by A Rosendale
Alma shrugged and stopped to stare at the Sound. They’d been walking for a few miles in the fresh air. “Do you want to see the town?”
“Sure.”
They turned around to retrace their footsteps north, past the troller’s mooring and into Friday Harbor. They ducked into the Island Museum of Art for an hour before stopping at a bistro for a quick lunch.
“There’s a kayak shop on the next street over,” Alma said as they set off on the sidewalk again.
“Really?”
“Do you want to rent a couple kayaks?”
The gleam in his eye answered before his voice. In an hour they were well away from the island, gliding through the azure water.
“You do this a lot in Boston?” Alma asked as they paddled.
Dirk nodded, his blood pumping pleasantly. “As often as I can. I’ve taken the kayak out a few times this year. It’s been so bloody cold and I’ve been so busy. I’d like to go out more. You should join me.”
“You have a second kayak?”
He shrugged. “I’ll buy one.”
The nonchalant response caught Alma briefly off-guard. “You’ll buy me a boat?” she asked, humor glittering in her gray eyes.
Another shrugged. “Sure. A little one.” He paused in his strokes long enough to hold his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
Alma laughed and paddled to catch up to him.
A spout of air thirty feet away startled Dirk and he stopped paddling abruptly. Mist drifted through the air to sprinkle on his face. The first burst of air was followed by fifteen more as massive glistening black and white shapes slipped through the water.
“Alma, is this…” He faded out in amazement. A tall black dorsal fin dipped out the water nearby. Another, smaller dorsal split the distance between the two kayaks.
“This is J pod,” Alma said, her voice hardly above a whisper. She was studying the orcas surrounding them, identifying them by the marks on their dorsal fins and the gray saddle directly behind. She took a moment to make sure her companion wasn’t panicking, but Dirk was mesmerized. He’d shipped his paddle and was staring at the beautiful creatures.
The orcas seemed to investigate the small crafts briefly before deigning it an appropriate audience.
“What are they doing?” Dirk asked. His voice, soft and low, carried across the water.
“Spy hopping,” she answered as another body rose straight out of the sea. “They’re watching us.”
Another gleaming head popped up just feet from Dirk. He felt like his heart stopped. There’d been many moments in his career where his chest froze and breath simply wouldn’t come, but never had they been in complete wonder like this one.
“Are they singing?” he asked as high pitched whistles reverberated out of the water.
“Yes.”
“Beautiful,” he muttered without even realizing he’d spoken aloud.
After the orcas had all taken a close look at their company, they disappeared below the waves. Dirk thought they’d gone for good when a sharp explosion of air precipitated the eruption of an enormous body from the water. The whale with the tallest dorsal fin was completely airborne fifty feet away. He crashed into the serene water with a stunning splash that rocked the kayaks.
Ten minutes later, Dirk and Alma were left in an eerily still silence. It was another several minutes before the trance lifted and he turned to face her.
“That was… I…” he stuttered, suitably stunned by the magnificent experience.
Alma only offered a warm smile. She was filled with the wonder of the moment and Dirk’s enthusiastic reaction. It made her brim with pleasure that he was as fascinated as she was. “We should head back. It’ll be dark soon.”
Dirk looked up at the horizon, noticing the fading daylight for the first time. He followed her silently back to shore. The rental employee looked dismayed when they returned well after dusk and closing time. She looked at her watch pointedly and Dirk apologized without explanation. The young woman rolled her eyes in annoyance and locked the door after them.
He took Alma’s hand as they meandered through the streets and south to the troller. The emotions brought on by the orcas rolled over them as they stepped aboard and they tumbled to the cabin in each other’s arms.
* * *
“Is that the pod you did your research on for the article?” Dirk asked when they were finally on the way to the house for dinner.
“No. I followed the L pod, a lesser known group than J pod.”
“Have you ever-”
“Not like that,” she finished for him.
Still giddy and delighted they’d shared the unique experience together, Dirk put his arm around her shoulders and pulled her in for a kiss in the dark. He had to admit to himself that he hadn’t felt this happy and energetic in years. The vigor he’d noted in Alma at Woods Hole had seeped into his blood.
“Back to Seattle tomorrow, eh?” William said while they sipped port for dessert.
“Yeah,” Alma answered. “Briefing for the exhibition starts tomorrow afternoon.”
“What exactly are you studying?” Dirk asked.
“Migration. I’m hoping to focus on orcas, but gray whales and others also migrate north this time of year, too.”
“Will J or L pod migrate?”
“No. They tend to stick around the Sound year round.”
“Lucky them!” he exclaimed lightly. Pan appeared at his side and nudged his hand for a pat on the head.
“He seems to like you,” Ava pointed out. She’d silently noted the dog’s unusual attention towards Dirk over the past few days.
“I have an affinity for dogs, especially labs,” he admitted. “I had a couple as a kid. We were pretty inseparable.” He smiled at the fond memories. “One looked a lot like Pan.” A scratch behind the dog’s ear produced a low moan from the creature and the family laughed.
Eventually, the couple rose to leave.
“It was a pleasure to meet you, Dirk!” Ava said sincerely, hugging him tight.
“Thank you for having me!”
“You’re welcome any time,” William replied, drawing an identical surprised glance from his daughter and wife. The men shook hands.
“I’ll see you in a few weeks,” Alma promised. She had plans to return to Friday Harbor for a week after the exhibition north.
Chapter 15
Black and white giants and beautiful women were the furthest thing from Dirk’s mind. He struggled with the apartment keys, stumbled inside and threw the dead bolt. His mind was foggy with exhaustion and debilitating pain. It was by fortune only that his feet carried him to the kitchen where he shook a handful of painkillers from a bottle and washed it down with a finger of whiskey. After a moment, he sloshed another two fingers into a glass and shot it. The liquid burned unpleasantly in his empty stomach.
Instinct drew him to seek solace from his ordeal in bed, but the couch was as far as he made it. A hardly controlled fall found him sprawled on the sofa.
* * *
Knocking on the apartment door sounded like gunshots in his subconscious. He fell off the sofa and hit the hardwood floor with an agonizing cry. Pain served to wake him instantly and he stumbled to his feet and along the wall to look through the peephole.
“Go away,” he growled, his voice gravelly.
“Let me in,” Christian ordered.
Cursing under his breath, Dirk unlocked the door and returned unsteadily to the kitchen. He tossed back another handful of meds and swallowed it with another whiskey. Christian watched in concern from the entryway as his friend staggered back to the couch. When Dirk was safely situated, he moved to perch on the opposite end of the sofa. A long, uncomfortable silence followed. Dirk’s head was pressed back into the couch cushions, eyes shut.
“Dirk?”
The only acknowledgment of the address was the rise and fall of labored breathing.
“Man, I’m sorry. I know it sucks.”
“It doesn’t just suck,” D
irk said in a hardly intelligible voice. “I lost an asset.”
“I know.” Christian had seen the young woman fall, dead from a gunshot to the head, had seen the fury grow in his colleague’s face. He’d rather see the fury of that moment than the despondency of this one. The emotions of a failed assignment were one thing. The physical pain that creased the corners of his friend’s eyes was another. “Can I take a look?” he asked quietly.
Dirk opened an eye to see Christian motion toward his left shoulder. Tylenol and whiskey had done little to ebb the throb of pain that pierced the left side of his body. “It’s dislocated,” he muttered.
“Mind if I-” Without warning or consent, he grasped Dirk’s arm and jerked violently.
The stream of ungentlemanly curses pronounced the operation a success. Dirk cradled the injured arm against him, out of Christian’s reach.
“You should get a sling for that.” A sharp glare silenced his medical suggestion and he got to his feet to fill a tumbler with amber liquid. “Can I look at your hand next?” It didn’t take a doctor to see that the man’s hand was mangled and deformed. He extended the whiskey as a peace offering.
A glower set firmly in place, Dirk swept the glass up with his right hand, took a deep swig and extend his left arm again, hand splayed on the couch cushion.
Christian couldn’t help the wince of sympathy that crossed his features as he examined the appendage. “These joints are dislocated too,” he explained, more as a means of apology than diagnosis. His colleague was more than aware of the injuries he’d sustained. Dirk chugged the remainder of the whiskey, gripped the arm of the couch with his right hand, and steeled himself.
This time, only painful grunts accompanied the procedure instead of damning expletives. When Christian finally looked up from setting the hand, Dirk’s jaw was set, his face pale and sweaty. His chest heaved with labored breaths.
“Broken ribs?” He couldn’t imagine a lack of broken bones after the car collision he’d witnessed from afar.
After a long moment of gathering himself, Dirk’s right fingertips groped at the hem of his black T-shirt and drew it up to expose a ribcage that looked more like a mottled steak than human skin.
Christian probed at the bones as gently as possible, but hisses of pain escaped Dirk’s lips. “Sorry,” he apologized sincerely. “I don’t think anything is broken.” He allowed his friend to drop the shirt. “You’re damn lucky! I thought for sure…” He faded out. Dirk clearly did not want a replay of the events overseas. Frowning, Christian sat back on the couch and stared at the brick wall above the television. “Hey, where’s Alma?” he asked after a long silence.
“Washington,” Dirk muttered, surprised to find a modicum of peace in the image of her kayaking with him three weeks ago, her hair fluttering lightly over the water.
“When’s she get home?”
He shrugged with his right shoulder.
Christian suspected what the gesture meant. “It’s Saturday, June thirtieth.” Time could so easily become warped on assignments.
“Tomorrow,” came the muttered reply.
“You should go see her.”
Dirk raised a brow and pointedly glanced at his aching hand and shoulder.
“Just go see her,” Christian encouraged. “It’s not like you’ll be mountain climbing or anything. It’ll be good for you.”
He frowned.
“Fine. Do whatever you want. You’re a big boy. But I don’t want any of this moping crap!”
“Moping?” Dirk challenged angrily.
“Okay. Fine. You are injured, fair enough. Just don’t let it get you down.” He hesitated and dropped his voice. “I know how ugly that can get. And I have you to thank for pulling me out of it.”
Dirk allowed him an empathetic frown.
“Do you want to me stay?”
“No. I’ll be fine.” The low, quiet voice didn’t hold the intense confidence characteristic of the man.
“Can I trust you to take it easy on the whiskey and painkillers?”
He sighed heavily and nodded once.
Christian frowned in concern. “Fine. You know how to reach me. Get some rest.” With that, he let himself out.
Dirk let out a long, measured breath, stretched his legs out on the sofa, and fell into a deep slumber.
* * *
Over twelve hours passed before he woke. He had to admit that his injuries ached less due to Christian’s ministrations. Groaning at the effort, he climbed to his feet and, holding his left arm and hand tight to his chest to reduce jarring, went to the kitchen. The painkillers being swallowed were less in number and chased by a full Nalgene of water.
Then he moved to the bedroom, stripped down to boxers and slid between soft, cool sheets that worked magic on the strains in his body. After an hour staring at the ceiling with mixed thoughts swirling in his mind’s eye, he managed to drift off again.
Chapter 16
It was late morning on July 2 when Dirk entered the Lighthouse Café. Despite the pleasant temperature outside, he wore an MIT hoodie, his left hand buried in the pocket as an incognito sling.
Alma waved at him from her usual table where two large mugs of coffee were steaming. She jumped up to hug him. A sudden peace of mind rolled over him as he returned the hug one-armed. Christian had been right: seeing Alma had instantly improved his poor mindset.
Alma studied Dirk as he took the first sip of coffee. He looked fine, at least everything except that unusual crease in the corner of his eye and the dark sea green of his irises.
“How was the exhibition north?” he asked, his tone quiet and pleasant.
Alma dismissed her musings to answer. “Fabulous! I was able to add significantly to my research on orca migration habits and how they interact with migrating gray whales. It was an incredible experience!” She went on to outline how the orcas had made a handful of attempts to separate gray whale calves from their mothers, similar to the practice of pods farther south in Monterey Bay. “But by the time they reach Alaska, the calves are too big and the orcas gave up, instead preying on the multitudes of salmon pouring into the Gulf and seal pups just learning to swim. They’re very resourceful and seem to adapt to each unique environment.”
Dirk listened with interest. After spending what he considered intimate time with the magnificent creatures, he felt somehow invested. The entire time she spoke, the pains eased from his bones. “Did you see J pod again when you went back home?”
She shook her head. “No. They kept to themselves. What we saw…” Her hand grasped his across the table. “…that was exceptional. They don’t put on a show for everyone.”
Dirk smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks.
Alma was relieved at his warm expression; it curbed the concern his pained eyes invoked. “How have you been? Have you been out on the water?”
“Only once, right when I got home. It proved quite a disappointment compared to Puget Sound.”
She shrugged. “Well, it’s not every day you’re included in an orca pod’s frolicking.”
“Hmm,” Dirk hummed. “You’re right; it’s all in the company.” The twinkle in his eye indicated exactly whom he considered adequate company and Alma blushed.
“Have you been busy at work?”
The innocent question raised a flood of reluctant images. Even the most intense training couldn’t prevent the ephemeral shadow that crossed his face. “Yes,” he answered quietly, gaze fixed on the dregs of coffee remaining in the mug.
Alma’s frown was gone by the time he looked up. “You’re off for the holiday?”
He nodded.
“Do you have plans?” Her tone was tentative. They’d not seen each other in nearly a month and had really never set any relationship terms in concrete.
In years past, Dirk had spent the 4th on the water, watching fireworks from the kayak. But as he couldn’t lift his left arm, let alone paddle, that was out of the question. A shake of his head answered her question.
/> “Well, I wondered if you wanted to see the Boston Pops Fireworks Spectacular.”
“I would love to! I’m a huge fan of the Boston Pops.”
Alma grinned. “I know. I saw the CDs at your apartment. I already bought two tickets.”
Dirk chuckled at her acumen. “Perfect!”
“I was also going to suggest a kayaking trip to Lake Champlain over the weekend, but…”
He raised a brow expectantly.
“But I’m thinking that perhaps a laid-back cottage on Cape Cod would be more fitting.”
Dirk shifted uncomfortably in his seat. It was an alien sentiment to be at the receiving end of an analytical stare such as this.
“I mean, it doesn’t seem like you’d be up for paddling with that shoulder.” She waited for astonishment to cross his features. “Are you going to tell me what happened?”
Dirk realized that despite the impromptu sling of a hoodie pocket, he was sitting awkwardly, a minute detail that would have escaped the majority of individuals. “You caught me. I was in a car accident.” The lie was prefabricated. It wouldn’t explain his injuries if she knew of the multiple dislocations, but it would account for a sore arm, hand, and abdominal bruising.
“Are you alright?” Her tone was full of concern, but lacked the typical feminine panic, which Dirk appreciated.
“I’ll be fine,” he promised. He forced a light-hearted grin. “You’ll just have to take it easy on me for a bit.”
Her smile was sweet and compassionate and made Dirk ever more regretful that even breathing hurt. “I’ll try. More coffee?”
* * *
“Mmm. This is more my speed right now,” Dirk cooed as he sank into the Jacuzzi. The bruises seemed to ease almost instantly in the steaming water.
Alma set their cocktails on the air-filter cover and slipped in beside him. “You enjoyed the fireworks?”
“Absolutely! Thank you!” He sighed and leaned back on an affixed cushion. “But it’s nice to be alone with you.”
Alma smiled and snuggled under his right arm.
“This feels nice,” he muttered into the dark night.