by A Rosendale
“Here you are,” she replied coolly.
“What was included in your lecture?”
Grudgingly, Alma gave a footnote version of her speech, grazing over the moments that Dirk had been included in.
“You really saw J pod up that close?” He clung to the very details Alma didn’t want to discuss.
“Yeah. It was pretty special.”
“Hell, yeah!” He shook his head appreciatively. “I miss the Sound. And I miss hearing your voice.”
Despite his nostalgic tone, Alma frowned.
“I must admit I have an ulterior motive for coming to Boston to see you.”
She bit her tongue to refrain from a snide reply.
“I’d like to collaborate with you on a study.”
“Of what?”
“I don’t know. Anything. Your choice.”
“For what purpose?”
“To work together again. I don’t know, maybe we could rekindle something along the way. You have to admit, we were great together, both academically and physically.”
No longer able to contain the cynicism, Alma said, “Oh, I’ll admit it. At least, until you started stealing my work or ‘accidentally’ forgetting to submit my name with a collab article.”
“That was a mistake!” Zach insisted. “And I’m sorry to this day! It won’t happen again. I swear!”
Alma smiled darkly. “You’re right. It won’t.” She stood up abruptly. “And by the way, I still don’t like lattes, a fact that my former fiancé should be well aware of!” With that, she stormed out of the coffee shop. At the end of the block, she let out a scoff. ‘At least Dirk chased me,’ she thought bitterly, glancing over her shoulder at the empty sidewalk. The only other occupant of the entire block was an unassuming man huddled at the bus stop across the street.
* * *
It wasn’t until she was home and brewing her own pot of coffee that she realized there was a missed call and voicemail on her phone. Groaning at a caller ID that read ‘Miles, Prof BU’, she touched the play button.
“Hey, Alma, it’s Brandon Miles.” He broke off for a rueful laugh. “I don’t know about you, but my head feels like a Texas marching band is having a hell of a rehearsal. Anyway, about last night…” He cleared his throat. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve looked forward to…to what we did last night. But, as I’m sure you’re aware and probably telling yourself right now, it can never happen again. As wonderful as it was to finally kiss you, it’s not fair to either of our careers to get involved, don’t you think?” Another laugh. “Sorry, I know you can’t reply to a message. God, my head hurts. Anyway, I hope you have a delightful summer and I really hope you can have at least a modicum of fun, despite the circumstances. I lo-” A quick uncomfortable clear of the throat. “Whoa. That was weird. Sorry! I…I just better hang up before this gets more awkward and I send myself down an even rougher road. Have a good summer, Dr. Decker.”
The message ended with a wave of absolute relief crashing over her. She’d been forming a similar conversation in her mind throughout the walk from the café.
Empowered by her ability to rightfully shove Zach’s proposition back at him and utterly relieved at Miles’s declaration of neutrality, she sank onto the sofa with a steaming mug of coffee. Now if she could just scrub Dirk’s betrayal from mind, a decent summer might still be salvaged.
Chapter 29
“It’s exquisite!” Alma exclaimed at the conclusion of Steven’s tour of accommodations and nearby beach access. “Thank you again!”
Attenborough hesitated to nod as if he thought she might regret her words.
“Truly! I’m looking forward to basking in the sun and observing Caribbean wildlife for a change.”
“You’re welcome,” he finally allowed, choosing to stare out to sea rather than meet her gaze. “I’ve got to go check my dive gear for tomorrow. It’s a difficult dive, you know. Don’t need any mistakes.” Without waiting for a reply, he hurried across the beach to a long dock that jutted into the brilliant green waters.
At low tide, the surf would be crashing another hundred feet further out, but now, at high tide, waves lapped gently at the white beach sands only thirty feet from a modest hut that would serve as her lodging for the week.
Determined to relax and enjoy herself, Alma changed into a purple and pink single-piece swimsuit, retrieved a beach towel, and headed for the water. She dropped her towel and sandals on the sand and waded out. The sea was blissfully warm at this latitude. When it was waist deep, she lifted her feet and lounged onto her back to leisurely backstroke to deeper water. The sun beat relentlessly down, but the water was so comfortable, the brutal rays were worth it. Closing her eyes, she drifted on the surface.
After a while, she turned over and decided to exercise in her favorite manner. She swam the width of the cove, stopping at a short sandstone cliff for a breather, before repeating the action.
* * *
“You’re a bloody good swimmer,” Steven complimented at dinner. They were lounging in beach chairs on the patio of the main hut with six or seven other scientists. Kabobs of fresh shrimp were on the grill. The dinner guests all nursed one Caribbean cocktail or another.
“Thanks,” she replied, snatching a dried pineapple from a nearby dish. Tanned legs stretched out on the foot of the chaise below a pair of khaki shorts. Her ankles were crossed leisurely. Bare feet were caked with beach sand.
“Have you ever thought of getting your dive certificate?”
“Yeah. I think it’d be great! But the dark, cold waters up north don’t often call for scuba diving.”
He nodded in agreement. “Sure. But you could always relocate your studies.”
“That’s true.”
“There are even orcas that live in the Gulf of Mexico, so your true love would never be far away.”
She laughed at how well he knew her train of thought. “Right.” She thought of observing J Pod, arguably the most famous pod of whales in the world, from kayaks a year ago. The memory made her frown, both from the company it brought to mind and the magnificent creatures she felt eternally bound to. “Unfortunately, I feel obligated to the pods I’ve come to know. I know that sounds petty-”
“No, no! I completely understand! There’s a world worth of nautical history and thousands of maritime wrecks I’ve yet to explore, but I’m always drawn back to my few favorites.” He nodded at her nearly empty glass. “’Nother cocktail?”
“No, thank you.” Determined to never repeat the embarrassing events of only three days ago, she’d sworn to moderate liquor for the foreseeable future.
After dinner most of the scientists retired, claiming busy days to come. Alma was left alone. She hadn’t dedicated herself to any concrete research. Steven had promised a relaxing vacation while the others were away during the days. She was resolute to take advantage of all leisure possible while casually observing the wildlife.
With her mission in mind, she left the patio and walked down the beach far enough to escape the ambient light of the huts. Then she lounged back on the sand, hands behind her head, and gazed up at the celestial brilliance above.
* * *
By the time Alma crawled from bed the next morning, the camp was deserted. She ate a bowl of fresh fruit for breakfast before setting off to explore the island further. Drawn as always to the sea, she embarked on a sandy trek on the beach, carrying her sandals in case of rockier terrain to come.
It was midday when she noticed a figure walking in the opposite direction towards her. She disregarded the silhouette as just another island visitor. The humid heat had long since soaked her tank top. She was glad sunscreen was readily available at the hut or this evening would prove painful.
For another hundred feet, she walked, relishing the soft sand between her toes. When her feet got too hot, she’d simply walk in the surf for a while. She was cooling herself just this way when she realized the figure had stopped twenty feet away. A hard glare leapt to her face when she saw wh
o it was.
Dirk stood on the sand, his feet encased in his trusty kayaking Chacos and wearing khaki cargo pants and a black polo shirt. Sunglasses perched on his nose as he stared at her.
“Why are you here?” she demanded angrily. Every ounce of Zen she’d managed to adopt in the past 24 hours faded instantly in a rush of rage. “No. You know, it doesn’t matter why. Get the hell away from me.”
“Alma.” His deep voice nearly undid her.
“Go away!” Her own voice was harsh and menacing.
He took a step forward and lifted his glasses.
‘Damn you!’ she thought as an instant comparison rose to mind between his beautiful irises and the blue-green waves flowing over her feet.
“Alma, let me explain. Please.”
She crossed her arms stubbornly and redoubled her glare.
Dirk sighed and took another step closer, as if being within arms reach would absolutely assure him an audience.
“Let’s hear it, then,” she said derisively.
“I…” He shook his head and offered her a gentle smile. “I’ve always admired your tenacity.”
When his expression did little to loosen her posture, he sighed again. “Well, you see, I can’t.”
Alma threw her hands in the air. “What a surprise!” She turned and marched back along the waterline.
“No, no!” he exclaimed, jogging to catch up to her. “You don’t understand. I can’t explain it to you without something else.” He shook his head again as if realizing how outlandish his request was going to sound. Frowning, he dug in his pocket and opened a small velvet box.
“You have got to be kidding!” she exclaimed and started off again.
“Alma, listen to me.” He hurried to keep up with her. “Please, just stop and listen. I want to tell you what happened. I want to tell you everything! But I can’t! I absolutely can’t tell you unless we’re at least engaged, and even that is pushing regulations.”
The last word drew her up short. “Regulations?” she scoffed.
His face remained serious. “I envisioned this going so much differently. I bought this ring a month ago and had such plans! But…” He shrugged in defeat. “But I screwed up. And now I need you to be patient with me and listen.”
She fixed him with a deadly stare moderated only by her sunglasses.
“Just please say ‘yes’ so I can explain,” he begged, lowering to one knee. He was at a complete loss; there was no way he could anticipate her answer. “Alma Decker, please marry me.”
“What if I say ‘yes’ now to hear your explanation and then say ‘no’ later?” she demanded skeptically.
“Well, then I’d have to kill you.” He smiled at his own joke, but could see the humor wasn’t appreciated right now. Clearing his throat he corrected, “Then I’ll respect your decision and you’ll never see me again.”
“Never?” she pressed as if the idea were tempting.
It felt like a spear through his gut. “Never.”
She frowned down at him as water lapped at her ankles. “Fine. Yes. Let’s hear it.” She extended her left hand and he slid a sparkling white gold diamond ring onto her finger. Refusing to inspect it, she waved him on.
“Will you come back to my hotel?”
“No way.”
“Then can we go to where you’re staying?”
“Nope.”
Rolling his eyes in aggravation, he gained his feet. “Fine. Will you at least sit down with me?”
Hesitantly, she stepped out of the water. Dirk sat on the sand ten feet from the surf and leaned back on his hands. She moved a few feet away and copied his posture.
Relieved that she was at last willing to listen, he began the speech he’d rehearsed all the way from Boston. “I know what you saw. And I’m sorry. It wasn’t what it looked like. That woman was Congressman Johnson’s mistress.”
“What?! You sick-”
He held up an impatient hand to stop her outburst. “She testified against Johnson last week. He’s been sentenced to ninety-nine years in prison for treason due to her testimony. I was providing a security detail while she was in the city.”
“’Security detail’? You’re a computer analyst.”
He frowned. “No, I’m not. I work for the CIA. Most of my assignments are never officially recorded. I specialize in reconnaissance. My work takes me around the globe. Hence, my critical concern with Johnson’s mistress. I’m intimately aware of his un-American agenda.”
“Which was?”
Dirk grimaced. “There are, and always will be, certain details I can’t share, even with you.”
Alma raised a brow in disbelief and reached for the ring.
“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” he muttered under his breath. “Fine. Johnson was specifically involved with former Cold War operatives. He was working on a seemingly foreign terrorist attack on a number of Naval bases on United States soil. He’d poised himself financially and politically to swoop to the rescue at the last minute, therefore elevating himself to ever-greater potential within the government while costing thousands of American lives.”
Now she stared at him wide-eyed. After a moment of processing, she shook her head. “Okay. And his mistress? She was pretty attractive, especially in that skimpy dress. Not to mention her roaming hands.”
He winced. “Yeah. She was a bit handsy. But I swear to you,” he held her gaze intently, “nothing happened. I would never do that to you.” His earnestness drove home the promise.
After a tension filled silence, Alma nodded slowly. She found herself twirling the ring idly and forced herself to stop. “And the phone calls in the middle of the night? Those are orders coming through?”
He nodded.
“How long have you been in the CIA?”
His eyes rolled back as he counted the years. “Thirteen years.”
“And MIT?”
“I really went to MIT. Graduated top of my class, but no record will ever show that. I really was a computer consultant for the Navy for a year. I was recruited after that, you could say.”
“Montana? Your family?” She shook her head. “Sorry, but I’m trying to discern fact from fiction now. Just how much did you lie to me?”
“Alma, that’s not fair. It’s my job and on top of that, you could have been compromised had you known all the details.”
“And now?” she demanded.
“That’s something we’ll need to discuss as soon as all your questions are satisfied.”
Alma realized she should be completely railroaded, but somehow she’d always known there was more to him. She narrowed her eyes. “The poison?” she pried, as much as a test of his promise of answers as to learn the truth.
Dirk extended his legs before him as if simply recalling the experience made him stiff with pain. “I was tracking a foreign terrorist in Argentina. I saw an opportunity to apprehend him. During the ensuing altercation, he stuck me with a needle.” He fixed her with a sincere stare. “I really do owe my life to you. If you hadn’t been there and acted accordingly, I would have been dead by morning.”
She frowned at the memory and was suddenly reminded of an absolute fact: she loved Dirk with all her heart. It was a show of his love and faith in her that he was willing to share these intimate details of his life and career. “And the ‘car accident’ last summer?”
By now the sun was easing down to the horizon. Shadows were growing longer across the beach.
“There was, in fact, a car accident involved. Unfortunately, the woman I was attempting to rescue in Dubai was killed. Prior to our escape, I found myself facing her captors. My shoulder was dislocated by their efforts, as well as several joints in my left hand.” The shadow that crossed his face at the mention of losing a life reassured Alma to his good heartedness.
Lost in thought, she turned her gaze from his eyes out to the identically hued sea.
Dirk tensed in regret of what question he knew must come next. He waited for several long minutes be
fore she stirred and faced him.
“And January?”
No other description was needed. Unconsciously, Dirk flexed his right hand, which sported the more severe white scar. He took a deep breath, reluctant to relive the ordeal, even briefly. He stared out at the horizon for a while. “Um,” he started hesitantly. He was aware of Alma shifting in the sand, moving closer to hear his suddenly quiet voice in the ensuing dusk. “I was in Iraq. I heard about an ISIS outpost and foolishly pursued the lead without backup. My Land Rover was targeted and I was taken hostage.”
Perhaps she heard the strain in his voice, or perhaps she recalled the occasions he’d bursted awake shouting for refuge, but Alma moved even closer and her hand found his in the sand. He shot her a glance of appreciation and took in her sympathy, but also her persistence. She hurt for him, but she needed to know the reason for it. ‘And she deserves to know the cause of all those sleepless nights,’ he thought.
“I told them I was a reporter, but they apparently knew better.”
“You were…tortured?” she whispered.
He nodded, staring at the ocean without really seeing it.
“Go on,” she urged after a long silence.
He wasn’t sure what to include from this point.
“Were you rescued?”
He shook his head. “No one could risk it, even if they knew where I was. To come after me would have been a red flag.”
“So you didn’t tell them who you were?”
“No. I couldn’t. They would have…” He stopped himself, but was certain she’d be able to fill in the silence. Sure enough, the notion of his demise made her squeeze his hand tight.
“So what happened?”
“I escaped.”
“How? You were in bad shape when you got home. I can’t imagine getting away.”
“The alternative…” For an instant, he was back on the dusty floor of the hut, the vile man straddling him. A forceful tremble shook him despite the equatorial climate. He cleared his throat and focused on the sand. “The alternative was unacceptable.”
Alma couldn’t imagine the fortitude or the circumstances that had driven him across the desert and back to her arms. The first look he’d given her upon returning from Iraq was burned into her memory as the most forlorn, pained expression she’d ever seen.