The 5th Horseman

Chapter 45

JOE AND I WERE LEANING into the wind at the bow as the ferry chugged across the bay on the return trip from Sausalito to San Francisco. Joe looked pensive, and I wondered why that was.

I reviewed our lazy roll out of bed at around 11:00 that morning, the brilliant blue sky as we held hands on the top deck of the outbound ferry. We’d had a cozy late lunch at Poggio, an outstanding restaurant overlooking the water.

It was as if we’d been transported to the coast of Italy, dining on pasta at the edge of the blue Mediterranean Sea. Yep, it was that good.

I squeezed Joe’s arm.

It had been a spectacular six months for the two of us. We’d bridged the geographical distance between us with phone calls and e-mails. Then, once or twice a month, we’d have a magical weekend like this one.

And then it would be over, which seemed so cruel and wrong.

In a half hour, I’d be in my apartment, and Joe would be heading to Washington on an air force jet.

“Where are you, Joe? You look like you’re very far away. Already.”

He put an arm around me, pulled me to him. I savored these last moments, the gulls calling and swooping alongside the ferry, the spray of water on my face, Joe’s arms tight around me, the feel of his sweater against my cheek.

“I can’t keep doing this,” he said. “Making love eleven times in twenty-four hours. I’m forty-five for Christ’s sake.”

I threw back my head and laughed. “Aerobics are always a good thing.”

“You think it’s funny? You do, don’t you? My manhood’s at stake here.”

I hugged him hard, reached up and kissed his neck, then kissed it again.

“Don’t start up with me, blondie. I’m out of steam.”

“Seriously, Joe. Is everything okay?”

“Seriously? There’s a lot on my mind. I just haven’t known when or how to get into it.”

“I guess you’d better start talking,” I said.

Joe turned his blue eyes on me as the ferry eased closer to the dock.

“I think we need to spend more time together, Linds. This weekend stuff is unbelievable but—”

“I know. The drama gets in the way of reality.”

He paused before saying, “Would you ever move to DC?”

I know I must have looked shocked. I’d always figured that sometime we would discuss where our relationship was headed, but I hadn’t expected it today.

How could I live in DC?

I saw my startled look register on his face.

“Okay, hang on. There’s another way to look at this,” he said.

Joe began to tell me some of what I already knew: that the Port of Los Angeles is the entry point for all of the cargo containers coming by ship from Hong Kong, the largest container port in the world.

Then he told me the Homeland Security viewpoint.

“There’s an honest-to-God fear that terrorists could smuggle a nuke — say from North Korea — by way of a container coming from Hong Kong into LA,” Joe said. “And the chance that we’d detect such a device, at present, is practically nil.

“We don’t yet have effective systems in place. I see an opportunity to help secure the port. I think I could do important work out here.”

The ferry engines ground into reverse with a roar, and the bulky wooden ship coasted into dock. Suddenly we were in the center of a shoving mob, moving us down the gangway. Talking was impossible as our handhold was broken apart and strangers seeped between us.

Joe’s Town Car was waiting beyond the docks, gleaming and black. He held open the door for me and asked the driver to take us to the lot where I’d parked my car.

“I know it’s a lot to think about,” he said.

“Joe, I want to talk more about this. I hate that you’re leaving. I really hate it, especially this time.”

“Me, too, Linds. We’ll find a way.”

The Town Car stopped in the parking lot, and we both got out. I leaned against the sun-heated flank of my old Explorer.

I felt tears coming into my eyes as we embraced, exchanged “I love yous” and wishes for a safe trip home.

We hugged and kissed again.

It had been another beautiful day added to our scrapbook of special memories. I could still feel the pressure of his lips on mine, the sting of salt against my whisker-burned cheeks.

I could still feel him, as if he were right there beside me.

But Joe was gone.