My Journal

By Harriman Nelson

1

“Well?” I asked as Lee and I walked toward the waiting Seaview, Lee’s duffle hoisted over his shoulder.

“Harry, I know you mean well, but,” he paused, then smirked, “I’d really rather you paint Seaview red than change the name of the institute.”

“Just a minor change,” I pouted. “And you know that there’s no way in hell that I’ll allow Seaview to become a scarlet lady.”

“I know,” he said with a grin,  “do what you want, Harry, but you know, the Nelson-'Crane' Institute of Marine Research just might inflate my ego. Big enough as it is, don’t you think?”

We both laughed as Kowalski gave us each a snappy salute and took Lee’s duffle aboard.

“Have a good cruise,” I said, embracing Lee in farewell, protocol be damned.

“At least this time, we won’t be chasing Moby Dick.”

“Whales can still be unpredictable….”

“Yes, Harry, I know. We’ll keep a safe distance.”

“You’d better,” I laughed and slapped him on the shoulder.

 “Permission to come aboard?” he called up to the officer of the deck, who happened to be Sparks this morning.

“Permission granted, sir."

“Take care, Harry,” Lee said, then climbed up the gangplank, saluted the colors and turned to give me one last wave before going below.

How I would have liked to go  along on  this cruise. But frankly needed a rest after having been on the nerve wracking sideline during Lee’s recent vacation.  I still had the unenviable task of soothing all the ruffled feathers of NIMR (oops, NCIMR) clients whose projects had been delayed. It was time to get the business side of things moving again.

I watched as the boat slipped her moorings and headed out to the channel, Lee and Chip in the conning tower, waving to me before they ducked below and dove the boat. Onward to a new and probably boring adventure.

Well, sort of, maybe. You never knew, down deep below.

It was hard not to be a little uneasy, and not about the mission. Lee was still gaunt, though most of his bruises had faded. His hair had finally grown back and the patchwork of shaved skin and stitches on his scalp was only a memory. Still, those recent events were hard to shake even though Lee was looking almost normal again.

Despite what Lee’s friend Joe had said after all of the accolades of Lee’s recent heroism, no one had forgotten Lee’s exploits, and he was almost regarded as if he could walk on water.  (Okay, so I’m exaggerating, but we were still getting a lot of requests for TV shows, magazine, and newspaper interviews.) So much so, that Lee had opted to bunk with me until his apartment complex was no longer a hang-out for the interested press and public.

Sharing my small apartment above my office was just fine, he’d told me, (my larger bungalow was being repaired for a burst water line).We’d spent some companionable time together but he also spent some nights aboard Seaview, just soaking up the feel of her at rest, alone, and undisturbed.

“Admiral?” Angie interrupted my musings as I entered my outer office, “there’s something you need to see. Right away,” she said as turned on  CNN.

“It’s only right,” a young man was saying to reporters in front of a well- known lawyer’s office, “that the world knows that Harriman Nelson is not the pillar of morality that everyone thinks he is.”

 “Then you have proof of your accusation that the admiral is your father, Mr. Hawthorne?” one of the reporters asked.

“The pharmacy’s paternity DNA kits confirmed it against the Boston Historical Society’s DNA pool that included the admiral and his sister. If he can claim that pond scum Lee Crane as his son, he can sure as hell can claim me. My mother finally admitted to me that Nelson knocked her up, and I had the DNA test done. Damn it, I want justice for my mother and me!”

“If she knew you were his son all this time, why wait until now to tell you? Why not seek him out when she knew she was pregnant?”

“She had her reasons, I guess. I’m the true Nelson! Crane doesn’t have a drop of Nelson blood. He’s not even Irish, and his DNA has some anomalies that indicate he could very well be the product of incest! Would you really want a man like that, a paper Nelson, to co-own the institute now, looking forward to when all of it is bequeathed to him? I’m Nelson’s true son. I’m entitled to a share of the assets at least, if not an equal share or more than that mongrel Crane.”

“Please, Ronald,” a woman neared to stand beside him, “I only agreed to let the world know that you’re Harry’s son for truth’s sake. Let’s not belittle Captain Nelson-Crane. He’s an international hero, after all. And the admiral can ‘adopt’ anyone he likes. Though it is a bit unusual at their ages.”

And with that they got into the waiting taxi and drove off.

“Turn it off,” I said. “I think we can expect some phone calls…no comment for now.”

“Yes sir…”

“Angie, I swear I don’t recognize that woman. Still…do a background check on the both of them.”

“You think it could be a scam?”

“I’m not sure,” I sighed. “I did sow a few wild oats in my day. I regret that it's feasible."

So now, I’m waiting for my call to Seaview to go through. I’m just not sure how to tell Lee he might have a brother. A very jealous brother.

The phones are ringing off the hook. At least Angie can put the main phone lines on voice mail. But I do have to take the call from Jiggs.

Oh joy.