My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

62

The cab had arrived, but just then my cell phone rang. It was Chip so I indicated the driver wait while I took the call.

“Calling again so soon, Chip? Update on the boat?”

"Nothing new regarding Seaview, but I do have an update on Lee. It's right here...."

The image formed of the boy's room as Joe tapped on his keyboard. Freshly laundered clothes lay neatly folded on their beds, as Lee wearily flopped down atop his.

"I'm so full I'll have to waddle to the meeting," he said.

"Me too. Lee, would you mind if didn't go along? I can't stop belching."

"In some countries that's a compliment. I thought breakfast here was supposed to be light. They couldn't stop feeding us!"

"Ah, but they couldn't help themselves. 'Probre muchachos floaco' they said, remember?"

"I'm not a 'poor skinny boy'! You must have gotten the translation wrong. And did you see the way that 'mama' kept pushing her daughter closer and closer to me?"

"You're a prize match. Rich, famous American. You'd be able to support the girl, and the entire 'familia'. Just be glad the daughter wasn't the same one that wanted to get into your pants! Though she was there at the door with all of mama's other friends and neighbors watching you. You know, for a moment back there at the laundromat, I thought she was going to grab you, strip you naked and have her wicked way with you right there on top of the washing machine! Too bad she had to satisfy herself with your undies."

"You have a dirty mind, Joe...I hope that ‘mama’ didn’t  feed us their entire pantry. Ham, Paella, Churros, or whatever those were. Did you see the condition of that place? They were living in poverty...I snuck what large American bills I had into that empty beer mug on the fireplace mantle. I only had small Euros on me."

"Same here."

"Is there anything we can do to help them, help everyone in the area? Without embarrassing them? There's a high sense of honor in this country. They could take offense."

"We'll find a way, Lee, never fear. Now," Joe said looking at his watch, "brush your teeth, comb your hair and  get going."

"The meeting’s not for awhile."

"It's soon enough. But we'll  a little time to explore the place."

"Us? I thought you said you didn’t want to go with me."

"Changed my mind. Somebody needs to protect you from predatory females that might be there."

"But," Lee smirked, "what if I want to be caught?"

"I think I know you well enough to know your preferred type of temptress. I'll back off if you actually like any of them. Satisfied?"

"You're a real pal, Joe, you know that?"

"Part of my job description as your 'hermano'.

"I think of you as my brother too, Joe...what do you think Chip and Harry are doing now?"

"Why not call them?"

"Better not. Might think I'm checking up on them."

"Well, wouldn’t you be?"

"A captain whose former captain calls to see how things are going, well, it’s an insult."

"Sometimes, Lee, I think you don't know Chip as well as you profess to. He won't be insulted. And you know damn well, he doesn't enjoy command."

"Nonsense. Nobody in their right mind would not want command of Seaview!"

"Say's you...but I'm not going to argue the point. Now, go on, the sooner you finish in the bathroom down the hall, I can use it."

"Aye, aye, sir" Lee said, and headed out.

"Well," Chip said as he ended the recording, "that's it for now."

"Thanks Chip. It was good to see that he didn’t have anything worse happen to him other than a full stomach. I’m on my way to the museum now. I’m pretty sure I can get that paperwork before he gets there so he’ll be none the wiser before I speak with him.”

"Good luck when you see him.”

"Thanks. I'm not sure what the future may hold, but at least I know he'll be interested about how Seaview's doing. Nelson out," I added, ending the call on a military note. Call it habit.

Unfortunately there was a lot of traffic, and an accident which delayed our arrival at the museum.  After I paid the driver, I entered the vast place, and asked one of the guard for the curator’s office. But he shook his head and simply said, 'indesponsible, indesponsible'.

"He means 'unavailable'", a plain sort of woman of about Lee's age, carrying a large portfolio, said. "Are you a collector or contributor of fine art?"

"Er, neither. I sent a fax care of the curator, and discovered I'd made a mistake on it...I wanted to retrieve it before the recipient got it."

Well, that was partly true...the only mistake was that I’d sent the fax in the first place.

"Oh dear," she was saying," you might be too late...over there...'curador del museio' . Looks like someone's in the curator’s office already. Is that your recipient?"

Indeed, Lee and Joe were with the curator, behind the door with a window in it.  And he'd just handed Lee the faxed documents.

"Are you okay?" the woman asked as I couldn't help groaning and felt myself grow weak in the knees. "Here, you'd better sit down," she said, leading me to a nearby bench, just out of sight of the door's window. “Have you had breakfast?" she asked.

"Er, no. Not yet."

"They have a vending machine in the gift shop. Perhaps a bite would help....oh...ohmygod! It's Captain Nelson-Crane!" she exclaimed as he and Joe emerged from the office. I was glad they hadn't seen me.

"What's he doing here?" she asked herself. "If I'd known I would have dressed up a bit...not that he'd give me the time of day."

"Oh, you'd be surprised," I said, "Go on, introduce yourself."

"Oh, I couldn't. I just couldn’t. He's just so famous. And so handsome. He must have a girlfriend in every corner!"

"No reason why you can't be one of them. Go on. I'll keep my fingers crossed for you."

Lee was too busy reading the documents to notice her approach, his brows knit into furrows, and even more so when he read my letter. But what was I witnessing  in his eyes? Shock, certainly. But anger or rage? I was simply too far away to tell. Then he noticed the curator trying to shoo the girl away.

I had taken cover behind a pillar, too afraid to meet Lee now. It was clear he hadn’t noticed me.

"I...I...she stammered, "Oh, I'm so sorry to have disturbed you...it's just...you're the hero of Paris...of everywhere...I mean...er..."

"There's no 'I' in teamwork. We did what needed to be done to bring Ozno down, that's all. We're ordinary guys. Let's start over. Hi, I'm Lee, what's your name?"

"Becky," she managed, "Becky Smith. From Ohio."

"Hi Becky Smith from Ohio. This is Joe Jackson. My traveling companion for the tour I'm on. Which is almost over. Something I'm sure he's glad of."

"Hello Miss Smith," Joe said ,"and don't take anything he says too seriously. Lee's a real pain in the ass most of the time."

"You...you're the man that tower fell on. You had a near death experience!"

"Yeah," Joe said, scratching his forehead, "it was kind of weird."

"And you," she said to Lee, "you saved his life! And you’re the captain of the Seaview!"

"Was. Past tense," Lee said with noticeable regret, but giving her his sunshine smile, "what's your interest here in the museum?"

"Oh, I like to sketch some of the exhibits, some of the paintings. I'm supposed to have a few Spanish ancestors on the walls, but nothing definite."

"You don't look very Spanish to me," Joe said.

"Well, you never know. Likenesses do jump around at bit."

"May I?" Lee asked, regarding her portfolio.

"If you like, but they're not very good," she said as she untied it.

"What do you mean, lady?" Joe exclaimed as he took out one of her drawings. "I don't suppose you'd care to sketch me? Then I'd really have something to brag about."

"Thank you. Certainly. I'd be delighted to sketch you both. Perhaps when you’re done with your business here?"

"You can sketch me now. Lee has to go look at some old relics and ancient armory records.”

"Of course! I remember now. The  treasure Seaview found! The news said the museum might be able to find out about the man who belonged to them, the very same man in your vision!”

"Might," Lee said, "being the operative word. They found some old  armory records that matched the marks on the relics."

"Well, I won’t keep you waiting.”

"Why don't you come along with us, Becky?" Lee asked.

"Really? First let me thank the old man that gave me the courage to come say hi to you...oh no! He...he's gone..."

"Perhaps you'll see him later on by one of the exhibits.”

Old man indeed! 

"Wait!" the girl yelled as she caught a glimpse of me, "over there. Hey, mister!"

I really was hugging the pillar for support as Lee and Joe saw me.

"Admiral Nelson?" Joe said, surprised.

"Nelson? The big man himself?" the girl asked. "Oh, this is my lucky day!"

"Miss Smith is accompanying us to the lab," Joe said, "would you care to join us, Admiral?”

"Er...I'd only be in the way," I managed to reply as I watched Lee, his eyes unreadable, and turned away from them.

"Wait," Lee said, then to Joe, Becky and curator, "you go on ahead. I'll meet you shortly.”

This was it. The confrontation I'd wanted to avoid. But fate held my feet to the floor like glue.

Lee took a couple of deep breaths and studied me. Actually studied me. Then he took the faxed legal form out of his shirt pocket. I could see my scrawl on it, but not his. I saw a myriad of emotions cross his face, so many that I was totally blind to what he was feeling. Then he took out my  letter and re-read it too, shaking his head, pursing his lips, folding it, and returning it to his pocket. Then he began to tear up the legal form in his other hand, letting the pieces scatter to the floor.

"Harry," he said gently and placed both his hands on my shoulders, "I'm so sorry. I acted like a spoiled brat. Can you forgive such a fool? I’d like to remain your son and keep your name, if you'll let me."

"Let you? Of course I'll let you!" I said, overwhelmed with relief and hugged him. "Besides, you tore up the damn thing already."

Lee kissed me on the cheek, as if to cement the renewal of our relationship, then asked, “Seaview?”

"We still haven't figured out the problem. The crew thinks it's Seaview herself, pining for you."

Lee laughed as he bent down to pick up the torn pieces of paper to discard them in the nearby trash can. "What do you say Joe and I head back to Lisbon with you after we're done here? I can satisfy myself and the crew by giving our titanium lady a look, up close and personal.”

“Thank you. I’d like to know if she has a mechanical or electrical problem or if it really is a tantrum. Stranger things have happened, you know.”

Then it struck me. He'd called her 'our titanium lady'. Perhaps, just perhaps....

"We'll still rejoin Mrs. Piccadilly before going to Ireland," he said as he began to follow the curator and Joe way ahead of us.

"Of course," I said, "you wouldn't want to disappoint her."

"That 'we' included you, Harry.”

"If she won't mind..."

"With my powers of persuasion," Lee laughed, "she won't have a chance to decline. Now, let's go see what these old pieces of metal can tell us.”

It's late now. There's just too much to relay in the time I have left to get ready for the flying sub to take us to Seaview. So those details will just have to wait for my next entry.

'Returning to Seaview', I can't help muttering to myself happily.

With my son.