Anchor Out by Barbara Sapienza

Anchor Out by Barbara Sapienza

Author:Barbara Sapienza
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2017-02-15T00:00:00+00:00


11

Blackie’s Pasture

It’s well after 8:00 P.M. when she enters the crowded restaurant and looks around for her friends. Russell’s not there; Otto’s elsewhere. She hopes Malik will be in the back room, sitting at his usual table away from the piano. Walking toward his table, she sees him twirling linguine on his fork. She sits at a table kitty-corner from him.

“Heavy gusts tonight, Fran. Beginning at 10:00 P.M. You’re welcome to spend the night in the Olds.”

“Do I dare, after last night?”

“I told them you have my permission.”

“Maybe I should get it in writing and have it notarized.”

“Protecting the public. That’s all, Fran.”

“You think?”

Umberto interrupts. “Chicken rosemarino tonight, Signora.”

She nods. “And a glass of Chianti, please.” He pours the red wine into the glass. A sip soothes her throat and washes away the dread of the day and the fear of another night like the last.

Malik finishes his pasta and pushes away his dish, leaving a twenty. “Enjoy and watch out, Fran.”

The waiter places the steaming chicken dish before her. Scents of rosemary remind her of Anne. Though her mouth waters, she postpones her indulgence by sitting silently another moment, putting off her urge to devour the food. Remembering Anne’s letter, she feels undeserving of this meal. She finishes the wine. When she finally tastes the rosemary and garlic, she eats ravenously, assimilating the familial flavors.

“Eh!” Umberto says, hanging around her first bite, bringing his thumb and fingers together near his right cheek and shaking them back and forth, as if to say, what do you expect?

“Another chianti, per favore.”

“Coming up for the principessa,” Umberto teases, pouring the dark ruby wine into the gigantic goblet. “Drink, Signora.”

“I love life tonight,” she squeals, draining the second glass. Then she experiences a lightness in her neck, shoulders, and back. A warmth, heretofore absent.

“Beata lei. Lucky you. La Signora loves life,” Umberto says, raising his glass. For a moment Frances feels blessed by the waiter, by the wine, until she remembers the small craft warnings told by Malik. It’s a quarter to ten. She quickly pays and leaves the restaurant. Autumn leaves swirl on the sidewalk, but not more than usual.

She makes a deal with herself. If the water’s calm, I’ll head out; if not, I’ll wait for Russell and hitch a ride. When she gets to the pier, she surmises the situation. The water on this side of the bay is calm, but then the channel itself could surprise her. Russell’s boat is still tied up, so he’s in town and she could wait for him. Otto’s already anchor out. Malik’s warning. Bah! Just do it. No whitecaps here. The masts on the larger craft rock gently, sending their bell sounds to lull her like the church bells. She gets her dinghy.

Peering across the channel, she barely makes out her anchorage, but then she usually can’t see it from the shore. She looks at her watch; it isn’t ten as yet. If she could just make it to her boat, she could



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