by A Rosendale
“I bet.”
“I mean this,” he squeezed her closer to him, “feels nice.”
The warm flush of her skin had nothing to do with the hot water. She cleared her throat and smiled. “Yeah, it does.”
* * *
Dirk struggled with his tie. His left hand still ached and his fingers were slow and unsteady. He hoped mobility would return with time and healing.
With a warm, silent smile, Alma appeared from the bathroom to tighten and straighten the tie. She kissed his lips gently and proceeded to thread small stud earrings through her earlobes.
Dirk’s heart swelled at the simple gesture. He gingerly pulled on a blazer and waited by the front door. The condo Alma had rented was quiet and private, just a few blocks from Cape Cod Bay.
“Ready?” he asked when she smoothed the black dress and stepped into a pair of heels.
“Yep.” She took his hand and they walked to the car.
“How did you hear about this place?” Alma asked when they pulled up to the Golf Club.
Dirk shrugged with his good shoulder. “Just a tourist guide I read.” He wasn’t about to tell her that he’d wined and dined a dignitary or two at the fancy restaurant.
A tuxedoed host guided them to a table and delivered two flutes of champagne.
Alma watched in surprise. Neither she nor Dirk had said a word about drinks. Then she caught sight of Dirk’s mysterious smile and narrowed her eyes.
“How did you know?” she demanded, the corner of her lip curling into a grin.
“Your mom shared your birthday with me while we were in Washington.” He dug in his jacket to extract a long, thin black box and handed it across the table. “She said you tend to breeze over the occasion. I couldn’t help myself.”
Alma removed gold ribbon from the box and opened it. A silver necklace with a sapphire bound in a white-gold infinity knot glittered within. “Wow! Dirk, you didn’t-”
“I saw it and thought, ‘God, that would make Alma’s eyes pop.’”
She smiled sheepishly. “Can I wear it now?”
“Absolutely!”
She fastened it quickly around her slender neck and toyed with the gem for a moment.
Dirk hummed appreciatively. “I was right!” He gazed intently at her silvery eyes. Then he raised his glass and clinked it against hers. “Happy birthday!”
“Thank you! I love it!”
“You’re welcome! And thank you for including me in your annual birthday travels.”
She narrowed her eyes again. “I’m not sure how I feel about you spending so much time with my mom,” she said suspiciously, but the smile on her lips belied her serious tone.
“I think we got along swimmingly,” he laughed.
When the waiter arrived, Dirk ordered two Maine Lobster Tails without hesitation.
“Oh, I meant to tell you,” Alma said as they sipped champagne. “Stacy called while you were in the shower. She and Rick and Mark are going out tomorrow for a leisurely sail. She asked if we’d like to join them.”
“That sounds like fun.”
The lobster arrived quickly; it was a popular dish the chef was undoubtedly adept at preparing. They ate in near silence, focused on the delicious delicacy.
“What would you like to do now?” Dirk asked as they finished the champagne and he paid the check.
Alma frowned. “I don’t know. I’m not used to sharing a birthday dinner with a charming, handsome gentleman.” She was pleased to see his cheeks flush at the description.
“How about we drive back to the condo and take a walk?” he suggested.
“Perfect!”
The drive was short and Alma linked her arm with Dirk’s as they walked toward the bay. Once they were on the sandy beach, she kicked off her heels to carry in one hand and clasped Dirk’s hand with the other.
“So, what were your favorite birthdays as a kid?”
She thought for a moment. “Well, we moved to Friday Harbor when I was nine-”
“I didn’t realize you’d lived elsewhere,” Dirk interrupted.
“We lived in Sacramento while my dad worked for NOAA. I don’t remember much before we moved. I know one birthday we had a party at a swimming pool and another at a bowling alley or miniature golf or something. We moved to Washington as my grandfather was growing frail. We lived with him for two years before he passed away. But my best birthday must have been my tenth when my parents took me on a whale watching tour for the first time. I’ve clearly been obsessed ever since.”
Dirk laughed. “Clearly!”
“What was your favorite birthday?”
“I think I was twelve or thirteen when my dad took me on a camping trip to Yellowstone. I was amazed! The waterfalls, the mountains, the geysers and hot springs…” He shook his head. “They still give me chills.”
Alma squeezed his hand and he glanced at her. She was smiling thoughtfully. Her pale feet made not a sound as she floated across the sand.
“Have you ever been?” he asked.
“To Yellowstone?” She shook her head. “No. I’d like to.”
“Where else would you like to visit?”
“Ha! That’s a loaded question! I love traveling!”
He grinned at her zeal. “I do, too,” he admitted.
“I’d like to see the Mediterranean, Paris, London, the Azores, Indonesia, the Great Barrier Reef, Rio de Janiero… Everywhere! I would like to visit everywhere! Where do you want to go?”
Dirk considered the long list of foreign destinations he’d already been to. Experiences sprang to mind, not all unpleasant. A number of beautiful faces merged with the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben, Saint Peter’s Basilica, and numerous other notable historical sites. They all seemed to pale compared to this very moment, on a mild dark night on Cape Cod, with a slender, calloused hand enveloped in his and sparkling silver eyes gazing into the distance.
“Anywhere,” he answered after a brief pause. “France, England, Australia… I’d travel anywhere.”
“Where’s your favorite place to travel? Rome, the Coliseum?” she guessed. She recalled the snapshot in his living room.
He tilted his head back and forth. “That’s definitely in my top five.”
“What are the other four?”
Dirk thought for a moment. Their entwined hands swung lightly to their leisurely gait. “I like the Tower of London.”
“Isn’t it dark and cold?”
He nodded. “But steeped in history, like a fine Earl Grey.” His tone was wispy and nostalgic. The Tower was a place he liked to visit all alone, to revel in the dark memories of the place.
Alma glanced at him. She adored the faraway look in his eyes, the way they were slightly creased as if he could physically see the narrow, stone corridors before him.
“And then there’s the Basilica di Wilten in Innsbruck, Austria. I’m not a religious man by any means, but I could sit in that sanctuary all day, just taking in the architecture and art and smelling the spent candle wicks.”
She swore she caught a whiff of melting wax and extinguished flames. The scent wove into the salty air and had a dizzying effect, especially when combined with his wistful description and deep voice.
“Are you alright?” he asked softly when the pendulum of their hands stuttered.
She nodded. “Go on.”
“The Taj Mahal. The actual complex is one thing, but the beautiful love story behind it is another. The emperor had it constructed as a mausoleum for his wife, who died in childbirth. According to the story, he had the architect’s hands amputated after the 22-year construction so nothing so beautiful could ever be created again.”
“That’s dark, but sentimental. What about number five?”
“I suppose number five is more of an experience than a destination.”
“Oh?” For some reason, she anticipated some romantic tale of his own in some far off corner of the world.
“Yeah. It happened in a little known, watery part of the globe. In a kayak
, of course. The sea was so still, that you could practically see your reflection in it. It was almost a sin to disturb the placid water with an paddle.” He sneaked a glance at Alma, listening intently to his description. “But it was no sin when these magnificent creatures appeared from the depths, their glistening black dorsal fins slicing the surface with neat, silent wakes.” He watched as her lips curled into a brilliant smile when she realized the picture he was painting. He stalled their forward momentum with a gentle tug on her arm and she turned to face him. “Then these extraordinary beings presented themselves with absolute majesty by dipping their heads out of the water. And finally, when they were finished perusing the unusual company they kept, one of them gave a brilliant display of aerial prowess, sending ripples of magnificent waves across the pristine surface. And then they were gone, as if from a dream.” He planted his hands on her hips. “But do you know the best part?”
“Hmm?”
“There was a second kayak adorned with a most precious cargo. And the very best part is that I got to share such a magical moment with someone as equally brilliant and beautiful.”
“You are quite the magician of words,” Alma breathed.
“You are quite the magician of hearts,” Dirk replied just before he kissed her, long and deep, Cape Cod lapping gently at their backs.
Chapter 17
“Welcome aboard!” Stacy greeted. She hugged Alma and then Dirk.
“Hey there!” Mark greeted, sweeping Alma up moments later. He clasped Dirk’s hand. “We won’t need a bucket for the landlubber, right?” he joked.
Dirk laughed lightheartedly at the jest. “I’m sure I’ll be fine.”
Stacy reintroduced him to her husband, Rick. The two exchanged firm handshakes while Stacy and Alma moved off to set the yacht in motion. Soon, everyone joined them in the wheelhouse.
Mid-afternoon, they paused the cruise in order to gather in the cabin to have a snack of dried meats and cheeses. They were talking and laughing when an unmistakable crack carried across the water outside.
Dirk’s entire body tautened at the sound and he rushed with the others outside. Mark raised a pair of binoculars.
“That fisherman is shooting at a pod of dolphins!” he declared at the same moment another shot rang out and a small splash of water announced the bullet’s entrance to the sea. A chitter of squeaks and whistles filled the air. The fishing boat was less than fifty yards away and fifteen or so sleek, dark gray bodies slipped beneath the waves between the two boats.
“You blasted-” the burly man declared as he fired another shot.
“Oh my God!” Stacy screamed. “He hit one!”
A dark body jetted away from the fisherman, startling fast at first, but sluggish as it neared the yacht. Dirk was focused on how to disarm the fisherman when he caught movement out the corner of his eye. Alma had shed her light jacket and kicked off her shoes.
“Alma!” he shouted. “Alma!”
Before he could stop her, she dove into the cold Atlantic water.
He drew a visual line between the crazed fisherman’s wild gun and her diving figure. Without a second thought, he dove after her. The cold water stole his breath and made his injured joints seize. Willpower alone allowed him to reach out and start stroking across the choppy surface.
When he surfaced, Alma was already at the dolphin’s side, running a calming hand over the hourglass emblem on its side, muttering reassurances under her breath. Dirk instinctively positioned himself between her and the shooter. He shot a glance up at the yacht where Mark was leveling a flare gun at the fishing boat and Stacy had a radio in hand. When he looked back at the dolphin, blood swirled around it. The pitiful creature gave a puff of air, but all that escaped its blowhole was pink mist. Blood bubbled from the slit in the top of its body and streamed from the bullet hole in its side. The fluke bobbed halfheartedly in the surf. Blubber was the only buoyancy.
Alma pressed her hands over the injury, cooing softly. Another wisp of red mist sprayed weakly into the air. The dolphin squeaked faintly.
“The bullet pierced a lung,” Dirk said, treading water behind her. He shot a look over his shoulder, but the waves shielded the fishing boat from his gaze. “There’s nothing we can do.”
He heard what sounded like a sob, but when he looked at Alma, her face was set and angry. The dolphin gave a last insipid breath. Muscles in its fluke stopped working and soon the creature floated inertly on the waves.
“He’s leaving,” Rick called down to them.
“How is she?” Stacy asked.
Alma shook her head.
There was a moment of silent acceptance.
“We should bring her on board. I’ll get the crane ready.” Stacy and Mark disappeared from the rail five feet above the deceased mammal.
Mark returned to drop a mesh sling down to them. Alma started working the material under and around the animal. When Dirk realized she was utilizing a sling, he swam over to help her. As they worked, a mechanical buzz sounded over the aft deck of the yacht. Stacy dropped a heavy line and hook down to the water, to which Dirk clipped an O-ring. Alma motioned and the crane easily lifted the 200lb dolphin to the deck. Once the operation was complete, Alma led the way to the swim deck and they crawled up a short ladder. She cast a last glance at the animal and marched into the cabin.
Dirk followed. He pulled a blanket from the back of an armchair and slung it around Alma. Even in summer, the North Atlantic waters were bone chillingly cold. He finished tightening the blanket around her shoulders and studied her face.
Hot tears of fury slipped down her cheeks to combine with salty seawater. He’d anticipated tears, but the clenched jaw and fiery anger that turned her eyes the hue of Rocky Mountain thunderclouds surprised him. The ruthless shooting may have saddened her, but the trembling in her limbs was of utmost rage, not grief.
“Are you alright?” he finally asked. His voice wavered with a sudden shiver.
“I’m fine,” she growled.
Another chill wracked Dirk’s body and he stepped away to pick another blanket off the sofa. He struggled to drape it around himself. His left shoulder was completely locked and unresponsive.
Alma stepped forward and tugged the fabric firmly around him. “Are you okay?” The mask of fury cracked under concern. She suddenly felt guilty. She couldn’t imagine how painful swimming had been with a bad shoulder; combined with the freezing water temperature, he must be miserable.
“Fine.” Facing her now and watching her stormy eyes lighten, he recalled the breathless moment he’d watched her dive into the gunman’s path. He released a heavy sigh of relief and stepped closer to touch her shoulder. “I was terrified when I saw that madman shooting towards you. And…” Their gazes locked intensely. “And I don’t scare easily, Alma.”
The sincerity of that statement didn’t escape her. She’d never heard his voice quite that low and intense.
Dirk’s fingers moved to cup her jaw. Neither of them looked away from the silent conversation passing between their respectively steely and stormy gazes until Mark entered.
“Coast Guard is here,” he announced with a glance between them.
Dirk shot him a curt nod and they followed him on deck.
The coast guard officers that came alongside listened to the account, noted the fisherman’s description and boat call name, then asked for everyone’s IDs to include in the official statement.
Dirk had to give them credit; they didn’t blink an eye when they returned his ID to him. As a government branch, they would have undoubtedly hit a blunt roadblock when they ran his identification, one that provided next to no information about the strange, blanket clad man standing among scientists.
“They asked the four of us to come back to testify,” Alma said when the Coast Guard cutter pulled away, taking the carcass with them. “But not you,” she pointed out with a raised brow.
Dirk glanced at the others who were still standing across the deck at the starboard rail. He shrugge
d. “I can’t really offer any expertise on the matter, I guess.”
“Guys!” Mark called and they stepped over to the others. “You both okay?”
They shrugged and nodded in tandem.
“Did you see how the pod blocked them?” Stacy asked, an inkling of scientific excitement leaking back into her tone.
“What?” Alma’s brow furrowed.
“Yeah. The pod moved between you and the fisherman. It looked like they were trying to distract him and block you and their injured pal. Look.” Rick held out his phone on which he’d recorded the whole affair.
Dirk watched in amazement at dark, sleek bodies leapt into the air at breakneck speeds, just feet from the crazed fisherman while others swam, pacing between the yacht and the fishing boat. “That’s incredible!” he muttered.
“Dolphins have been known to protect both pod members and humans. One story tells of a pod surrounding a pair of swimmers, fending off a great white shark until the humans reached land,” Alma explained. She shook her head in amazement. “I’ve never seen it myself, though.”
They stood silently for a moment, internalizing the day’s crazy events.
“Let’s go home,” Stacy declared finally. Without argument, she entered the wheelhouse and gunned the motor.
* * *
“How’s your shoulder?” Alma asked as they entered the condo late that night. Drinks and dinner at Stacy and Rick’s had mellowed the experience, but she could still see a crease of pain at the corner of his eye.
“It’ll be fine.”
“I didn’t mean to put you in danger,” she apologized, tossing the car keys on a table.
Dirk scoffed, a low, deep grunt of incredulity. She had no idea! “Don’t worry about it. I’d follow you to the depths of the Earth.” He laughed. “Clearly!”
His light mood lifted hers and she laughed with him before planting a gentle kiss on his lips.
“Maybe a dip in the spa will ease your pain,” she suggested.
“That sounds glorious!”
“I’ll meet you there.” She kissed him again, lingering this time. “Sans trunks,” she whispered and disappeared.