Captain Warr looked up at the bottle on the shelf and then out a the Mississippi Sound. Both contained liquids that were brown. And both were killers.
Liquor had nearly killed Captain Warr. The Mississippi Sound had murdered his wife. The retired naval officer kept both close to him — just in case they decided to attack again, he’d be ready. He kept one bottle of bourbon as a reminder of just how low he could sink. He looked over at the framed and signed headshot of the Weather Channel meteorologist who had convinced him to evacuate with the last hurricane had blasted ashore.
He owed that man his life. And his soul.
It was a warm Saturday morning — just like that fateful day a decade before. Hurricane Katrina, that bitch of a hell storm, roared ashore that morning. It forever changing his beloved Gulf Coast and his life. Today, the water slept like a sleeping tiger. He knew that tiger could wake up and maul him in a heartbeat.
He grabbed a single yellow rose out of a vase and headed out his front door.
A warm breeze tickled his neck as he felt the humidity lick his skin. He crossed Beach Boulevard and began walking West down the beach toward Waveland.
“Waveland,” the Captain shook his head. The irony of that name.
“Mornin’ Captain!” He heard a singsong voice call out.
Hilda Frances Whitewaller walked her terrier Faulkner toward him.
“Morning, Hilda Frances.”
The Captain was the most eligible bachelor in Bay St. Louis. He got at least one casserole a week. But he wasn’t interested in remarrying. He only had one woman in his life anyway and she was a psychotic cat named Katrina.
“What kind of moron names his cat after a storm that killed his wife?” Captain Warr remembered the vet saying that when he he took the orphaned kitten in for her first checkup. It really was a good question. Really. Who WOULD curse a cat like that?
Well, an old drunk.
Sobriety had changed Captain Warr. Sure, the Devil tempted him still. But his voice grew fainter with the years. Now, the Captain’s mood matched the Sound, not the bottle.
Today it was calm. Still. He felt serenity.
God, grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change,
The courage to change the things I can,
And the wisdom to know the difference.
Ten years ago, a force bigger than him had ripped the love of his life out of his arms. Watching your wife disappear and then finding her body was enough to break any mortal. He had failed as a husband. As a man.
But time had allowed Captain Warr to find peace.
He walked to the edge of the water and took off his sandals. The brown water swirled around his toes. Ten years ago at this very moment, Katrina had roared to shore.
“I love you, honey.”
Captain Warr dropped the yellow rose into the water. He stood as it floated away. And like so many years ago, he watched something beautiful be swept out to sea.