Ariel
"Good morning Ariel. It's looking to be a nice day out there!" Sam hollers as she rows up and ties her line to the public dock.
"It sure is Sam, but every day is a nice day on my boat." she answers back, not bothering anymore to correct him or others with her actual name. She figures it's probably how those city people are in Central Park, calling hello to Daisy or Max on the morning walks, never bothering to learn the name of the person holding the leash.
When her friends clamber to retell the fun story to newcomers of how Nora found her boat, Ariel, they usually emphasize how random it all unfolded. Still, Nora knows the so-called random was actually God looking out for her that day.
She was on a pleasant Sunday drive, taking the slow back-roads to her favorite cafe off Route 27. With her radio playing and the window cracked, she hummed along to a song as she enjoyed the unusually warm November day. A mile before her turnoff, she heard a pop and then a hiss, so she slowly pulled the car off next to a gravel driveway, thankfully with an ample turnout. Sure enough, Nora confirmed the sounds as she stood there watching the left rear tire go slowly from round to flat.
"Darn it! Why today?" she said to no one but the bird sitting on the branch and the swinging Steve's Sailboats sign next to the mailbox.
Fumbling through to the bottom of her glove box, she pulled out the car manual and thumbed to the middle of the booklet, showing step-by-step instructions on changing a tire. Just as she was pushing up her sleeves to give it a go, an old red pickup gingerly pulled up alongside her, "Hey, looks like you got yourself a flat." She gave him a side eye with a sparkle of annoyance but quickly straightened up with a friendlier attitude once she realized he might have a helpful set of hands.
"I'm Steve, and this is actually my driveway. Let me park and I’ll help you."
In a flash of 15 minutes, he had her spare on tight and the flat tire in the trunk of her car. But then time languished as they both leaned their backsides against the cars, chatting about country towns, sailboat adventures, and even how he got that scar on his forehead when he was 25.
Steve stood up from his lean and said, "Hey, I'm getting hungry, and there's this great cafe just down the road. Want to grab a bite to eat?"
Nora perked up enthusiastically, "Yes, that's where I was heading before my flat! But this lunch will be my treat for all of your help today. I can't thank you enough."
They easily chatted like old friends over the soup and salad special, each ordering a slice of local apple pie after. Steve told more stories about sailing, and Nora shyly confessed her secret dream of wanting to live on a boat, at least for a season, but didn't know where to start. He perked up with encouragement and told her all she needed was a little grit and gusto paired with a sound boat, and he just so happened to have one in his boatyard.
November turned into January, and January turned into March as Nora made regular visits to Ariel, who sat perched on Steve's land. Nora spent her time inside, scrubbing all the nooks and removing curtains to mend at home, bringing them back fresh and pressed. And while Nora was inside, Steve got to the sanding of the hull, adding a fresh new coat of dark green to the bottom and testing all the equipment one more time to ensure everything was running smoothly.
Lunch breaks with grubby jeans and tired shoulders eventually turned into overnight dinners with cozy sweaters and a nice bottle of red wine. They quickly became a comfortable, familiar companion for each other.
On an unusually warm April day, much like the day they met in November, Ariel was moved into the water. Steve popped open a bottle of champagne, and with a gleeful glass in the air, he said, "And like I promised, now I will tell you how Ariel was named all those years ago." And he did.
Nora spent six sweet months on her boat. She learned how to fish off the stern and how to wash the dishes while conserving precious water. While one of her towels was drying outside, it was lost to the depths of the bay, but future mishaps were remedied with a trip to the local hardware store for clothespins. Steve would meet her at the dock a couple of times a week, sometimes carrying a pizza box or a bag full of Chinese cartons, and she'd eagerly row to pick him up and bring him back to the boat. They'd catch up on all the week's happenings, and at twilight, they'd sit quietly with their feet up, feeling like nothing needed to be said. The evening stars and waves did all the talking.
[photograph by me - story is fictional]
Note: I was on the top deck of a small ferry, taking a short ride from Boothbay Harbor to Squirrel Island to meet a couple I'll be photographing next year at their wedding. The ferry captain was narrating points of interest, left and right, port and starboard, but I wasn't listening. I only had my eyes on this beautiful boat scene approaching.
If the actual person ever comes across my fictional story about them, it's always my hope they get a kick out of what I've written - even though it's all made up in my heart and mind.
Note 2: I researched and thought you'd love to know, "Ariel is the Archangel of Healing and New Beginnings.”
Such a good story, I found myself wanting more!
Love, love!!!!