"I said, 'NO ONIONS!' Her words were razor sharp and launched at the woman behind the counter with unprovoked ill-will and the obvious intent to insult or injure. She oozed impatience and indignation that her food hadn't been prepared to order the first time. Seemingly immune to the vibes fired her way, Ruby quickly and politely handed her another dog without onions, "Here you go. I've got you all fixed up." It was Ruby's second day working at Ben's Beach Dogs, which was within eyesight of the Tybee Island Pier. Her new coworkers looked at Ruby in amazement that she didn't even acknowledge the woman's attitude. Only God and Ruby knew the storms she had been through to be where she was, and this uptight customer gazing at her haughtily was a soft breeze. "And what should I do with the one you messed up?!".........
Just two days before, Ruby had worked the last day of a thirty-year run at The Lucky Lanes in North Augusta. To call it a run down Bowling dive was an enormous compliment. It was the favored hang out of an aging and aimless rabble of regulars, all of whom she had served and endured for three decades. After running away from home at sixteen, Ruby needed income and unfortunately, The Lucky Lanes was hiring that day. Regardless of their age, every one of the regulars had hit on Ruby at least once or twice over the past thirty years. Playfully now, they still tested her from time to time, but she had long since mastered the art of shredding them with sarcasm and clever wit. As if trapped in a lost era, The Lucky Lanes decor was unchanged from its original design back in 1977. A good many lights were out, a light coat of snack bar grease covered every surface but the bowling balls, and a decades-old stagnant cloud of smoke hung in the air. The sounds from '77 still bounced off the gray cave walls. Bowling balls crashing into pins, the cling-cling-clang from the same old pinball games, and from now and then a loud whoop and holler from a lucky bowler. For years she had stared into the hanging clouds of cigarette smoke daydreaming about dressing nicely, putting her hair up, and working on something important in an office downtown. She was a hard worker and plenty smart, but never quite figured out how to add school to her long days and years of working and raising a son.
Her boy was twenty-seven now and his overexposure to The Lucky Lanes clientele and atmosphere had shaped him into just what the world didn't need another one of. A self-serving, uninspired, excuse making jerk. The closest thing to a father or grandfather he'd known were the beer guzzling daily regulars at The Lucky Lanes. After years of waiting for him to snap out of it and show some signs of decency and responsibility, Ruby was ready. Not really sure for what, but she knew she was ready for new scenery and a new chapter, and for the first time in her life, Ruby believed that she had the pen in her hand to write that chapter. She'd never seen the beach except in her high school classmates facebook pictures. It looked beautiful and she desperately wanted to go there.
She spent months and all her cell phone data studying beaches in South Carolina, Georgia, and down into Florida, but the beach near Savannah, called Tybee Island, seemed to be exactly what she was looking for. Of course, it was impossible for her to drive there to look for work, so Ruby called and called and called for weeks and weeks looking for anything. Her dream of dressing up and working in an office turned into living and working on Tybee Island. She began scraping and saving every penny, as she slowly began turning her dream into reality. One she got a call from Ben of Ben's Beach Dogs on Tybee Island. He wanted to do a phone interview. Her heart raced and she barely contain her excitement. After several minutes on the phone, Ben told her that she sounded like exactly what they were looking for and he wanted her to start right away. Her mind raced, while they spoke. "I have no place to stay.., what if I don't have enough money saved?... what if he doesn't like me?..." She stretched the cord from the snack bar phone and stepped into the pantry to finish their conversation. Ben mentioned that he had a tiny loft apartment above the store if she was interested. A rare tear of joy crawled out of her eye and slowly rolled down her cheek and rested on her quivering lips, as she tightly clutched the phone and told Ben with gutsy conviction, "I'm on the way."
She immediately took off her apron and found the owner. "Larry, I forgot to put in my two-week notice two weeks ago, so... I'm really sorry, but today is my last day." Hearing her own words gave her, even more, self-confidence and determination, and she finally began to see her new chapter coming to life. After hearing of her plan, Larry gave Ruby her final check, wished her well, and at 10:03 am, Ruby turned and walked out the doors of The Lucky Lanes for the last time and without even a second look, she drove to her run down rental house to throw her things together. It was here and it was NOW. Opportunity was knocking and she was hell bent on answering it. Months and months of yard sales and Goodwill donations left Ruby with little more than a pillow, some clothes, and a few pictures, pots, and pans, all of which fit into two small overnight bags, which she could easily manage. She pulled the taped bible verse off the bathroom mirror (Deut 31:6) and put in her purse, took one more look around, then closed the door. She was gone. Ruby stopped at the Circle K and for the first time ever, completely filled her gas tank. By 11:00 am Ruby was loaded up, filled up, and headed out. Her Rand McNally map and some snacks rode shotgun with her, as she pulled onto I-20 West Bound with all of her windows down. She was scared, but she had never felt so alive. The countryside was beautiful as the miles rolled by. She made her way through Augusta, Wrens, and then Louisville. It was just south of Swainsboro that years and years of neglect began to catch up with her old Grand Prix. It was badly out of alignment and had been shaking for miles, and now it was to running hot too. She slowed down to 45 mph, turned on her emergency flashers, and kept pushing towards Tybee.
East Bound on I-16 and still creeping along at 45 mph, cars and big trucks flew by her one after the other. Some blowing their horns. The temperature gage was now well past the red "H" and steam was rolling out from under the hood. The Metter exit, which was only four miles ahead, became her short term goal. But it wasn't meant to be. She'd been giggling to herself and wondering which would happen first, the wheels wobble off or the motor lock up. Well, she got her answer about three miles outside of Metter when the motor made a clunk noise then went eerily silent. She put it into neutral and without power steering wrestled the car into the emergency lane rolled as far as it would roll before coming to a complete stop. With little hesitation, she pulled her hair back into a rubber band, grabbed her two bags, and left the car right where it sat. Key in the ignition, windows down, and a mixture of white steam and smoke billowing out from under the hood. There's was no time for towing and repairs for a car she realized that she wouldn't need in her new home. She'd left it set out on foot. 'I'll use the car repair money on a bus ticket to Savannah and a beach bicycle when I get to Tybee. As she began walking, she quickly missed the breeze that had been blowing through the car windows. It was hot. It was South Georgia July hot and much hotter than she imagined it would be if it absolutely came to this, but she was on a mission. Three became two, two became one, then she found herself walking up the exit ramp at Metter. Her shirt, hair, and jeans were drenched in sweat and she felt very weak. She spotted a convenience store called Cliftons just across the interstate, where she planned to cool off and figure out the rest of her journey. She caught a glimpse of herself as she opened the glass doors. She was quite a sight and got several odd looks, as she walked around in the store clinging to her two pieces of luggage, which contained everything she owned. The kind old woman at the register told her there weren't any bus or trains stations within forty or fifty miles. Ruby bought a large water and walked back outside to see what she come up with. As she walked, the lady and her husband met eyes and nodded at one another.
Ruby was deeply bewildered now and slowly melted down into the sidewalk beside her bags. She thought to herself, "I probably look homeless and desperate." Then she realized that homeless and desperate perfectly described her current situation. She reminded herself that the entire reason for any of this was to improve her situation and this was just a stop along the way. A stop that she knew one day she'd look back on. Ruby's thoughts raced, as she told herself over and over. "This is not how this chapter ends, this is not how this chapter ends, this is not how this chapter ends." Despite her fierce independence and will to push on, her body simply wasn't in any shape to even consider walking the remaining eighty miles. she sat there as a steady flow of traveling vacationers came and went to the fuel pumps. They were loaded down with beach chairs, beach umbrellas, jet skis, coolers, and pulling boats. Finally she'd had enough. "Ok., I have money and I can pay someone to take me the rest of the way", she thought. But after approaching over forty motorists, it was only truck drivers that showed any interest in giving her a ride and she knew she was too weak to fight if she happened to get in a truck with the wrong man. Just then the sweet old lady from behind the counter came up to her, Ruby assumed to shew her away from the store. "Jimmy is pulling our car around and we want, I mean, we are taking you to Tybee." she said with an intense, but warm gaze. "That is awfully nice ma'am, but honestly I can't let you do that", Ruby said as she pushed up to her feet to meet the lady's eyes. "Now you listen here young lady, Jimmy and I sit here all day long ringing up customers, but it's people in predicaments like yours that we look for, that we live for, that make us feel useful for Him," she said sternly and honestly. "Jimmy and I lost our daughter in a car accident a long time ago and as far as I'm concerned, you're our little girl today. Jimmy and I are going to buy you a good lunch, and we're going to take you to Tybee and we're going to get you all situated. I'm sorry honey, but there's nothing you can do or say that will change our minds."
Ruby was numb. It was completely against her nature to accept help from anyone because they usually just wanted something in return, but she could tell that by accepting their help that she was helping them. Besides, she was going to pay them even if she had to tuck the money in the back seat of their car. They got to know each other a little better over a good home style meal and around 5pm Ruby was back on I-16 in the back seat of their car. She pulled out her pillow and laid down in the back seat and pretended to go to sleep. She buried her face and quietly cried. She cried old tears. Old tears from wounds had festered for decades and needed to be healed. She was physically and emotionally drained and slept soundly for twenty or thirty minutes. She woke up feeling completely revived and thought to herself, "I'm so glad I'm doing this. I'm so proud of myself." In no time, they were driving down Bay Street in Savannah then slowly heading out the causeway to Tybee. They reached Ben's Beach Dogs close to 6:30 and the warm salty breeze and the beach atmosphere welcomed her. She met and quickly apologized to Ben for her appearance but politely and sincerely asked if he needed her to start working right away. "Look, you've been traveling all day and must be exhausted", he said with a warm smile. "It's really not much, but there's a tiny loft apartment above the shop. It's all yours if you want to stay there. I'll see you in the morning around 9 and we'll show you the ropes." Jimmy took her bags up to her room and tucked a $100 bill into one of them. Ruby hugged Linda & Jimmy and they said their goodbyes. Ruby was now all by herself in this new world. She didn't bother going to the apartment but slowly made her way towards the beach. Her dirty hair blew in the ocean air and she looked like hell, but her face was beaming with utter joy, as she walked out to the end of the pier, which she had only seen on the internet. She'd only been gone for several hours, but thoughts of Larry and the old codgers back at The Lucky Lanes were quickly fading. She traded in her blue jeans and worn out "The Lucky Lanes" shirt for a bright sun dress and a beach shell barrette for her hair. The next morning she walked the beach at sunrise and then to work at 9 am feeling like a completely new woman. A woman with the ink pen in her hand writing a new chapter.
.... The woman barked at Ruby again, "I SAID.., what should I do with this one that YOU messed up?" while shaking the dog with onions. Ruby calmly looked at her with a smile, "Honey, I'm sorry you're having a rough day. That was in on me."
Chapter Two
“She’s A Beaut, she’s a Beaut, she’s a blind, deaf, mute!” he sang loud and obnoxiously, as he stood at the Captain’s wheel pushing the throttle handle up almost to the very top. The entire boat vibrated, and the props vigorously churned the water, as they made the final push on the massive ‘COSCO Development’ container ship. For the last few hours they’d guided and wrestled her up the Savannah River to the dock and massive cranes at the Garden City Port. Ike’s radio crackled with the all clear signal from the skipper of the COSCO and Ike motioned to his first mate, “Sack”. In a few minutes, Ike had his Tugboat headed towards the Talmadge Bridge in route to his mooring at Fig Island. As he passed under the bridge, he checked his watch again. “Sack, when we get Bessie tied in, go ahead and fire up the skiff.” Sack smiled as he looked back, “Yes sir. You cuttin’ it close again ain’t you?” With a steady forward gaze, Ike replied, “Looks that way.” They stood side by side and soaked in the predawn view of the river street lights reflecting off the glassy river. Their 9-5 shift had come to an end, but Ike’s day was just getting under way. As Ike went below deck to finish shutting down the massive twin Volvo Diesels, Sack started up the outboard on the 20’ Carolina Skiff. Ike never slowed down as he walked from Bessie, up the dock, and right onto the skiff. He walked with intention and purpose. Time was short. “She needs some TLC. See you tonight at seven thirty. I’ll bring supper.” Ike paused for a moment. “Sack, you know, we haven’t talked a good while. You still holding strong?” Sack replied with confidence, while standing on the dock holding the untied line from the bow of the Skiff, “I am. I’m better now than I’ve ever been.” With that Ike nodded, smiled, and pushed the throttle forward. Ike was headed further down river. He checked his watch and just as he suspected, seconds were precious.
Immediately after high school, Ike left the family farm in Plainville, Kansas and headed to the coast. He made it to Galveston, where he worked as a deckhand on a shrimp boat. It was demanding work, but growing up on a big farm had prepared Ike for the daily demands of life on a shrimp boat. He had helped deliver calves, walked barefoot through many fresh cow patties, and routinely axed, plucked, and boiled chicken for supper. But his stomach wasn’t keen to the tossing and rolling of the Gulf’s swells. It took him a solid year of being sea-sick every day before he finally got his sea legs. Ike lived on his boss’s shrimp boat to save money to pay for college classes and after five long years of shrimping and studying, Ike earned a degree in Marine Transportation from Texas A&M Maritime Academy. His family was excited and devastated at the same time. They knew he was bound for the vast open waters and ports around the world, but they also knew that his face would rarely be seen in Plainville perhaps ever again. According to plan, Ike landed work with a large container shipping company. He traveled the seven seas and saw many incredible sights and met many interesting people, he soon learned in the ports of Singapore, Hamburg, Rotterdam, New York, and Sydney that he was his own worst enemy. Alcohol, cards, and local women were his favorite recipe. But no matter how he mixed them the outcome was always the same. An ugly shipwreck. His long-term goal was to reach the rank of Merchant Marine Captain and pilot his own container ship. However, he spent his energy, money, and time on frequent barroom brawls, bail money, and the plastic smiles from the girl of the day. He wasted close to ten years before he literally found himself on a fishing boat just off the coast of Manilla. Still drunk from a long night in town, Ike had dozed off and fallen overboard. He broke his arm in the fall and damn near drowned in the wake of the ship, but it was exactly what he needed. Ike had to pay for a flight to Shanghai to meet up with the ship, the skipper, and have a little sit down with some corporation executives, where he begged and pleaded for one final chance. He did a lot of thinking and self-assessing while waiting for his ship to come in. No thanks to church folks, Ike had become well acquainted with his Maker and was convinced that it was Him who gently nudged him into the Pacific. That chapter was behind and he was wide awake now. He’d wasted so much precious time, but his dream was well within reach. He buckled down and got serious. Once fully focused, it took Ike just two years to earn his Upper Tonnage Captain’s license. In June of 1987 Ike began working for Maersk and took the helm of his first ship, The Maersk Palermo. She was a large container ship with a gross tonnage of 33,000 tons, that hauled containers between The Netherlands and Canada. Over the next thirty years, the North Atlantic provided many difficult nautical challenges and many long cold lonely journeys, as he plowed the waters of the North Atlantic and plowed his earnings into the bank. He had achieved his goal and been very successful, but there was something more. When Ike became fully vested in the company stock plan, he began making a new plan. A plan that would take him back to warmer waters. Of all the ports he’d seen around the world, it was Savannah, Georgia that charmed and intrigued him. In due time, Ike retired from Maersk, bought a tugboat named Bessie in Boston, then bumped along the coast until he arrived in Savannah, where he’d operated his tugboat company for the past three years.
Ike cleared Fort Pulaski then eased up Lazaretto Creek to the fishing dock at CoCo’s, where he tied off, grabbed his Beach Cruiser, and began pushing peddles. “They can’t build the back-water dock soon enough!”, Ike thought as he kept a brisk pace, while periodically glancing at his watch. He made his way to the lighthouse, through the public beach access, and onto the beach in good time. He glanced at his watch and time was no longer an issue. Towards the end of the previous summer, Ike began a Beach Porter Service, which served ten of the largest hotels and condos on the island. His company provided delivery and set up services for vacationers in need of help carrying and setting up tents/umbrellas, or to bring them ice during the day, if needed. His normal routine was to nap on the Tug for a few hours after his shift ended then hit Tybee around 10 to meet his employees and make sure all of the service requests were filled. A few weeks ago, Ike came over early to sleep on the beach and catch the sunrise. That’s when he saw her. A fresh flower in her sandy brown hair gently waved in the breeze, as she rode by. She was wearing a pair of khaki shorts and a light red flowered beach shirt that also gently waved in the breeze. To top it all off she wore a smile, but not just any smile. Her smile was a smile of peace, confidence, and sincerity. He chuckled to himself, “I suppose she thinks I’m a homeless bum laying out here on a towel.” She hadn’t even noticed him. She wasn’t even aware that she was smiling. She’d done that almost every day since she got to Tybee.
