by Dale Mayer
When he delivered the plate of breakfast mash, made with eggs, meat, onions and potatoes all cooked together with rich garlic and cheese, her mouth watered. “This is really good,” she said after several bites. “I don’t know what that meat is, but it added a huge taste to this.”
“It’s a homemade corned beef,” he said. “Adds a lot of flavor with only a little bit in it.”
She smiled and nodded. “Well, it’s good.” She chewed for a few more minutes. “While I’m here, if there’s anything I can do to help you with your work, you just have to ask.”
“What you need to do is rest.”
She nodded. “I might have a nap this afternoon, but I’m feeling so much better today. I don’t know why I didn’t have any nightmares, but it feels wonderful.”
“What do you remember from last night?”
She shrugged and said, “Not a whole lot.”
He just nodded.
Something about that simple head movement conveyed so much emotion … “So is there anything I can do to help?”
He studied her for a long moment and said, “Maybe.”
She brightened. “I love research, and, of course, I’m a marine biologist and absolutely love everything to do with water.”
His lip curled, but she wasn’t sure what that meant.
“What exactly are you studying here?”
“Migration patterns,” he said but wouldn’t elaborate.
“What species?”
“All species. Has more to do with tectonic plates and who in the mammal world cares.”
She stopped in the act of putting a forkful of food to her mouth. “Oh, wow, that’s fascinating.” She shook her head. “I can’t think of anybody else who might be studying that.”
“No, that’s why I am.”
She nodded. “Most of us avoid thinking about the tectonic plates. Not to mention the Juan de Fuca plates.”
“We have two major fault lines here—or very close to here anyway,” he said. “And there’s always a large waterway of mammals moving through the field.”
“Do you ever get anything unusual out there?” Her mind was unable to let go of the memories of something large underneath her when she had been alone in the sound.
“All kinds of unusual things.” His gaze was intense. “Like what?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. It seems like part of my nightmares is about things that go bump in the night. But instead of going bump in the night, they were going bump in the sea. A couple times I felt things underneath me or around me.”
“Or it could have been your imagination,” he said.
She laughed. “Or it could have been my imagination,” she repeated, acknowledging a valid point. “There’s nothing quite like a trauma for the mind to make something much bigger out of what was nothing.”
“What is it you think you felt?”
“Something smooth and big and deep beneath me,” she said. “I also thought I heard voices.”
“Well, there’s all kinds of stories of dolphins and even sea lions, I guess, helping people. Maybe somebody … or something … helped you to the shore. As for the voices …” He shrugged and didn’t say anything more.
“I was thinking of the local marine life,” she said. “But this was something much, much bigger.”
“I don’t know about that,” he said. “I haven’t seen anything monstrously sized here. Other than whales, of course.”
“Oh,” she said, worrying on that concept. She changed the subject. “Does anybody ever come to live here with you? Or is everyone just passing through?”
“I told you my father and brother come every summer. What do you mean, passing through?”
She stared down at the food and toyed with the last few bites on the plate. She didn’t quite know how to explain it. “There’s a serenity here,” she said abruptly. “As if it’s perfect for healing. And I guess I mean it’s perfect for me to heal.” She waved a hand. “But not everything makes sense. Maybe it’s my imagination, but I thought I saw someone my first day here.”
His frown was instant. “When?”
“Just after I woke up and got up the first time. I didn’t think anything of it, as I had no idea where I was, so more people here made sense.” She laid down her fork and put her hands in her lap. “And my room doesn’t make sense.”
His gaze was intent, measured. “In what way?”
“It’s almost a prison cell.”
He stared at her, no longer chewing.
She rushed to say, “With the exposed toilet and a sink there, it feels very much like a prison. And it’s all white, like white-white. The sheet, the bed, the walls. Everything is just such a stark color.”
“Are prison walls white?” He picked up his cup of coffee, but his gaze never left her.
“I have no clue,” she said. “I’ve never been in one.”
He chuckled. “Neither have I, so it certainly wasn’t modeled after a prison.”
She nodded and picked up her fork again. “So who was that room made for?”
She thought for a long time he wouldn’t answer her question. He ate several bites, as if contemplating what to tell her. And then he smiled. “It was my brother’s room.”
*
Samson knew the questions would come. He just hadn’t realized what direction they would take, but he was used to his brother’s room. It would obviously have been a shock for somebody else to have woken up to, seeing so much whiteness. And she was right; the exposed toilet and the sink did add an odd element. He’d thought about enclosing them, but his brother had looked at him as if to say that was unnecessary. And it really didn’t make a lot of sense if it was just one person staying here. The toilet and running water were a convenience. However, seeing a man on the island, that was very worrisome. He’d deliberately avoided questioning her about it so as not to let her know how odd it was.
“He must have really loved it here.”
At her use of past tense, he stared down at his plate. “My brother is not dead.” His voice was deep, harsh. He lifted his gaze to look at her again to see her flushing. And, of course, he’d made her uncomfortable. He sighed and settled back. “He visits. But my brother has some issues. He’s adapting to his new medications.”
He saw the relief whisper across her face. “Okay. I’m sorry. It’s like a minefield talking to you. I never quite know what to ask and what I should stay quiet about.”
“But your natural curiosity won’t let you forget about asking, right?”
She shrugged. “Honestly, it’s hard when you see things like that to not question them. But it is none of my business.”
“Is the bed comfortable?”
She nodded. “It is. When I first opened my eyes, the bright white color almost blinded me. The white was rather … white.”
She had said it in such a humorous voice. She was also trying to make light of what she would consider her transgressions. He’d met a lot of women like her, as if having a mind of their own and asking a question was something they needed permission for. He wondered about her personality, her childhood and upbringing. And her fiancé. “What was your childhood like?”
Startled, she looked up at him. “Okay, that’s personal.”
“Not really,” he said. “Just wondering why you apologize all the time. Are you going to answer the question? Do you even remember that part of your life?”
She nodded. “Oddly enough, I do. No father. Cold mother, beautiful but damaged older sister. No domineering mother, no domineering older brothers,” she said with a half smile. “But I was well loved.”
“Sure you were,” he said, but he kept his thoughts to himself because he highly doubted it. “I presume you’re the youngest.”
She slowly laid down her fork and pushed away her plate. “How would you know that?”
He shrugged. “It’s just an assumption.” He picked up the dirty dishes and carried them to the sink.
“I can help you with those,�
�� she said behind him.
“The less you do, the better. Your body still needs all its energy for healing. So, even though to you it’s just dishes, it still takes energy away from making you stronger.”
“I’m used to doing all the dishes,” she said. “I have so much time on my hands that I don’t know what to do with myself.”
He could see she was agitated by his comments. But it was who he was. He didn’t have much use for small talk. If he wanted to know something, he asked. Then so did she.
When he finished with the dishes, he refilled his coffee cup, asking her, “Do you want some?”
She shook her head. “I’d like something to do though, if you could find something.”
“Well, you won’t be cooking and cleaning.” He moved toward his research lab, where he had his spare laptop. “We’re all pitching in and helping here.”
“There is no we. It’s just you cooking and cleaning,” she said drily. “And, so far, you won’t let me help, so it’s just you.”
“You can help down the road.”
“When is that?”
“When you no longer feel like you have to cook and clean in order to be accepted.” He could hear the silence behind him. He placed his coffee cup on his computer desk and walked to the side table, opening a laptop. He plugged it into one of the outlets, powered it up and logged on, then unplugged it, turned to her, handing it over, and said, “You can use this one.”
But she didn’t take it, just stood in the middle of the room, staring at him. “Why would you even say something like that to me?”
He shoved his free hand in his pocket. “I’m a plain speaker. Just like you had questions, I have questions.”
“You can’t possibly know the reason I cooked and cleaned for my family was because I needed to be accepted and needed to feel like I was part of the family.”
“No,” he said, “but I’ve never met anybody who apologizes as much as you have. You have an inferiority complex that you need to deal with and fast. Now do you want this laptop or not?”
Chapter 6
“Yes, I really do,” she said in cautious delight. He motioned her to return to the living room. Moving slowly, still feeling the pain all over her body, she sat in the chair beside the fire. Immediately she felt dwarfed by his size as he plugged in her cord, then stood beside her. She looked at him, and his smile tugged at his lips.
“Did you do that on purpose?” she asked suspiciously.
He gave her a bland look. “Do what?”
She glared at him. “That I’m the boss pose where you stand tall while you loom over your seated employees.” But then she shook her head and gave up on bugging him because what difference did it make that he towered over her? This laptop would be her first connection to the real world again.
She brought up her email and logged into the program, thankful the information she needed flowed from her fingertips. Over sixty emails waited in her inbox. She groaned. “So maybe it’s a good thing I’ve been gone for four days. Do people have nothing better to do than email me?”
“It’s one of the reasons I like to come here,” he said. “It’s a step out of time. It’s a step away from some technology that can really be a useless time suck and back to the things that really matter.”
She pondered that, realizing how very true it was. If she hadn’t been so badly injured—and even now she still hurt—she’d have enjoyed this time away so much more. “I think it is beautiful here.”
“It is beautiful.” He emphasized the is. “And you are here at least for another two days, so, as you’re feeling much better, you could enjoy it more.”
“Yes, like when your brother and your father come here for a vacation. That must be something. A conscious decision to step away. For me, I’m still struggling to get back. To fit the pieces into my memories.” She looked at her inbox and sighed. “It’s all coming back. A request for paperwork. Requests for signatures on my documents. Requests for meetings. Just … so much.” She waved her hand. “I’m almost sorry I asked for a laptop.”
The laptop lid snapped down in front of her. “And this is where you get to stop,” he said calmly. “Any stress, any upset, anything at all other than pure peace and quiet will hinder your healing process.”
She stared at his large hand that had closed the laptop, then back at him. “So, if I don’t look at my emails, can I maybe check out the world news?”
“That’s likely to be even worse,” he said, fatigue in his voice. Plus, his tone held a world weariness, as if he’d already looked at what was happening on a global level and didn’t like it.
She opened the laptop lid and waited until the screen came up again. She glanced through her emails quickly to make sure nothing was terribly important. They all appeared to be more businesslike than anything. One email was from the couple she had gone kayaking with, and she sent them an email saying she was alive and was healing on an island out in the sound. She didn’t expect to get an answer back right away, so she hit Send and closed down her program. It was the only email she’d really cared about sending.
There were no other personal emails. That made her feel more isolated than ever. Had her mother even known about her close call? Would she have cared? What about her fiancé?
A few websites she’d always had fun going to, so she brought up the weather, checked to see how much had changed in the last few days of storminess. The laptop had a locator on it and gave her news for the current area. “According to the weather report, it’s supposed to be nice for the next couple days,” she commented.
“Good,” he said. “We can get out and explore a little bit.”
“I’d like that.” She beamed up at him. “The more I see, the more I realize how truly blessed you are.” She skipped through the sites she always loved to check out. “The world has gone to hell in a hand basket,” she snapped.
When there was no answer, she turned to see him studying her quizzically.
“I was in the science news,” she explained.
He rolled his eyes and said, “Remember my words.”
“I do,” she said. “I’m off to check my horoscope.”
At that, he burst out with a snicker. “Seriously?”
“Hey, they’re fun,” she said. “And honestly, four days ago, if one of the astrologers had said, Stay home, I still wouldn’t have listened. But now in hindsight, … maybe there was a warning I didn’t listen to.”
“Maybe. But I highly doubt anybody who’s getting paid to write your horoscope will tell you anything of value.”
“But they’re entertaining.”
“You can also watch movies on the laptop if you want.” He pointed to her hands, tinged with blue again, and stoked the fire, adding another log.
“Surely you can’t stream material here, can you?”
He shook his head. “Not here, no, but a lot has been downloaded on the servers. So, if you want to watch anything, hopefully we can accommodate you.” Then he stopped, frowned at her and said, “Except chick flicks.”
“Not to worry,” she said. “I save those for when I’m with my best girlfriends.” She lifted her hands to check out how blue they were, and they trembled.
She shook her head at how weak she was. What the heck? She should have been healed by now, many times over. At least in her mind she should have. Apparently drowning took a harder hit on her body than she’d expected.
Curled up into the recliner with the laptop resting on her knees, she followed his instructions and brought up the movie folder. She wasn’t big on computers except for work, but, when she saw his movie collection, she crowed in delight. She chose a horror flick she hadn’t seen in a long time.
As it brought up the opening scenes, he said from behind her, “Interesting choice.”
“Why?”
“Considering it’s about genetically modified sharks,” he said, “and you drowned …”
She struggled to understand why she’d have chosen such a movie.
“I didn’t think of that.” She closed the laptop.
“You don’t have to do that.” He sat on the hearth. “Go ahead and watch it. I just don’t want you to have more nightmares.”
“That’s why I shut it down,” she said quietly. “I used to love horror movies. The oceans have always fascinated me. It’s why I went into the field I did.”
“It fascinates a lot of people,” he said. “But not everybody goes into marine biology.”
“True,” she said. “But I could not help it. Every time I thought about another field, I just couldn’t force myself in that direction.”
“Do you have a favorite mammal?”
“Sea turtles,” she said instantly.
He chuckled at that. “I’m not surprised.”
“To be honest, I love all of them,” she said with a smile. “I did my master’s thesis on dolphins, and my PhD thesis on turtles. It’s so very sad to see the changes in the marine environment over the last couple decades.”
“It is, indeed.” He stared off in the distance, then stood again. He motioned at the laptop. “Go ahead and watch the movie or pick a different one,” he murmured. He walked back to his work in the lab, but she didn’t hear him close the door.
She went through the other movie titles and found a comedy. Surely that wouldn’t give her nightmares, but she found it didn’t hold her interest. Finally she put it on Pause and called out to him. “Why is the spare bedroom completely white?”
He didn’t respond, and she heard no movement from him in his office. Then he returned to the main room to stare at her, a frown forming on his forehead.
She shrugged. “It’s really bothering me.”
“What do you feel when you’re in that room?” he asked.
“It’s almost like I’m devoid of all senses,” she said. “Like a soundproof room but for all the senses.” It was hard to explain because it was more than that. “I want to say almost like a padded room. But not so much to keep a person in as much as to keep everything else out.” When his eyebrows shot up to his hairline, she realized she’d surprised him again. “What? Is that not what you were expecting me to say?”
“No,” he said. “I wasn’t. But it’s interesting that’s how you feel.” He pondered that a moment, his fingers thrumming away on his chin.