"It's not an empty dream, Gail. It sounds as though your father was doing exactly what he should have been doing — what made him happy. You were the best daughter he could have had for supporting his dream."
She'd never thought of it that way. Coming from Flynn, the man who most resembled her father, she almost believed it. "I know it's totally illogical and ridiculous, but I like to think he's still up there… that maybe my dad found a secret Yeti population and the creatures took him into their tribe. I still hope to this day he's out there foraging in the woods, trying to find his way home."
Gail looked away, biting her lip with embarrassment. She'd never told anyone that before.
Flynn reached across the table and took her hand. His swordfish was getting cold and it was all her fault.
She sniffed back tears. "I'm sorry I dropped such a bomb on our conversation."
"I'm glad you told me."
A string plucked behind her, and Gail turned. An Irish fiddle group was setting up on a small stage.
Flynn nodded toward the ensemble. "I forgot. The Broken Strings play here on Sunday nights."
"The Broken Strings?" Gail wiped her eyes and laughed. "I'm not sure I want to stay for this."
Flynn stuck a forkful of swordfish in his mouth. "Believe me, you will."
As the fiddles tuned, Gail tried a spoonful of her clam chowder and bit into a chunk of potato. The salty broth warmed her mouth. The perfect comfort food for the heavy subject she'd just broached. To her surprise, she was glad she'd finally opened up.
"How's your mom doing?" Flynn started devouring his food.
Gail shrugged. "She's all right. She never used to get into my dad's adventures, so when he disappeared, she got angry at him — like it served him right for wasting his time."
"But she still looks for him."
"Of course. Under all that anger, she loves him very much." Gail hated how this was turning into some kind of therapy session. She needed to change the topic, turn the tables. "Do you see your parents?"
Flynn nodded easily. "All the time. In fact, I saw them last night. They live in Inverness."
"Oh really?" Gail tried to hide her fascination by spooning another bite of soup into her mouth. So who was this hon he'd said he'd see this weekend? Flynn didn't call his mom hon, did he?
"You and your parents are close?"
"Sure. My dad would have liked for me to go into medicine or law, something more stable than touring, but he's over that now. In fact I think he's kinda proud of how successful my touring business has become. Sometimes the old man takes his business colleagues on the boat. My mom always pushed me to follow my dreams. She's the reason I'm here, maintaining my own boat, giving tours of Loch Ness. She also makes the best potato leek soup in all of Scotland."
Gail raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"
Flynn crossed his arms, his plate empty. "So."
They were lucky their son visited. A lot of men, like her cousins, took off after college and came home once a year. But she didn't want a mama's boy either. He didn't live with them, did he? Gail tossed her next comment out to see his response. "They're lucky you settled nearby."
Flynn shrugged. "I had to, considering the circumstances."
Gail put her spoon down, waiting for him to elaborate, but his eyes strayed to the fiddle group as they launched into a jig. What circumstances?
Flynn offered his hand. "Want to dance?"
"Naw. We'd be the only ones…" Her eyes strayed to the other side of the room where another couple abandoned their seats by the fireplace and took center stage. Gail glanced down at her empty bowl of soup. Guess I can't use that as an excuse either. "I'm not a good dancer."
Flynn grabbed her hand as if her response was a yes. "Neither am I."
He pulled her up and dragged her to the dance floor. They twirled around, stepping on each other's feet and laughing. The tempo increased, and they struggled to keep up.
"This is better than going to the gym," Gail said between gasps for breath.
"More fun as well." Flynn flashed a smile.
Behind them, the fiddles launched into a ballad, and the pace of the music slowed.
Great. Saved by the bell — or the fiddle, in this case. Gail glanced at the other couple, thinking they'd return to their seats, but the woman placed her head on the man's shoulder and they slow-danced.
Gail's heart jumped to her throat. The last time she'd slow-danced had been at her high school prom with Dwayne the science geek. Her stomach flipped.
She turned her head back. Flynn stood waiting in front of her with a smile. Gail froze. Should she get involved with a member of her research team, a believer in the Loch Ness monster? He looked so hot dressed in his captain's uniform. And those eyes…
What's one dance going to do?
She wrapped her arms around his neck and he placed his hands on her hips like a gentleman. Her mind, however, thought about unladylike things — like how his callused fingers would feel like on her bare skin.
Flynn leaned down and whispered in her ear, "You're not so uptight when you want to relax."
She rose on her tiptoes and gave his sass right back, her lips brushing his ear. "You're not so crazy when you want to be."
The song ended with a melancholy cadence. Flynn stepped back and twirled her around. Her floral skirt fanned out around her heels. Maybe dressing up wasn't such a bad idea?
The tempo quickened, and they spun around until she shrieked and laughed, burying her face in his shirt. They danced for two more songs, then landed in a tumble back at their table.
Flynn slipped a fifty in the leather-bound bill container.
Gail grabbed her purse. "I thought the drinks were on me?"
He winked, making her feel like she was some special secret. "You can get the next one."
Was he inferring a second date?
Gail stood and smoothed down her skirt. She agreed before she let herself think about the consequences. "Okay."
****
The slate waters of Loch Ness appeared in the window, and an eerie sense of unfinished business stirred in Gail's stomach. Sure, she'd had a great date with Flynn, but now they were back to being research associates.
A gold vehicle sat off the road that circled the cabin. Flynn pulled up behind it. "Looks like Tom got here early."
A current of disappointment flowed through Gail and she stifled her rampant emotions. Could she trust herself alone with Flynn in the cabin? Probably not. So it was good Tom had arrived early.
"Where's Tom from, anyway?" The shady videographer didn't seem to have a Scottish accent. To Gail, he sounded British and even a little American at times.
Flynn shrugged. "I don't know. That's a rental car."
Black bags of equipment filled the back seat to the ceiling. "Why leave his equipment in the car?" It seemed risky, especially if it was worth money. Why not store it in the cabin? Was he afraid they'd go through it? Gail scratched her head. She wasn't the least interested in playing with his video equipment.
"Not sure." Flynn turned off the engine. "He also has a lot of equipment inside the cabin as well. Maybe there isn't enough room for all of it."
"How many cameras does Tom have?" Gail opened her door and walked over to the car. She peered in the back window. One of the bags had a circular emblem with initials embroidered on it.
Gail bent her neck to get a better look, but she couldn't see the words around the circle. "What's ASA?"
Flynn shrugged. "Must be some sort of videographer's association."
"With an S?"
"Either that or his girlfriend." Flynn chuckled and touched her arm. "You're getting all Agatha Christy on me. Come on."
They walked up the hill to the cabin. A light shone from the living room. Gail peered through the window as Flynn rummaged around in his pocket for the key. Tom sat on the sofa, his balding head shining in the golden light, framed by a ring of white-blond hair. Recognition tingled in the back of her mind. Who did the videog
rapher remind her of? Where was his toupee?
When Flynn jiggled the key in the door, Tom dove forward, reaching for a black, hairy mass on the table.
"Ladies first." Flynn opened the door.
Shaking her head, Gail abandoned the window and walked inside. When she turned to the living room, Tom had the toupee back in place. Honestly, he should just drop the hairpiece altogether, but whatever makes him feel confident, right?
"So, the good doctor has decided to grace me with her presence."
Gail stood in the hallway, an awkward chill settling on her shoulders. "Hi, Tom."
Flynn followed her in. "Tom, my man. What's going on?"
"Not much. Just reviewing the rest of the footage from last week."
"Find anything?" Flynn's voice had an eager edge.
"Nope. Nada. Nothing."
Flynn took a seat next to Tom on the sofa and clapped him on the back. "We'll find something. You wait and see."
The only other seat open was the one next to Tom. Gail decided against joining them. "I've had a long day, so I'm going to my room to review my notes."
Flynn's eyes flashed with surprise. "You don't want to tell him about your discovery in the library?"
She'd rather swim in the biting cold, dark waters of Loch Ness. "Go ahead. I'll catch you guys tomorrow morning." Disappointment rattled her to the core. This was so not how she wanted the date to end.
"See ye tomorrow, Gail." Flynn's voice followed her up the steps. He sounded as though he had more to say, but she didn't want him talking in front of Tom.
"Nighty night. Don't let the bed bugs bite." Tom's sarcastic tone sang up the stairs.
"See ya," she called down without looking back. More like don't let Tom's cooties bite.
Gail slipped on her pajamas and opened her laptop, but she couldn't focus on her notes. Something about her date with Flynn nagged her.
Was it an unfinished conversation?
She thought back to the restaurant and her murky clam chowder. After she'd commented on how his parents were lucky he lived nearby, he'd blamed his situation on circumstances. What circumstances?
Why hadn't she asked?
Gail thought back as she closed her laptop. She remembered the fiddle group tuning and finishing her soup. She'd been talking about her father. Then the conversation had turned to Flynn and his parents. He'd been talking up a storm until the "circumstances" comment. After that, he'd closed up and his gaze had wandered to the musicians.
Gail ran her toothbrush under the faucet, then started brushing her teeth. That's right! Just as she'd been about to ask, that smooth charmer had offered his hand to dance.
She spit into the sink. He'd outsmarted her.
Chapter Ten
Later
Flynn lay on his back. The moonlight shone through his window and Tom's snores resounded. The date had gone so well, and Gail had finally started to loosen up and share personal details of her life.
So why did he feel like such a jerk?
Because she shared everything with me, and all I gave her was a cop-out response about my mom's leek soup.
Flynn turned over and held the pillow to his ear, although he knew it wasn't Tom's snoring that kept him from sleeping. It was what he hadn't told Gail.
He'd have to tell her if they were going to have any sort of relationship. Flynn couldn't keep his family from her forever. She'd want to meet them, especially with them living so close. He functioned worlds better if he separated his family life from his work; and he didn't have time for a girlfriend, not with Tabitha and this Loch Ness monster business left unresolved.
Flynn swung his legs out of the sheets and stood. He had to be honest with himself. Sleep wasn't coming, and he didn't want to hear Tom snoring for the rest of the night.
He slipped on his loafers and snuck from his room. The chill of the night had seeped into the cabin from a window left ajar downstairs, and goose bumps prickled his skin. He froze as he reached the top of the stairs, giving Gail's door a considering look.
He could tell her now.
Flynn checked his watch. Three o'clock.
He'd have to wake her. I'm not ready yet.
Instead, he tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door. A walk would clear his mind and force him to see what was truly important: finding Nessie for Tabitha. Right now, that was all that mattered.
Loch Ness spread behind the woods, with all its secrets and promises. Flynn kept to the forest path, not wanting to stumble on the banks in the dark and fall in. Although he could swim, the water was a bitingly bitter ice-fest that sunk into his bones on contact.
Flynn thought of Gail's father and how alike they were. Could she date someone who reminded her of him? Or would Flynn's overzealous passion for the unknown drive them apart? Could he date a skeptic, a scientist bent on proving him wrong? He didn't care who she was. He liked her all the same.
Besides, he'd glimpsed some sense of wonder and hope beneath her clinical façade when she spoke of her father. She was capable of keeping an open mind and an open heart when she wanted to. Plus, the way her body had pressed up against his when they'd danced told him the spark was there for her, too.
If only he could open up.
The woods thinned to a small beach where light waves licked upon jagged rocks and patches of sand. The glassy surface of the lake came into full view. He stepped into the clearing and stumbled on a rock, scraping his shin.
Cursing, Flynn sat on a boulder. He rubbed the scrape underneath his pants and watched the moon reflect off the dark depths.
Nessie, I know you're out there.
Ever since his parents had taken him on a tour when he'd been a boy, he'd felt a presence under the water, a profound meaningfulness to the lake. Watching the unchanging surface, he thought back to the day his life had changed forever.
****
1991
Loch Ness
On the decks of the Starboard Bound
"Hold my hand, sweetheart. I don't want you falling overboard." Flynn's mother's hand squeezed his fingers as he tried to pull away.
"I want to see the water up close." Ever since they'd gotten on the boat, his mother had been watching him like he'd stolen a candy bar from the cupboard.
"There's nothing to see. Just black, murky peat moss." His father waved his hand dismissively and flipped the newspaper to the page of numbers Flynn couldn't understand.
Flynn digested his father's words, biting his lower lip. Nothing to see? That was impossible. The water called to him with its ghostly mist and vast depths. Surely something magical was down there waiting, but he'd never get to see it if his stupid parents didn't understand. His chin twitched and salty tears stung his eyes.
"Let the boy go, honey. He can't get past the rails."
Flynn kicked the leg of the chair with his sneaker impatiently as he waited for his mother's response.
"You'd be surprised what little boys can get their heads through."
"Or get into their heads." His father rolled his eyes. "Just what we need, more nonsense to distract him.
"He's just a boy." His mother smoothed Flynn's hair. She bent down and whispered in his ear, "Okay, we'll get up close to the rail, but don't stick your arms and legs through."
Flynn wanted to reach down and poke the water with a stick, but he knew not to say so in front of his mother. "Yes, Ma."
She stood and walked him over to the railing. Flynn wrapped his hands around the cold metal bars, pressing his face between them. His ears caught and he couldn't go any farther. Below him, the water ebbed around the boat's hull in silky darkness, each wave promising something mysterious.
Two grown-ups stood several feet away dressed in black suits — not the type of clothes for a cruise, which was why Flynn was interested in what they said. He inched his way closer until he could overhear.
"Yesterday the bureau submitted the sonar scan to the government. You'll see their report in the papers soon enough."
The ot
her man scratched his beard. "What's it look like?"
"Clear. A better picture than anything that's been taken before. I'm telling ye, Phil. This time we got it, fins and all."
The man with the beard shook his head. "They'll never let something like that get out. They'll confiscate the evidence before it goes public."
"Ma, what's sonar?"
The men gazed at Flynn as if they'd only just noticed him standing there. Flynn smiled, but they frowned and walked away without waving good-bye.
"Sonar is underwater sound." She bent down next to him and put her arm around his shoulders. "You can take pictures of things deep down that you wouldn't be able to see with your eyes from the surface."
"Oh." Flynn squeezed the bars in his hands, wishing he could pull them apart like Superman. The men had talked about something in the water, he was sure of it. Something no one wanted them to see. Something with fins. Flynn peered down into the depths, trying to imagine what they caught with sound pictures. Bubbles floated up, and he watched them pop as the boat hurtled forward. Maybe he'd found the same fish they didn't want anyone to see. If Ma was going to believe him, she had to see the bubbles.
"Ma, look." He tugged on his mother's arm, but she was too busy watching the men across the deck with her eyes creased like they'd threatened to steal him away from her.
Flynn didn't understand. They weren't that bad, even though they hadn't said good-bye.
The water darkened underneath the boat, like a cloud had blocked the sunlight just above him. Flynn gazed up. The sky remained clear.
He flicked his eyes back down to the water. The dark mass moved to the side of the boat, swimming alongside it. The shape reminded him of one of those whales on the telly. The sheer size made him feel like an ant on a leaf.
For the first time, he grasped a sense of just how big the world was and his place in it. If there were still wonders like this, then he would find them. People needed a break from their newspapers full of numbers.
Flynn kept tugging at his mom's arm.
"Just a minute, sweetie."
The mass turned and, for a moment when the sun hit it just the right way, an oily sheen of green-gray scales, then a glossy membrane spreading between spiky fins, came into view.
Love on Loch Ness Page 6