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Nick looked down at the chart.  He would be arriving in Beaufort within the hour.  He looked at his watch.  It wasn’t that late.  Did he want to go further?

Nick realized suddenly that he hadn’t even considered going further.  If someone took the chart away from him, he wouldn’t even be able to say what was further on. 

So he guessed it was Beaufort.

Now…did he want to be alone, or did he want to try and track down Pete and Jo?  And if he did, how would he go about it?

Nick moved the boat into the opening to Brickyard Creek and cut the engines.  He dropped anchor and considered the possibilities.  He leafed through the book of coastal marinas.  There were seven marinas near Beaufort and a bunch of public boat landings.  Nick figured there was nothing he could do about the public ones.  They had no phone numbers with them.  The marina listings did.  The guide book told him that the anchorages around Beaufort weren’t that great, and it recommended the marinas for overnight stays.

Nick wondered if Pete had made a reservation this time.  It was kinda weird, he thought.  The lady in Charleston said that Pete had made the reservation a while ago, but last night Pete said he never made definite plans.  Nick had a moment’s unease.  Maybe that was Pete’s way of telling him to get lost.  Maybe he didn’t want Nick hanging around them.

Nick paused with his cell phone in his hand.  Should he, or shouldn’t he? 

Suddenly, a loud screeching sound filled the air.  It startled Nick so much that he almost dropped the phone.  The guide book flew out of his hand and skittered across the deck.  Overhead a jet screamed up into the atmosphere from the nearby Parris Island Airbase. 

Shit!  That was loud! thought Nick. 

When his heart was beating regularly again, Nick retrieved the book and found the page again.  Should he, or shouldn’t he?

Aw, fuck it, he thought.  What can it hurt to try? 

He went down the listings.  He called the first number and asked if there was a reservation for Peter Crofton.  No, there wasn’t.  Nor at the second or the third.  Nick was ready to give up but sighed and punched in the number for the Lady’s Island Marina.  He smiled to himself.  He kinda liked the sound of that name.

“Lady’s Island Marina?  How can I help you?”  It was a female voice…a lady, thought Nick with a grin.

“Um…yes, I’m calling to check on a reservation.”

“You’d like to make a reservation, Sir?”

“I might…I’m just wondering.  My friend told me about your marina and said good things.  I wonder if he has a reservation there today…Peter Crofton is his name.”

“Just a moment, Sir.  I’ll check.” 

Nick waited patiently.  It wasn’t long before the woman came back. 

“Yes, Sir, there is a reservation in the name of Peter Crofton.”

“If you don’t mind me asking, when did he make that reservation?”

“I really couldn’t say, Sir.”

“I mean, like did he just make it today, or was it from earlier?”

“Oh, I see what you mean.  No, this reservation has been here for quite some time.”

“Okay, thanks,” said Nick.

“Did you want to make a reservation, Sir?”

Did he?

Nick wasn’t sure.  Pete had lied to him about Beaufort.  Did that mean that he didn’t want to see Nick any more?  Nick didn’t think he’d done anything offensive.  He thought Pete had enjoyed the break from dealing with Jordana.

“Sir?”

“Oh, sorry…yeah…um…sure.  Sure, I’d like to dock there for tonight.”

Nick gave the woman the particulars and told her he’d be there shortly.  He flipped his phone shut and sat back in his chair.  Now that he'd gotten himself into the situation, he wondered how he should handle it.   When he saw Pete and Jo, should he act surprised that he had run across them again? 

Well, Dumbass, he told himself, you sure shouldn’t tell them that you tracked them down.  That’s a little creepy!

Nick leaned forward in the chair.  He started the engine and hit the button to pull up the anchor. 

I’ll play it cool, he told himself.  I’m cool.  I can play it cool. 

He started humming a tune and writing a little nonsense song about being cool.  That kept his mind occupied until he turned the boat into Factory Creek. 

Half a mile later, he passed the Lady’s Island Swing Bridge and saw the marina.  It was set in a marsh, but there was easy access to it from dredged channels through the weeds.  As he approached, Nick saw a man standing on the end of the dock.

The man waved at Nick with both arms and then directed him down one of the floating docks to a slip.  Nick negotiated the passage carefully and within minutes was safely moored.  He turned off the boat, did a final check and climbed down.  The man was waiting for him on the dock.

“Nick Carter?”

“Yes, Sir,” replied Nick, extending a hand.

“Burt Wallace,” said the man, shaking Nick’s hand.  “Welcome to Lady’s Island Marina.  If you’d just come this way…”

Nick followed Burt up the dock and over to the office.  He filled out the requisite paperwork with Burt while a woman…Nick figured it was Mrs. Burt…regaled him with all the amenities that were available and ‘all within walking distance’.  She handed Nick a brochure as he left the office.

Nick headed back down the floating docks, scanning the slips for any sign of the Sunset Voyager.  He didn’t see it anywhere.  Back on the Lenore, he looked over the brochure.  Movie theatre, laundry, restaurants, liquor store…Nick figured the only thing he would need from all this would be gas for the boat.  Of course, if he and Pete had another evening of beer and storytelling, he might need to restock some suds.

Nick decided that he needed some exercise, even if he wasn’t interested in Beautiful Downtown Beaufort.  He stretched his long legs and stepped off the boat.  He followed the sketchy map on the brochure and walked into town.  He passed a Publix and a Walgreen’s.  He went past a pizza joint and thought about stopping, but he was just beginning his walk, and he wasn’t all that hungry. 

Nick walked up the street enjoying the spring breeze and looking around.  He wasn’t in a very picturesque area.  He would have to get off the main street to do that.  He wasn’t sure he was in the mood for ‘picturesque’ anyway. 

Up ahead, Nick saw the familiar golden arches of McDonald’s.  Now there was ‘picturesque’ he could get down with!  He was tempted to indulge, knowing that no one was there to stop him but himself.  He almost gave in to temptation but thought Pete and Jo might want to go out for dinner when they arrived, so Nick just winked at the restaurant as he walked by as if it were an old friend.

After a while, Nick turned around and retraced his steps to the boat.  There was still no sign of the Sunset Voyager.  Nick played a video game, stopping every so often to go up on deck and see if the boat had arrived.  But there was nothing.

Finally, at eight o’clock, Nick gave up waiting.  If they were coming, they would be here by now.  Nick  threw a frozen pasta dinner into the microwave and grabbed a beer out of the fridge.  He drank half the beer while he was waiting for the dinner to heat up.  When he got the dinner out of the microwave and peeled back the plastic, he burned his thumb on the side of the dish. 

Nick threw the carton onto a plate and carried it to the dining nook and sat down.  This was dinner, he told himself.  Let’s be civilized for a change and actually sit down to eat.  He stabbed at the pasta and shoved a big forkful of it into his mouth. 

Shit!  He immediately let the pasta fall out of his mouth onto the plate. 

Shit!  That was hot!  Nick could feel the inside of his cheek blister.  Shit!  He rubbed his tongue over the burned area.  Shit!  He fanned the dish with his hand. 

Then he started to laugh.  Yeah, real civilized there, Nicky!  Spitting your food back onto the plate.  That was so classy! 

He drank the rest of the beer in one swallow and got up to get another one.  By the time he got back to the table, the meal had cooled off enough to eat.  Nick shoveled it into his mouth and got through it as quickly as he could.  The problem with the food being the right temperature was that he could now actually taste it…and it wasn’t very good.  Nick thought maybe he should have succumbed to temptation and eaten at Mickey D’s after all.

But he hadn’t.  He’d been a good boy.  He was proud of himself.  Except, thought Nick, that he had only been a good boy because he thought that he’d be having dinner with Pete and Jo.  If he had known that they weren’t going to stop here tonight, he’d have indulged himself to the max and supersized everything. 

Yeah, he told himself, even my waistline!

Nick went back up on deck with his beer.  He sat in the spring evening and enjoyed the ambience.  He thought about Pete and Jo and wondered where they were.  He wondered if Mickey had managed to catch up with them yet.

At ten o’clock, Nick went below and spread his charts on the table.  He put a notepad and pen beside it.  Now, how far should he aim for tomorrow?  He read the notes from the ICW handbook. 
Hilton Head would be the trickiest navigation part, not because of the water conditions but because of the tourists.  There’d be lots of boaters to watch out for, and if they were just renting, they might not be as skilled as they ought to be.

Nick made note of an inlet called Skull Creek.  That might be interesting.  It made him think of AJ. Skulls and roses.  That pretty much summed AJ up, figured Nick.  Skulls and roses.  The skulls represented AJ’s outward persona…the black fingernail polish, the eye makeup, the tattoos, the whole Goth thing…it was what AJ wanted the world to see him as.

The roses represented the truth about AJ…that he was one of the gentlest men on the planet.  He was a true romantic at heart, and if he would just allowed himself to be loved, he could be really happy. 

Nick wondered if that would ever happen.  AJ had been hurt a few times, and now he had his deflector shields up for sure!!

As Nick moved his finger down the charts, he thought again about Pete and Mickey and Jo.  He wondered where Mickey could catch up to them.  There weren’t many big airports along this part of the coast. 

Savannah.

Georgia.

That looked to be about the closest.  Nick wondered if Mickey would go there.  He wondered where she was coming from.  She had been within driving distance of Calabash, he remembered that.
Well, one thing is for sure, Nick decided.  I’m not going to waste another day trying to track them down. 

He felt somewhat foolish for having tried to do so already…twice, in fact.  He wondered why he had felt the need to do that.  Was it a sudden fear of being alone?  That didn’t make sense to him. Hadn’t he planned this whole damn trip just so he could be alone?

Was it arrogance?  That he couldn’t believe that someone wouldn’t want to spend time with him? 

And what’s up with that, thought Nick.  Pete had seemed so friendly the first couple of nights.  And yet he had lied about where he was staying.  Was that because of him? Nick wondered.

Oh, could you just get over yourself, Carter! 

Nick laughed to himself.  It probably had nothing to do with him at all.  Maybe Pete made reservations all up and down the coast so that he’d have a spot to stay no matter how far he went each day.  He’d made this trip a bunch of times, he’d said.

Or maybe something happened to make them not go very far.  Maybe they were behind him, after all.  Maybe there was some kind of breakdown on the boat.  Or maybe something happened to Jo.

Jo.

Poor Jo.

And poor Pete.  He sure was dealing with a lot of shit.  He was trying to do his job and get the boat delivered on time, and then he had the whole ‘let’s propose to someone who’s not even here’ thing going on.  And Jo and her problems.  Yep, Pete had some weighty issues to deal with.

Weighty issues.

Nick laughed to himself.  Jo had weighty issues.  That was the kind of joke that got him ridiculed by the fellas.

Nick gathered up his charts and put them neatly away.  He turned off all the lights and made his way back to the bedroom.  He peered out the window at the marina.  Good!  There were no lights glaring down on him. 

Nick liked to sleep with the curtains open and the night sky visible to him.  He only closed them if he was under a bright dock light.

Nick stripped his clothes off and crawled under the duvet.  He squirmed around until he found his comfort spot.  He pulled the pillow down under his head.

Weighty issues.

Maybe that’s what he’d rename the boat.

Yeah, right!  Like no one would call him ‘fat’, if he did that.

“Goodnight, Lenore,” he whispered.

In just a few minutes, he was sound asleep.