Makarovia! Yes, I Know Where That is! Sophomore Year - 67. Catching Our Breath

Catching Our Breath

The purpose for neoprene is insulation. They can look very sharp now. I wore one that was dark blue but had yellow lightning bolts on it. The water was not cold, but keeping heart and lungs protected was why I put one on. Still, I was a nicely dressed diver. I never dive without wearing one even in warm waters. It did also add some buoyancy.

I did have to be peeled out the wet-suit to save Gretchen or whomever to clean up the water on the floor. It was a wet-suit and wet. I did it in the shower stall. Peter even joined me. We got the romantic moment back.

The scenario Yuri proposed was possible. The Beauty and Beastt pirate was, from what I saw, in her mid-thirties. Did she want to be a part of this Consortium? It would mean she would get a portion of the billions. They could give her access to some needed resources and help with a future. She could be defeated and killed.

She was also operating outside her usual behavior. Her normal operation was to hit and kill. I guess this was a way to step up for her. It meant more money that was certain, if the Consortium agreed. She had failed her attempt to track and her attempt to rectify the problem.

I didn't know how the Consortium dealt with failure. Nelson Carter was the only one I knew about. Penelope Baldwin was the only associate I ever personally met.

Peter and I were walking toward the galley. As we arrived there Mikell was standing in the dining area that was being transformed. A larger table was there made with attachments. There would be enough room for everyone. Mikell just stared at the door to the galley running his fingers over his chin. He didn't have a beard, but if he had one, he'd be stroking it in contemplation.

“What's going on?” Peter asked Mikell.

Mikell nodded at the door. “You'll find out when Yuri comes back.”

I have to say, the Duchess was pretty well insulated against noise. When Yuri came out and the door was open there was a raised voices heard. One was clearly Boris and the other was Henri. What they were saying I couldn't make out. It had to be English...or did Boris speak French? He had attended Le Cordon Bleu in Paris. Maybe he did. The words weren't the somewhat fluidly, melodic sound of French.

But whoever was not happy with something the other did or said. I could tell that voice was Henri's. His French accent was stronger now. Boris spoke back, but like always...he was a slow boil or distant thunder. I know I've said it before, but I've never heard him yell or shout.

Yuri looked up and saw us. His smile was instant. “I would seriously think about going in there.” He waved at the galley door. “You might get hurt.”

“Don't they get along?” Peter asked concerned.

“Henri wants something done,” Yuri explained. “Boris does it. His way.” He chuckled. “Boris wants something and Henri doesn't do it right.” He looked back at the door. “Those two are having the time of their lives! Boris hasn't been happier.” He bounced. “I just met Henri that one day, but he seems happy, too.” He pushed the door open a little and the loud conversation could be heard again. He let it shut again. There were delicious odors coming out now.

“We sort of worked through lunch.” I began as I rubbed my midsection. “I'm fine waiting until dinner. I know I gained a few pounds on this trip.”

“That isn’t good for diving?” Peter asked.

“No,” I frowned. “Muscle makes you sink, fat makes you float. Usually.” I smiled. “My torso floats. My legs sink.”

Peter rolled his eyes. “And I haven't?” He looked at Yuri. “Can we get our coffees?”

Yuri nodded. “No problem. I'll get them.” He went through the door again.

It made a little sense that they restricted the noise. My mother and grandma made a lot of noise in the kitchen at times. Pans occasionally clang, plates and glass cups were dropped and most kitchens had a hard surface. It sounds ten times worse than it is most of the time. Grandma had a big one. She just wanted the china cabinet away from the wall a little more. There was...it sounded as if someone crashed into the house. Grandpa and Mom were still alive. We all converged from different rooms to find a disgusted Katrina and the kitchen dining area was littered with glass, broken china and wood pieces.

“At least it wasn't the good china.” Grandma waved in the direction of the dining room. Grandma had more than enough china. What had been in this cabinet was her good everyday china you served lunch on for guests. The fine china and crystal were for Grandpa and I used the inexpensive Corelle plates and bowls. They were unbreakable.

Grandpa smiled and said with a nod. “Just checking to if there are survivors.” We all helped grandma clean up.

It only took a few minutes for Boris to come out with a tray with two plates of sandwiches made from some croissants. “Dinner will be at nine, but this will tie you over until then.” He put the tray on the table.

“You're still on vacation,” I reminded him.

Peter added. “You know? To relax?”

Boris looked confused. “I am relaxed.”

Yuri came behind Boris, but had the desired coffees. He nodded. “He is.”

“Okay,” Peter nodded. “Aren't you and Henri getting along?”

Boris now looked even more confused. “Of course, we are.” He looked at Yuri and Mikell. “Did someone say we weren't?”

“Somebody was arguing.” Peter pointed to the galley door. “We heard you.”

Boris chuckled. “Oh, that.”

“Yes,” I nodded, “that.”

Boris waved the concern off and smiled. “Henri is a very special man.” He said with affection, but it was admiration. “I have never encountered someone with as passionate he has...”

Yuri handed us our coffees and froze. “Really?” He scoffed.

Boris grinned at his husband, “for food.” He completed what he was going to say.

“Oh.” Yuri nodded relaxed again.

Boris stared off as he thought how to explain. “What you heard was that passion. I am telling you he is a genius!” He looked at us excited. “He was a child prodigy! He started cooking very young.”

Peter nodded. “Beginning with...” he looked at me, “what did he say? Five years old and a can of Spaghetti-Os, right?”

Boris nodded. “Yes! He...” Boris shook his head thinking, “knows ingredients and spices almost intimately.”

“Yes, he does.” Peter chuckled.

I was nodding. “He sees them in his head and knows exactly when to add things for the perfect flavor combination.”

“And when he says to be at the table at a specific time,” Peter continued.

“Don't be even a second late,” I nodded.

“He'll pout.” Peter grinned. “Yes, we know.”

Boris' enthusiasm didn't falter. “Isn't that remarkable!?” He held his hands out for us to see the grand scope of what he found out. “And he's right!”

“So,” I said pleased that they got along. “No one was yelling at the other?”

“No!” Boris said. “His passion gets involved and the volume grows.” He shrugged. He looked back at the door. “I need to get back.” He grabbed Yuri and gave him a damned fine kiss and dashed back in the galley.

Yuri smiled as the love of his life went back to the galley. Turning back to us, he looked at Mikell. “What do you guys do when there's nothing to do?”

Mikell smiled. “I'll show you.” He waved for Yuri to follow him.

Yuri was trying by extending friendship to Mikell.

I had no doubt that what those two in the galley were up to. Dinner that night was going to blow us away. Whatever it was.

The Shrimp Salad Croissants were not the usual dish served to us. It was...not hot. We’ve had fire quite a while now. Use it! These were not by heat or spices. The croissants were fresh, but the salad was cool. Who cared? It was delicious!

During our search for the tracker, the agents had gotten Boris’ and Yuri’s belongings from the house.

I was concerned for a few seconds when I found out Boris and Yuri were in a stateroom near Peter and me. The one they stayed in when we got to Venice. It was just a few seconds and I remembered. The agents were working. Boris and Yuri, though I tried to make them stop, worked but were still on vacation.

We once again we were lounging on the deck enjoying the late day's warm weather. Luke came down again, He had before when I was looking for the tracker and then we were showering. He was military trained and was standing with his hands behind his back.

“We are alone out here,” Luke began. “We've can head out tonight to go back to Athens. We will be at the Corinth Canal the day after tomorrow in the morning.”

Peter looked up at Luke. “And?”

Peter was like me and knew there was something else.

“I'd like to remain here.” Luke said.

“You're the Captain.” I said.

Luke chuckled. “I am. I just didn't want you to wonder what we are waiting on now that everybody is here and there's no reason to remain.”

“There,” I pointed out, “you are wrong.”

His eyebrows rose. “I am?”

“Very wrong, my friend,” I chuckled. “The quicker we leave, the sooner it ends.”

Peter nodded quickly when he understood what I was saying. “He's right. We're in no hurry for it to end.” He said happily and then got serious. “There is a reason you think we should stay here?”

Luke nodded. “That pirate is out there. She and her people can't sneak up as readily here as she can at sea. She can come over land, but we're watching for that or by sea.”

I understood. “You can't be snuck up from behind with your backs to the wall. We can skedaddle before they figure it out.”

Peter sat back a little in wonder. “It must something about Southerners.”

I looked at him. “What?”

“Running with scissors, feeling lower than a tick on a fat dog's belly, I can guess skedaddle is a way of moving quickly or something.” Peter said. “You and Ted come up with most interesting analogies.”

“Sure,” I said smiling. “There are thousands of them. Some we just make up or change for situations. It's more fun than a gift box full of kittens!” I laughed and seemed to want to confide in them. “I changed that one. I just used with kittens because the language and didn't want misunderstandings.”

Luke was laughing, too. “What was it before?”

“A sack full of kittens,” I said and saw Luke's and Peter's smile lower a little. “See?” I pointed at their faces. “You're trying to figure out the sack part. The sack was often used to get rid of unwanted pets by drowning them by putting them in a sack with a rock or brick. I like cats! I love kittens!! A box full would be a lot more than just fun!”

Luke chuckled nodding. “Yes, they would.” He liked them, too.

“I told you,” I said to Peter. “I've neglected you're education. We're speaking in English, so why not?”

Peter shook his head. “I've not heard but you and Ted use it!”

“We're an exclusive club.” I simply said.

We all got to the dining area on time, except for Cosmo. It was his job to watch for now. They drew lots. Luke had his phone and the ship would send him updates on what was new around the Duchess in or on the water. Cosmo was to watch the island. Yuri was thought it was conceivable that the Beauty/Beast pirate could figure out where we were going and had people hiding there who could approach the Duchess at night.

That was assuming she knew Boris and Yuri were here and the reason we'd come to the island. Names weren’t really used, but why would the Duchess be here? Yes, lots of assuming done, but you had to know the connections with all of it. Don't worry, Cosmo had a plate taken him so he wouldn't miss too much. It just had to be done.

There was still a honeymoon and vacation happening, the agents were agents and the crew worked...the dress code was casual. What was served was not casual.

Henri and Gretchen served, Gretchen had to simply because someone had to do it. Henri could do it alone, but this was quicker.

We had courses. Not math or some school kind of courses, but I did learn some new things. The first serving was a plate each with a few small crisp sandwich-like things. Canapes. I knew what it was. I did not know what it was made of until I ate one. Scallops and crab meat made in a not so bland seasoning. It made a delightful impact.

Peter leaned toward me and muttered. “I don't think we dressed properly enough for this.”

I smiled at him. “No need to gussy up fer supper.”

After hearing that Peter's head went back to think about what I said. I could see him repeat what I said silently to see if he was gathering the meaning. I pulled him to me kissing him quickly. This was fun.

The canapes were wonderful, of course.

Henri served us a small bowl of soup or broth of amber-brown in color. My thought was the men here would die from a lack of real food! I'll try to explain as I go. This took time to make! It was very pretty on the plates for presentation, but...he had cooked some things and as most things a liquid was rendered as it cooked. Many people made a gravy from it. It was from the sea, but he rendered it down and concentrated it down squeezing all that flavor together. One bowl had the flavor of ten or more bowls in this soup or broth, but was one small bowl. What it lacked in substance did not take away the intense, savory flavor. I expected to easily eat it, but when the complex flavor hit. It was so intense you naturally slowed down to taste and enjoy it. It was more than delicious. I thought again of the Ambrosia in Greek myths. There just so many adjectives I can use. How do you describe flavor? There was a shaft of light that came down as angels sang one note that let you know you've been touched by God!

(I heard that! I'm exaggerating!? The only ways to prove that is try it yourself. Until then, what I described is true.)

That was just the first items. There were several wine glasses at each place setting. It added to the meal and cleansed the palate. My mind was blown with the serving of ice cream. That's right. Ice cream. Not vanilla, chocolate or some other sweet cream. There was nothing sweet about it. Again, it was so delicious words can't adequately describe it. It was savory, cool and made with...get this. Oysters!!

I knew oysters having eaten them my whole life. On the half shell, smoked, roasted and many times fried. I knew there were savory ice creams as in sweet corn, green pea, sweet potato and a South of the Border queso! I even thought of trying some. Yet, something in me wasn't ready to challenge my perceptions on the ice cream I loved; as if that would be ruined. I was a coward. Henri and Boris had worked hard to make all this. I would never hurt Henri and I kn ow this was his creation. I tried a little. Boom! That what happened in my mind. What I expected from what I previously knew was thrown completely overboard.

Oysters have a taste and that taste was in that cold cream. But it wasn’t cream. There was a lemon taste that blended it. There is a liquid from Oysters. Oyster Liquor. That was the “cream.” Sorry about this, but oysters usually went down the throat and felt sort of like swallowing snot. You know, the goober in there and have nowhere to spit? I said I was sorry! Was that too Southern or crass for some of you? It wasn’t just Southern. It was crude. My point was I never had an oyster “crunch” before. It was damned good.

Course after course came and each with a different wine. It was all very French. Supper, or dinner for some people who object to calling it Supper. Why did anyone object? It was a fine word or they would call Leonardo da Vinci’s painting The Last Dinner! This dinner lasted until after midnight! I was told that was a quick meal compared to some.

I won't tell you about every course. He did combine the usual fish or poultry entree. He served Lobster Ravioli. (He kept with the theme of the past couple of weeks.)

My concern about the lack of food was foolish. I knew and heard that you get full eating slower. We in the West look for the quick fix often at buffets.

Henri was working. His usual lighthearted comments were there, but he concentrated on what he was doing. No one asked him to do this. It was probably because Boris could help now. If needed.

A light lemon sorbet came next, then a salad. Finally, some cheese and a sinfully rich chocolate mousse.

Peter's appetite satisfied he sat back. “I think some special recognition is due.” He said looking at the Captain. “With your permission, Captain.”

Luke smiled and waved Peter to continue.

Peter got up and headed to the galley door. I knew what he wanted to do and went with him.

“Henri,” Peter said to the air. Henri heard, remember? “Could you come here, please?”

The galley door opened and Henri looked questioningly. “Do you need something?”

I smiled at him. “Definately. We need you.”

Peter nodded, “This meal has been one of the best I have ever had.” Henri began smiling now.

“I agree,” I said. “But I have to say; without you, this would have been a much duller trip. You, my friend, are not dull. We owe you so much for welcoming us onboard and quickly became a good friend.”

“This has been a wonderful time and not over,” Peter said. “A lot of the credit goes to the others of the crew of the Duchess as well. I say to you,” he looked at the other crewmembers. “You will always be welcomed in our home. In Makarovia and in Boston. You will be our guests and, stay with us whenever and as long as you like. You are all dear friends.”

“But you, Henri,” I said, “made it memorable and truly enjoyable.”

Peter nodded. “We bow to you.”

Peter and I bowed to Henri who was getting some redness in his eyes. Our agents, Boris and Yuri began applauding vigourously.

Henri no longer just had red eyes, he was crying. He appreciated what we said. “Merci.” He smiled. “Mes chers amis. Merci.” He brought us in for a hug. The traditional hug or greeting given in Europe and very much so in France. Both cheeks kissed on each and a hug that was truly felt.