by Karis Walsh
She and her pack emerged onto the deck just as the ferry began to churn out of the slip. The sudden movement, combined with the small crowd of people who were settling into positions at the rail and the chilly gust of wind shuddering through the evergreen trees, startled the dogs. Their agitation increased, and Iris felt the rope connecting her to the shepherd slipping out of her grasp. She dove toward the end of the leash as it disappeared between passengers.
“Damn,” she said, shifting the crate into a better position and setting off after the wayward dog. She jostled around people until she got to the stern. Despite the chaos, a sudden sense of peace dropped over her as she rounded the back corner of the glassed-in portion of the deck where she was sheltered from the wind and from most of the other passengers. She saw the dog trotting toward one of the few people back here—the woman Iris had briefly noticed while she was boarding the ferry. The woman looked surprised to see the loose dog, and she tucked a candy bar into the pocket of her jacket before reaching down and grabbing his trailing rope. She glanced around until she saw Iris standing a few yards away. Iris tried to gather her roaming thoughts and her rambunctious dogs before she walked over to the woman and dog.
“Missing someone?”
Iris smiled in response, unable to resist. The woman standing in front of her was even more stunning up close than she had been from a distance. Her short hair shone with myriad shades of red and brown, and her blue-gray eyes seemed born from the sky and water around them. She held the rope awkwardly in one hand—in contrast to her otherwise confident bearing—and she used the other to swipe her long bangs out of her eyes. Her jeans and jacket displayed expensive urban labels, but they looked rugged and lived in. Iris could picture her humbly posing for a picture at the top of Everest or Kilimanjaro, or some other trek-worthy destination. If Iris had been here in any other situation, she would have been wildly attracted to her. As it was, however, she felt too out of sorts to even consider trying to meet someone new. What kind of conversation could they have while she was chasing wayward dogs? Too bad the circumstances weren’t different…
Iris sighed. Who was she kidding? Even without the dogs and cat, she wouldn’t have been brave enough to chat up some stranger on the ferry. Especially one who managed to make her feel the heady combination of breathlessness and peace.
“Yes, thank you,” she said, reaching for the shepherd’s rope. “He got scared by the wind and the crowds.”
Iris paused while they both looked around. She could almost read the question on the woman’s face. Crowds? At the moment, they were the only two people near the stern.
Iris laughed briefly, and then stopped. The sound seemed foreign to her even though the day before yesterday had been filled with hilarity as she and her rescue team played with their newest residents, a pair of baby goats. One day and one earthquake later, and Iris felt a jolt of guilt that she was able to smile and laugh. “He’s been loose in the woods since the quake yesterday, and he lives on Lopez, so ten people are a huge crowd to him. Thank you for catching him.”
“You’re welcome. I’m Casey. I’d shake your hand, but you don’t seem to have a free one. Do you always travel with all your pets?”
“I’m Iris.” She put the carrier on the ground next to her and shook Casey’s hand as the cat inside the small crate let out a deep yowl. Iris bent down and picked her up again, hiding the warmth she felt spreading over her face at the simple touch of Casey’s hand. She had already realized she was physically attracted to her, and she wouldn’t have been surprised by a tingly, arousing reaction from the handshake, but what she felt was unexpected and disconcerting. Calm. Strength. Grounding. Things that had been swept out of Iris’s heart when the earthquake shook her world the day before.
“To answer your question, they’re not my pets. Not really. They must have gotten loose yesterday, and I’m taking them to the shelter I run in Friday Harbor. The rescue center on Lopez is overcrowded, and they asked me to take a few animals. Do you mind if I sit?” Iris shuffled her milling pack over to a bench and sat down, keeping the crate on her lap.
Only twenty-four hours after the quake, and she was exhausted from the nonstop intake and processing of lost animals. The sheer numbers of them were discouraging—would she be able to reunite all of them with their owners?—and she didn’t have any more room to spare than the Lopez center did. But she hadn’t been able to say no when asked for help. How could she turn away any of these animals? “I was supposed to take these two Chihuahuas, and I thought they could ride together in the crate. But someone brought in the shepherd while I was there, and another person called about a pregnant cat that was hiding under a broken deck at an empty house.”
Iris tilted her head to indicate the carrier, and the cat let out a helpful howl, as if providing testimony for the story. Dozens of displaced animals had already arrived at Iris’s shelter, and the cat promised to produce a few more within the next week or two. Somehow Iris would have to house them all, feed them, provide necessary vet care…She reached down to pet the shepherd who had finally settled at her feet and was calmly letting the Chihuahuas wrestle on and around him. She’d manage to take care of these animals, and all the rest that would no doubt be coming to the shelter in the aftermath of the disaster. But right now, she had nothing to do besides sit next to a beautiful woman and share company and conversation with her. She was going to make the most of it.
“Do you live on San Juan?” she asked as the ferry drifted toward the next dock, at Orcas Island. Casey hadn’t made a move toward her car yet, so this island obviously wasn’t her destination.
“No,” Casey said, leaning back on the bench and resting one ankle over her other knee. The casual pose and her soft voice made her seem much more at ease talking to a stranger than Iris normally was. “I live in Seattle. I’m only visiting for a short time.”
Iris shook her head. “You picked a hell of a time to come for a vacation. I hope you confirmed your hotel today because a lot of places are closed.” Or you could spend the night with me.
Iris wasn’t sure where the thought had come from. She had been attracted to women before, but never to this extent. How was Casey able to override Iris’s residual fear from yesterday and her dread of the upcoming days? Or was she attracted to Casey because of yesterday and the resulting sensations of worry and fragility?
Iris wanted to scoot away, to put more inches of space between them, but if she moved, then the dogs would get up and the cat would howl again. She stayed put and tried to ignore the waves of warmth and confidence she felt everywhere her body was close to Casey’s. Her hips, her shoulders—damn it, even her elbows—were humming with an awareness of Casey’s corresponding body parts.
Casey shrugged, and Iris twitched in response. “I’ll find somewhere to stay,” Casey said with a surety that Iris didn’t think was warranted. “The trip was planned on short notice, so I didn’t make a reservation.”
Iris hadn’t ever traveled to a new town without booking a hotel weeks in advance. And researching restaurants and finding the quickest route to the hospital, just in case. She wasn’t the type to leave things to chance. “You’ll probably find most tourist places will be closed because of the quake. You won’t be able to take any tours, and not many restaurants will be open, and—”
Casey held up her hand. “I understand. I’m used to traveling and sort of following disasters. I’m here to work, anyway, so I won’t have time for sightseeing.”
“Work,” Iris repeated. What kind of job would draw Casey to the shaken San Juans? Iris pictured her shelter, with its damaged kennels and broken fences. “Are you in construction? Because if you are, I’ll hire you.”
Casey laughed. “No, sorry. I’m here to study the effects of the seismic activity on the islands. The UW lab sent me because the earthquake was caused by a rupture in the Devils Mountain Fault, just off the coast of San Juan Island. It’s exciting to have a chance to examine the local area so soon after the earthquake, befor
e repairs are made and the effects are altered.”
Casey continued to talk about collecting data and monitoring aftershocks, but Iris stopped listening to the words. Instead, she heard Casey’s tone, which betrayed her obvious fascination with seismology and her eagerness to study the island like it was a specimen in a lab.
“So you’re here to study us like rats in a maze?” Iris interrupted what might have been a fascinating lecture on seismology if she was heartless and unfeeling. “Do we get a piece of cheese as a reward if we lead you to earthquake damage?”
Casey stared at her for a few seconds, as if stunned to have been pulled out of her earthquake rhapsody. “I’m not here to study you or anybody else,” she said with obvious indignation, given her chilly voice and the way she leaned her upper body away from Iris. “This has nothing to do with people.”
“It has everything to do with people. People who got hurt and lost their homes and had to close their businesses. And it has everything to do with animals like these who are lost and scared.”
Casey held up her hands. Iris didn’t interpret the gesture as one of surrender, but as one designed to put physical distance between them, to match the yawning emotional chasm. “The information I can get from this event might help save those animals and businesses next time.”
“Event?” Iris shook her head. What a horrible word to use in this context. Disaster would make more sense. Catastrophe. Something to capture the awfulness of those seconds while the earth shuddered. “You make it sound like a family reunion or something. Event.”
“It’s a scientific term,” Casey said in clipped tones, “and not meant to imply a cavalier attitude on my part. I didn’t cause the earthquake just so I could come study it as a lark. I was sent here to do a job.”
Iris felt pain in her temples as she fought off the urge to cry. She looked away from Casey and toward the town of Friday Harbor as the ferry neared the dock. Moored boats filled the harbor, their masts swaying with the movement of the water. Multicolored buildings climbed the hill like steps on a staircase. From this distance, everything seemed normal, if a little quiet. But Iris knew some of the boats had come loose from their moorings and run aground. Quite a few others had smashed into docks and each other. And the buildings, with their stores and restaurants? Most of them were closed, waiting for the town to recover and repair and restore.
“Well, a lot of people on the islands lost their livelihoods yesterday. And most of us have a long uncertain road ahead because our jobs have suddenly gotten much harder. Meanwhile, you’ll take some measurements and look at some broken rocks without really seeing the lives that have been damaged.”
Casey stood up with a deliberate motion. She seemed to be struggling to retain control. “I’m sorry about these animals,” she said gesturing at the dogs and the crate. The Chihuahuas apparently thought she was ready to play with them because they started leaping around her ankles. Iris pulled them back to her, unable to meet Casey’s eyes.
“I am also sorry that you have so much work to do because of yesterday. You might not understand the significance of my job, but I do. And it is very important to me. I’ll be getting back to it now.”
She turned abruptly and startled a seagull that had alighted on the ferry’s polished wooden railing. Iris wanted to go after her, but she couldn’t match Casey’s fast pace with her ragtag menagerie in tow. Besides, what would she say? She had meant every word she’d said, hadn’t she? As if she could no longer stay tall without Casey’s poised presence beside her, Iris slumped lower on the bench, tired beyond words, and felt the warmth of tears on her face for the first time since the earthquake.
Chapter Three
Casey went back to the vehicle deck and unlocked her truck as the curving arms of Friday Harbor embraced the ferry. She got in and slammed the door shut. Why had she let a complete stranger irritate her? Iris had seen exactly what Casey wanted most people to see—a dispassionate scientist who studied the world around her with a critical and logical mind. Iris, with her leashes and ropes, was wrapped up in the San Juans and in the aftermath of the earthquake while Casey was merely here as an observer, to study the results of seismic activity. She wasn’t supposed to get touchy-feely with the locals and their stray dogs.
This was why she liked to keep to herself when she did fieldwork.
Casey scrunched down in her seat and opened a map of the islands. Most people who took this ferry probably pored over maps of tourist attractions and restaurants, but Casey’s was a topographic map. No extraneous details about quaint bookstores and souvenir shops. She was here to work. So why was she trying to imagine which of the contour lines crossed Iris’s shelter?
She folded the map and put it in her backpack before digging through to see if she had any food left—the chocolate bar she’d practically inhaled hadn’t satisfied. She briefly considered eating an old granola bar she found, but she couldn’t find an expiration date on the wrapper. She tossed it on the seat beside her and rummaged some more, trying to get Iris’s accusing glare out of her mind. Casey had to remain detached from emotions when she was on assignment, but she hadn’t felt that way today. The cold touch of the big dog’s nose against her palm and the plush softness of his thick fur. The warmth of Iris’s hazel eyes and the rich tones of her hair which was as variegated and shiny as polished mahogany. The pang of hunger—having nothing to do with Casey’s lack of decent food—that she felt deep in her belly when they had transferred the rough leash between them and their hands touched. Casey felt all those things today, and Iris hadn’t noticed. She had only seen the cold and distant exterior. Casey wished Iris had seen more.
She started her truck as they pulled slowly toward the dock. Iris’s opinion of her meant nothing. She was here with a purpose, and luckily she was about to be released from the confines of the ferry.
The short line of cars inched slowly over the ramp with a jolt and a clang as each set of tires bumped across the joints. Once they reached the pavement of the terminal parking lot, Casey saw a long zigzag line of vehicles waiting to board. She was momentarily tempted to turn around and join them, but she kept moving with the flow of cars that were leaving the ferry behind.
The town of Friday Harbor was situated on a steep hill that dropped right to the edge of the water. Casey had searched for a hotel and some restaurants while she waited in Anacortes, and to her left she noticed a gray-and-white sign with a picture of a schooner on it and recognized it as one of the places she had been hoping to try. The chef had come here from Los Angeles and had created some sort of Northwest and Thai fusion menu, and Casey had figured a fancy meal or two would fill her time and make her feel like she was still in a big city. The outdoor seating area was glassed in and covered with a bright white canopy, folded to look like an unfurling sail. Unfortunately, a handwritten Closed for Repairs sign was prominently displayed in the window.
Casey drove up the hill, and the trend continued. The buildings were an eclectic mix of Craftsmans, Victorians, and plain modern boxes. Most were two to three stories high, and they were packed within inches of each other, each containing several shops and eateries. Flower boxes lined the upper-story railings, and banners flew from every lamppost, put there to welcome tourists who were now leaving in droves. Almost every business had a Closed sign on the door or in the front window.
How the hell would she occupy her time and her mind here? She could only work in daylight, and the nights were getting longer. She didn’t see many options for filling them in this town.
First, she needed a hotel. She had found one online advertising a hot tub and close proximity to the elegant restaurants she had been hoping to visit, although everything in Friday Harbor appeared to be in close proximity to everything else. It was just a block off the main street, and she parked in front and looked at it skeptically. The hotel filled both floors of one of the Victorians, and it seemed freshly painted in a soft beige with teal accents and bright red doors. A bit gaudy for her taste, but the gr
ounds were neat and well-maintained. Hanging baskets with white primroses, some sort of purple flower she didn’t recognize, and a medley of autumn-orange marigolds decorated each corner of the building. The neighborhood seemed quiet.
Eerily quiet.
Casey parked in front of the real estate office next door and got out of her car, inhaling an unexpected whiff of smoke that underlaid the heavier scent of brine and seaweed. She didn’t bother to bring her backpack out of the truck because she already had a feeling that this hotel—like most of the other businesses—was closed.
The typed sheet of paper taped to the door confirmed her suspicions. She knocked anyway, hoping someone would be there and take pity on her. She didn’t mind sleeping among some rubble as long as she had a bed and at least a partial roof over her head.
“Hotel’s closed.”
Obviously. Casey turned and smiled anyway at the woman who had emerged from the side door of the building on the other side of the hotel. She looked to be in her sixties, with a long gray ponytail, dark blue jeans, and a bulky red sweater. She tossed a white plastic bag in the dumpster wedged between the buildings.
“The owners have gone back to the mainland,” she continued, watching Casey with her hands on her hips. “If you’re needing a place to say, you might want to do the same thing. It’ll be hard to find an open place around here.”
Casey shrugged as if indifferent, but her mind was racing as she pictured herself sleeping in the truck and foraging for berries in the woods. “Thanks, but I can’t leave. I’m here for work.”
“Repair work?” the woman asked, with the same eager look Iris had given her on the ferry when she asked if Casey was in construction. Too bad she barely knew a hammer from a wrench, or she could make a fortune in this town.