Kisses in the Rain

by Pamela Browning

  "So what's your idea of a good breakfast?" he asked.

  "Bagels. Bagels with cream cheese, bagels with salmon, bagels with peanut butter, bagels with honey—"

  "Never mind, I get the idea," he said, finishing the last of the oatmeal and unceremoniously dumping their dishes in the sink. He wrapped his arms around Martha and set about kissing the remains of the maple syrup off her lips. It was a tougher job than he anticipated, and it ended up having complications that took over an hour to complete. By that time it was noon, and Nick decided it was too late to do any trolling.

  "So what will we do all day?" Martha asked, as innocently as could anyone who had found a man who seemed capable of making love for hours and hours at a time.

  Nick only laughed.

  The water in the cove where they had anchored last night was lightly crinkled now, shining in the sun like yards and yards of billowing blue cellophane. A flock of squalling gulls pursued little fish near the shoreline, plummeting into the water and flying up again; the air vibrated with the sound of their wings. Otherwise, everything was quiet, pristine; the island seemed like an untouched corner of the universe. There was no sign of the moose they had spotted onshore the night before.

  The sunlight was so balmy that Nick said, "Let's go for a walk on the island."

  Martha agreed, and they dressed and packed a light lunch in a waterproof satchel that Nick slung around his waist. They were anchored a hundred feet offshore, so Nick lowered the Tabor's small dinghy into the water. Martha climbed in and luxuriated in the bow while Nick rowed, and in a few minutes they were walking on the beach.

  A faint brine-scented breeze moved off the water, ruffling the needles of the tall Sitka spruce trees. Many boulders, their sides furred with moss, littered the beach. Rocks crunched beneath Nick's and Martha's feet as they walked, swinging their hands between them.

  Martha bent over, looking for the footprints of the moose. She didn't see any.

  "They've been washed away by the tide," Nick said. He tugged at her hand and they headed inland on a path the moose might have taken.

  "What if we run into a bear?" Martha asked with some apprehension.

  "We'll stand still and talk softly. That's what you're supposed to do when you meet one," Nick told her.

  Martha shuddered. "You can stand still and talk softly if you want to," she said. "I'm going to run screaming for the dinghy."

  "Do that and you'll end up being some bear's dinner."

  "You know what, Nick? I can't imagine what I, Martha Rose from Indiana, am doing on some remote island in Alaska discussing what to do if I meet a bear. A real bear."

  Nick turned her to him and kissed her lingeringly on the lips. "I'll tell you what you're doing here, Martha Rose. You're making love to me."

  "No, I'm not," she protested, pushing him away with a quick glance into the surrounding underbrush to see if a bear was watching.

  "Oh, yes, you are," he said, chuckling softly as he began to unbutton her blouse.

  "No, I'm—" She was silenced by his lips.

  He pulled her down to a fragrant bed of leaves, and bright purple fireweed danced above their heads as they lay together beneath the gracefully swaying spruce trees. It was, fortunately, a warm day, and as they shed their clothes they also shed their inhibitions. Kissing Martha, Nick thought as he kissed her over and over, was one of life's most delightful pleasures. And beyond her lips there were other things, too. Her breasts, so round and full. Her thighs, so white and firm. Her feet, high-arched and beautifully wrought. Her hands, which she never had been able to keep still and which certainly did not remain still around him. They explored him bit by bit and with growing confidence.

  It was a long time before Martha said, "Nick?"

  "Mmm?"

  "What about bears?"

  "What about them?"

  "I don't like lying here at the side of the trail like meat in a trap. I think we should go."

  He traced her eyebrow, raised in worry, with a gentle fingertip. "I don't, but if you're that uncomfortable with it—"

  "I am, Nick. I'd rather be on the boat."

  "I thought it would be nice to get off the boat for a while," he said.

  "It is, and it's beautiful here. But I really am scared of bears, Nick!"

  She finally convinced him, and they slowly dressed after a fashion. There were certain items of clothing that Martha didn't bother to put back on, and Nick carried his shoes in his hand. They made their way back to the beach, unable to control their laughter.

  "If my friends at the boutique could only see me now!" giggled Martha. Her shirt was buttoned all wrong, her jeans were littered with fragments of dead leaves, and her hair was a corona of curls standing up all over her head. She hadn't brought any makeup along on the Tabor except lipstick, and she hadn't bothered with that today.

  "You might start a new fashion trend," Nick said, soberly but with an amused glint in his eye.

  "I've certainly seen worse," Martha replied, giggling. She walked on tiptoe so she could reach his nose to kiss it. "What are we going to do when we get back to the boat?"

  "Guess."

  Martha laughed and skipped ahead of him. "Oh, Nick. We can't do that all day."

  "We can't?" he said in mock distress. "Why not? We've been doing it almost nonstop ever since last night."

  "Yes, and I've decided that you're an absolute sex fiend."

  "Me? Who was the one who practically—hey, look at that eagle over there! I wish I'd brought my camera! "

  Martha, who had been walking backward, turned to look. A large eagle was swooping toward the sand in an attitude of attack. The sight of the eagle's sharp extended talons frightened Martha, and she let out a loud involuntary "Oh!"

  The eagle, startled, swerved off course and spiraled high into the air.

  "What's he attacking, can you tell?" Martha asked, grabbing Nick's arm.

  "I don't know. Maybe there's a fish washed up on the beach."

  "Let's look," Martha said, keeping a watchful eye on the eagle. It still circled overhead.

  They rounded a large boulder and came upon a cowering small animal huddled amid the seaweed in a niche on the other side.

  Nick stopped in surprise. "It looks like a sea otter pup!" he exclaimed.

  Martha knelt in the sand. The animal was about as long as her forearm, and it was plainly frightened.

  "What's it doing here?"

  Nick's eyes scoured the beach. "I don't know. I don't see any sign of its mother, do you?"

  Martha shook her head. "If we leave it here, Nick, that eagle will surely get it."

  Nick bent down to inspect the pup. It didn't have a scratch on it, but it was clearly immature and too young to be on its own.

  "Something must have happened to the mother," he reasoned. He looked around to make absolutely sure that she wasn't waiting nearby, but even a walk in both directions on the beach produced no sign of her. The eagle hovered threateningly, waiting for them to leave its prey alone. Nick cast a small stone at the eagle and it flapped away to perch on the skeleton of a dead tree nearby. Martha knew that as soon as they left the eagle would be back to reclaim its meal.

  "Oh, Nick, let's take this little fellow back to the boat," she cried. It was a pathetic little creature and so scared.

  "Let's see if he's afraid to be picked up," he said.

  The animal quivered in fear as Nick scooped it from its niche in the rock. He wrapped it in his shirt and held it in his arms. Its rapid heartbeat thudded against his arm. Although it was still frightened, the animal made no move to bite or scratch.

  "I can call the Fish and Wildlife Service office and find out what to do with it. Maybe there's a colony of them nearby where this little fellow could be released."

  On the way back to the Tabor, Martha had to hold the sea otter while Nick rowed the dinghy. She was quickly captivated by the creature's furry little face. It lay quietly in her arms and stared up at her like a baby. It resembled pictures she'd s
een of sea otters lying on their backs in the water and smashing shellfish on their stomachs with a rock.

  She found herself clucking to it and talking to it, much to Nick's amusement.

  "Must be your mothering instinct," he commented when they were back aboard the Tabor.

  "I didn't know I had any," Martha said.

  "Of course you do," Nick said, suddenly serious. "I could tell that on the day you dug earthworms with Davey."

  "I never had any urge to mother an earthworm, Nick."

  "But you certainly acted as if you knew how to mother a little boy," he shot back. Her gentle ways with Davey had warmed his heart.

  Martha turned over the sea otter to Nick, self-conscious now that she knew that Nick had discovered something about her that she hadn't even known herself.

  "This animal needs a name," Nick said after installing it in a galvanized tub with a few inches of seawater in it.

  "A name," Martha repeated thoughtfully.

  "How about Bear?" suggested Nick. "Since you were so scared of seeing one."

  "All right," she agreed. "Bear is a terrific name for an otter." They both laughed, and Nick went to the refrigerator in the galley to get some milk. He was reasonably sure that Bear wasn't old enough to have been weaned from his mother.

  They soaked a rag in milk. Bear wouldn't take it at first, so they added a bit of sugar to the warm milk.

  "What do you think happened to Bear's mother?" Martha asked.

  "Maybe a predator got her. But baby sea otters stay so close to their mothers that I don't know how Bear could have escaped."

  "Do you think there's a chance she'll turn up?"

  Nick looked doubtful. "Sea otters are remarkably capable mothers. If they get separated the mother comes at the baby's slightest little whistle or bark. If she were in this vicinity, she would have been with him."

  "Will he survive?"

  "It looks like he's going to eat. If he can survive on cow's milk, and if we have enough milk, he may just make it."

  They remained anchored in the cove that night. Bear's feedings necessitated getting up several times that night. Whenever the sea otter got hungry, he uttered a series of short, sharp yelps.

  "No wonder sea otters don't like to get separated from their pups," grumbled Nick as he wearily stumbled out of bed and went to the refrigerator for more milk. "The way Bear barks is pure punishment."

  Martha, warm in a nest of sheets and blankets, murmured something unintelligible. She tried to sleep through this feeding, since it would be her turn to get up next time.

  She didn't really mind taking care of Bear, she thought dreamily as she snuggled him in her arms later. The little sea otter fell asleep, and in the dim light of the lamp over the stove, Martha cradled Bear and watched Nick. He slept with his mouth open, which, surprisingly enough, seemed an endearing trait. It's amazing the kind of things you can forgive when you're in love, she thought. And then she thought wryly, Even unexplained business trips.

  When Bear awoke, sucked at the milk-soaked rag again and then clambered to get out of Martha's arms, she put him in the galvanized tub in the middle of the galley floor and crept into bed beside Nick. As soon as it was quiet, Bear began to shriek indignantly.

  "My turn?" Nick asked sleepily.

  "No, it's still mine," Martha said, tumbling out of bed again. She wrapped Bear in a dry towel. He gurgled contentedly, and she tried to walk him around the galley, but the galley was so small that she could only walk two steps in either direction, stepping over Bear's tub each time. Bear chose that moment to nod off, but when she tried to put him down he objected again.

  The warmth of her body seemed to be what Bear needed. Finally Martha decided there was nothing to do but take him into the bed with her and Nick, whereupon the baby sea otter let out a contented sigh and fell sound asleep.

  Nick awoke early the next morning, and, forgetting about Bear for the moment, he stretched luxuriously and slid his hand up Martha's back. Except that it wasn't Martha's back, unless Martha's back had grown sleek and hairy during the night. Nick opened his eyes not to the welcome sight of Martha's smiling face but straight into the snout of a curious baby sea otter.

  The otter regarded him calmly and twitched his whiskers. Martha lay on the other side of Bear and breathing in the deep, measured cadence of someone who wasn't planning to wake up for a while.

  So Nick lay back on the pillow and Bear crawled onto his chest.

  "I think I liked yesterday morning better," Nick said: closing his eyes against Bear's unwavering stare.

  Martha found them like that when she woke up later. She shook Nick awake and scratched Bear on the stomach.

  "What's for breakfast?" Martha said brightly.

  "How about roast filet of otter?" suggested Nick as he pushed Bear over to her side of the bed.

  "I know your penchant for hearty breakfasts, Nick, but that's going too far," she said. "Isn't it, fella? Isn't it?"

  Disgruntled, Nick slid across her and padded to the refrigerator. He peered inside.

  "We'll have halibut left over from last night," he decided. "There's not much milk left though. Bear drank most of it."

  Martha dressed herself and then warmed the milk while Bear frolicked in the galvanized tub. Martha and Nick managed to work efficiently around it. They engineered an embrace while the halibut was frying and a kiss while the rag was soaking in milk.

  It wasn't what Nick had had in mind, although he told Martha, "I guess if we wanted leisure, we should have gone for a cruise on the Trondheim." He bent and scratched the sea otter on the top of the head. It was a cute little thing, he admitted to himself as he found his resentment toward Bear fading.

  Nick became concerned that cow's milk might not be the correct diet for a baby sea otter, so they left Bear on the Tabor and took the dinghy over to the island to dig clams for Bear to eat. They didn't know if he'd eat them or not, but they had fun digging them. They also looked for signs of Bear's mother, but none were to be found.

  "I think he's an orphan," Nick said later after Bear had surprised them by eating the clams.

  "Well, he's eating. That proves he can get along without his mother."

  "Maybe. But I'd worry about letting him go off on his own. He's not big enough to take care of himself."

  "We're almost out of milk."

  "The canned milk in the cupboard will last us until we find a store."

  Martha turned to Nick and rested her hands on his shoulders. Her hands linked behind his neck, and he kissed the tip of her nose.

  "We'd better head back to Ketchikan, Martha, if we want Bear to survive. I need to find out exactly what diet he should have. Once the canned milk is gone, we're out of milk. I hate to cut our time together short, but—"

  She smiled up at him. How like him to take the plight of a lost sea otter pup to heart. He had selflessly taken turns feeding Bear. He had decided they should see if Bear could eat clams. He had taken the orphaned animal's situation on as his responsibility, and she was glad he was the kind of man who would do that.

  "Maybe I'll be able to get away again in a week or so. How about you?"

  "I'll make time," he promised.

  And so for Bear's sake they cut their getaway short, heading back to Ketchikan and Mooseleg Bay and Davey and the Bagel Barn.

  * * *

  "So Nick's kind to animals, is he?" Lindsay said, sounding as though she was calling from right next door when in fact she was still in San Francisco.

  "Yes, it's one of his redeeming qualities," Martha said with irony.

  "I can't believe you really went away with him on his boat."

  "I had to, Lindsay."

  "It sounds like one of your impulses."

  "No, I thought it over carefully. I wanted to give him a chance. I love him, and he loves me."

  "Oh, Martha."

  "Well, I'm not the type to fall in love often, you know. Five, six, seven times in a lifetime—that's enough for me." Lindsay, she knew, had be
en in love many more times than that.

  "Is that a joke?"

  "Sort of. You know that I've only had a couple of boyfriends I really cared about. But Nick is special. He's different from any of those. I've grown to love him very much, and—"

  "Martha, if you say you love him, I believe you. All I can say is that with his mysterious background, you must love him tremendously if you can get serious about him."

  "I do love him."

  "You've told me you love him three times in this conversation. That's enough. What you need is retail therapy to give you some perspective on his importance–or lack of it–in your life. You should go on a shopping splurge tomorrow and buy yourself some really cute clothes and a new shade of nail polish."

  "Lindsay, I don't wear nail polish any more. And where would I shop?"

  "The mall?"

  "The local mall is not what you think, and I only wear jeans and shirts. I could use some new sexy underwear, though."

  Lindsay groaned. "I guess you could order it online."

  "Yeah. I guess."

  "Time to change the subject—how is the cookie recipe coming along?"

  "Oh, fine. I haven't made any more changes. Randy started to sell my cookies at the Bagel Barn and they're selling, well, like hotcakes."

  "Sigmund and I went to one of Sidney's new Thai take-out places the other night. Thai One On. Seems like he could have thought of a better name."

  "Exactly, but at least he didn't name it Thais That Bind. How was it?"

  "Too slow for a fast-food place. You should be able to walk in, pick up the food and wok right out again. It took them fifteen minutes to find the fried rice."

  "I'm glad you can joke about it. Let's hope the service improves, for the sake of my future position with Sidney Pollov Enterprises."

  "By the way, Sidney called here the other day and asked where he could find you. He said he'd been ringing your apartment in Ketchikan and you didn't answer. He even tried to find Randy, but there weren't any Randy Gallahorns in the phone book. He asked me if I knew Randy's husband's last name. I thought Randy was a guy."

  "Randy's husband?" Then Martha realized what must have happened. She laughed. "It's all right, Lindsay. Sidney must think Randy is a girl. And Randy lives with his mother, who's remarried and has a different last name."