View from the Top

THE PARTY

I didn’t really want to go – I thought it would be more romantic to sit in my houseboat on Richardson Bay in Sausalito and do what loving, engaged couples do. You know, a quiet dinner, a suitable wine and a few hours of “sweet nothings.”

But no, it wasn’t meant to be. I could see right away by the way the stars were aligned that if I wanted any peace at all I’d quietly go along with Ceria to the annual Valentine’s dance at her family’s winery in Napa Valley.

She was from one of the old time Italian families that had been making fine wines near Calistoga in Napa Valley for over a hundred years. It wasn’t one of the larger families that was known throughout the country, but it was known among the wine aficionados as one of the consistently best producers of top quality Cabernets year in and year out.

One of the family scandals was that Ceria’s mom, Angela, had married a non-Italian. Not too much was said though, since Gill Kibby brought to the marriage the largest liquor distributorship in Kansas plus owning award winning delis in St. Helena and Manhattan.

The annual Valentine’s party and dance was Gill’s idea. He invited the top twenty-five retailers and the top twenty-five restaurant owners based on sales volume of their Bella Vista brand. The party caught on quickly and it became one of the cachets that the rich seem to hunger after to show that they are special.

And a party it was! The finest foods, the best dance bands, a well known, but aging crooner from San Francisco and a parting gift of a magnum of one of the better Cabs from the wine library. But I wasn’t rich or famous and I didn’t want to go. I did love Ceria and bickering was an anathema to me … so I went.

My fiancée had to be there all day to help with the preparations and to greet the guests as they pulled up in the daisy chain of limos. So with mixed emotions and some trepidation I put on the monkey suit Ceria had given me two years ago when I attended the Valentine’s party for the first time. This part I didn’t mind too much. I was average in height, a bit too slender, with thick, wavy black hair and even I had to admit I looked pretty good in a tux.

Once I arrived at the winery I felt somewhat better. I knew the food would be great and I never complained about having a chance to drink some wines that I would never be able to afford on my own. Ceria sometimes accused me of loving the wine more that I loved her.

“You just want to marry the winery, not me!”

I wasn’t sure if she was joking or not but there was some truth there … not that I’d ever admit it.

For the party they used the large wine cellar on the ground floor of the large stone building. It was lined along the sides with three thousand gallon redwood wine tanks. These were as old as the winery was and were part of the tradition at Bella Vista. Normally the center was filled with stacks of barrels but for the party these were moved to the warehouse next door with forklifts.

Ceria was, of course, also in charge of decorating the place. I had to give her credit – the place looked fantastic. The aroma from the wine aging in the large barrels always entranced me and she had taken the Valentine’s theme to the max. The tables alternated with white and red tablecloths, with red roses on the white tables and pink roses on the red tables. The placemats were large glass hearts with the wineries logo and the person’s name engraved. These were keepsakes for guests to take home as a memento of a luscious fest of food, wine and dance.

I caught up with my significant other talking with a too handsome man in the entryway to the cellar.

“Hi, Honey,” she said as she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek. “This is Dante Loggia. He owns La Trattoria in Tribeca. Dante, this is Edward Imhoff, my fiancé.”

“Eddie, why don’t you go on in - our table is in the middle towards the left. I need a few minutes with Dante to work on a promotion.”

Okay, I guessed I could live with that. I found the table and helped myself to a glass of ’73 Vintner’s Select Cab – now showing it’s best at twenty years. At three hundred a bottle this was a special treat. I sipped, slowly, and enjoyed the wine as people were filtering in to the soothing rhythms of a jazz quartet. I’d finished my second glass and was debating with myself on the wisdom of a third when Ceria finally came in – with a rosy flush on her cheeks that belied the cool air typical of a large wine cellar.

I let her buss my cheek again as she patted my arm and turned to the woman next to her and started a conversation about wine sales in Oklahoma. I poured the third glass and morosely studied it as I figured out the cost: three hundred divided by four … hmmm, seventy-five a glass. I started trying to figure out the cost per sip but said the hell with it and just drank it.

Dinner was boring but hopefully things would pick up with the dancing. Every time I tried to start a conversation with my beloved, someone would stop by and grab her attention. She must have caught my darkening mood – hell, she knew I didn’t want to be there to start with – and assured me all of her dances would be mine.

After the too rich chocolate confection that passed for dessert along with the all too tasty glass of port were both disposed with, and the last of the dishes cleared off and the last of the ladies returned from the rest room in various sized clumps … after all this dance, the band started playing.

It was a nice sized swing band playing all the old favorites from groups like Glenn Miller, The Dorsey Brothers, Artie Shaw, and Harry James. They had a female vocalist reminiscent of Edie Adams singing, “I Must Love You” with Guy Lombardo’s orchestra – this was before she became an actress and married Ernie Kovacs. She was assisted with the vocals by the aging crooner sounding a little scratchy from the somewhat vast quantities of wine he had been quaffing.

The dance floor wasn’t very wide – no more that fifteen feet or so, but it ran the length of the cellar. I grabbed Ceria as the band started with “In The Mood.” I had always been proud of my dancing and was more than holding my own. The next song was “Let’s Jump,” the old Count Basie favorite. Finally they played a slower one, one that I had always liked, “You Made Me Love You,” a Harry James standard.

I pulled my girl closer and she put her head on my shoulder. I was feeling the music and feeling the love between us – maybe all was right with the world – when I felt a light tap on my shoulder. Of course it was that too pretty Dante, asking too politely for the dance. I tried to shrug him off but Ceria pulled back with a helpless shrug and opened her arms to Dante. I swear he gave me a smirk!

Dante grabbed her just as I had, and held her even closer. I stood there for a moment figuring I could take her back in my arms for the next dance but Dante was one step ahead of me and whirled her through the crowd away from me. I realized I was standing alone in the middle of the dance floor, probably looking like a fool. I went back to our table and flagged the waiter for another bottle of wine. He filled my glass and I swirled it around, not drinking it but wondering at the meanings of the different patterns the swirling caused in the wine. I’d take small sips as I looked around for my fiancée.

The band played four or five more numbers but no Ceria. They stopped for a break and I started to get up and look for her when her dad sat down next to me.

“How is your writing going?”

Well, hell, I knew what this was about. He felt that his daughter could do a lot better than marry a writer of Romance novels for a living. He knew damn well how my writing was going. I came across my writing skills legitimately – a Master’s degree from Stanford - and had written several serious books focusing on different facets of the settling of the American west. These received top-notch reviews but the sales wouldn’t even cover the payments on my houseboat.

During my senior year I took a directed studies writing class. The woman that taught it was a published author of general fiction and gave me various assignments that she would review and discuss with me. After the Christmas break, she sat down with me for a heart-to-heart.

“Eddie, your writing is great – and you know it. Technically it’s first rate, you have a feel for characterization and are very imaginative with plots. But your writing seems too dry – not enough passion. I want you to try something with more feelings in it.”

She gave me an assignment of writing a romance short story.

“And, Eddie, make me cry!”

I was a little pissed off about having to do this; hell, I was a serious writer. I treated it as a joke and wrote an over-the-top story of love gone bad but resolved with a teary ending.

Long story made short, she gave the story to her agent to look at and I wound up with a contract to make the story into a novel. Now I was pumping out about one every other month and living well. Not great, but enough for a nice car, my houseboat and a comfortable lifestyle. But I would never be flying in my own Lear like Ceria’s dad.

So when he asked about my writing I knew he wasn’t talking about the new book I was working on that analyzed the impact that the battles of Bloody Valverde and Glorieta Pass had on the South’s attempt at taking over the west during the Civil War. He was laughing at me for having a real job like writing Romance novels.

Before I could break away from Gill the band had started again. I got up and pushed through the crowd; it had been almost an hour since I had seen Ceria last. I remembered that one of the places she liked best was in back of the main level; there was a large balcony that overlooked the vineyards. I decided to give it a shot and walked up the stairs and to the door at the end of the balcony.

I could see a couple towards the middle of the balcony leaning against the railing, standing close together. The full moon shining through a fine mist made a lovely, romantic glow around them. I quietly opened the door and stepped out. It was about forty feet to where they were standing and I recognized the dress Ceria was wearing. They were murmuring softly but I couldn’t tell what they were saying.

I watched for a few minutes thinking of our love for each other and what it meant. They turned and began a passionate kiss. I couldn’t believe my eyes! I felt a sudden overwhelming sense of … relief. That confused the hell out of me. I should be mad and yelling and kicking ass and … but I wasn’t. I was just standing there with this strange sense being lucky at not being caught for having done something wrong.

The last time I had that feeling was a few years earlier while driving down to Santa Barbara on 101. In the long, lonely stretch between King City and Paso Robles, the traffic tends to pick up speed. Everyone was humming along about seventy-five to eighty. To go slower would likely cause an accident. Of course they had a trap set with an overhead plane timing how long it took to get from one mark to the next. Around a long bend there were three or four highway patrol cars.

Since everyone was speeding they flagged over about thirty cars. I was towards the back. After about twenty minutes of sitting and fuming a guy came back and starting with the car in front of me and to the end of the line told us to take off. I had the most delectable sense of having cheated and gotten away with it.

And that was how I felt now. I shrugged and walked around the building and out into the vineyards. This was one of my favorite things to do – walk between the rows of vines regardless of the weather. Vineyards, like golf courses, have a special beauty that I found very relaxing. Knowing I shouldn’t drive yet I walked up and down the rows for the better part of an hour trying to get a handle on how I felt. Not how I should feel but how I really felt.

And, damn it all, I felt good. Walking in the gradually increasing mist I sobered up enough to drive home. On the lonely ride to Sausalito, I tried really hard to work up a good mad. I guess I was somewhat angry but I think my pride was mad, not my heart. Some Valentine’s Day!

THE BRIDGE

There were two things that defined me: my writing and my running. I’d been running all my life and had some success as a half-miler and miler at Stanford. I wasn’t at heart a competitor. I didn’t like to run for time - I ran for the sheer enjoyment of it. For the ten years since I’d graduated I’d been running the Dipsea and Double Dipsea races.

The basic race was from Mill Valley, up these god-awful stairs (676 stairs in three flights) onto Mt. Tamalpais and over the mountain to Stinson beach. The Double Dipsea was to Stinson Beach and back. The whole thing was fourteen miles with 4,400 feet of up and down.

I belonged to a running club and we regularly went on long runs throughout Marin County. One of my favorite runs was across the Golden Gate Bridge and down around to Fort Point and back to my houseboat. I ran it at all times of day or night and in all weather. It was usually on one of these runs that I came up with the ideas for my novels. It was also a great catharsis for the stress of living in California … and of being engaged.

I slipped on my running gear and a light windbreaker and drove up to the parking lot at the view point on the west end of the bridge. I rarely made this run from this starting point but it was late and I’d eaten much more than normal. I was just looking for some relaxation – to kind of clear my mind. (Years later they would close the bridge to pedestrians at night due to the security flap and I wasn’t able to make that run anymore.)

I started running up the slope of the bridge with an easy stride, feeling better. One of the things I always did on this run was stop for a minute and look at the view. It was such a spectacular sight that I didn’t really need to even have my eyes open to see the view from the top of the bridge in all of it’s manifestations. My favorite times were on sunny weekends when the boats were out and the wind brisk. Seeing those long sailboats heeling over and beating into the wind always brought shivers down my spine.

Other favorite times were on those windy, foggy summer days that always evoked that famous quote of Mark Twain’s: "The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco.” Some days the fog would be so thick that I could barely see the rail. Even on days like those, a sudden vagary in the wind could blow a hole through the fog giving an unexpected glance of Angel Island or Alcatraz.

On this night of misty rain the moon cast an ethereal glow over the cold water of the bay and the lights of The City and the various East Bay cities flickered like millions of fireflies flitting around in their glory of life. I took a deep breath and let Ceria and all thoughts associated with her float away like a wisp of fog and resumed my run at a faster but still easy pace. As I ran by the tollbooths I waved to Dave. That’s all I knew him by. He always worked nights and was usually towards the bay side of the bridge. There wasn’t any traffic and he gave me a big smile and a thumbs up.

I came off the bridge picking up the pace now and made the left turn down the hill towards Fort Point. The long straightaway along the bay was one of my favorite parts. It was maybe a half-mile stretch that I always finished with a heart-pumping kick. The water was at high tide and the surf was booming against the large rocks – washing me with gushes of icy seawater lending impetus to my finish.

I had always loved Fort Point and had visited it many times over the years. It was a beautiful brick building hiding under the approach arch of the bridge. I walked over to the water listening to the thunder of the surf and the haunting siren sound of the foghorns, calling to the lost and lonely.

I stood there, stretching and musing for the better part of ten minutes, and finally, with a deep sigh, turned and started the run back. I was running easily, close to the middle of the bridge, when I saw a girl standing there. I gave her a nod and kept running. When we see the usual in an unusual situation we sometimes accept it without thinking.

About twenty yards past the girl it hit me and I stopped and turned back. There really shouldn’t be a young girl here, this late at night. As I started back towards her she was trying to get her leg over the rail but the dampness made it keep slipping off. I walked slowly – I didn’t want to startle her. When I was about ten feet away I loudly cleared my throat.

In a conversational voice, I said, “This is my favorite view in the world, right here. You must like it too to be here at this time at night.”

She looked at me like I had two noses and three ears.

I tried again. “Look, Miss. Are you okay?” I knew she wasn’t. How could anyone trying to jump into the murky depths of the bay be okay?

With a heavily Latin accented, but fluent, voice – accent familiar, San Juan? … a dim memory, maybe Puerto Rican – she replied, “Yes, I … no, I’m just walking.”

Maybe the irony was lost but I had to try it. “Right! It’s such a beautiful evening.” By now the mist had graduated to a real rain and she was starting to shiver. She didn’t have a coat, only a pathetically thin sweater.

Now wrapping her arms around herself, she tried again, “Well, yes, a nice, no, not a nice …”

Yes, the irony was clearly lost. I took off my windbreaker and wrapped it around her.

“Do you have a name? I’m Eddie, Eddie Dawson.”

Amazingly she put her hand out to shake mine, and responded, “Eddie, I’m Dayanara. Everyone calls me Nara.”

Well, at least she was raised well.

“Nara, let me help you back to the tollbooth – they can call the police.”

With some violence, she spat back, “No, no policía!”

Okay, that was a non-starter.

By this time I was starting to get cold. “Do you have some family I can call?”

A scared look now.

“No, no family.”

Exasperated now, “Well, I can’t … I’m not going to leave you alone here. Miss … Nara, we have to do something.”

“You! Are you a good man?”

What the hell kind of question was that?

“Well, yeah, I guess. I don’t kick dogs or anything. I guess I’m good.”

I wonder if Ceria would agree with that right now.

“You take me. You take me Eddie!”

Ah … I don’t think she meant it that way.

“Uh, take you where, Nara?”

“Take me home, Eddie. Take me to your home. I trust you. You are a good man.” She said that like she wasn’t all that sure. I can’t say that I was all too sure myself!

I didn’t say anything. I was about to the point that even I might jump off the bridge. I took her arm, and rushing her in the ever-increasing rain, led her back the viewpoint and my car.

I opened the door for her to get in, but she stood there with a funny look on her face.

“I trust you, Eddie. I trust you, okay?”

With a deep, half-frozen sigh, I muttered, “Sure, Eddie is a good boy. Just ask Ceria what a good boy I am.”

I quickly drove the short distance to my parking spot and hustled her into my houseboat. I was icy cold now and needed a hot shower. I got her a robe - a nice heavy terrycloth one that Ceria used when she stayed over.

“I have to get in the shower right away. Put this robe on and I’ll put your clothes in the dryer when I finish.”

The layout of the houseboat was basically one large room with a kitchen cum dining room at one end and at the other from left to right were a closet, a larger bathroom and a small laundry room. The rest was mostly a combination living room and bedroom with a small space set aside for my writing.

It was actually quite nice. The flooring and walls were old heart redwood that had aged to a beautiful patina. There wasn’t much furniture but what I had there was high quality. It was attractive and looked bigger than it was.

I showered quickly and put on jeans and an old sweater. I waved Nara into the bathroom and put some coffee on. The shower was running, the coffeepot was perking, the Miles Davis CD was adding a little mood music … but I was still able to hear the faint scratch of the key in the door.

It could only be Ceria, though I really wasn’t expecting her. She threw the door open, her face more stormy than the rain outside.

“What the hell do you mean, running off and leaving me alone at the dance?”

Before I could point out to her that she hadn’t been alone when I left, she spotted Nara’s wet clothes neatly folded and piled on the floor in front of the bathroom door.

“What’s this? These aren’t my clothes!”

Of course, at that moment the shower was turned off – a noise not noted until it’s absence.

“Who’s taking a shower? What’s going on here, Eddie?”

I hadn’t said a word as yet. And I really wasn’t sure exactly what was going on. The door to the bathroom opened, the steam roiling out in soft clouds, and Nara stood there in Ceria’s robe drying her hair with a towel.

My fiancée looked at Nara, at me, at Nara and exploded, “God damn it, Eddie, this is too much. You bastard!”

With that Ceria tugged her engagement ring off and threw it at me with an angry glance. Running to the door she threw it open and cast a venomous glance back at Nara … and slammed the door with no small amount of violence.

I stared at the door, then at Nara. The entire crazy episode had happened without Nara or I saying a single word. I had this vision of Dante and my (ex?) fiancée kissing on the balcony in the misty moonlight.

I picked the ring up off the floor – it really was quite nice … and way more than I could afford – and looking at Nara I asked, “Hey, Nara, do you want a ring?”

She looked at me, by turns horrified and astounded. We stood there for a long minute and suddenly I started laughing. Well, at first it was more of a choked giggle but soon I was rolling on the floor and Nara was standing there looking confused and lost. It wasn’t that funny, but sometimes, well, I guess I was just stressed out.

I finally quieted down and showed Nara how to run the small washer with the equally small dryer stacked on top. While her clothes were washing I poured us each a mug of coffee with a healthy dollop of brandy in it. As I gave it to her, I realized I hadn’t really looked closely at her.

She was basically really small. She couldn’t have been more than five-two. Any taller than that and she probably would have made it over the railing and I’d be talking to the police now. Her damp hair was straggling down her back but looked rich and thick. Her eyebrows were a bit heavy and obviously had never been plucked. She looked to be barely sixteen and I started wondering what kind of trouble I’d got myself into.

Hesitantly, I tried, “Nara, you’re just a kid. I’d better call the police.”

With more anger than I expected, she replied, “I’m not a kid! I’m a woman.” At once, near tears, and belying the woman part, she pleaded, “Don’t call the police. Please, my family … ”

“What about your family?”

She got up to put her clothes in the dryer.

When she came back, I got a better look at her. She was startlingly pretty, with her skin a slightly dusky color to go along with her dark brown hair. Her eyes were medium brown with a few tawny streaks thrown in. She looked like a fashion model that had forgotten to grow up.

She looked at me, her eyes round and large, doe eyes, and started silently crying. I didn’t know what to do. I finally gave up and figured it would be better to sleep on it. I fixed the small sofa up for her to sleep on. It wasn’t very long and there was no way was I going to stay awake all night trying to sleep on the sofa when it fit her perfectly.

I put my pajamas on in the bathroom – I hadn’t slept in them for years and was somewhat surprised that I still had them. I started to turn the light off when Nara asked, “Eddie, please, por favor, leave the light in the bathroom on?”

Poor kid. She must be scared to death.

NARA’S STORY

In the middle of the night I could hear Nara softly crying. My heart went out to her but I didn’t know what to do about it. I thought about trying to comfort her but I was concerned about making her more scared than she was now.

I fell into a deep sleep and when I woke up Nara was sitting at the small table next to the kitchen. She was dressed in the now clean and dry clothes she had on the night before. She had found the orange juice and was drinking some from a tall glass

She saw me looking at her and blushed a little bit and turned her face away. I got up and took my clothes in the bathroom and dressed. When I got back to the kitchen I put some coffee on. While it was perking we didn’t talk to each other more than a spare hello.

When the coffee was ready I held a cup up towards Nara and she nodded her okay. With coffee in place I sat down and looked at her, making her turn her head away again.

“Nara, look at me,” I said softly, “You can’t just hide from life. You didn’t really want to end everything last night, did you?”

Looking at me now, with her big round eyes, she whispered, “No, I didn’t.”

“Well, Nara, I think you have three choices. I can call the police, you can call your family or you can talk to me. I’m sure you don’t want the police and I suspect that your family is part of the problem so I suggest you tell me your problems and I’ll see if there is anything we can work out. Do you agree?”

She nodded her acquiescence.

“Why don’t we have some breakfast first and then we can talk?”

I took her to a good breakfast place two blocks away. I went there at least once a week for either breakfast or lunch. I liked to cook my own dinners. I had come to be good friends with the owner, Kendra Allen. She was in her late fifties and when her husband had retired from the San Francisco Police Department she had bought the small restaurant to give her something to do.

Her husband, Mike, had retired as an Inspector III – essentially a senior detective. Besides frequently attending retirement parties and playing golf with his buddies from the SFPD, he was off hunting and fishing all the time. The restaurant was only open for breakfast and lunch – from six in the morning until two in the afternoon.

I thought it would make her more at ease to be around people and have a chance to get to know me better. I did introduce her to Kendra as a “friend.” Kendra looked at me kind of funny since she knew I was engaged and had eaten breakfast there a couple of times with Ceria when she had stayed over.

As we ate I told her about the party, going into a lot of details. I told her about seeing Ceria with that Dante guy. I tried to make it sound funny to try to cheer her up a little.

“I thought I’d be more upset than I was. I was angry about the way she behaved but driving home I felt relieved more than anything. I never felt close to her family – and I don’t get along with her dad at all. Then when she came barging in later last night I was a bit stunned at first. She thought that you, well we … anyway I never got a chance to explain. I was thinking I would have to tell her the engagement was over, and why, but that would have been messy.”

We went back to the houseboat and I poured myself some more coffee and showed her where the tea was. She was sitting on the small sofa and I took one of the kitchen chairs.

“Nara, are you ready to talk to me?”

“Yes … Eddie.”

“I’ll start with some questions and we can take it from there. What is your full name?

“I’m Dayanara Vegerano, Nara, like I said.”

“And you are from San Juan?”

“How did you know? Well, not San Juan, but Mayagüez. That’s a university city on the west coast of Puerto Rico. But, how did you know?”

“I was in San Juan last year with Ceria for two weeks at the Condado Plaza – I have a good ear for accents and yours sounded familiar. Do you have family there?”

“No … no, Eddie. My dad died several years ago … and my mom, mom, … she died last month.”

Nora was crying a little now so I gave her a few minutes, refilled my coffee mug.

“Do you have anyone else?” I quietly continued.

“No, there is no one there. We had a business in a bad part of town. It was a small place that was kind of famous in Mayagüez. We made sangria and sold it only in gallon jugs or people could bring their own bottles. We got some protection because we brought a lot of tourists into the neighborhood and they ate at the local restaurants and bought stuff in the small stores.

“When my mom died a man came by and told me I would have to start paying money each month or I wouldn’t be safe. My mom knew a man in the police department that had been helping us but I never knew who he was. When mom died a neighbor offered to buy our store so I sold it for twelve thousand dollars.”

“What about family here? Do you have anyone in San Francisco?” I was guessing where she lived. I knew she had walked to the bridge.

“Yes, I have a … brother.”

She looked scared when she said this and started crying again. I finally had her go in and take a shower, hoping it would settle her down. Later, I finally heard her story.

My brother is ten years older than me. He is really my stepbrother – my dad had been married before he married my mom. My brother, Pablo Vegerano, came to San Francisco when he was eighteen. I hadn’t seen him since, even when papa died. When I decided to sell the business I called him and asked if I could live with him. I told him I wanted to go to school. He asked if I had any money and I told him about María wanting to buy the business.

He told me to come right away and that he would be happy to have his sister live with him. So when I settled everything I flew to San Francisco. It was really nice at first – it’s a large apartment in the Mission district and I had my own bedroom.

Pablo took my money, “ … to put it in the bank for me.” Then, two nights ago, I had gone to bed when I woke to some shouting in the living room. I was scared so I opened my door a crack and from what I heard Pablo bought some drugs from this guy to sell. They were stolen from Pablo’s car so he didn’t have the money to pay the guy back.

I saw him give the man the money I had from the store. Then the guy pulled a gun and shouted that he had to have the rest of the money. Pablo quieted him down and asked if he could make some other kind of arrangement. They talked quietly for a few minutes in lower voices that I couldn’t hear. Then the man smiled when Pablo told him he would bring me to him the next day. He was giving me to the guy to pay for his drug money!

I was really scared and couldn’t get back to sleep. I knew I couldn’t stay there so early yesterday I left the house around six – I knew that Pablo never got up before eleven or so. I had forty dollars in my purse and took the trolley downtown to get away from the neighborhood. I found a place for breakfast and walked around for several hours.

When I was hungry again, I took the cable car to Fisherman’s wharf and had lunch. I didn’t know what to do or where to go. It was such a terrible feeling. Later I went to a movie and fell asleep. I woke up when everyone was leaving so I left too. It was cold and I didn’t have the right clothes. I saw the bridge and just started walking.

I didn’t have any plans to do anything … it was just like a magnet pulling me. When I got to the top of the bridge I just … well, I gave up. Everything seemed so hopeless. My family was gone and all I had left was Pablo and he, he wanted to give me to that awful guy. I wasn’t thinking of dying … it was just that I guess I gave up. I couldn’t deal with it. Then you came, and …

She started crying again so I sat on the sofa and held her close for a long time. The sobbing gradually stopped and she seemed half asleep. I carried her over to the bed and laid her down to sleep it off. Poor kid. My heart really went out to her.

I left her a note and walked over to Kendra’s place for a BLT. She used a brand of nice lean, thick smoked bacon for breakfast that made the best BLT sandwiches I’d ever had.

“Okay, Eddie, who’s the girl you were here with for breakfast?”

She knew all about my engagement. I told her Nara’s story and of the problems she had, and I could see it upset her.

“So she doesn’t want to turn her brother over to the police?”

“No, and I can’t understand that. Yeah, he is all the family she has, but anyone that would sell his sister … I don’t know.”

“Eddie, how about if the police catch him and she has nothing to do with it?”

“What do you mean, Kendra?”

“I’ve got an idea. I need to talk to Mike about it. Say, where is this girl staying? Not with you, is she?”

Embarrassed now, I answered, “Well, yeah, I guess. I mean I didn’t have any choice last night. She wouldn’t do anything else and it was late.”

I went on to tell her about Ceria’s visit and how much fun that had been.

“Well, Eddie, you’ve got yourself in a fine pickle. I can’t help you with Ceria; that’s for sure your problem. But maybe there’s something we can do for Nara. You realize she can’t continue to stay with you, don’t you? And she needs to find a job. Poor girl!”

I hadn’t thought that far ahead but I had to agree that she couldn’t stay with me. I needed to talk to Ceria and see where we stood. I didn’t know whether we could patch things up, or even if I wanted to. It was obvious that we wouldn’t have a chance to resolve things if Nara was staying on the houseboat.

“Kendra, I don’t have any idea how I can find an apartment on short notice that she can afford. And as far as a job, man, I have no ideas at all.”

“Come with me, Eddie. I want to show you something.”

She led me to the back of the restaurant and up a narrow staircase. It opened into a very small room, probably no more that a hundred square feet. There was one small window at the back and a tiny closet and bath on one side. The bath was barely big enough for me to turn around in, and had a shower. There was no kitchen. It was clean, albeit dusty.

“’I’ve never used this and I didn’t want to rent it out. I’d have to give a key to the restaurant to the tenant and we really don’t need the money. I think it would be great for Nara. I’m here a lot of the time and we have a security system.

“All you need is a bed and dresser and you can get it at the Salvation Army store down the block. If you give one of the guys a twenty he’ll deliver it for you. Why don’t you bring her over and take a look at it. You can use the cleaning stuff in the back closet, behind the kitchen.”

It did look like a good solution. It was close to the houseboat and I knew that Nara would get along with Kendra quite well; she was the motherly type.

“That’s great, Kendra. I’m sure this will work out great. I still have to work out the job though.”

“Well, I’ve been thinking. You know Stephanie, the girl that has been helping me out. She left Friday to move back to Denver with her folks. I guess she is going to go to school in Boulder.

“Anyway, I need someone to help me. It’s no fun to do it by myself. It would be a bit of everything, from waiting tables and bussing to washing dishes and cleaning the place. I could teach her to do some of the cooking too. We don’t do anything very complicated.

“I think this would be good for her. I can’t pay too much but I could let her have the room upstairs to stay in and she can have all her meals here. At night she can fix her dinner in the restaurant kitchen. If you want to bring her over I can stay for a while. What do you think?”

“That sounds great, Kendra. I’ll go get her now.”

I walked back, enjoying the bright sun after the rain of the night before. I found Nara sitting on a bench in front of the houseboat.

“Eddie, oh, Eddie. I woke up and you were gone. I came outside to see if I could find you. When I tried to go back in the door was locked! I was kind of scared.”

“Nara, you didn’t see the note I left?”

Sheepishly, she shook her head no. I told her about my discussion with Kendra and she was excited. We went in my car back over to the restaurant so she could look at the room and talk to Kendra.

Kendra surprised me when she told me, “Go on and look at the furniture. Nara and I can talk better without you here.”

I guess she wanted to make sure that Nara understood that I was engaged and remind her of the sly ways of even an old man of thirty. I smiled a bit at Kendra; she really was a mother hen.

I ignored the advice about the Salvation Army and went to the same place I brought my own furniture. I told the girl that had waited on me before what I needed and that it had to be delivered that afternoon.

She showed me a few things and we found a day bed with two large storage drawers under it, a dresser from the same set and a comfortable stuffed chair that was both a rocker and a recliner. She had all the linen stuff I’d need plus a throw rug we figured out would fit. I also got a large mirror to put on the wall. The woman that was helping me out said that would make the room look larger.

I went back to the restaurant with the promise that everything would be delivered within the hour. I figured I could help Nara clean up and get everything in place. For a few days until I could get a phone in, she would have to use the phone downstairs.

When I got back to the restaurant they were sitting, drinking coffee and talking. They had jumped in and cleaned the room and Kendra had told her what all she would be doing. When I walked in, Nara blushed, and I guessed that they had been talking about me.

“Did you get the furniture, Eddie?”

“Yeah, it should be here in a few minutes. I’ll have to take her to get some clothes and bathroom stuff.”

“Eddie, give me your credit card and I’ll take care of that. You don’t know the first thing about buying clothes for a girl. You stay here and get the furniture in. We will meet you back at the houseboat and you can take us to Scoma’s for dinner. Mike is at some wedding in the City so I might as well have some fun.”

Well, I hadn’t thought all that through. With a sigh of relief I said goodbye to them and waited for the delivery truck. Kendra had given us both a key and showed us how to use the security system.

The truck came a few minutes later so I showed them where to put everything. They weren’t too happy about the stairs but I just shrugged. I had a toolkit in my car so I put the mirror up. The room was a bit cramped but it looked much nicer. What made it all work was the rug; it kind of pulled everything together. I’d spent more than I’d planned but it made a world of difference to the room.

I went back to the houseboat, showered, shaved and got dressed to await the evening pleasure … at my expense, of course. I didn’t mind though; Kendra stepping in had saved me a lot of time and heartache trying to get things to work.

When they got back I couldn’t believe the difference in how Nara looked. They had stopped back at her new apartment to leave the packages and for Nara to get ready. I had seen how pretty she was, but dressed in new clothes – and with an obvious stop at a salon to get her hair fixed after the rain - she was stunningly beautiful.

She was wearing a simple black sheath dress that showed she was indeed small … but with all the right curves that women have that differentiate them from girls. I tended to use the term girl and woman somewhat indiscriminately but clearly that was inappropriate here.

Kendra laughed at me – with a bit of sarcasm, I think, “I guess you don’t mind the six hundred dollars we spent?”

Six hundred! Jeez, along with the money from the furniture store I was making a real investment here.

Nara threw her arms around me and gave me a close hug – yep, she was all woman! – and murmured, “Oh, Eddie! Thanks so much for everything. The apartment is precious and the clothes. I’ve never had anything this nice.”

With another squeeze, she stepped back, blushing now. I don’t think she had realized how tightly she was holding me. Kendra winked at me making me feel like a dirty old man. Well, hell, I wasn’t that old.

We went to Scoma’s and had one of their usual, delicious meals. We had a basket of calamari and grilled Petrale sole with some of their wonderful sourdough French bread. Kendra and I split a nice bottle of Gewürztraminer. My thirty years and Nara’s not being able to drink any of the wine made me realize again just how young she was. And how old I was by comparison. Maybe I was an old man. But, dammit, I wasn’t a dirty old man. Was I?

We were driving back to drop Nara off and then return Kendra to her car. I walked in with Nara to make sure she got the security code right and to walk her upstairs.

“Eddie, you have done so much for me. It’s so nice.”

With this she kissed me on the cheek and then backed away, a blush slowly spreading up her neck to her face.

“I’ll pay everything back, I promise.”

“Don’t worry about it, Nara. Are you sure you are going to be okay?”

She nodded and I gave her one of my business cards with my phone number on it.

“Call me if you have any problems, okay?”

I drove on to my parking lot, let Kendra off and went on in to my houseboat. It had never seemed empty before but it did now. It was amazing to me how such a small girl – sorry, woman – could so fill up my home. I found a message to call Ceria, so I thought I’d better call her back and get it over with.

I phoned right away, knowing that if I didn’t it would get harder and harder.

“Eddie, I’m sorry about how I acted, but I went crazy when I saw a girl in your place!”

I mentally corrected that to “woman,” and asked her how she was doing.

She didn’t buy my evasion, and asked, “Eddie, who was that girl?”

I hadn’t wanted to get into everything and I particularly didn’t want to get Nara’s story out – I felt she was still in some danger.

“Ceria, she is just a friend that is going through some problems. She isn’t here anymore. You just have to trust me that I’ve been faithful to you … just like you have been faithful to me.” I added the last with a bit of an edge to my voice but I think it was wasted.

“Well,” there was a long pause, “Why don’t I come over tomorrow night. We can talk and go to Scoma’s for dinner. I haven’t been there for such a long time.”

Great! I can have some more of that first-rate petrale and sourdough bread!

I didn’t think it was such a great idea but we did need to talk.

“Okay, Ceri, come over about six. We can eat and then come back and talk.

I went on to bed thinking about how my life had changed so much, so fast. I thought about Ceria and Dante. I didn’t really know if they had done anymore than kiss but I wasn’t thinking it made any difference. I sure wasn’t one to share a woman and, yeah, we weren’t married yet, and yeah, maybe they really hadn’t done anything, but I felt an emotional distancing taking place between us. I saw it as a matter of trust and respect.

There had been too many instances of both Ceria and her father showing me in subtle and not so subtle ways that I didn’t really command their respect. I assumed it was because I wasn’t rich. Strangely enough, at least to me, her mom loved me. But the episode with Dante – even though she didn’t know that I’d seen them – was an order of magnitude worse. That made it … personal.

Well, I’d wait and see what the next day had for me. I usually went to breakfast at Kendra’s early – with everything going on I’d gotten behind in my work. I had a manuscript in final edit and I needed to give the publisher some feedback on my editor’s final suggested changes.

About two in the morning the phone rang. I answered to the sound of silence. Trying to guess whether it was Ceri or Nara I listened for a minute and taking a chance, “Nara?”

With a sigh she replied, “I’m sorry for calling you. I tried not to.”

“Are you okay, Nara?”

“Yes, I guess so. I heard noises but when I came downstairs it was just the refrigerator. I’m sorry for bothering you. I was just … scared I guess.”

Poor kid. “Do you want me to come over?”

“Yes, Eddie, I do. But don’t come. I’ll be all right. I’m just lonely and scared a little.”

I talked her for about fifteen minutes until I heard her voice getting sleepy. “Goodnight, Nara. I’ll come over for breakfast.”

“Goodnight, Eddie. And … thanks!”

It took a while to get back to sleep but when I did I slept straight through.

Nara was waiting for me with a big smile, jeans, a white sweater and an apron. The smile wasn’t the only new thing. If I hadn’t seen her in that black sheath dress the night before I’d swear she was sixteen. She looked so fresh and perky.

“Good morning, Sir. What would you like for breakfast?”

Pushing away those lecherous thoughts about saying, “You,” I answered, “Oh, my usual I guess. Just tell Kendra I’m here.”

I was the only customer so Kendra brought out my food and sat down, waving for Nara to join us.

“She’s gonna work out real well, Eddie. She’s smart and way too polite.”

Nara blushed prettily at this, sipping on her coffee.

“Do you know, Eddie, that when you gave me the coffee that night it was the first time I’d ever had it before? This is good but yours was better, somehow.”

I guess she hadn’t see me put the brandy in.

She continued, “Eddie, I hate to ask this, but until I get paid I don’t have any money. I need some, well, personal stuff, and … oh, Eddie, I promise I’ll pay everything back.”

Embarrassed, feeling I knew more than I should; I slipped her a couple of twenties.

“I’ll be busy tonight so I’ll stop by sometime tomorrow.” For some reason I didn’t feel comfortable talking to Nara about Ceria.

Kendra gave me a knowing smirk and said, “Yeah, I just bet you will be.”

Obviously she was remembering what I’d told her about Ceria and her visit.

I lingered over my coffee but, when a couple of customers came in and both Kendra and Nara got up, I figured it was time to go. I waved them a goodbye.

I spent the day wrapping up some administrative stuff. I went to the bank and deposited several checks, emailed my final comments on my most recent novel, “Vanquished Love,” to the publisher and gave my agent, Jerry Cantfield, a call.

“Hey, Eddie. I was just getting ready to call you. I’ve got some interest in the civil war stuff in New Mexico you have been working on.”

“That’s great, Jerry. I think I’ve got it lined out for a great book. This ties together a lot of previous research and will be valuable to other scholars interested in how those two battles destroyed the South’s hopes for winning the West.”

“Uh, Eddie. I have a contract for a novel. There’s twenty grand up front and since I know you don’t need the cash, I’ve worked out a nice royalty deal. They are looking for a serious novel. They mentioned Edna Ferber’s, “Cimarron” as an example of what they were looking for.”

What the hell was he talking about? My serious writing is non-fiction. Everything else is this silly romance stuff.

“Eddie, you there? Listen, I’ll send you my notes. But I have to tell you - they are looking for a quick commitment on this. They know about your Romance novels and like your writing style. I showed them the stuff you sent me on your research on those battles in New Mexico, what were they? Oh, yeah. ‘Valverde,’ and ‘Glorieta Pass.’ How soon can you get back to me, Eddie?”

Thinking fast, and making a quick change in my writing direction – I was tired of writing Romance novels – I asked him, “Jerry, how soon can they send me a check?”

I wrapped up the discussion and as I thought about it I started getting excited. I’d never thought about writing something like this but I knew I could do it and do a good job. Ideas were running through my head in a steady stream. I sat down at the computer and started making notes.

I saw the basic storyline as being about two brothers from Texas that fall in love with the same girl. She can’t decide between them and the younger brother moves to Colorado to work on a ranch. They eventually meet on the battlefield. One of them lives to return to Texas and claim the girl. I figured I could tie in some of my “romance” expertise with a serious novel.

I knew how I wanted to end it but I wasn’t even going to write that down. Focused on the story as I was, I didn’t hear the soft knock at the door at first. When I did hear the follow-on tap on the door I was irritated more than anything else. I knew from experience that out of my first, free flowing ideas, my best writing came.

Opening the door to shoo away the expected solicitor as I pointed to the large “No Soliciting” sign, I was shocked to see Ceria standing there. Muttering a hopefully unheard, “Oh, shit!” I opened the door and somewhat ungraciously waved her in.

“I’m sorry, Ceri. I got wrapped up in a new story and I forgot the time. Can you give me a minute? I need to take a quick shower.”

Looking a bit delicious, she stepped up and gave me a steamy kiss, her tongue searching out the story of my life.

“Eddie, baby, do you want me to wash your back?”

We’d done that many times, shared the shower, that is, but I didn’t want to go that way. I really did want to have a serious discussion of our future.

“Just give me a minute, Ceria. I’ll be right out.”

I rarely locked the bathroom door but this time I did.

When we got to the restaurant, the waiter, a guy that knew me well, gave me a knowing wink and a big smile and led me to the table.

“What was that all about?” Ceri asked.

“Uh, I guess he just wanted a big tip. Why don’t you go ahead and order.”

When the waiter came back, Ceria, of course … it was inevitable, asked the waiter, “Why don’t we start with a basket of the calamari and some grilled Petrale sole for the entrée. Oh, bring us a basket of your great bread and a bottle of the Bouchaine Chard. It goes so well with the petrale.

Great! The whole meal had a sense of déjà vu about it.

I picked at the food, my heart not really in it. I was able to pretty much go through another bottle of the Chardonnay. Great stuff!

Ceria kept trying to talk about us but I wasn’t all that sure there was even an us anymore.

“Wait until we get back to my place. I’ve got a new bottle of cognac that you will like.”

She should; her dad gave it to me.

We got back and Ceri made some cappuccino with the fancy machine she had given me for Christmas but was way too complicated for me to understand, and I poured the brandy.

Ceria opened with a salute, “To us!”

Damn. I reasoned that I might as well jump right in.

“Ceri, I’m not sure where we are anymore.”

“Oh, has that floozy been here again?”

I sure didn’t want to get into that.

“No, Ceri. This has nothing to do with anything but you, me … and Dante.”

“Dante! What the hell are you talking about?”

“Ceria, at the party the other night, the special Valentine’s party, that night I wanted to stay home and share our love. That night I saw you on the balcony with Dante, giving him a kiss that should only have been given to me.”

“Oh, Eddie! Is that what this is about? Dante doesn’t mean anything to me. It was just a kiss, after all.”

“Well, Ceri, I watched that kiss. I saw how his hand slide down to your butt like it was home plate. I saw a kiss that spoke of a previous familiarity between you.”

Well, it all came out then. Before I had met her she’d had a torrid affair with Dante that led to his divorce. Her dad had to get involved because it almost lost him one of his best customers in New York.

“But, Eddie, it didn’t mean anything. I wasn’t going to sleep with him or anything.”

“You know, Ceri, I actually believe you. I really don’t think you are low enough to do that to me. But you shared with him an intimacy that should only be shared with me. I’ve had too much disrespect from you and your dad. I know both of you think what I write is ‘not appropriate work’ for a grown man, and that your dad particularly doesn’t feel that I have enough money for you.”

“Oh, honey, you shouldn’t feel that way.”

“Ceri, something I wrote in one of my stories and that I think makes a lot of sense, is that ‘Feelings are neither right or wrong, they just are.’ And that is exactly how I feel so please don’t denigrate my feelings.”

We talked it over for a couple hours with me drinking more of the cognac than was good for me. At least I guessed that was why I woke up with Ceria’s arm draped over my chest.

Ceria wanted to go to Kendra’s place for breakfast. After some more discussion I convinced her to have some of my special Belgian Waffles. Damn, if she found out how much I had spent on Nara …

We finally agreed to kinda stay engaged but kinda not. That sounded ambivalent but I guess that’s the way we were. She took the ring back but didn’t put it on. Yeah, ambivalent. She did promise not to see Dante again.

Several days passed while I was really busy on ideas for my new novel. I was getting excited about it – excited in the way I never was with the romance stuff. I saw Nara a couple of times, mostly when I would stop by for coffee. She seemed to really be blossoming with the responsibility of her job. When the summer session started at the College of Marin in Kentfield, I helped her sign up and showed her how to take Marin County Transit to school. This was becoming way above and beyond mere friendship.

A few months after the Valentine’s Day excitement, Kendra’s husband, Mike showed up at my door. As soon as I opened the door I knew I could kiss off the six-pack of Sam Adams I’d been saving. Mike was a big man – he made me feel like the circus midget. I’d gone fishing with him a couple of times … no one had told me that he measured fishing success in the number of empty cans, not the number of fish. He had a prodigious appetite for beer.

He jumped right in (after I’d opened him a bottle of beer), “About this mess of yours.” My mess? “Based on the info you gave Kendra, I asked some buddies to put a stakeout on the house where this brother of Dayanara’s lives.”

He obviously ate at the restaurant regularly and probably knew Nara as well as I did.

“I’m keeping her out of it but I understand they have identified the distributor. I just want you to know there is no way to keep Pablo from getting caught up in the net. He will probably go down for ten to twenty.”

From what I had heard about him, they couldn’t do enough bad things to him to make me unhappy.

“They are just watching to see who else shows up that they can tie into their network. I know you didn’t want this to come back to her – she will not be involved in any way. When, and if, she reads about it in the Chronicle, all she will see is that a scummy drug dealer was busted.”

We shot the shit for a couple of hours while he polished off the rest of my San Adams. I was trying to slowly sip on some nice single malt bourbon but I was more than a tad woozy when I went to bed. We parted with a promise to go fishing again as soon as we could.

Several months later it all came down and Pablo, et al were arrested. It was a front-page splash in the Chron, but as far as I knew, Nara never read the paper. I wasn’t about to say anything.

I was floating through this really strange period. I was working on my new novel with a great deal of gusto, seeing Ceria more regularly than I wanted, and seeing Nara less often than I would like to.

She was a fixture at the restaurant and doing great with school. Every other week or so I would take her somewhere – I don’t really know if she thought they were dates, but I thought of them as such.

A typical day was when I took her to Muir Woods and on up to the top of Mount Tam. She was awed with the huge trees of Muir Woods and stunned with the incredible view from the summit of Mount Tamalpais. On a really clear day like this we could see the snow-laden peaks of the Sierra Nevada. The drive up was a long switchback towards the ocean and an equally long switchback towards the bay. It was almost twenty-six hundred feet high and still chilly in the late April breeze.

She stood next to me and leaned into me in awe as she looked at the different vistas. Feeling her against me destroyed all kinds of vows. I’d made numerous promises to myself and Kendra to give Nara space and time to grow up. But the feel of her ripe body leaning against me was more than my will power could withstand. She was turning to look at San Francisco and turned right into my arms and lips. It was a long and serious kiss – passion exploded like a fire between us.

I was the one to finally pull back. She buried her head against my chest as I stared at the view, now blurred with tears and less majestic than the wonder of Nara’s kiss. We avoided looking at each other as we made our way back to the parking lot and the long, slow drive back to her apartment atop the restaurant. When she got out – jumping out quickly before I could get out and open the door for her as I usually did – she gave me a smoky look with her dark brown eyes that melted my heart.

We both knew that something had forever changed between us.

I was continuing on, more halfheartedly than not, with Ceria. She stayed over once in a while. I was in this weird period of stasis … I knew we weren’t going to wind up together but I didn’t have the energy to make a clean break.

I had these strong feelings for Nara but I kept thinking I was too old for her. After the intensity of the kiss on Mount Tam, we both backed off a little. I liked to think I was showing my maturity and she was just plain scared … she had never felt anything that intense before.

I was really impressed with the way she took her debts seriously. She didn’t make a lot but every week when she got paid she left a check on my mailbox for one third of what she made after taxes. I never got around to cashing them but that didn’t deter her.

She tried to give another third to Kendra for rent but she wasn’t as nice as I was – she just flat refused to take the money. Nara wasn’t comfortable with that so she started putting another third of her salary in a savings account to give to Kendra some day when she wasn’t so stubborn.

One night around nine there was a knock on my door. When I opened it, I saw Nara standing there, crying. She ran into my arms and held me tight – crying on the verge of being hysterical. I finally got out of her that she had been watching the news at the student union at the community college and saw the news about the trial of her brother. He had wound up getting twelve years but what really upset her was that he would be at San Quentin, just a few miles away.

We sat on the small sofa and I comforted her as best I could. I was holding her tight as the sobbing gradually subsided. Everything was going fine until she looked up at me and with no transition we were kissing. There was an air of desperation about her and I had her sweatshirt off and my hand under her bra before I came to my senses.

I just held her as she started crying again, softly now. She fell asleep in my arms. I gently lay her down and covered her with a quilt. I went on to bed with very mixed feelings – the strongest of which was that I realized that I was more than a little in love with Nara.

I eased into a deep and dreamless sleep and woke up only when I heard Nara’s screech, “Ohmygod I’m late!” And saw her running into the bathroom. Later, when I went over to the restaurant for lunch, Kendra gave me a really dirty look. I have to confess that I slinked out of there as soon as I could.

While my personal life was drifting from what seemed tragedy to tragedy, my professional life was going great. In late August I sent in the first draft of my novel. I was using “For the Love of My Brother” as the working title. Feeling like a celebration, I called Nara and invited her for a picnic the following Monday – the day the restaurant was closed. She had a morning class so I picked her up in San Anselmo and we drove on up to Point Reyes National Seashore.

I’ve always thought this was one of the great wonders of America. The beach was thirteen miles long and only had ingress at each end. The beach itself was very wide and generally deserted after going no more than a half-mile from the parking lot at either end of the beach. We parked and walked in about a mile and set up our picnic. I had worn my swimsuit so I walked on down to the beach while Nara changed.

I had enough foresight to bring some suntan lotion. I asked her to put some on my back and then I put some on hers. Her skin was such a creamy softness it was borderline erotic just to touch it. We walked on down to the water and … well, we played for about an hour. We ran in and out of the surf, we chased each other, we looked for shells … we had fun. It was the happiest I could remember being in my life. Nara was laughing almost constantly and seemed to be having a lot of fun.

We stopped and ate the picnic lunch I’d prepared with a nice bottle of Gewürztraminer with it. Yeah, I know she wasn’t twenty-one, but she had turned nineteen a few weeks earlier. Truth be told, I hadn’t even thought about her age when I put the wine in the basket.

The lunch was great and we were both happy. I left Nara to clean up and I walked down the beach a way to pick up a piece of driftwood I’d seen earlier. I thought it would look nice on her dresser.

When I walked around the large rock that protected our picnic spot I caught Nara in the middle of changing her clothes. She had just taken her suit off and was leaning over to pick up her jeans and tee shirt. I was expecting anything but this. The sun lowering over the ocean cast a long shadow of my body and it was this change of light that alerted her. I was transfixed and staring at her lovely body.

She slowly stood and faced me … her skin turning a shade of red that wasn’t from the sun. Her face was slowly transformed with a sultry look I’d never seen on her or any other woman. Her eyes turned a smoky brown and she stood there, staring back at me, proud in her innocence but with the wisdom of all women in her eyes. She didn’t move as I slowly advanced, entranced … enchanted with this vision.

We came together in a slow kiss and gently slid down to the beach towel. There was a magic to it that I’d never felt with Ceria. I came to a sudden understanding of what real love – in all its manifestations – was about. We were gentle with each other; we were in turns almost violent.

Later we gathered up the stuff and walked slowly back to the car, each lost in our own thoughts but feeling a connection that we’d never had before.

We started driving back and just before we got to 101 Nara almost idly asked – as she gazed out the window looking at I knew not what – she asked in that gentle voice of hers, “Are you still engaged to Ceria?”

I almost ran off the road with the … sheer unexpectedness of the question. Yes, I had been somewhat remiss in not formally breaking it off with Ceri – but I at least had known it was over for some time. Ceria was still fighting it but I had assumed she knew it was a lost cause.

While I was thinking all this, I wasn’t answering Nara. Then it was too late. There was this sudden immeasurable space between us, this gulf, this chasm that separated us. I knew I had totally screwed up but in typical male fashion wasn’t exactly sure of what had happened.

When I stopped to let her out, she shot me a quick look full of emotions a man couldn’t begin to understand and I merely nodded as my life ended.

I got home and poured a hefty snifter of scotch. Thinking like a writer, analyzing myself, I held the glass up to the light. The color was almost ethereal, this amber glow catching the lights in fluid reflections as I swirled the glass. I knew I had done two things that day. One so stupid I could not even lay the blame on myself. The other so wonderful, so magical I knew I could waste my life searching for a moment of an equal coming together of body and soul.

I had to call Ceri right away so that I could go to Nara and set things straight. I was sure of my love now; I had no hesitation. On one hand I had this fear that I had lost a jewel of value above all others; on the other I knew that I had found a love of a depth that could only be described with words poetic.

I called Ceria … and she wasn’t home. I left a message that sounded desperate even to me.

“Please call me back right away. Something has happened and I know that we can’t be together. I should have said something earlier but … oh, hell! Call me back right away.”

LOST, AND FOUND

I slept late the next morning – enough scotch will do that to you. I’d planned on going over to the restaurant when they opened. No big deal, I could go over for lunch.

A little after ten my agent called and said we had to meet with the publisher right away.

“He’s ecstatic with the way the book is looking. He wants to have lunch today to talk about some ideas he has for promotion and some signing events.”

“Jerry, I can’t make it today. I’ve got something really important to do.”

“Eddie, Eddie, this is the only day he has. He flew in to sign some contracts in Palo Alto this morning and wants lunch with you. If you don’t show up I don’t know what he’ll do.”

With more than a little resignation I hung up the phone. I picked it up again and called the restaurant. Kendra answered and with some degree of venom in her voice, said, “She’s busy right now. Why don’t you try some other time?”

Ouch! Okay, I’d fix it later.

Lunch turned into drinks turned into dinner. “For the Love of My Brother” was thought to be a great title and success was on the way. I slept late again the next morning and straggled over to Kendra’s just before she closed.

She opened the door with an icy contempt. “Nara’s gone! I hope you’re happy!”

“Wha … what do you mean she’s gone?” I was suddenly feeling that same icy contempt she had shown for myself.

“Ceria came over at lunchtime yesterday. At the time I left they were still talking. When I came in this morning I found a stack of twenties that probably is exactly what she felt she owed me for renting the room. She left a note that said she loved me and was sorry she had to leave this way. She left a note for you. And, Eddie, I’ve always liked you but please find a new place to eat!”

Well, she couldn’t make me feel any worse than I already did. As soon as I was safely in my nest I read Nara’s note.

Dear Beloved Eddie,

It is with a sad and broken heart I write this note. When I gave myself to you I thought you loved me the same as I loved, and still love, you. It was such a time of joy for me … and so special.

On the way home this thought came into my mind, unasked. I hate myself for even thinking it and dearly wish I hadn’t. This image of Ceria throwing her ring at you came to me in a flash … and this awful thought – dare I even think it, let alone ask it? Had you broken off with Ceria … finally, completely?

I didn’t have to ask. I knew of the depth of your love when we came together on that beautiful beach. I shall forever keep that memory. I knew you would laugh and call me silly and I would snuggle up and live a life like Cinderella with a love I could treasure always.

When you didn’t answer, I knew. I knew, Eddie! You lied to me. No, not with words but with your body. You took something wonderful from me, something precious. You took something that I intended for the one. I thought that was you, Eddie. Then you took my heart and crushed it with your silence when I asked that stupid question.

Eddie, I will always love you … but right now, right now, Eddie, I hate you!

Please don’t look for me – I’ve gone where you will never find me.

Yours forever but now, … never,

Dayanara

I cried over the letter – and hated myself. I tried to think where she might have gone. Later, when I was more rational, I called Ceria.

“I understand you had lunch with Nara yesterday.” I was trembling, trying to control myself. She might have some idea where my love had gone.

“Yes, she is the most darling little girl. We had a nice talk and I told her we were going to be married on Valentine’s Day. Don’t you think that’s romantic, Eddie?”

“Ceria,” I very carefully, almost gently asked, “Ceria, did she say where she was going?”

“No, I made sure the poor thing understood she wasn’t wanted here and suggested she disappear. I tried to give her some money but the fool threw it in my face. She just wasn’t of our class, darling.”

I gently placed the handset back on the phone. I felt such a crass hatred towards Ceria that if she magically appeared at that moment I would happily, with great joy, crush her into nothingness.

I talked to Kendra. At first she didn’t want to talk to me but when I started crying out of frustration, she hugged me and said she hadn’t heard anything.

I went to see Pablo at San Quentin. It took me a week to get permission. I finally saw him and asked if he knew where Nara was.

He gave me that thousand-yard prison stare, and answered, “That damned bitch got me into trouble, I’m sure of that. No, I don’t know where she is and if I did I wouldn’t tell you.”

I gave him my own thousand-yard stare and in a dead voice, replied, “If I ever see you again, if you ever go near Nara again, I will kill you. Think about that every day you are here. Think about that every day the rest of your life.”

This was said with an implacable coldness. As I stared at him he turned away, fear shadowing his face and I left.

I tried everything over the next six months. I hired a private detective. I had Mike, through one of his SFPD friends, inquire of the Mayagüez police department … nothing.

I lost my appetite for my writing. I couldn’t start anything new. “For the Love of My Brother” was a top ten bestseller and I couldn’t care less. Oh, I went through the motions. I did the book signing junkets and listened to Jerry when he asked me what I was going to do next.

I drifted; I cared for nothing. I’d stopped running and was putting on weight. My skin was turning a pasty color and I was drinking way too much. It got so bad that when I’d go to Kendra’s place she’d just shake her head with tears in her eyes.

I was close to giving up … without consciously thinking about what that meant when I had my epiphany. An old friend had begged me to come down to Sunnyvale for the baptism of his first son. I tried to find a way not to go but he wouldn’t hear of it. He had helped me a lot years ago so I finally accepted the inevitable and drove down.

He didn’t say anything but he was clearly shocked at my appearance. After the baptism we went for lunch at a Spanish restaurant in Mountain View, the neighboring city. To save money he had ordered a quantity of tapas, the famed Spanish appetizers. Knowing the wines were very expensive he had ordered pitchers of Sangria at each table.

I was pouring my second glass of the sangria when it hit me. That’s what Nara’s family had made in Mayagüez! I knew it was a slim chance at best but it was the only lead I had. I slipped out and called my travel agent and asked her to set me up for a flight to San Juan the next day and to rent me a car.

As soon as I reasonably could I slipped out and drove home. I called Kendra and told her what I was doing.

Her response was, “Please bring our girl home!”

The flight was an anticlimax. I was totally keyed up and the flight was totally boring. I changed planes in Miami for San Juan. The luggage was quick and my car was ready. I’d reserved a room at the nicer hotel in Mayagüez. It was late when I checked in so I had a light dinner and a couple drinks. I slept poorly that night finally falling into a deep sleep shortly before dawn.

I slept well then; subconsciously knowing I couldn’t do anything until the afternoon. When I woke I had a quick lunch and asked the concierge where I could find the famous “Sangria Place.”

He gave me the directions with the usual warnings, “ … that’s not the best part of town so be careful.”

Armed with a picture of Nara I’d taken on Mount Tam, I took a cab that let me off right in front of the door of the place – the concierge at the hotel suggested that I shouldn’t take my car to that part of town. I walked in not really expecting to see my love and of course, she wasn’t there. They were now serving the sangria in plastic cups in addition to the big jugs or the “bring your own bottle” approach. I got a cup and walked around a bit, savoring the characteristic fruity/winy tang of the sangria.

I was trying to get up enough nerve to talk to the large woman waddling around – the one who was clearly in charge and who was always politely referred to as María. The problem was her response would result in either heaven or hell to me. I couldn’t face or accept failure!

Finally, gathering myself and taking out the picture I approached her. “Señora, por favor.” I showed her the picture, my need showing in my face, in my very being.

She studied the picture, a smile coming slowly to her face. Clearly, she was looking at one she loved. She looked at me, long and hard, searching for something. Looking in my eyes, looking for … truth? She finally asked me, “Are you Eddie?”

I hesitantly nodded, not knowing what it meant to her.

She grabbed me, seemingly trying to squeeze the life out of my body, “Eddie, Eddie, you came! You finally came.”

She drew me a map. She and Nara had a restaurant down the coast about thirty miles, just where the island takes a turn back to the east. María had put up the money and Nara ran it.

“Hijito, it is more than a partnership, she is like a daughter to me. Go to her! You will find happiness but you will find so much more! With a final death-defying hug, she bid me, “farewell and bueña suerte.”

I took a taxi back to my hotel and drove to the small town of Pedernales down the coast. I stopped in the parking lot at the restaurant and walked inside, anxiously looking for Nara. The woman came to me, a question in her eyes, “Was I to eat with them that night?”

I showed her the picture, and stammering, asked for Nara. She pointed across the road to the beach where a woman sat on a blanket staring west into the setting sun.

“Every day, señor, at sunset she sits there, and looks into the dying sun, searching for her lost love. It is you, I think, that she looks for. Go to her, put the smile back on her face, señor.

I slowly walked out the door, abstractly checking the traffic – to die now would be insanity! – and walked towards the woman sitting on the blanket. As I came closer I saw a smaller shape lying on the blanket next to her.

I come closer, slowly, hesitantly, making no noise in the soft sand. Yet, yet there was a quick alertness about her. A stiffening of the body, a sharpening of her outline in the dying embers of the sun. She slowly started rising, turning as she did, turning and looking at me.

Appearing as in a trance she started walking, step by step, as I stopped and awaited her. Her body lost shape, became ethereal as the tears clouded my vision … until she was there and reached out … and touched my cheek – mystery and knowing in her dark brown eyes.

“Eddie, Eddie, you came. You came for us.”

Us? I looked down at the small, now wriggling form on the blanket.

“Yes, us Eddie. We waited, little Eddie and I. We sat here every night when we could, watching the sun slipping into the ocean here while burning brightly for you in California. We waited and my hopes, my prayers faltered … but you are here.”

She came into my arms, softly at first then with an almost overwhelming passion, stilled only by the wailing demands of my son.

THE PARTY

I’d sold the houseboat in Sausalito and purchased a house in Dry Creek Valley, west of Healdsburg. It was an older ranch house and came with ten acres of old vine Zinfandel and a contract with a local winery to manage the vineyard and buy the grapes.

Early that morning, on Valentine’s Day, we had been married and we drove the two hours to the Spanish Restaurant on Castro Street in Mountain View for the reception dinner. I’d ordered tapas and pitchers of sangria, not to save money – I was writing again, and writing well – but for showing me the way to find my love.

I drank the sangria that day – a toast for my love and my family – and did the same on all of our anniversaries since and will for all to come. Nara taught me how to make it properly and we became known throughout the wine country as the place to go for really good sangria.

We would often drive down to the parking area and walk across the Golden Gate Bridge. The first time, Nara was a bit nervous but as her heart was captivated by the view, she came to love it as much as I did.

I often look back on those early days of our love … the pain of loss had faded away, written over with the years of joy. The finest memory of my life was those beautiful stolen hours on the beach at Point Reyes.

I did ask Nara why she had run off the way she did.

“Eddie, you have to understand, I was young and naïve – I really didn’t know much about love and men. When we were coming back from the beach after that first time I idly wondered – and I’ve many times wished that I’d never had that thought – what if you hadn’t broken your engagement with Ceria? What if you were still sleeping with her?

“Then I looked at you waiting for your quick agreement that I was worrying over nothing but when you hesitated I knew! And I was crushed. I thought you were just using me. After that nothing you could say made any difference. So in my immaturity and fear I ran … I ran back to what I knew and was comfortable with.

“But, querido, I never stopped loving you. When I found out I was pregnant I realized I loved you with the strongest love. Somehow I believed that if you truly loved me you would find your way to me. I thought if you might try to work out things with Ceria it would be better if I were not around.”

So in the end, I did the right thing in the wrong way.