THE POWERFUL SHIP that housed all ten of the sailors was called a towboat, even though it pushed rather than pulled the long barges of flour. The rooms in the towboat were well-appointed, with a kitchen, dining room, living room, laundry, and quiet berths for everyone on board.
Dean and Emerson spent much of the day lounging about deck in bathrobes, waiting for their clothes to dry like trust-fund babies on a “Club Ohio” vacation cruise. Emerson had to keep wearing her Amish dress, as the sailors claimed not to have any female clothing on board. Dean was familiar enough with the habits of sailors to know this was a lie but decided not to press the issue. He refused any gifts of clothing and wore the simple Amish shirt and trousers with suspenders from Charlie’s farm. This was only so he and Emerson would look like a pair and avoid nosy questions from the police, many of whom might think he’d kidnapped an Amish girl. Their hats and shoes had disappeared in the mountain of flour, but after much searching of dusty storage bins, the crew found two pairs of puffy gray snow boots and a black baseball cap with “Spaced” in large white letters. Dean was the fairer-skinned of the two, and appropriated the cap.
The towboat churned against the brown water with great determination, but traveled at a modest pace. Dean had never seen many of the tiny river towns from this perspective, only from the highway or on final approach to the Tri-State Airport in Huntington. An age of industry and success had come to the villages on the river and left almost as quickly. The solid two-story American Craftsman houses were all built before television, so each had a porch facing the street. Most were clean and well maintained with fresh coats of paint, like an open-air museum of wartime America. The towboat leisurely pushed her cargo under bridges that spanned the Ohio, both steel-beamed relics of the war and newer, more brilliant marvels of suspension engineering. To a man who had missed his best chance at fame and fortune, it was a melancholy homecoming. His spirits were only kept out of the proverbial doldrums by the fact that he’d just married a beautiful woman who actually liked him, had not punched him in the jaw yet, and who did not have the phrase “bring over the entire football team” in her vocabulary.
Showered and wearing dry clothes, Dean and Emerson stood at a railing aft of the pilothouse and watched the river bubble and hiss in the towboat’s wake.
“Who would have known they shipped flour like this,” said Dean. “I guess Tony was right all along.”
Emerson leaned on the railing. “You jumped off the bridge and expected to die?”
“I heard a fog horn, saw the navigation lights, and thought there was a fifty-fifty chance we could land on a passing barge. Honestly, I wasn’t thinking. I just didn’t want you to go with the Duke, no matter what.”
“Good, because I would not go with him, no matter what. Do you know, it was good that person rejected your book. If she had not thrown it out the window and struck me in the head, I’d be married to the Duke.”
Dean sighed. “True, but where do we go from here? I’ve already missed the greatest speaking opportunity of my life. I’ll never get close to Robert Timmins again––he’s furiously punctual and rumored to have an incredible temper. Never mind his army of rabid followers that will probably hunt me down for not showing up.”
Emerson slid an arm around his waist and squeezed. “Remember when we swam in the salt lake? You said your dream was to live on the river and watch the world go by. Look at where we are!”
“And you’re traveling the world, albeit at the very slow pace of a river barge. However, unless we come upon a tragic boating accident involving a flock of Rockefellers, you won’t have your Louis Vuitton handbag anytime soon.”
“A girl must always have dreams,” said Emerson. “You, dear husband, can write another book.”
Dean laughed. “Nobody would believe what’s happened to me this week.”
“Maybe sell as science fiction, or romance. Do you call that ‘sci-mance?’ ”
“Exactly,” said Dean, hugging her.
The river flowed away from them, a vast stream of mud and bark and dead fish.