July 12th, 1996
And we were off to new adventures!
Ten thousand feet in the air… I excused myself from the co-pilot’s seat. I needed to rest before the big landing in Australia. I walked down the aisle, all the way back to the plane’s tail, and laid down on the comfy bed with the finest linens and covered myself with a blanket. I picked up my Dad’s old diary from my suitcase. Dad had given me his journal on his deathbed. Whatever he hadn’t already told me, he made sure to tell me in his diary!
After every entry he’d written, he left me a few blank pages to share my thoughts and feelings with him post-mortem. I felt like Dad still told me bedtime stories at the age of thirty-two. His diary was my companion on all my trips. I had read it thousands of times… but it taught me something new every single time. As I got older, I understood more of what he was trying to tell me. I highlighted the most important passages. It kept me motivated to see both his and my own growth through life. Of course, this dairy alone couldn’t hold all his stories. Dad had a library of leather diaries on a shelf in his office. My brother, Audun, and I each got one and, after his death, we ended up sharing the rest.
I had this ongoing bet with myself … I would try to predict what would happen on my adventures. Would I experience something entirely new or an adventure my father had already experienced? I was fascinated by his stories of survival:
The plane rattled in the violent storm. The windshield, battered with hail. 'May Day, May Day'… only static on the radio. I was covered in sweat and gripped the yoke so tight my hands went numb. The nose of the plane suddenly pointed down and we spiraled into a fast descent. The ground was closing in fast. I saw a strip of sand along the shore and, in a last-ditch effort, brought her down — landing with a loud crash. I inhaled and burst out with hysterical laughter as we landed right next to our beautiful beach house, The Jabs house. Stella looked chalk white with shock covering her freckled face. Gripping her fingertips into my adrenalin pumping body. What do you think of that for a landing? Ha… I smiled, looking up at Stella's face filled with terror.
When Dad died, three people stood by my side—my brother Audun, Ben, and his wife Quinn Bailey. Where was my mother…? Stella was in love with another man. She went to the funeral, In a backless gown, smiling and serving drinks and pigs in a blanket for everyone. Mother left early, and I noticed she didn't have a single drink herself. Mother had a new fiancé Gianni Marcadelli Octavio. My brother and I had only met him a few times, but despite everything, we were loyal to our father.
Gianni decided not to attend the funeral out of respect. They would settle in Milan where Gianni made whiskey for living and Mom explored her passion for painting. It was a relief to see her happy because we had all been riding Dad's rollercoaster — I didn't blame her for wanting her own life. I just wanted her to spend more time with me and Audun. Maybe if she did, things would have been different.
We all ended up at the airport after Dad's funeral. Each in a separate Dodge Viper — lined up at the drop-off at the exact same time. It wasn't like you could have mistaken the vehicles. We were professional drivers, all of us —even Mom. Naturally, we drove the finest, most unique cars. Mine was lagoon blue, Mom's was bright orange, and Audun's was neon green. The Viper was Dad's favorite car.
You should've seen the look on our faces when we stepped out of our cars—we just stood there looking at each other like guilty children. There was an unspoken understanding that we all shared the same deep wound. Mother's confession came first, "You know I loved your father, but now that he is gone, I finally feel like it's my turn. It's my turn to live and do what I want. He never gave me that opportunity. Gianni is giving it all to me, and I'm taking it!" she nodded triumphantly. "You probably won't see me for a while, but you can come to visit us in Milan anytime you want."
Gianni walked up behind Mom and kissed her lips. "Hi, Darling," he whispered in his English-Italian accent. "Boys! Ahh, I didn't know you were coming?" Gianni smiled awkwardly, surprised to see us at the airport. "Stella, should I get their luggage?"
"They're not coming with us, Honey," Stella replied with a softness I had never witnessed.
Gianni stared dumbfounded, holding a latte in each hand, "Would you like coffee?" He handed me and my brother the caramel lattes intended for himself and Mom. "I am really very sorry for your loss. Your mom and I wanted to give you something, but it would be inappropriate to open it now." Gianni reached into his pocket for two sealed envelopes. "Open them in a few days!" Gianni insisted, handing us each a sealed envelope. Audun and I nodded, not really acknowledging that we would follow up on his request. Gianni continued to over-express himself with his talkative hands. "I was thinking about sending it in the mail, but now that you are here—."
He was a fascinating older man, Gianni Marcadelli Octavio. In his youth, he was an Italian supermodel, photographed with the world’s most beautiful women. Gianni was the tallest Italian I had ever seen — 6’3 and not a single grey hair at the age of 72. Mom swears he’s never colored his hair, but I don’t believe it. A model who has never dyed his hair? That’s doubtful.
He was a bit old for her, if you ask me. Stella was only 55, but come to think of it, Octavio didn’t look a day over 60, so I guess it was alright.
Quinn walked up behind me. "Hi, you are all here!" and gave everyone a hug. She looked at my mother and gushed... "Ahh. Stella, I meant to tell you at the funeral. You look beautiful in that black dress! Just stunning!" Quinn kissed her hand, gushing. "Adam would have been proud. You never show off."
Audun and I just gazed in uncomfortable silence. We both thought the same thing: Dad wouldn’t be proud, he would be ashamed!
"Thank you, Quinn." Mom blushed and did a little twirl to show off her backless dress, glistening in in the sun.
Stella Sandelin never spent a single day out in the sun. Mother always wanted to keep busy… cleaning, cooking, mowing the lawn, or helping dad with his chores. She never took the time to just lay down and relax. For as long as I can remember, Mom has been pale with hundreds of freckles surrounding her square face. She never wore makeup, ‘I’m beautiful just as I am.’ Her dark blue eyes could seduce any man and her freckles would make them talk. Her ice-blond lengthy hair would attract two twirling fingered boys to sit on her lap long enough so she could trim their toenails. After a year with Gianni, she was flushed, with pink cheeks, coifed hair, and nails polished. All of a sudden, her crocks had turned into high heels. Smiles came across her face frequently, expressions I didn’t even know she had. It was good to see her so present. She didn’t have to worry anymore. She looked good, but most importantly, she looked happy.
"Where are you going this time…?" Gianni asked me.
"We're going to the JABS House," Quinn quickly replied, stepping in to save me. "Ben is waiting for us on the jet, so I think we have to get going before he leaves without us. He does that sometimes. It was nice seeing you again, Gianni. Have a wonderful trip, y’all!" Quinn mumbled quickly, saving me from an awkward goodbye with my new dad.
When we arrived in the South Hamptons, I settled down in the JABS House, where I thought I would stay for the rest of my life. My brother moved to California to start his organic tea company. Living on a farm, growing organic tea. Racing was now only a hobby. Audun reminds me a lot of my mother; quirky and witty at the same time. Dad would have hated how Audun spent so much time on a tea farm. Audun was always Dad's dangerous, tough son. I wonder what Dad would have said if he could see him now, his favorite son foregoing racing for tea. Father would be furious! He dedicated his life teaching us the time art of race car driving.
It was Quinn who convinced me to pick up my dad’s diary and read his stories. Quinn is my best friend and Ben’s wife. She is the reason I have this ritual with the diary today. Nights in the early days at the JABS House consisted of me in a rage, punching a wall or breaking glass… and Dad included it all in his diary. He knew I was mad at him. It was all there on the first page—my anger, fear, pain, and sorrow. How I felt about him and perhaps, even how I dealt with his death… until I realized what he wrote was not about me. I checked the entry date and noticed that the page was glued into the diary. It was a letter from my Grandfather, Ari:
August. 3, 1969
My dear Adam,
An exit like mine could never be too big. Haha, you know your father has to go out with a bang. Suicide was never the plan. But I won't live with a wooden leg. Our family lives for hard work and dedication. If I can't work as well as I always have as a soldier and adventurer, then I won't live another day.
I know I worked you hard; made you strong! You would never be who you are now without me. I've seen you cry and weep in the hands of your mother and the number of walls you have punched. Your anger and rage come up whenever you think of me. But look what you owe me now; fame, honor, and courtesy.
My son, we both know you won't be saddened by my departure or left in despair. I built you this life, laid it brick by brick, and now by the time I pull the trigger… it will all be yours.
I gave you all my most excellent tools; both for heart and head decisions. A tear won't fall from your eye. I taught you too well, but a toast will be had. Pick up the glass of brandy I just poured you and celebrate your new beginning. Salute Adam, have a wonderful life.
Love you. I am sorry.
It had to be this way.
Ari Sandelin
Apparently, Dad and I shared this experience — of an appalling father. At the very end, Dad signed off to me, just like his old man:
Love you. I am sorry.
It had to be this way.
Paul Adam Sandelin
Dad couldn't manage the thought of saying it to my face. He knew how I felt, but would rather have me read his message than tell me himself. In this case, he had his father write his message. Which made it even worse. I closed the diary hard with my fist as if I was never to open it again.
I hid the book away in my father's wine cellar thinking it would be better off alone in the dark with the old and abandoned bottles. It was my way of saying, ‘Goodbye. So long, Dad.’ Whoever wanted to read it in the future would be reading it sipping Dad's favorite wine. That in itself would be honoring my father's legacy.
Days passed. Months went by… I was surfing and starting to feel better about myself. I played with my godson, Boone, and spent the days as an uncle playing in the sand building sandcastles. Quinn and I spent the evenings talking about flights to the moon in the night sky. Until one day, she decided to get a bottle of wine from the cellar. When she returned, she threw the diary in my lap.
I started laughing. "Hahaha! Dad, why are you here!? I thought I told you to stay in the wine cellar? God, now I have to take you back there," I drunkenly moaned, staring down at the book.
Quinn just stared at me in shock, "God, Paul, you promised! You haven't read it at all, have you? I thought you agreed to work through your issues with your father by reading his diary. Please tell me we didn't go through this madness for nothing!"
"I know, I promised. But he fucked up! I don't wanna give him anything!" Tears formed in my eyes, dripping down my face.
"Don't you understand?" Quinn said in a soft voice rubbing my back, "You're not doing this for him. It’s for you, Paul. It's for you!" She pulled me close.
I locked myself in my room for the rest of the night.
The following day, Quinn unlocked my door and pulled the curtains open. A beaming light hit my tired, lonesome eyes. I turned my head to face the nightstand — the light was shining ever so bright on the worn leather diary with a breakfast tray on the side.
"Good morning," Quinn whispered. I smiled and showed her that I was carrying the diary in my hand. I figured that would give her peace of mind. I sat on the couch and read a passage I had written in the blank pages Dad left for me to fill from when I was 16:
Paul Adam Sandelin was a mean son of a bitch who believed that other people held him back. As a race car driver, he hated when things moved slowly and kept pushing me faster and faster… until I reached the finish line. Every time I got into my car, he'd say, "Pauly, you gotta win!" Race after race, I won. I thought that if I won and made Dad happy, then the pressure of winning would dissipate. But it never did. It only grew stronger after every race. In his eyes, I was the son who never lost, which meant I could never lose… until the day I lost the race… to my younger, smarter, brother Audun, who came in second place. I came in third. Our family was cheering us on in the crowd as we stood on the podium with medals around our necks … but one look at Dad's face and that glory melted away.
Dad had Audun and me training for hours every day, even on weekends. When I was sixteen, I wanted to feel like a regular teenager, so I decided to skip a training session to go out with this girl I liked. I picked Aurora up in my convertible and we drove to a cliff with a spectacular view overlooking the city. Dad found out by asking Audun. My little brother was ratting me out for Dad's approval. Why couldn't he have lied?
An hour into my date, Dad showed up at the cliff and just stood, fuming, in front of my car. He cussed me out, humiliating me in front of Aurora.
"You! Punk teenager, get out! If you don’t get your act together you will never make it! Why aren’t’ you more like your bother; more consistent and hardworking?" He turned to Aurora, "If you care about my son, then you'll let him be and start focusing on your own future. You're still kids. You can date when you grow up." He turned his fierce gaze at me, "Paul, you will drive to training. No stops along the way. You have a big race on Saturday, a race that will determine whether or not you will get. to compete in the championship. I'll take Aurora home."
If Aurora wasn't repelled yet, I was sure she would never speak to me again. I never missed training again. I was too humiliated.
A lot of good stuff was taken away from our childhood, but I wouldn't change it for anything now! Dad was definitely hard on us, but as I look back on it now, he meant well... We owed him for giving us opportunities that would never have been possible if he hadn't pushed us so hard. Dad's diaries revealed that he saw himself in both my brother and me – that all he wanted was to give us our dream!
We had been flying Jennifer for 20 hours and 56 minutes. I guessed it was time to land soon. I opened the shutters—blinding light hit my tired green eyes. I immediately covered them with my hand before carefully opening my eyes, surprised to see the gorgeous view of Sydney below.
"Hello, passengers! This is Captain Bailey speaking. We just received permission to land at Kingsford Smith Airport in Sydney, Australia."
That was my cue. My adrenalin was rising, and I swear, my heart was about to bounce out of my chest! I quickly scribbled a final note in the diary. My prediction had to wait until I was sitting in my beach chair overlooking the ocean at Bondi Beach.
"Sorry for the delay, folks. We’re just waiting for Captain Paul to get his ass out of bed and land this plane," Ben announced, in a harsh, yet playful voice.
I stumbled my way out of bed and into my shoes, put on my bomber jacket, walked as fast as I could down the aisle, and sat in the co-pilot seat. "Okay, Captain. How do I land this lady?"
"I thought you’d never ask! Ben smirked back. "You wanna start bringing her down by slowly changing the altitude from 21,000 feet to 3,000 feet. Now, push the level change button." I did as I was instructed. There was no room for error. "Good. Now we have some time before she levels down, so get comfortable."
Jennifer’s Voice: "Captain, we have reached the altitude of 3,000 feet above the ground. Airspeed is correct. You are ready for landing."
"Thank you, Jennifer. Now, are you ready, Paul?"
"As ready as I can be, Captain."
"Don’t worry, Paul, it’s going to be a breeze. Just like riding a bike. What I want you to do is keep her nose down," Ben cautioned in his calm, superior voice.
"Like this?" I asked and pulled the yoke slightly forward.
"Yes. If you feel like we’re starting to sink, just add a little power." Ben encouraged. I tried to hide my nerves as I added a little power! "Relax, mate! You’re doing great! I’ve never seen you this nervous before," Ben said, acting like it was no big deal. But I remembered him telling me how landing a plane is one of the most challenging things you do as a pilot.
"Hey, Ben? I haven’t ever had the pleasure of landing a plane before. Sorry if I seem a little tense," I said, keeping my eyes laser-focused on the runway.
"No sweat. When we land, Paul, you need to use your pedals to keep her balanced on that centerline. Okay, easy… your speed is a little too fast. Power back! Good. Now, gently pull up the nose. Airspeed is good! Keep your eyes looking down at the end of the runway. Hold the nose up towards the end of the runway …" I felt a surge of energy as the plane touched the ground. "We have a good landing! I’m impressed, Pauly".
I parked the plane and turned off the engine … gasping for air as if I held my breath during the entire landing.
As soon as we landed, Ben and I drove to Bondi Beach where Logan Bailey, Ben’s younger brother, lived on a yacht named Carmen. Logan was going on a circumnavigation trip with his sailboat and left us with Carmen for the summer. Carmen was a Viking Yacht 53’ Express Hook with a tower at the top.
"We're going to live on the yacht for a week until the Olympics start in Atlanta," Ben announced.
We quickly unpacked and headed for the beach. Ben was out surfing on the waves while I sat in my beach chair in the sun, a book in one hand and an ice-cold beer in the other. As I read "Julius Caesar," I noticed two beautiful girls sitting a few yards away from me in the sand, drinking wine from water bottles. A beautiful blond, wearing a bikini and sun hat, softly gazed at me from behind her magazine. I winked at her while placing my glasses at the tip of my nose. Cheesy, I know, but it had to be done. The blond’s friend, a brunette with long curly hair, walked down to the shore. She reminded me of a young Cher with long dark hair. I prodded Ben to go ask her out while I went over to talk to the gorgeous blond. Her attention was focused on her magazine. I marveled at her sipping wine from a water bottle. I gathered my confidence,"Excuse me? I don’t mean to intrude. May I ask you a question?"
"Sure," she smiled, taking a long sip from her water bottle, wine spilling from her lips.
"Actually, there are two burning questions I feel compelled to ask," I said flirtatiously. The blond just smiled, amused. "Why are you drinking wine from a water bottle?" As soon as I said it, I wished I had asked something else.
The blond laughed. "Well, it’s better than a heavy glass bottle that could shatter in the sand."
"I didn’t mean to pry," I was drowning with embarrassment and tried to quickly recover. "I just found it interesting. I’ve never seen anybody drink wine from a water bottle before."
"I collect them. The bottles of wine, I mean. They’re great for decorating! I use them as vases for flowers and candlesticks for a quiet evening. Now, what’s your next question?"
"What magazine are you reading?"
"The Smart Set, 22nd issue. It’s the first issue ever printed."
The Smart Set was a magazine sold back in the 1920s; they offered up-and-coming authors like Fitzgerald and Hemingway. I knew because I wrote a paper about vintage magazines in the seventh grade. "They still sell those?" I asked suspiciously.
She laughed, "I was just lucky to have relatives who bought them when they were for sale."
"Mind if I take a look?" My curiosity was genuine.
"Sure, but be careful. This is my only copy," the blond warned, handing me the magazine as if it were a prized possession.
"Wow, those relatives of yours must be collectors. This looks brand new," I said, flipping through the magazine. "Would you do me the honor of reading this to me?" I asked and pointed to an excerpt from the "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz" by F. Scott Fitzgerald.
"Impressive choice. It’s seventy pages." She paused for a second. My anticipation was rising. Maybe she was fed up with my requests? "But it’s a good story, so yes, I’ll read it to you. Come and lay down," she said and moved over to give me some space on her towel.
I was so excited when she agreed to read to me that I was smiling from ear to ear like a kid at a carnival. I tried to keep my cool as I laid down beside her on her sparkling blue towel. "You’ve got to tell me your name?" I said, transfixed.
"I’m Joelle. Joelle Blue Walker," she said, in a slow, captivating voice, almost like she might whisper.
"Nice to meet you. I’m Paul Sandelin." I held out my hand to greet her.
"Nice to meet you too, Paul." she said, and shook my hand with a smile.
"Joelle Blue Walker …? Of course."
"What?" she looked surprised.
"Your name…" I was grappling for something smart to say.
"What about my name?" Joelle seemed to pull away.
"I like it, it has a nice ring to it. I definitely love your middle name. It’s so elegant and rare. May I call you, Blue?"
"Sure, that is my name," she giggled.
I liked how she pronounced the word sure like she forgot the "u" and changed it to an "o" so it became sore. "Okay, Blue darling, let’s hear it."
"Haha, ready for the Diamond, Mr. Sandelin?"
"I'm ready!" I said, sounding too eager.
"Okay, now lay back and listen."
I laid down on her blue towel and listened intently as she read: "The Diamond as Big as the Ritz" by F. Scott Fitzgerald. Her voice was persuasive, yet gentle. She took the time to pronounce the words just right. I was transfixed by how she read to me – it was almost like it had happened to her, and she was telling the story from memory. I forgot time and place and focused only on her and that golden voice. I have never felt so drawn to a person before. I was totally captivated. As the story came to an end, she put the magazine aside and laid down with me, looking up at the sky.
"Well, at least it seemed like she loved him, but I don’t know if I would trust her," Blue said.
"Why wouldn’t you?" I wondered.
"It seemed too easy for her to let them suffer at the hands of her father," she responded passionately.
"I get what you mean," I agreed, wrapping my hand around her back.
She came closer, then gracefully rested her head on my chest. "Her father had no remorse. He only seemed to care about himself and the diamond … killing the innocent just to make sure his precious diamond was safe from the public." Blue’s passion for the story was powerful.
I paused for a moment to enjoy the fact that this beautiful woman I had just met found herself so comfortable with me. She was lying on my chest, like she had done it before, quietly gazing at the crystal blue ocean. I never wanted this moment to end. I decided to seize the moment and ask her out while glancing over at Ben, standing knee-deep in the water, talking to the brunette.
Suddenly, the brunette SCREAMED! Waves licked a small figure near the shore. Ben pointed at something lying motionless in the sand. The brunette screamed, "It's a baby!!"
Ben ran over and grabbed the baby lying unconscious in the wet sand. "She's turning purple! Someone call Triple Zero, Ben shouted!" Triple Zero is the emergency number in Australia.
"The baby…!" the brunette said, looking Blue intensely in the eye. Fear flooded Blue's eyes as she rushed to the scene. "…We have to save her. Please! Could you help me find my phone?" the brunette said in alarm, digging through her purse. We struggled to find it looking under the towel, in her purse, until finally… I looked under her tote bag, and there it was. I quickly handed her the Nokia, and she dialed Triple Zero.
"We need help! Bondi Beach. There’s a baby… not breathing. We just found her lying motionless in the sand. Please come as fast as you can – she's turning purple!"
Ben turned the baby on her back and tried to gently push something that seemed to be stuck in the baby's airway. Blue grabbed the baby out of Ben's arms. Turning her face-up, Blue placed two fingers on her chest and started doing sharp compressions. After a few gentle compressions, the object flew out of the baby's mouth and she started crying.
"Is she okay!?" the brunette asked, anxiously looking at Blue.
"Yes, Susan. Thank God. It looks like she will be okay," Blue responded with relief, holding the object in her hand — a tiny rubber ball.
Color returned to the baby girl's face as she cried with all her might. A crowd of beachgoers gathered around us as sirens blared in the distance. "Is your child okay?" a surfer wondered. "Is there anything we can do?" a woman asked, assuming the child was Blue's and my baby. I wasn't surprised. The baby looked like she could have been ours with her green eyes and golden hair.
"She's not our child. Have any of you seen her parents?" I pleaded with the crowd.
"No. We thought you were the parents," a man in the crowd shook his head.
Sirens BLARED louder as the ambulance arrived. Paramedics ran down the beach and raced toward us to check the baby. Moments later, Blue and I jumped in the ambulance without hesitating and went with the baby girl to the hospital. Ben and Susan offered to stay behind to look for her parents.
Before I knew it – I was sitting in a doctor's office pretending to be Blue's boyfriend. A doctor with white hair and a saggy face sighed, "The baby is healthy. She’s lucky that you got to her so fast! Seconds later"— the Doctor paused, "and she wouldn't have survived. You saved her life!" He looked at me like I was a hero.
"I didn't save her, Doctor. Blue did – I mean, it was Joelle who performed CPR …."
"Well, Joelle, this little girl will be forever grateful to you. I promise you that."
"What will happen to her now?" Blue asked with tears in her eyes.
"If we can't find her parents, she'll be taken to an orphanage that will hopefully find her new parents."
"Wait … what if they don't?" I questioned.
"Then she might end up in different foster homes until she grows up."
Suddenly, the Doctor's eyes lit up with an idea. "You seem like a great couple. We need a safe place for the baby to stay until we find her parents. Would you consider taking care of her for a few days? Just until the police locate her parents? I think she would be better off with you."
"Of course. We'll take care of the baby," I quickly replied, then looked into Blue's eyes for approval.
"Yes, anything we can do to help," Blue offered and gently reached for my hand.
Moments later, the Doctor returned with papers. "We can only give you the baby if you agree to be her foster parents. It's temporary until we can find her parents or a family member. If you both agree, please sign here."
I reached for the papers first, did a quick read, then signed my name to agree to the terms: '... baby's temporary foster father.' I handed the pen to Joelle, who quickly signed the form without reading it.
"I know she will be in good hands," the Doctor sounded relieved. Just go down to the end of the hall and give this to the nurse. We’ll call you if there is any word from her parents."
"Thank you, Doctor," Blue said, and shook his hand.
I stood up – still in shock – and shook his hand. "Please let me know when you find her parents. She's just a baby ..." I said, overcome with emotion.
As I went to leave, the Doctor stopped me. "Son, whatever you do, don't let go of this one. She might have to save you one day."
"I promise, Doctor. She's not going anywhere," I nodded as I walked out of the office.
Blue and I walked down the hallway and knocked on a door. A nurse opened it with the baby in her arms. "Are you the Sandelin's?"
"Yes," we replied in unison and looked at each other.
"Well, here she is!" The nurse handed me the baby girl, wrapped in a soft blanket. We quickly left the hospital before anyone could change their mind about us taking her.
The taxi dropped us at the marina.
I boarded the yacht first — Susan was waiting to greet me.
"OMG...There you are, finally... Paul, was it?". Susan held out her hand for a proper introduction.
I nodded, then took her soft hand, she was a beauty up close. "Yes, and you’re Susan, right?"
Susan paused a little too long, then "Yep, I’m Susan…" she answered, looking anxious. "Where is Joelle!?"
"I’m right here, Susan," Joelle climbed aboard with the baby cradled in her arms.
The shock on Susan's face almost made me burst out laughing, but I managed to keep my cool. After a few seconds of staring in utter disbelief Susan finally asked, "You got to keep the baby!? You didn't kidnap her, did you?" she wondered suspiciously. Joelle and I looked at each other wondering who was going to break the news.
Ben walked up on deck with two glasses of wine in one hand and a cigar in the other, humming to Edith Piaf playing in the background. His hum quickly changed to a disturbed whisper. "What the actual fuck!" spilling wine. He promptly shut himself up by putting the cigar in his mouth, inhaling to maintain his composure. "What the hell is going on!?" Ben turned to look at Susan as if she knew, then turned his wide eyes back to me. "Paul, please explain… Why do we have the baby? "Ben looked furious. The baby put a wrench in his plan of scoring tonight with Susan.
Blue quickly interrupted— "The baby needs a few things… like powdered milk and clothing. Susan and I can go to Walmart and pick up baby stuff. We'll be back before you finish smoking your cigar." Susan grabbed her bag and went to help Blue with the baby.
"Wait," Ben said in a gentle, yet distressed voice. He put the cigar in his mouth and reached into his pocket. "Here's my credit card. Buy whatever the baby needs." He handed his card over.
"Thank you, Ben." Blue answered with gratitude.
As soon as they left, Ben waved me below deck. I slowly followed him, bracing for an assault.
"What were you thinking!?" Ben demanded, fuming with anger.
I smiled awkwardly. Everything had happened so fast. "Well, Ben, it’s a funny story..." I laughed anxiously and shook my head.
"Paul, don't tell me you stole the baby!? or some bullshit about how you fell in love at first sight, and now you want to play house."
"Not exactly, but close," I teased. I took the document out of my pocket and handed it to Ben.
"Foster father!?" Ben yelled at me.
"Temporary foster father," I quickly corrected, pointing to the contract.
Ben read it out loud: "‘Foster father until authorities can locate the baby's parents.’ Okay, hotshot, what if they can't find her parents? This isn’t something you just sign without any regard for the outcome. Why didn't you call me first? You know I have contacts. I could have just made a call and the baby would have been in good hands."
"What can I say…? it seemed like the right thing to do at the time. Why are you so upset? Look, it’s not your responsibility, Ben. It’s mine. And Blue’s."
"Paul, we don't know these girls. We don't know why the baby was left on a beach alone. Maybe she was left to die there? Nobody just leaves their baby at the beach. And if this wasn't some shady business, wouldn't you think her parents would have shown up by now!?"
"Isn't that exactly when you would step in to help? Come on, Ben. I know you better than anyone. What if it were Boone?! Would you just ‘make a call’? What if someone had taken your son? Wouldn't you appreciate it if a good samaritan took care of him till you found him? Safe. Alive."
Ben sighed and pressed his lips together dragging his hand through his dark brown hair. "Okay. If this is what you really want, Paul, then this is what we'll do. I'll support you."
The next day, we hung posters with a picture of the baby near the beach. After several days, we still hadn't heard from the police, the hospital, or anyone with information about her parents. Ben and I agreed to skip the Olympics. We felt a strange sense of responsibility to stay on the yacht with the girls and help take care of the baby.
After two weeks, Ben and I decided to take Carmen out of the marina. The ladies were excellent divers and loved sea creatures. In fact, they had come to Australia to study Marine Biology. Susan worked as a marine mammal trainer, and Blue worked as a Scuba diver instructor. We took them to a diving spot Ben's brother, Logan, said was the best in all of Australia. The water was a clear blue that day. Not a cloud in the sky… I felt like I could breathe for the first time in weeks. We took turns watching the baby. Ben and Susan went into the ocean first, diving off into the pristine waters while Joelle and I cared for the baby.
"Paul, would you mind making another bottle of milk? She's almost finished this one."
"Sure. I'll go fix it right now." I went to the kitchen, grabbed the milk powder, and mixed it with the water we had pre-heated in a thermos. The baby started crying. "Damn it! I'm not fast enough." Then I heard Blue laughing too. "I'm sorry, Blue. Please tell baby girl her milk is coming. It's coming!" I yelled in a desperate, joking voice. I could hear the baby fussing. "Blue, I just have to check the temperature!" I dropped a few drops of milk on my wrist and licked it off. "Hmm, it's perfect." I went up on deck, balancing the bottle like a clown to make the baby girl and Blue laugh. "Here you go, baby girl," as I handed Joelle the bottle of milk.
"‘Baby girl’ is starting to sound a bit cold, don't you think?" Blue wondered. "If we keep calling her that, she might think it's her name."
"I was thinking the same thing. So, what do you wanna call her?" I gently tickled the baby's tiny feet. The baby giggled at me.
Joelle glanced down at the baby girl, "Ane ..."
"Ane is beautiful. May I add to it?" I offered.
"Sure," she said and looked closely at my lips.
"Ane Joelle," I mouthed.
"Sandelin …" Blue added. I felt a sudden sense of pride. "You gave her mine, so I'll give her yours," Blue replied with pride and gave me a big smile.
I got up from the couch, leaned over the table, and looked into her eyes, "Agreed …" I leaned in for a kiss to seal the deal. "Are you two okay without me for a while?"
"We're fine, Paul, don't worry. Ane Joelle Sandelin and I will be just fine," Blue said with a twinkle in her eye.
"Just holler if you need anything." I smiled, then went below deck to fix the bunk bed that my brother, Audun, destroyed one drunken night. He tried to jump across the room and land on the bunk bed on the other side – just to prove to some girl he liked that he could do it. I don't think any girl would be particularly impressed, especially after having to call an ambulance at 3 am. to pick up a guy she just met because he hit his head on the ceiling and got knocked out. It was Logan who let him know that he ended up on the bunk bed on the other side of the room, but it crashed from the wall as he landed.
Suddenly, I felt the boat turning … Wait – Susan and Ben were still in the water diving! I had to stop Blue — but the boat stopped just as I was about to run up on deck. It felt like we hadn't moved more than a few yards, so I thought everything was okay and continued to repair the bunk bed while my favorite band, Nirvana, played on high volume. Finally, the bed was ready for our guests.
"Blue ... would you come down here for a second?" I yelled. Silence. There was no answer. "Blue? You gotta see my handiwork." Why doesn't she answer? Maybe she didn't hear me, I wondered? I walked up on deck. Maybe she didn't like me yelling at her? What if baby Ane was sleeping? How inconsiderate of me. But what met my eyes as I walked up on deck was something wholly different and earth-shattering.
I stopped, completely stunned —I couldn't breathe, couldn’t move. There was BLOOD everywhere!! An obscene amount of blood on the couch where I had last seen Blue feeding the baby. I panicked and ran all over the boat, desperately searching …"Blue! Where are you!? Blue, Blue, BLUEEE!?" Blue and the baby were not on the boat! I jumped in the water, desperately searching to see if they had been thrown overboard, but there was no sign of them anywhere. Exhausted and out of breath, I managed to swim back to the yacht. I paced the deck, my heart racing as I stared in shock—red blood dripped down the couch and seeped onto the wooden deck.
Something caught my eye. I bent down to look under the table … the baby's bottle of milk was lying besides the couch in a wet pool of blood. I collapsed on the deck with the bloody bottle of milk in my hands. Tears welled in my eyes and ran like non-stop rain down my cheeks. Suddenly, I heard a noise coming from the kitchen. I got up and rushed to the kitchen.
"Da da …" The noise was familiar — but it couldn't be? Then I heard it again, "Da da ... da…" The noise was coming from the cabinet under the sink. I wiped the tears from my eyes so I could see and opened the cabinet. There she was! My baby girl, Ane Joelle, staring at me with her big green eyes. Blue had saved her once again.
That was probably why she tried to move the boat – so we could get away. If Susan and Ben were not in the water, her plan to get away might have worked. I guess she didn't do it because it meant leaving her friends in grave danger. Finding the baby under the sink was the last thing I remember.
What happened next was all a blur…
Voices echoed off the water. "Ben, did you see the flat-bodied angel shark? They are so rare!” Susan marveled, out of breath.
Ben, catching his breath, "It was so unbelievably beautiful."
"I wonder why people think sharks are so scary and ugly? They're just marvelous creatures if you ask me," Susan continued, amazed.
"That's the first time I've ever been so close to a shark," Ben said, excited. "They're friendly, but I must admit that they do scare me a little."
"I think this calls for a drink …" Susan offered in celebration as she climbed aboard. Suddenly, she stopped and stared in horror, "Oh my GOD!!" Susan pointed at me, sitting in a pool of blood on the couch with the baby on my lap.
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I clutched the baby close to my chest, mumbling in utter shock, "Mommy is gonna be okay. Mommy is gonna be okay!"
Sirens BLARED in the distance.
TO BE CONTINUED ...
