He nodded. "It suits the new me. Besides, it's the only name Georgia's ever known me by."
Nellie saw Georgia smile at him, and caught the unspoken words of love between them. "When were you two married?" she asked.
"A couple of weeks ago," Vernon replied.
"But where?" Nellie asked. "Is there a preacher here?"
"Yes, in that church down there." Vernon pointed to a slender steeple gracing a church. "I admit, it was a whirlwind romance, but I have no regrets, and I don't think Georgia does either."
Nellie looked toward the docks. "You'll both have to come see the Isadora," she said. "You'll love it now that it's all fixed up. Will and Mike and I painted and varnished it, and we reupholstered the cushions and put in new carpets so it’s ready when you're free to sail again."
"I won’t be sailing again," Vernon said. "The Isadora’s yours."
"But I can't accept such a gift now that you’re alive," Nellie said. "It wouldn't be right, you living here with no income."
"I have income," Vernon replied, "the marine supply store. It was set up as a front for me, but word's out now, and since it's the only grocery or supply store for miles around, I have more business than I can handle. Georgia and I have even been talking about adding a pub where boaters can stop in for a beer and a sandwich. But I want you to keep the Isadora, if for no reason than to make a retired old sea dog happy. Besides, you and the boy need a way to get here to visit me, and, I assume I can count on Will to captain her, since Nate's now a partner with me in the marine supply store."
Will nodded, but when Nellie glanced at him, she caught an unreadable look in his eyes. Before she could analyze it, Vernon added, "Let's take a look at the work you've done on the old girl and see if we can find my journal."
They collected Mike and headed toward the marina. On board the Isadora, Vernon motioned for them to follow him through the galley to the master stateroom. He opened the closet and passed his hands over several wide boards in the back wall, stopping on one particular board. "It's behind this one," he said, thumping it with the heel of his balled fist.
From the gear locker, Will retrieved a hammer and a nail-puller, pulled out the nails and removed the board. Wedged between the hull and the wall paneling was a metal box. Vernon retrieved the box, opened the lid, and removed the journal. Among the contents was also a small blue velvet box. He opened the box and lifted out a cameo brooch. "This belonged to my grandmother--your great-grandmother and namesake, Cornelia Sinclair," he said to Nellie. "Your great-grandfather gave it to her on their wedding day, and I’ve held onto it for when you marry again." He glanced at Will, then at Nellie, and smiled. "I think it's time you have it. You know something old." He handed the brooch to Nellie.
Nellie's lips quivered in a nervous smile. "It's lovely." She held up the brooch, but when she turned to show it to Will, the dark look on his face said it all. You won't be marrying me.
CHAPTER 11
The following day, the authorities fished the gunman's body out of the water, questioned everyone, and filled out their report. Nellie had been terribly worried that Mike would suffer severe emotional trauma from the ordeal, but he showed little concern, being more interested in following Captain Nate around while the old man recounted tales of his adventures at sea, the same time-worn stories that fascinated her when she was a child.
After the authorities left, Uncle Vern took Nellie aside and told her he intended to pay off the back rent on the boathouse. When Nellie flatly refused to let him, he was adamant that with all the work she'd done on the Isadora to offset the rent he owed, he'd have it no other way. It was her inheritance, but he was still alive to see her enjoy it. He also assured her he was living comfortably in Ocean Bay, where expenses were almost non-existent, and his marina was bringing in a good income. When Nellie still tried to argue that the Isadora was more than adequate compensation, and she should at least pay the back rent, he insisted that she and Mike had been through hell because of him and he'd never be able to sleep at night unless she accepted the Isadora and the back rent paid, and that was that!
Uncle Vern could be very stubborn when he had a mind to be, Nellie remembered.
By the second day, Will was anxious to get back to his whale study. Time was running out and the orca would soon be moving on. Vernon suggested Nellie and Mike stay with him while Will completed his study, and Will wholeheartedly backed the idea. He needed time away from Nellie. He'd told her there would be no promises, but for Nellie he knew that wasn't enough. She loved him, and to Nellie, love meant marriage.
Before he cruised off on the Isadora though, he wanted to come to an understanding with her. He wasn't ready to sever ties, but he couldn't hold her under false pretenses. Marriage was not an option, so the decision to stay with him would be hers. He also knew he'd have no hold on her. When the right man came along, she'd go with him and never look back, a thought Will shoved out of his mind. That evening, Will found Nellie sitting on the pier, staring across the silver-tipped waters of Strathmore Sound. Will had no idea what her thoughts had been the past two days as he'd pretty much kept to himself. "Can I join you?" he asked.
"I was hoping you would." Nellie extended her hand for him to take then pulled him down to sit close beside her. They sat holding hands while listening to waves lapping against pilings.
Gazing at the Isadora, Will tried to dismiss the whole gruesome nightmare with the gunman, but couldn't. The scene seemed etched on his mind—Nellie's stricken face and the horror in her eyes, the gun pressed to her head, a pair of remorseless, faded-blue eyes. And the countdown. The indescribably, terrifying countdown. "Every time I think about what happened and realize how close I came to losing you," he said, "I feel like my insides are being ripped out."
"Good." Nellie snuggled against him. "At least you care enough to worry."
"That seems like an odd thing to say."
Nellie looked up at him. "It does?"
"Of course it does," Will said. He released her hand and slipped his arm around her. "You know damn well I care, that I... love you." His heart quickened. He hadn't intended to say that. He’d never said those words to anyone except his sister.
While looking across the water, Nellie asked, "Do you love me enough to marry me?"
Will anticipated her bringing up the issue of marriage again, but hadn't planned on dealing with it tonight. The fact that he'd admitted his love changed nothing. "Having something special for a short time is better than a lifetime of nothing," he said. "What we have is special, a kind of chemistry I've never felt with anyone. But right now we're filling needs in each other's lives, and needs change."
"That's a cop-out for not facing why you can't make a commitment," Nellie clipped. "But since you refuse to talk about it, I keep thinking back on everything you told me that might give me a clue--your wariness when I said you had the makings of a father. And when I asked why you never married, you shrugged and said you were a loner. There's also the vasectomy, a clear-cut statement about your stance on parenthood. But you won't tell me why."
Will gazed across the water, feeling the emotional chasm that had slowly been separating them growing wider. "I told you to leave it be."
"We've gone beyond that, Will. I can't just leave it be," Nellie said. "But can you answer at least one question?"
Will shrugged. "I'll try."
"What, exactly, do you want from me?"
Will continued to stare in the distance, as he replied, "A loving, caring relationship for however long it lasts."
"That's it?"
"We agreed. There'd be no promises."
"I may have agreed at the time," Nellie said, "but now I realize it was a mistake. For however long as it lasts won’t do for me because I believe true love's enduring, which means, forever, and that love is sealed with a commitment of marriage."
"Love is impermanent," Will said, continuing to stare across the water. "If I could undo everything that's happened between us I would but I can't. I'm
sorry if I hurt you. I never intended to, but I thought we both knew what we were getting into."
Nellie stood. "I still know what I want," she said, "but I refuse to set my convictions about marriage aside, so I guess we have nothing more to talk about." Turning, she walked away, and Will didn't try to stop her. And Nellie faced the realization that for whatever his reason, Will would never make a commitment to her or anyone else, and somehow, she'd have to come to terms with that and live her life without him.
***
For the next two weeks, Nellie tried to enjoy her visit with Uncle Vern, catching up on old times and getting to know Georgia, but she found her thoughts constantly returning to Will. She had no idea what to expect from him when he’d return for her and Mike, or how the trip back to Port Townsend would be, but she held one last spark of hope that during the time they were apart, he'd come to terms with his past and want her to be a part of his future.
But when she saw him again, she knew nothing had changed.
After agreeing to return the following summer, Nellie and Mike bid farewell to Uncle Vern, Georgia and Captain Nate, and boarded the Isadora. Nellie immediately felt the tension and frustration of being close to Will. He'd been particularly reticent since his return, and because they had no future plans together, she was determined to keep her distance. But the least she could do was to see that Mike enjoyed the return trip. She would not spoil it for him.
Once underway, Mike called down from the bridge, "Mom, come on up."
Nellie felt uneasy about being in the tight confines of the bridge with Will. His nearness made her feel vulnerable. Grudgingly she climbed the ladder and found Mike at the helm, and Will looking over his head. Catching Mike's Mom-don't-embarrass-me-by-saying-anything look, she decided not to make a production out of his tending the wheel. "How's it going?" she asked, standing close to the window, wanting to keep some distance between her and Will.
Mike scanned the water. "Pretty good. We have to keep a look out for deadheads though—swamped logs on end—they don't show up on radar." He glanced at the radar screen. "There's something off the port bow about a mile ahead," he announced.
Will shifted his gaze from Nellie to the radar screen. "So there is," he replied, aware that Nellie had been trying to avoid eye contact. And he understood. His last night in Ocean bay, just before he'd left her there to continue his research, he'd wandered the deserted streets of town, and during that time he'd come to realize he and Nellie had reached an impasse. But that didn't change his desire for her, or his determination to make the trip back special for Mike. So, a few miles from Beaver Bay, he took over the wheel and turned the Isadora into a protected cove, then cut the engines.
"Come on," he said to Mike, "let's take the kayak out while the sun's still high, that is, if your mom says it's okay."
Nellie looked at Will. "No, I don't think so. Kayaking's too dangerous."
"Don't worry," Will said. "The water's calm. If anything happens, he'll be wearing his flotation jacket, and I'll be with him the whole time."
"I don't know—"
"Geez, Mom, I'm not a baby," Mike groused.
"I know you're not, honey, but I'd feel better if you learned kayaking another time."
"He'll be fine," Will said, ignoring her warning glance, knowing instinctively it was right for Mike. "The kayak has float bags and both ends are filled with foam. It's virtually unsinkable. We'll just be over in the cove, where the water's shallow, and you'll see us the whole time."
Nellie sighed. "Well... I guess it's okay."
Will ushered Mike toward the ladder. "Come on," he said, nudging him along, "let's get going before she changes her mind."
Mike glanced back at Will, a smile playing about his lips, and climbed down the ladder to the salon. On deck, Will checked their emergency equipment then he reached for a length of cord. "Since it's your first time out," he said to Mike, "you might want to tie your paddle to your wrist with a cord. Just leave enough slack so it won't interfere with your paddling."
After giving Mike brief instructions on how to hold the double-ended paddle, they put on their flotation jackets and climbed into the kayak, Mike forward, Will aft. As they paddled, Will couldn't decide whether Mike truly wanted to be in the kayak or whether he'd just been trying to assert his independence from an overprotective mother. He suspected the latter. "In a kayak you feel as if you're part of the ocean," he commented, trying to get a dialog going.
Mike glanced back. "Could a wave turn us over?" he asked.
"Not likely," Will replied. "The kayak's designed to ride the ocean swells."
Mike ducked as spray washed over the bow. He looked back, droplets of water clinging to his face. "Sorry about that," Will said. "On the bright side, we're sitting low in the water so we're less susceptible to side winds than if we were in a canoe. But it's still a good idea to watch for danger signs."
Mike glanced back, and said, "How do we do that?"
"By watching for whirlpools, eddies and other areas of colliding currents," Will replied, while maneuvering the kayak toward the cove. "But you also have to be on the lookout for breakers where there might be rocks or reefs."
"What do you do then?"
"Steer clear. Quicken your paddle strokes like this." Will demonstrated with short strokes. "And by slouching to lower your center of gravity and increase stability."
For a while they rode in silence, the kayak bobbing up and down like a cork in a tub as they paddled in a straight line. Mike was clearly enjoying himself, seeming to be taking it all in. Then suddenly, he pointed and yelled, "Look over there! An orca!"
Will looked to where Mike was pointing. "Not an orca," he said. "A dolphin. Same order of toothed whales, but slightly different." The lone dolphin started swimming toward the kayak then dipped beneath the surface of the water, and moments later, began circling the boat, gliding by in luminescent shimmers.
"It's Diana," Will said, noting the scar across the dolphin's snout. "I've worked with her. Sit still and give her a chance to check us out."
Slowly, cautiously, the dolphin investigated, rubbing against the kayak, and rolling from side to side. Will reached out and stroked her snout while talking to her in a quiet voice. Then the animal closed her air holes tightly, moved under the kayak, and exhaled a terrific blast. Mike laughed with glee as the kayak rocked back and forth.
Will steadied the boat. "I see she's still up to her old tricks."
Diana's explosion of breath punctuated the stillness. She swam up to the kayak again. Then the surface of the water parted into ripples as she rose, stood on her tail, and let out a series of short sounds and clicks. "Go ahead. Touch her," Will said.
Mike stroked Diana's rubbery nose. She let out another series of clicks. Mike giggled. "She feels so slippery," he said.
Diana flipped her tail, hurled her sleek body high out of the water, lunged through the surface and swam a short distance from the kayak. Then she circled back, and again swam away.
"What's she doing?" Mike asked.
Will watched her odd behavior, but when he heard her distress calls, he looked at her in alarm, and said, "I think she’s trying to tell us something. Let's follow her." Paddling the kayak in the direction Diana appeared to be leading them they followed her across the mouth of the cove toward the opposite shore, where Diana disappeared.
"We've lost her," Mike said, disappointed.
Will scanned the vacant surface of the water. "Maybe not. We'll wait and see what she's doing." They stopped paddling and the kayak bobbed on the waves. A few minutes later, Diana appeared again. After circling the kayak several times, she ushered them toward a tangle of logs and branches in the shallow water near the shore. As they approached, Will saw something moving within some debris. "Go easy," he told Mike. "There's something in that tangle of limbs. We don't want to scare it."
Mike rested his paddle on the kayak. "What do you think it is?"
"I can't tell yet," Will said. "We'll let the boat drift in qu
ietly."
Diana swam up to the tangle while emitting a series of frantic clicks.
"Okay, old girl," Will said, patting her snout. "We'll take a look."
As the kayak drifted into the limbs, Mike cried in an excited voice, "It's another dolphin."
"It must be her mate," Will said. "She brought us here to help him."
Mike looked at the thrashing dolphin. "How are we gonna get him out?"
"We'll have to cut him loose," Will said. "It looks like he's caught in a drift net, and I didn't bring a knife." He looked at Mike. "Did you bring yours?"
Mike grinned. "It's right here."
Will winked at Mike. "Good boy. You've probably saved your first dolphin. Meanwhile, we'd better start cutting him loose."
"How are we gonna get close enough?" Mike asked.
"The water's shallow here," Will replied, backing the kayak away from the tangle. "We'll beach the kayak and wade out." They paddled to the pebbly shore and climbed out. Will dragged the kayak onto the beach, took Mike's arm, and they waded through the shallows to where the dolphin flopped helplessly, while Diana swam back and forth.
"Diana knows we're here to help," Will said. "She's no longer making her clicking sounds. Dolphins have a unique ability to understand our states of mind and our intentions. That's why it's important for us to stay calm while we're helping her mate."
"Okay," Mike said, in a hushed voice, while moving slowly toward the trapped dolphin. "Do you want the knife now?"
Will reached out and stroked the dolphin's rubbery hide. "Take it easy, boy," he said softly. Then he looked at Mike. "Do you think you can cut him loose yourself?"
Mike held Will's steady gaze. "You want me to do it?"
"I think it's what Diana wants," Will said. "When she first came to us in the kayak she was checking you out—she already knows me. She needed to know you wouldn't harm her mate before she could trust you. Now, I think you should show her you're her friend. If you have trouble cutting the net, I'll help. Just be sure to slip the knife under the net, not cut from the top down."
A Dolphin's Gift Page 16