He threw the plane at the world map and smacked an area of African drought head on. The plane crashed to the floor its nose bent. This time Barbara didn’t pick it up. “What’s with the airplanes?”
“They help me think.”
She laughed. “You’re certainly not anyone’s picture of an academic. But maybe that’s part of your appeal.”
He shrugged again. “And now we find that the chemical process that decomposes the peat when the permafrost thaws generates heat itself. That leads to further thawing and so on.”
Barbara ignored that depressing bit of information. She focused on the fact that he hadn’t taken the hint this time either, so she said, “God, it’s hot outside. A lot of Indians are dying with the temperature way over 100. But we’re really not covering that.”
“I’m a nitwit.” Kyle’s voice was louder, insistent.
“Hnnh? How so?”
“I totally misjudged Camellia. I should have checked her out. Among other things, she’s part of a group working to protect endangered birds, especially pollinators. She’s onto something important.” He smoothed out another crumpled piece of paper and tossed it to her. “Here, check her out yourself. She might care as much about climate change as either of us.”
Barbara ignored the paper. “So, send her some flowers with a note of apology. Now, can we move on?” She pulled a piece of paper out of her file. “The analysis of methane coming out of those holes was dozens of times higher than normal. Carbon dioxide was hundreds of times higher. Those are staggering numbers.”
“Right, no doubt about it. If that expands to other parts of the Arctic and increases in intensity, we could conceivably be in for catastrophic warming even if some scientists think it’s unlikely. I don’t have to tell you that.”
“No, you certainly don’t.”
“A calamity. Question is how we move forward.” He yanked a piece of paper out from under one of the books causing yet another one to fall off his desk and land in the pile. “Yale reported that some 73 percent of Americans polled recently do believe that global warming is happening, and now they’re increasingly worried about its effects on their lives today.” He shook his head. “We’ve got to get the President and Congress to take action. Lord knows how, with powerful people like Trotford blocking it.”
“Well, he’s behind an attempt to revise the Clean Air Act so that it won’t cover climate change.”
“Figures,” he said picking up his phone to google florists as Barbara left the room. He was remembering Camellia’s tears over the tiny bird. Now he understood why she knew what it was. He also recalled how scornful he’d been the day they met and in Siberia. Something more than mere flowers was merited.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
SAME DAY
EVENING
CAMELLIA’S TOWNHOUSE
KYLE WAS UNEASY, a rare and decidedly unwelcome state. He stood at the top of the stairs in front of Camellia’s door holding a bouquet of multicolored flowers, a box in gold paper and a card. He had polished his scruffy boots and combed his unruly hair. The three-story brick townhouse was attached to its neighbors on both sides. Tall windows were arched at the top, The lower windows had window boxes full of flowers. There were plants in brass urns on either side of the flight of steps leading up to the entrance. Her condo occupied the top two floors of the renovated townhouse. The other occupant had a separate entrance at the side of the building.
He pressed the intercom button to let Camellia know he had arrived. She buzzed him in. He entered the foyer, and she opened the living room door, standing there in cut off shorts and a loose jersey with a UNC logo on the front. She had big lemon shaped hoops in her ears. Bare feet. Without shoes she’s only about 5’ 4”, he figured. He was 6’ 3”. She also seemed younger than 34, her actual age. Somehow that makes her seem vulnerable, he thought.
“I owe you an apology,” he said. “I made totally unwarranted assumptions. I took you for a spoiled Southern belle on the radical far right.” He handed her the box, flowers and card. “A peace offering.” As he spoke, he looked around the room. Interior walls were brick, and high ceilings were beamed. There was a working fireplace with a carefully restored marble mantelpiece. Floor to ceiling bookcases. She had Brahms’ violin concerto playing on her Bose radio.
“When you called, you said something about catching me up on the trip results, nothing else,” Camellia protested. “Camellias!” She buried her head in the bouquet and breathed in the flowers’ fragrance. “I can’t refuse these.” She took the gifts, went across the room, through the dining area and into the kitchen. Kyle followed. There were framed prints on the wall of California condors, Monarch butterflies, and endangered birds including a tall, narrow one of a crested Ibis with a bright red face. The kitchen table cloth was imprinted with a variety of birds and animals. Rear windows overlooked a yard with fruit trees and a vegetable garden covered with nets to ward off insects. There was a beehive next to the back fence and a small wooden bird house with a blue roof attached to a tree branch. Brahms’ concerto flowed from a speaker mounted to the wall.
A shelf on another wall was lined with assorted cans of organic vegetables and bottles of exotic spices. She got a scratched ceramic wide mouthed pitcher that sat alone on its own shelf and filled it with water. “You undoubtedly knew that they’re the Alabama State flower, right?”
“I did check that out.”
She shook her head. He’d better not think that flowers were going to mollify her. “Nope, getting back to your assumption, I’m not a southern belle. I’m just a poor southern cracker. You can tell that by what I wear at home, right? These shorts are ten years old and the jersey is older yet. It needs to go to Goodwill, but that’s not about to happen. See, there’s even a big crack in this pitcher. I use it as a vase anyhow.” She pointed to one of the edges. “That’s a pretty lame apology. Can’t say as it exactly dills my pickle. Must have cost you a lot to say that.”
“Not really. I believe in taking responsibility for my mistakes. And I’m sure you can afford crockery that isn’t broken. Must be a story there.”
“We’ll see about that. But yes, you’re right. I used to fill this with milk we got from a neighbor’s cow. Some days there wasn’t much else to stave off hunger,” she added as she put the flowers in the pitcher. “Take a look at those cans.” She pointed to the shelf. “That’s what you keep around to be sure you’ll never risk starving again.” She took the flowers and put them on the kitchen table. “You were inexcusably condescending, you know. Clearly you need to learn not to judge a book by its cover.”
“I’m learning there is quite a book inside that stunning cover. And you’re right about the way I treated you. In fact, I’m not usually a chauvinist with women, but I guess I’m pretty hard on climate change deniers. I’m told I need to work on that.”
“Dang, that dog won’t hunt. Can’t let you off that easily about women. And treating any group of people like imbeciles won’t go down well with me or the people I grew up with. People don’t listen if they feel demeaned. Academics are always preaching to the choir, dismissing everyone else. Arrogance is hardly helpful.”
“Good point. I’m afraid I stand guilty as accused.”
She didn’t consider that much of an admission but said, “Glass of wine?”
“Thanks.”
She reached to take glasses out of a cabinet. “Will red do? It doesn’t need to be chilled.”
“Sure. Owen mentioned that you came from Alabama, I gather a poor part of Alabama. It must have been tough.”
She put the glasses on the table and handed him a corkscrew. “Dirt poor. I was among the roughly 13 million kids who are so-called ‘food insecure’. Hate that PC term. Half-starved is more like it. Not that you would understand.”
He refused to react to her insult, partly because he knew he couldn’t really understand. “Thirteen mullion kids. That’s insane. I do know that if food waste was a country, it
would be the world’s third-largest greenhouse gas emitter, surpassed only by China and the U.S. With so much food decomposing in landfills, it’s a major source of methane in particular.”
She seemed amused. “You sure do carry on.” She took out a bottle of vin rose, examined the label, and held it out. “No way we could have afforded to buy wine like this. A pricy label. Gift from a fan dropped off by Fed X. Geesh, it can be really hard to get away from them. Stalkers especially. Some are pretty creepy.” She remembered the calls, the attack, the rag doll and note and concealed a shudder.
They sat down at the kitchen table. He popped the cork and poured wine while she opened the envelope and removed the card with a small blue bird on the front. She read the message. “BLUE WITHOUT YOU.” She shook her head again. “Hey, don’t go hog wild. That’s absolutely ridiculous!”
“It’s the only card I could find with a blue bird on it. Maybe the message isn’t appropriate.” He looked at her. “Then again, things change.” At the very least, maybe she would stop despising him. “Owen told me about your injured Macaw. He certainly sticks up for you.”
“He has my back. Don’t know what I’d do without him especially with NIP what it is. It’s a good thing he’s the best in the business or they wouldn’t put up with his dreadlocks.”
She noticed that Kyle raised his eyebrows without commenting, and continued, “What do you make of the carcass we stumbled on? Have they figured out yet what it is? By the way, I’m calling it The Spooky Siberian.”
“No, they haven’t. So far seems to be something no one has ever seen before. They’ll probably be able to determine how old it is pretty closely. Incidentally, I watched your coverage of our trip. Good job. The crumbling buildings will probably come as a surprise to most viewers. There was something you might have added, but that would really have gotten people down.”
She sipped her wine. “What’s that?”
“The Arctic permafrost holds around 15 million gallons of mercury. It’s already being released with more likely as the permafrost thaws, polluting the ocean and building up in the food chain.”
“Bummer.” Camellia unwrapped the fancy box. “Dark chocolates!” She read the label. ‘Certified 70% organic cacao dark chocolate.’ No mercury presumably. You might redeem yourself yet. But don’t think you can charm the dew right off the honeysuckle. Not happening.” She went through the box carefully, selected a piece of candy, unwrapped it and popped it in her mouth, then washed it down with wine and licked her lips.
“They’re made with cocoa grown in an area where small farmers depend on it to subsist. Growers can’t be sure their crops will survive the increasingly intense heat and droughts. Yields are already down.”
Camellia laughed. “Never quit, do you? If we lose chocolate, I’m a goner.” She took out a chocolate covered nut, unwrapped it, and popped that in her mouth too. Then she reached in for a chocolate caramel, tossed it to him casually, and shut the candy box. “Okay, well, if we have a truce, most likely it’s temporary since I still have very serious doubts about you. The question at the moment is what to do about Trotford’s constant barrage of misinformation and outright lies. There’s something really off about that man. Can’t figure out what, but my gut tells me it’s important. A rotten tree stump in an Alabama swamp has more intact morals.”
At least she obviously hadn’t slept with Trotford. He’d been an idiot to ever think that might be the case. “Perfect analogy. I agree, and I don’t know what it is either. I checked him out as well as I could and didn’t find anything, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t anything. I gather you might have something else mind.”
She cocked her head to one side and considered. “It could be good to have you drop into the lion’s den and let me interview you on NIP nightly news. I would have said if you can’t run with the big dogs, you should stay under the porch. However, I’m beginning to think maybe you can handle the fearsome far right lions even if they aren’t exactly toothless. There’ll be backlash from some viewers and pundits, but I’ll chance it. Our trip increased my ratings even if I did have to wear more clothes in Siberia than usual.”
“I certainly see why you have your male following, clothes or not. Your cheeky grit alone should do it. But I’m not so sure it would be a good idea for me to join you. The pundits there will misinterpret or distort what I say. The far right conservatives always do.”
“Good grief. Did I just hear some sort of compliment? Not derision? What, no hand on the thigh at the same time? Like Trotford at the restaurant? Yuck.” She cringed. “Must be at least some legislators, if not NIP pundits, on your side.”
Kyle agreed grudgingly. “A few, such as they are. Nowhere near enough.”
“See, there’s that condescension again. Deniers hate the way you eggheads look down on them. You know, some of my friends back in Alabama are beginning to get it. Constant weird weather these days is making a dent.”
“Oh?”
“Yes, especially with all the historic flooding lately. But don’t worry, I can handle the dumb pundits. Some of them have less concern about climate change than a banker on foreclosure day at the widows’ and orphans’ home. I’ve had a lot of practice dealing with them.”
“You have a way with words.” he responded with a smile. “I’ve been warned that you’re trained in Krav Maga, so no hand on thigh. But, okay, yes, I’ll come on NIP.” He raised his glass to hers and took a swig. Still, he thought, I might well have to keep the martial arts thing in mind. He put his glass down and got up to leave. She stood up too, but in doing so, several strands of hair got caught in the hoop in her right ear.
“Ouch!” she said, trying but failing to extricate the hair.
“Hang on,” Kyle said. His body came into contact with hers as he took hold of her ear and the earring with one hand while he carefully threaded the trapped strands through the hoop with his other hand. It was a challenge, so it took a while. He put his hand under her chin and tilted her head to make sure the hoop was free. When it was clear the problem had been solved, he tucked the loose strands of hair behind her ear and stepped back.
She could feel her heart pounding. So could he.
“Wait a sec,” Camellia said. She reached into the box he’d given her, took his hand, put several pieces of candy in it and closed his fingers around them. “Save them. That could be your treat for suffering through the interview. I picked the best ones for you.” She paused. “I owe you an apology too. I know you wouldn’t have dreamed of eating the bird. It was inexcusable to suggest that. I was just so hurt by the way you treated me.” She bit her lip and looked away. “I’m sorry.”
“Inexcusable, crazy, ridiculous, cruel, mean-spirited, stupid, harsh, and let’s see, what else?”
“What? That’s carrying it too far!” she said angrily, glowering at him.
He laughed. “I do love the way your blue eyes glint when you’re angry,” he said. He put his hand on top of hers. “It’s my behavior that was inexcusable. I’ll make it up to you.” And while I’m at it, he thought, I’ll definitely have to keep your black belt in mind.
She quickly retrieved her hand. They headed back through the living room and into the hall. She opened the door for him. When she closed it behind him, she leaned against it for a minute. She remembered her reaction to his fingers on her hand and ear, not to mention his body against hers. Annoyed, she unhooked the earrings and threw them on the entry table. I’m getting into the habit of throwing things, she thought. He could be a problem. A serious problem. Just great.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
SAME DAY
EVENING
OUTSIDE CAMELLIA’S TOWNHOUSE
KYLE KNEW HE WAS IN DEEP TROUBLE. He went down Camellia’s front steps, turned left and headed down the block. The light was red, so he stopped and glanced at a thermometer on the wall of the building next to him. It read 97 degrees. Hot, he said to himself. Another record. But not as scorching as the hot wat
er I’ve landed myself in. He remembered the feel of Camellia’s silky hair, her shining eyes, enticing body, wonderfully indomitable spirit and shook his head. Barbara had it wrong, he thought. Camellia’s not getting to me. She’s gotten me. And this could be even more serious than it was once before.
With that he hailed a cab. “There’s a limit as to how much walking I’ll do in this unbearable heat,” he told the driver.
When he got home, he took a cold shower.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
NEXT EVENING
NIP ANCHOR DESK
MANHATTAN
KYLE WAS IN ENEMY TERRITORY. He stood in the wings waiting patiently for Camellia to beckon him. In fact, he would have been perfectly happy to stand there for hours watching her prepare to broadcast. Yes, I am definitely in serious trouble he told himself when she gave him an encouraging smile. She might think I’m worried about the interview which certainly isn’t the case, he thought.
“You’ll want this as soon as you finish,” Frank Cho said as he handed Camellia her jacket. “I did get management to adjust the thermostat a little. Someone turned it up to compensate for the furnace outside.” She had on another sheer silk blouse and short skirt.
“Thanks, you’re an angel.” She hung it over the back of her chair and sat down behind the anchor desk. “How’s Sujin doing?”
“Baby’s due in two weeks. She says she’s about to explode. You know she hates being stuck at home with Bobby, but they’re anticipating another difficult birth. She was in labor with him for 20 hours. Sure wish I could spend more time with them. I’m planning a vacation in Maine when the baby arrives. It’s got to be cooler there.”
“Good. Tell her I’ll stop by tomorrow.”
“That’ll help a lot. Thanks.”
“Are you taking courses this summer?”
“Only one. By August I’ll have enough credits for a degree in journalism like you, not that I’ll ever be an anchor. What I really want to do is write articles about North Korea.”
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