Stranger At My Gate

It was October thirty-first around nine o’clock at night. Molly had turned the front porch lights out a few minutes earlier to what she expected to be the last trick or treeter of the night. She slowly made her way to the kitchen. There she opened a cupboard and pulled out a nice bottle of red wine. She found a glass and walked to the French-doors that led to the garden. She was stepping out when she thought she saw a shadow at the old iron gate near the alley. At a second glance the figure was gone.

“Was that you Tom?”

The neighbor’s old black cat often came over at night and would visit for a while. The animal seemed to have a mind of his very own and would never come when he was called. He came only when he wanted and a little attention. Feeling comfortable she had only seen the shadows of the cat, she settled down in her favorite wicker chair. As she took a sip of her wine, she thought again about the old cat. She spoke in the direction of the gate.

“Damn you, Tom, you are just like every other man I have ever known.”

Molly had lived her first sixteen years in New York City with her mother. Her father had bought a tow boat company in New Orleans before she was born and had leased it out on a year- to-year contract. He was an executive with a large shipping company based in New York. Shortly after her sixth birthday her parents ended what could only be described as a loveless marriage that had been held together by a small child. When she was fifteen her father had retired and moved to New Orleans to run his own his company.

Her parents never allowed their personal feelings for each other to interfere with what they felt for Molly. The judge had set up visiting days for her, but both parents mutually agreed that they would do what was best for the child. If she was going out with friends on Saturday night her dad cut his visit short. If he wanted to take her to a baseball game and all her homework was done, her mother made sure she was dressed and ready by the time he came to pick her up. The fact that it was in the middle of the week never seemed to be a factor. Her parents were a couple that seemed to be better friends than husband and wife.

When her father announced he was moving to New Orleans, she was heart broken although she knew this had been a lifelong dream for him. He moved down in January and missed the winter snow. He had called often and the three had agreed she would come south and spend the whole summer. Her mother had even shown an interest in coming down a couple of weeks in August. Unfortunately that March, her mother was killed in a car accident on the way home from work. Her father had turned the business over to his assistant temporarily and moved home. Molly finished her last year of school and moved to the city of the rising sun, the great crescent city of New Orleans.

There first Sunday in town her father took her downtown and they boarded a streetcar at St. Charles and toured the garden district. Later they walked Bourbon Street, stopping from time to time to hear the sweet jazz that gently flowed from the open doors of what could only be described as joints. Occasionally she would stop to peep in the doors at the scantily clad young girls dancing on the bar tops. They would be balancing themselves with only a brass pole for support. These peeps were short lived. Her father would give her a gentle yank and let her know that these were tourist traps. They stopped at Felix’s for an afternoon snack of oysters on the half shell. Then they made their way to Jackson Square.

When she had left New York, she had felt that the world had nothing else to offer an almost seventeen years old, very mature, young woman. Now within just a few hours, she had discovered not only a new world, but also a totally new lifestyle. She had fell head over hills in love with New Orleans, just as millions had before her.

She went to the local university and took pre law. Later she attended law school where she got her degree and then took an advance study in maritime law. Shortly after graduation her father had a new partner in the company. They worked together like a hand and glove. What area one was weak in the other was strong. Their family relationship seemed to cause them to look out more for each other than normal partners. This combination had caused an already growing business to reach its maximum potential and then bloom.

Molly was smart enough not to get her personal life and business life confused. She made it a point not to date employees or anyone that was closely connected to the company. The mere fact that she dated very little made this task much easier. This was one point that she and her dad disagreed on. As far as he was concerned she was limiting her possibilities by putting so many restrictions on her dating habit. She was now thirty years old and he was ready for grandchildren.

Molly paid this little attention and went on with her life as usual. Until the day that Rod Jacobs walked in her office and her life. Little did she know that this day would change everything she had believed in up until this point.

It was a day like any other day and she had a mountain of paperwork on her desk. They had a boat to hit a sand barge north of St. Louis and now the environmentalist was claiming that it had destroyed the nesting area of some endangered bird. The insurance company was refusing to pay even before the claim was filed and the coast guard was threatening to impound the boat.

There was even a question about the captain being drunk at the time of the accident, although the third shift pilot was in the pilot house and the first mate was in charge of the shift. She was deep into reading a maritime law when she realized someone was standing in front of her. When she looked up there stood a man no more than thirty-five with sun bleached sandy hair with his hands folded at his waist with an odd look on his face.

She came to a complete stop and looked at the man. Within the split second it took her to tilt her head up, she noticed he had very strong hands and clean fingernails.

Molly had one great weakness when it came to men. Strong hands and clean fingernails. The only bad part about this was they were mostly on the end of surgeon’s arms and she hated doctors. When their eyes finally met, she felt as if she was looking into pools of dark blue water.

The man was now smiling. His lips were large and his smile was natural and beautiful. Molly for the first time in long time felt strange warmth run through her body. When she was sure the blush had gone, she said, “Yes, May I help you?”

“I don’t think so. I am looking for Blaine.”

This second or so had given Molly a chance to regain her composure. She then answered, “I am Blaine. How may I help you?”

Again the man smiled, “No, ma’am, I meant Mr. Sam Blaine.”

“Oh, I see Sam is my partner as well as my father. He is out at the moment but he should be back shortly. His office is right across the hall if you would like to wait. I’m sure his secretary can make you comfortable.”

“Okay, but I had rather wait here.”

This startled Molly; “If you don’t mind me asking what is it exactly that you want with my father?”

“No, ma’am, I don’t mind you asking at all. I wanted to talk to him about a job first, and then I wanted to ask him if he would mind if I asked his daughter out.”

This enraged Molly, “I think I can answer both of those questions for you. The answer to the first question is that Personnel is down the hall on the left and the answer to the second one is, I don’t date employees or strangers.”

Rod again began to smile, “Well, Miss Blaine, personnel didn’t call me. Your daddy did and second if I don’t take the job he wants to offer me, I won’t be an employee. Thirdly I don’t date strangers either.” With this he extended his hand, “Hello, my name is Rod Jacobs.”

Before she could answer, her father who had walked in interrupted her. “Oh I see the two of you have already met. Good we can get down to business. Good to see you Rod. I really appreciate your stopping by on such short notice. Please have a seat. Has Molly filled you in on the situation we are up against?”

Rod again smiled at Molly, “No, sir, we were just trying to decide on where we were going to supper tonight. Would you have any suggestions, sir?”

Sam, without thinking said, “Mr. B’s, of course, where else for a first date and besides Molly loves the place. When we get through with our business, I’ll get you two reservations.”

“Dad that want be necessary.”

“No problem at all Hon. I need to talk to Mike over there about something any way.”

Molly dropped the matter mostly out of courtesy of what business this man had with her father as well as her. Well it turned out that Rod not only was one of the youngest tow captains on the Mississippi River and her tributaries, but he was also one of the most respected. She soon found out that he not only was a fully licensed captain, but he had just sold a small company that he personally owned and operated since he was twenty-five years old.

Furthermore, he was now freelancing if he happened to like the person that was hiring. Her father and him had known each other professionally for some years and both men had a great deal of respect for the other.

Soon the three were pouring over river maps showing the bend in the river where that tow had been land locked for the last three days. Every day the boat set idle it was costing the company thirty-four thousand dollars. This was not including all the lawsuits to follow if its dislodgment caused any serious environmental problems.

After two pots of coffee and two hours of conversation with the captain on the boat via satellite transmissions, Rod felt he could get the boat safely back in the main channel.

New Orleans International Airport was called and reservations were made for a flight that was leaving for St. Louis at two-thirty A.M. the next morning. Molly and her father had agreed to pay Rod his standard fee for such an operation, which was three thousand a day, plus all expenses.

Next her father was on the phone getting all the necessary equipment moved in place and arranging a helicopter to meet Rod at the airport in St. Louis and fly him directly to the stranded boat.

While Sam went to his office to start the wheels turning, Rod turned his attention back to Molly. This time he was explaining he was not an employee and certainly she wouldn’t trust such a huge operation to a stranger. Molly was still explaining why she couldn’t go when Sam stuck his head in the door.

“Made the reservations at Mr. B’s for seven. Now, Molly go on home and change.” After all you are my daughter and I have a reputation to consider even if you don’t worry about yours.

This sealed the deal and she found herself saying, “I’ll see you about six-thirty. My address is seventeen twelve St. Charles.” As she walked out of the office, she was glad that her dad could be so bull headed at times.

At six-thirty, she heard a knock at the front door and when she answered Rod stood with his hands behind him and then bringing them forward, she saw a small and delicate bouquet of flowers. This took Molly’s breath. In her mind, the last true southern gentleman caller had passed away years before her arrival in New Orleans. She invited him in and offered him a glass of wine.

“I would love a glass but do you mind pouring them in two go cups, please.”

“Sure, if you don’t mind me asking, why.”

“It’s a thirty minute ride to Mr. B’s and its six- thirty-five now.

Molly laughing, “It’s much less than a thirty minute drive. I thought you were from around here”

I am from around here. Lived here my whole life in fact. But I left my car at the restaurant on my way over here.”

“Boy oh boy what kind of fellow has my father done got me hooked up here with.

Do you mind telling me exactly how you purpose to get us to Mr. B’s?”

Rod with a now rather sheepish look said, “Well, I thought we might ride the street car up to Canal and then walk the other 2 blocks. It’s a beautiful night. I’ll be more than happy to call a cab if you rather. Maybe I wasn’t thinking with the moon and all.”

“Please, I am sorry. The streetcar is a wonderful idea. I can’t remember the last time I have been on one and it runs right in the front of my house.”

Soon they were on an almost empty car clattering through the garden district. To this day she still could see the beautiful full moon. It was as if a child had penned it into place on the night sky. She now looked up and realized it was a moon much like the one tonight.

Before they reached the restaurant, she felt like she had known this man her entire life. He was everything she had dreamed of since a small child in New York. He was strong, yet his touch was soft. His teeth were white and his lips full. He had a thick head of hair that seemed to have a mind of its very own. Compared to her he was a tower. Yet he seemed the most comfortable when he was bending to open a door or helping her off the trolley.

By the time, they had an after dinner, drink they had both shared their lives with each other. Neither one had a particular interesting life, but each held to the other’s words as if it were poetry being read. They left the restaurant and walked to Jackson Square where they sat for a street artist’s portrait. By now they talked as only close friends do. They were interrupting each other and laughing.

The man doing the painting asks, “How may years have you two known each other. I bet you were childhood sweethearts, right? I’m a very good judge of such things you know.”

Rod said, “I can’t remember a time when we didn’t know each other.”

The old artist smiled, “I can tell it shows so much.” Next it was Pat O’Brien’s for hurricanes and then a walk on the riverfront. There they both seemed to find the other one’s hand and later they sat on a park bench and necked to the approval of passers by.

At one, A. M. Molly drove Rod to the airport in his car. Standing at the gate Rod said, “Molly I don’t want to scare you but I am having some weird feeling about you right now.”

“Its called two hurricanes and necking on a park bench like two teenagers. Get on the plane and fix my boat Captain Jacobs.”

His face suddenly showed that he regretted being so foolish as to tell someone. He just met such a personal thing. He quickly picked up his grip and turned toward the plane in order not to show his embarrassment.

Felling a tug on his elbow, he turned to face Molly.

“Me to.”

“Most likely just the hurricanes, you’ll feel better later in the day.”

“Most likely, have a good flight, Rod. I ah, call me when you get there and give us a report.”

“Yes Ma’am.”

“By now.” this was followed by a rather long kiss.

Inside she knew that somehow someway she, at the ripe old age of thirty had just met a man and fell in love all within one day.

Three days later she picked Rod up at the airport and they saw each other every day for the next three months. During that time he had bought a hunting lodge back in the swamps and turned it into a large home with a huge fireplace, four bedrooms, a galley for a kitchen, and a screened in porch that enclosed the entire structure. It was very isolated and they often used it for a getaway when the world seemed to close in on them.

Two months after the completion Rod was called out by another company to help retrieve a boat that plowed into a huge bridge and was pinned by both the current of the river, as well as collapsed structures of the bridge. When he arrived, all engines were in reverse, churning the waters with all the power they had. Rod was summoned to the engine room to look at a faulty gauge. It was winter and the boat was not only pinned by the bridge, but also set in thirty inches of frozen river.

For this reason, he was dressed in a heavy coat and was wearing a ski mask rolled up on the top of his head. As he walked up to the gauge, it exploded, forcing super heated steam directly into his face. He was rushed to the nearest hospital and the first of many surgeries was performed. The skin on his face had actually been steamed off to the bone in places.

When Molly heard of the accident, she was at the hospital the next morning. She was by his side through every operation for the next three years. During these years, Rod seemed to pull more and more away from Molly and withdraw into himself.

Finally after the last operation, the disfigured Rod asked Molly not to make any other attempts to see him and withdrew to his new home. There he locked the gate and refused any visitors.

That had been eleven months ago and Molly was still as heartbroken as if it had been yesterday. All of her pleas to the man she loved so dearly fell on deaf ears. He could not be seen in pubic due to his humiliation and he refused to make her a prisoner of his disfigurement. No matter how hard she tried, she could not change his mind.

The scars seemed to have not stopped at his face, but had run deep into his heart and then sliced into his spirit. After three months as a recluse he had started returning her mail unopened. He was hoping this would force her to go on with her life. It only made her write more and become more determined not to lose the only man she had ever truly loved.

Now almost a year later she still sat on her patio thinking of the nights filled with moonlit walks and dancing the night is away in some jazz bar in the Quarter. She not only missed her beloved Rod, she also missed the new and exciting world he had introduced her to.

She again thought for the one-millionth time if he only knew how much I loved him. The iron gate squeaking interrupted this thought. This startled her, but before she could get up a stranger had approached her wearing a flowing cape and a large black brim hat. He also wore a mask with two slits for eyes.

Before Molly could scream the man said, “Don’t be alarmed my dear it is only I. Tonight I can walk among the masses and be just as normal looking as the next man.”

With that he pulled a large bag from under his arm and handed it to her and said, “Queen Isabelle, I think you had better change before your long lost lover takes you out on the town.”