwise) without the author's written permission. All applicable copyright laws apply. All individuals depicted are fictional with any resemblance to real persons being purely coincidental.

Home Page | Authors | Christmas Stories | Stories by the Writer Suggested Reading | Suggested Viewing | Links Privacy Policy | Terms of Service Send a Comment All Site Content © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer unless otherwise noted Layout © 2003 - 2024 Tarheel Writer