Jessica Andersen
ccThar she blows!"
Smitty glanced up at the crow's nest of the research vessel Streaker and grinned. Ishmael might not be a cheeky intern any more, but the kid still couldn't resist showing off when he pulled spyglass duty. Knowing what was coming next, Smitty yelled, "What do you see, Ishmael?"
"Globicephala melaena, sir!"
Smitty quickly ran through his spotty memory of Miss Peach's Latin class. Shoot. It wasn't one of the marine mammals commonly spotted off Cape Cod by Streaker and the members of Dolphin Friendly. The Latin was unfamiliar, and he was darned if he was going to let the kid win this time. Ishmael was already ahead five to three on this voyage, having stumped him on white-sided dolphins and a herring gull.
He still thought the herring gull was cheating.
But this one ... he could just see three puffs of white at the horizon, a sure sign of marine mammals. Aware that the clock was ticking, he ran the words through his mind again. Globicephala malaena. Cephala was easy-that was "head," and he figured anything with "globe" in it had to be round. Okay. Round-headed melaena. "What the heck kind of Latin is melaena?" he muttered to himself.
Unfortunately, the words were heard by the bane of his existence. The hair shirt of his world. The pea under his mattress. The little rock inside the shoe of his life.
Violet Oliver.
"It's not Latin, darling. It's Greek for `black,' as in black, round-headed long finned pilot whales." She flicked her shiny brunette hair in the way that hadn't failed to annoy him once in the many years they'd worked together. "And that puts you down six to three, unless I'm mistaken."
And Smitty knew that Violet never made mistakes.
He seethed a little as he watched her glide across the deck in a shortie wetsuit that only one tenth of one percent of the population of the world could possibly look good wearing.
Violet, of course, looked incredible. Then again, Violet always looked great.
Even at the end of a weeklong run, when Smitty's hair was standing on end, his clothes were stuck to him with a combination of salt water and general grunge, and his teeth felt like they had acquired a layer of shag carpeting, Violet would look perfect. Her hair would be clean and slightly curled, her fingernails and toenails cheerfully painted, and her clothes freshly pressed.
He was pretty sure she did it just to irritate him.
There had been another time, in what now seemed like another life, when they had been close. Violet, Brody Davenport, and Smitty had been thrown together in the marine mammal program of U.C. Santa Cruz and had become a trio of friends that had seemed inseparable until-
"Hey Smitty, wake up."
Fingers snapped in front of his nose and Smitty blinked, focusing on Streaker's pristine deck, on the endless ocean surrounding them, and on the face of the last of that trio, Brody Davenport. "Yeah, boss?"
Though Smitty and Violet were Ph.D.'s with milelong resumes of their own, Brody was the idea man, the politician, and the acknowledged leader of Dol phin Friendly. Smitty was content to be the man behind the scenes. He was the organizer, the planner, the guy who got things done and kept the boat lively.
Brody began, "I want-"
Streaker pulled to within a few hundred feet of the long-finned pilot whales and Brody forgot what he was going to say.
Smitty grinned. He knew the feeling. The allconsuming awe they felt in the presence of marine mammals was the glue that kept their little group together through thick and thin, ups and downs.
And there had been plenty of each over the years.
The pod contained maybe thirty animals, ranging from five or six feet in length to over twenty feet, and as the members of Dolphin Friendly watched, a pair of round black heads broke the surface and the lighter gray of the animals' throats glowed against the blue-green North Atlantic water.
While not uncommon in the waters off Smugglers Cove, the long-finned pilot whales never failed to enthrall Smitty.
"Quick, Violet, get the camera! I have a feeling something good's going to happen," Brody hissed. "And get Maddy from the sonar room, she won't want to miss this."
Brody's wife had joined the team recently and Smitty thought it rather sweet the way his boss wanted to share everything with her. Sweet and vaguely unsettling. Where once Streaker had belonged to the three original members of Dolphin Friendly, with a rotating cast of interns coming and going, the dynamic had changed after Brody's marriage.
Now it was a pair of pairs.
Understandably, Brody wanted to spend time with his wife, but that left Smitty alone with ... Violet. He glanced over as she returned with the waterproof video camera and he found himself nose to lens with the thing.
"Smile for the camera, Smitty," she trilled, knowing full well he hated to have his picture taken. He scowled as the little red light blinked to indicate that it was recording the sight of him: sunburned nose, diving mask marks, bad hair decade, and all.
Either his skin had grown thinner, or her digs had become more frequent of late, because he felt his patience fading fast. His voice rose as he said, "Violet, why don't you take that camera and-"
"There you are!" Maddy put a hand on his arm and pulled him away. "I was hoping you could explain what we're seeing right now. Do pilot whales often congregate in groups of this size?"
Smitty looked down into Maddy's guileless eyes and snorted as she towed him to the other end of the boat. "Bull-oney. You just finished your degree, so you're bound to know as much about this as I do, if not more. But I'm grateful for the interruption." He sighed and glanced back at Violet, who was chatting with Brody as she panned the camera across the lively ocean. "We're getting on each other's nerves more and more these days. I think once the Smugglers Cove Stranding Center is up and running and we expand the Dolphin Friendly fleet, Violet and I should take different boats for a while. If we spend much more time together, I'm afraid we'll kill each other or something."
Though it pained him to say the words, the truth was inescapable. He and Violet were like oil and water. While the combination used to mix just fine, it had stopped working about the time Brody and Maddy got married.
Smitty didn't like to think of what that might mean, just as he didn't like to remember that Violet and Brody had once dated.
Maddy smiled and patted his arm. "Personally, I think I'd bet on the `or something' happening between you and Violet, and it might be the best thing for both of you."
With a final grin, Maddy walked over to where Brody was hanging over the rail with a boom mike to pick up the squalls of the pilot whales. Watching her go, Smitty muttered, "What the heck does that mean?"
He glanced at Violet with her turquoise neoprene, her waterproof camera, and her talent for irritating him from twenty feet away, and shook his head.
Or something.
Smitty was looking at her again. Violet could feel it like an itch. A rash. Like poison ivy or a jellyfish sting, he got under her skin and lurked there, waiting for her to let her guard down and let him in. In defiance, she aimed the camera directly at him, knowing that he would duck and run, though what he had against cameras was beyond her. He looked great in pictures.
Whenever he was caught in a candid photograph, Smitty always looked like one of those rugged male models posing for companies that sold camping gear and expensive polo shirts. His windblown auburn hair was bleached white at the tips, and his eternally tanned face was free of freckles and creased with interesting lines.
She hated those lines. They reminded her of how long she'd known him. How long it had been since he'd chosen Ellen over her. How long she'd been trying to forget him and move on with her life.
She spun her camera in Smitty's direction a second time, hoping to annoy him
again.
But he didn't run. He wasn't paying attention to her after all, darn him. He stared out to sea, at the half-dozen bottle-nosed dolphins that had joined the pilot whales and were gamboling around the larger animals, playing in Streaker's shadow.
"Hey Violet, get some film of these guys. We still need five or six minutes of tape to run behind Brody's voice-over at the beginning of the opening ceremony video." Smitty waved at a pair of younger dolphins playing tag, leaping around and over one of the pilot whales. "This would be perfect."
"Don't tell me what to do," she replied with a toss of her hair, "I'm the photographer here, not you."
Then, of course, she had to film the juveniles because he was right, dang it. The dolphins' playful antics were a perfect backdrop to their fearless leader's speech about marine mammal conservation and the purpose of the Smugglers Cove Stranding Center, which was to open in five days amidst much hoopla.
Out of the corner of her eye, Violet saw Brody frown at her. She knew that the constant bickering between his two senior crew members bothered the leader of Dolphin Friendly, and out of fondness for her boss and former-very briefly-boyfriend, Violet might have laid off. She'd even tried to be nice to Smitty a few times recently, but it had been a wasted effort. He'd gone out of his way to annoy her and they'd fallen right back into the same old pattern.
But ever since he had married Maddy, Brody had been on a mission to make Smitty and Violet get along whether they liked it or not. Violet was pretty sure it had been Maddy's idea, since Brody's wife was one of those flowers-and-sunshine kind of people who wanted everyone to be happy.
Well, Violet was plenty happy. Particularly when she was scrapping with her arch-nemesis.
She still owed him for crazy-gluing her swim fins to the deck last week. And she didn't think he'd used his snorkel since she dipped the mouthpiece in that hotter-than-blazes jalapeno sauce.
Smiling at the thought, she continued to film the dolphins playing around the pilot whales. In frame, Smitty leaned over the railing to wave at the animals, and as the sun began to drop low, a magnificent pastel wash of color spread across the sky. The younger dolphins leaped and spun in glorious abandon and Smitty faced the camera, his silhouette expressing the sheer joy of the moment.
"Is there anything better in the world than this?" he yelled. He spread his hands wide, threw his head back, and laughed in wonder, and the two dolphins burst from the water in tandem and corkscrewed in the air just behind him.
From Violet's vantage point, it looked as if the bottlenoses had leaped from the water at his summons, like he was the sorcerer's apprentice. The moment seemed to freeze in time for a heartbeat. Another. Then Smitty dropped his hands and the dolphins fell back to the sea. A single gull flew across the sky and was gone, a black silhouette against the pastel sky.
Then life returned to normal. The pilot whales breathed at the surface once, twice, then rolled and dove into the ocean. The sun set in earnest and the sky lost its magical light. And Smitty became, once again, just a man.
"Did you get that?"
Violet started at the voice, not knowing that Brody had come up behind her while she was engrossed in her filming.
She nodded, not quite ready to trust her voice. The beauty of that moment was still etched on her retinas, the memory still too fresh to be spoken.
"Good. That will be the first scene of the opening ceremony video. If that doesn't convince those politicians to approve our grant, I don't know what will." Brody patted her arm. "Take good care of that film, Violet. It's irreplaceable. I think it might just be the ticket to the second half of our funding."
She nodded again, still not trusting her voice.
"What's the matter, catfish got your tongue?"
Violet started, more violently this time. Smitty had snuck up on her while she was talking to Brody. His presence jangled along her nerve endings and that itch returned, making her irritable and a little bit sad.
When would she be able to be in Smitty's presence and not feel the regret? Probably never.
"Huh?" Brilliant, she thought. Witty repartee at its best. She drew a breath for another volley, but he beat her to it.
"I'm irreplaceable." He jerked a thumb at his chest and grinned. "Didn't you hear? So if you had any thoughts of replacing me...."
She curled her lip and dangled the camera by one finger. "Well, there had been some talk of this trained monkey at Seaquarium Florida. They say he can whistle `Ode to Joy' while riding a tricycle. I thought he'd make a nice addition to the team."
Smitty shrugged, and his red hair seemed to glow in the fading light. "Whatever makes you happy, babe."
"Children, play nice." Brody's voice was a mild warning.
Violet felt her fingers tighten on the camera strap. Temper tangled with the last vestiges of the awe she'd felt while filming that scene. "You have no idea what makes me happy, Smitty. You never did."
To her surprise, he didn't rise to the bait and remind her that at one time he'd known exactly how to make her happy. Instead he turned and walked away, calling over his shoulder, "Be careful with that film, Violet darling. I wouldn't want you to wake up one morning with it crazy-glued to your forehead."
He was so smug. So aggravating. So not interested in her. With a snarl she spun, intending to stomp back to the sonar room and slam the door for good effect.
But she had forgotten about the camera. Dangling from its strap, the expensive piece of equipment swung out when she turned. It hit the wheelhouse wall with a sharp crack!
"No!" Violet dove for the deck. Smitty looked back at her cry.
"Grab it!" He leaped for the camera and barely managed to graze it with his fingertips as it bounced once, twice on the deck, ricocheted off a docking cleat-
And fell overboard.
Smitty lunged for it, and Violet grabbed the back of his shirt and saved him from following the camera into the ocean. She would have cursed, would have apologized, would have given anything to rewind time a few seconds, but she could do none of those things. She could only climb to her feet and stand, awkwardly looking at the deck between her feet while the silence grew thick.
She'd really done it this time.
Brody had needed that film, and if she wasn't mistaken, the camera's waterproof casing had cracked on the first bounce. The new vidcam had become an expensive dolphin toy, the video was toast, and it was all her fault.
She drew a breath. "Brody, I'm-"
"It was my fault."
Violet wasn't the only one on the boat whose jaw dropped when Smitty stepped up beside her and faced Brody's I've-had-just-about-enough-of-youtwo look.
Smitty continued, "It wouldn't have happened if I hadn't been needling her, but don't worry. I'll go get the camera. With any luck, the tape'll be salvageable." He disappeared down the stairs and returned a moment later with his diving duffel. The others stood around, looking anywhere but at Brody, whose scowl threatened to melt the deck.
Smitty pulled his swim fins out of the old canvas bag and stuck them on his feet without bothering to change out of his cutoffs and T-shirt. Grinning at Violet, he whispered, "You owe me one, babe."
She could do nothing but nod. Had the world come to an end? Had hell frozen over, pigs flown, and right whale populations suddenly blossomed?
Smitty was saving her bacon.
He jumped into the darkening water with a jaunty wave. His entrance was greeted by chattering clicks from the dolphins that had been bumping the floating yellow, formerly waterproof camera around like a volleyball. Pulling his goggles over his eyes, Smitty adjusted the angle of the snorkel as it curved around behind his head.
Waving, he yelled, "No prob. Just let me rescue my irreplaceable image from Dolphin Friendly's friendly dolphins!"
As he twisted the flexible breathing tube and put the snorkel into his mouth, Violet suddenly remembered.
The hot sauce.
"Smitty, no!" she yelled, but it was too late.
The figure in th
e water jerked and started thrashing around, emitting horrible gargling sounds and clutching at his mask and snorkel. The water foamed white and the dolphins darted away.
Maddy yelled, "Shark!" and the boat was suddenly abuzz with running figures and yelling people.
"No! No, it's not a shark." Violet waved her arms until some semblance of calm was restored. She could forgive Brody's wife for her paranoia-her parents had been killed by a great white-but the added chaos wasn't helping. She waved her arms again until she had everyone's attention. "Not a shark! He's fine."
"Doesn't look fine," observed Ishmael, pointing at Smitty, who had shed his mask and snorkel and was now gargling with seawater and glaring at Violet through red-rimmed eyes.
"He'll be fine," she corrected, and winced at the ire building in Brody's face. "It's only a little jalapeno sauce. He's just being a baby about it."
That earned her an irate splutter from the water and she winced again when she heard Smitty climbing up the rope ladder on Streaker's port side. She was in for it.
"He glued my fins to the floor last week. I was just getting him back." Even to Violet that sounded weak. "I ... I didn't mean for anything bad to happen."
She never did. Somehow, it happened anyway.
Brody rolled his eyes to the heavens as if praying for patience. He stabbed a finger at the crow's nest. "Ishmael, get down here and fetch that camera. It's probably trash, but we don't want to litter. And you two." He divided his glare between Smitty and Violet. "I'll see you in my office in five minutes."
Smitty glanced at Violet and mouthed, "Uh-oh," and she had the insane urge to giggle, though her heart thumped at his teasing. It was like being sent to the principal's office at the age of thirty-two, and that was just plain ridiculous.
Because honestly, what was the worst Brody could do to them?
Smitty tried not to squirm as his oldest and best friend glared at him from across the chart table in the wheelhouse. If he could go back and undo the last twenty minutes, he would. But it wasn't an option. So he hung his head in real dismay and waited for the explosion.
Seal With a Kiss Page 1