My Only One

by Lindsay McKenna

  “Why did you write that note to me?”

  He shifted and stood close to Abby, the destroyer constantly rolling from side to side or pitching up and down. Although the waves were only three to four feet in height, the destroyer could hit waves going in a different direction or a rogue wave many times higher, and Abby might lose her balance and fall. “Because most of the rooms are bugged.”

  “Oh….”

  With a grimace, Alec said, “We have KGB agents aboard and no one knows who they are. We must watch what we say at all times, I think, when it comes to discussing the forthcoming press conference.”

  She grinned. “Good thing I didn’t say anything about those greasy sausages or potatoes I got three mornings in a row, then.”

  Alec’s laugh was full and resonant. “I’m glad you didn’t. Captain Denisov wanted everything perfect for you. He had finally realized you’re a vegetarian and you won’t eat the meat, no matter how prized it is to us. The Captain has taken it in good stride, though. I’m glad our cooks found some rice for you, otherwise you might have starved to death on cabbage soup and black bread.” His smile deepened as he absorbed Abby’s flushed features into his heart. She was so alive, so incredibly spontaneous compared to the women of the Soviet Union. “In all truth, most of us are forced into being vegetarians because there is so little meat available in our country.”

  “You make vegetarianism sound like a bread-and-water prison sentence,” Abby said with a laugh, “and it isn’t. Actually, I’ve enjoyed your black bread, just as I’ve enjoyed being with the crew and having our spirited talks at the breakfast table. But you’ve been evading me all week,” she teased him. “I know so little about you personally, Alec. From what Tony’s letter said, we’ll be spending a week together in Anchorage. Couldn’t you tell me a little bit more about yourself?”

  Caught up in her enthusiasm, he nodded. “I didn’t mean not to talk about myself, but I think Soviets remain like a closed book because of their fear of the KGB network of spies. I’ll try, over the next day, to give you more personal vignettes about myself.” He frowned. “I’m looking forward to the experience, but I hope my English is good enough so that I don’t embarrass us with your press.”

  “Your English is flawless. In fact, far better than mine.” She turned and faced him, the salt air invigorating, the wind whipping around them. “So, tell me about yourself. Everything!”

  The destroyer pitched, and Alec automatically reached out, his fingers wrapping around her arm. Abby moved closer to him, and he felt a powerful need to protect her, even though he knew she was fully capable of taking care of herself. Although, Alec reminded himself, Abby had a decided reckless streak when it came to protecting her whales.

  “I was born and raised in Moscow thirty years ago. My parents are both medical doctors who work in a hospital in the same city. My mother, Darya Rostov, is a pediatrician. My father, Konstantin Rostov, is a brilliant cardiac surgeon. When I entered the university, I majored in mathematics with a minor in communications. I also took four years of English because of my minor, and it has proven a good thing. It has given me assignments where an English-speaking officer has been needed.” He looked down at her rapt features. “I knew I had to spend time in the military, so I selected the navy. After three years, I had fallen in love with the ocean, so I’ve chosen to remain as a navigation officer. I just recently left the Baltic Sea Command and was transferred here to the Bering area.”

  “Any brothers or sisters?”

  He shook his head.

  “I don’t have any, either.”

  “We’re alike in several ways. You are a marine biologist who loves the sea, and we are the only children in a marriage.”

  “I think that’s why I’m so bullheaded about what I do,” Abby said with a slight smile. “My father is a cetacean scientist who works at Scripps Oceanographic Institute near San Diego. My mother has a degree in biology, but she’s very active in women’s-rights issues. She’s a lobbyist, and her main concerns are for single, divorced mothers raising a family, adequate day-care for their children and equal-rights issues.”

  “Lobbyist?”

  “That’s a person whose job it is to persuade our senators and congressman to vote in favor of the issues for which the lobbyist advocates,” Abby explained.

  “Are you a lobbyist, then, for whale issues?”

  “No, although environmental organizations use my knowledge and my name when they go before Congress to push for enforcement of the Pelly and Magnuson Amendments. Sometimes I’m called to testify before a House or Senate hearing regarding endangered whale species such as the humpback and minke whales.” Her eyebrows lowered. “And I’ve got my detractors on the Hill. Dr. Monica Turner, an assistant from the State Department, hates me on sight. She’s probably rolling her eyes over all the press attention your rescue of me has gotten. Actually, it’s probably jealousy more than anything. Dr. Turner has the ear of President Reagan, and she’s antiwhale. She and I have locked horns before. Her negative whale stance is well-known, and Reaganomics doesn’t exactly favor protecting anything environmental, believe me,” Abby said grimly. “So, it’s always an uphill battle with Congress to persuade them how real the danger is, not only to certain whale species but to dolphins.”

  “Well,” Alec said in a hopeful tone, “you will get your chance to see the American public on your side of this issue when we get to Anchorage.”

  “For being a Soviet, you very astutely see the problems and possible answers,” Abby told him, impressed with his intelligent assessment.

  With a chuckle, Alec said, “I don’t think it has anything to do with the country in which one is born, but rather, a sensitivity and awareness that politics is a part of the fabric of everyone’s life—whether we like it or not.”

  Suddenly, Abby was thrilled as never before at the prospect of having Alec at her side during the week in Anchorage. “You do know I live in Anchorage part-time, don’t you?”

  “No, I didn’t.”

  “When the whales come up from Baja, Mexico, every spring, I live in Alaska and try to protect them while they feed in the Bering and Chuckhi seas. From November through January, I live in my other apartment near Washington, D.C., where I work with SOWF lobbyists and do a lot of political work on behalf of the whales and dolphins. Then, in late January through April, I’m down in the Baja, Mexico area doing research on humpbacks at their breeding and calving ground off the Rivillagigedo Islands, or on the gray whales off the lagoons of Baja. Next January, I’ll be working with several distinguished marine biologists from other worldwide scientific organizations in the San Ignacio Lagoon off Baja, filming gray whales giving birth. We’ll all be staying on the science ship Seafarer.”

  “You’re a very busy person,” he said, “but I like your commitment. You don’t just give words to what you care about, you actually go out there and do something about it.”

  Abby grinned. “The story of my life, Alec. I’m always up to my red hair in trouble of some sort because of my whales.”

  He laughed. “That doesn’t surprise me. I must see your apartment in Anchorage, though, because I want to compare it to our way of life in the Soviet Union.”

  “Not only will you see it,” she promised him seriously, “I intend to make you some home-cooked meals. Real American food. Well, actually, vegetarian or meat fare, but I promise, it will be good.”

  Alec watched the hazy-blue land mass that was drawing closer and closer. It was Kodiak Island, the mountainous terrain covered with a rich cloak of verdant forest. His heart picked up in beat, not because of the beauty of what he saw, but because Abby, who was childlike in her enthusiasm, touched him as no other woman ever had. He smiled down at her.

  “Home-cooked food is something I’ve had too little of,” he told her fervently.

  “Well,” she added with a groan, “I’ll have to take you to McDonald’s, too. I want you to get a real slice of American life.”

  “McDonald’s?�
�

  “Yes, a very American fast-food chain of restaurants. You’ll love it since you’re an avid meat eater.”

  “I’m sure I will, but I still want to know more about your whale-saving activities.”

  With a laugh, Abby turned and faced him. “Don’t worry! I’ll probably bore you to death with information on them.” In the morning sunlight she was able to see the ruddiness in Alec’s cheeks, the wind whipping around them. The dark blue trooper cap he wore had a red-and-gold hammer-and-sickle insignia on the front. The rugged quality of his face had been shaped by the fierce and relentless ocean over a period of years. When the corners of his well-shaped mouth pulled upward, her heart pounded briefly in her breast, as if to underscore how handsome he was in her eyes.

  “I have a friend in Moscow,” Alec told her, “someone high up in the Kremlin. The Soviet Union has already agreed to the ban on killing whales, and I feel my friend can be of help to us. How, I’m not sure, but if you’ll get me the information on your whales, I’ll make sure it’s passed on to him.”

  “Who knows,” Abby said wistfully, “The Soviet Union might get more active as a result of this incident.”

  With a shrug of his shoulders, Alec said, “No one can any longer guess what the Kremlin will do. With General Secretary Gorbachev, the old way of life as we know it is rapidly changing.”

  “I hope he’s a whale lover,” Abby said fiercely under her breath. “We can use another powerful nation on our side.”

  With a laugh, Alec led her back toward the hatchway. It was freezing cold on deck and he realized that Abby was getting chilled by the way she was rubbing her hands together to keep them warm. “Come, let’s share some hot coffee, warm up, then get back to work on our Anchorage adventure.”

  When the white H-65 Coast Guard helicopter with a red-orange stripe on its tail landed on the Udaloy to take them to Anchorage, Abby’s excitement tripled. On board, she and Alec met their liaison officer, Lieutenant Tim Atkin. He had reddish hair cut military short and dancing brown eyes that told her of his intelligence. His smile, warm with welcome, won Abby over instantly. Privately, she’d been afraid that the Coast Guard might prove more of a deterrent than a friend. Tim’s handshake was firm, and his boyish smile and the freckles across his nose and cheeks convinced Abby he was on their side.

  Putting on the helmets Tim supplied them inside the aircraft gave Abby and Alec immediate communications with one another. After they slipped into the mandatory life vests, the Coast Guard helicopter lifted off the deck of the Udaloy. Abby waved out the window to Captain Denisov and his fellow officers below. She had made many new friends and was going to miss her table companions on board the destroyer.

  Tim filled them in on the busy schedule ahead of them while the helicopter flew toward Anchorage. He also gave both of them a brief overview of his qualifications. At twenty-nine years old, he’d already been a skipper aboard an eighty-two foot Coast Guard cutter and had recently earned a master’s degree in public administration from Harvard University. That meant he was not only savvy about the political process but was comfortable with the press. Tim knew how to manipulate the media in a positive way.

  Abby watched as Tim focused his attention on Alec and told him what was expected from him in his week-long whirlwind tour of Anchorage. Both were in their respective uniforms, and Abby thought that history was being made with that handshake: two former enemies now working toward neutrality, if not friendship. There was clearly a respect between them when Alec discovered that the lieutenant had been a skipper of his own vessel. Although Atkin looked very young, he had the wisdom of someone twice his age.

  “We’ve got a real tempest in a teapot,” Tim told Abby wryly as they sat on one side of the helicopter in the nylon-webbed seats. “If you wanted press, you’ve got it.” He smiled. “It’s my job to get you to Hotel Captain Cook, where the official conference will take place.” He looked up at Alec. “We’ve got a room for you in the hotel, Captain. Coast Guard personnel will be outside your door to stop the press from hounding you once the conference is over.”

  Abby reached out, gripping the officer’s arm. “Why can’t Alec stay at my apartment, Lieutenant? I have a guest bedroom. Wouldn’t it be easier to guard both of us at the same address?”

  Atkin nodded thoughtfully. “Great idea, Doctor. I’ll radio my superiors about it, and if they approve, I’ll put in a call to Captain Denisov and clear it with him. I don’t see why they wouldn’t approve the change in plans.”

  “Awesome.”

  Alec grinned for the first time that day. He wanted to shield Abby even though she was thoroughly capable of handling the press. In fact, she was eager to utilize the reporters to get the SOWF message out. He found her fierce belief in the whales a precious discovery. Until very recently, not many people in the Soviet Union would dare take on government policy the way Abby did. Even now, the Soviet people were cautiously testing a new freedom Abby obviously took for granted. There was something positive to say for democracy, after all, Alec decided.

  Abby turned to Alec. “Would you mind staying at my place?”

  “Not at all.”

  When Tim went to talk to the two pilots and radio the request to Anchorage, Abby explained to Alec, “Our Coast Guard isn’t really a military service. They’re budgeted by the Department of Transportation. I’ve worked closely with them so many times, especially on oil spills or chemical spills, that I’m really glad they’re orchestrating your stay. They have top-notch, reliable people.”

  Alec watched Atkin speaking on the radio. There was an energy around the Coast Guard officer that impressed him immediately. He sensed Atkin was one of those officers who very quietly, but smoothly, got things done behind the scenes. “We’ve usually had very good relations with the Coast Guard,” he told Abby.

  Although she was dressed in a pair of jeans and a sweater, Abby had brought along all the luggage she’d taken to sea with her. Earlier, she had showed Alec the outfit she would wear for the press conference. It was a pair of light tan wool slacks and an accompanying blazer, an ivory blouse with ruffles and a very old cameo given to her by her grandmother. Today, she informed him, she would have to look official. Even her lovely hair, which Alec liked to see loose and free about her shoulders, was tastefully arranged in a chignon at the nape of her neck. The earrings she wore were small gold dolphins. The pin on the lapel of her blazer was a gold whale. He smiled to himself. Abby wore her jewelry like a badge of courage for those mammals she had nearly given her life for. There was everything to admire about her.

  “Okay, it’s set,” Tim Atkin told them sometime later as he rejoined them. “The Coast Guard has no objection, and I’ve got an okay from Captain Rostov.” Tim pulled out several pages of paper from his attach;aae case and gave each of them a copy. “This is the itinerary for the week.”

  “Looks like a lot of activities,” Abby said, surprised.

  Tim smiled broadly. “Well, I had a little to do with it. The Coast Guard is proud to be a part of this glasnost opportunity. We thought Captain Rostov might like to see a little America, some tours, and to get a good look at the way we live.”

  “Wonderful!” Abby said, clapping her hands together.

  “Have you penciled in time for me to sleep and eat, Lieutenant?” Alec asked with a smile.

  Tim grinned broadly. “Yes, sir, I have.” He pointed to Alec’s copy of the itinerary. “After this first press conference, I’d like you to look over this schedule. If there’s something on there you don’t want to do, let me know. Or, if there’s something that interests you that isn’t on there, it can be added.”

  Alec nodded, fully impressed. “Thank you, Lieutenant.”

  Tim looked at them. “Well, are you ready to enter the fray after we land at Anchorage International Airport?”

  Eagerly, Abby nodded. “You bet!”

  Without thinking about his action, Alec gently laid his hand on Abby’s arm. “I’m ready.”

  Her skin
tingled where Alec had momentarily touched her. The sense of protection that he afforded her was new to Abby. He was always the officer and a gentleman, a far cry from the way a lot of men behaved toward women in the U.S. But then, Abby reminded herself, Alec was a Soviet, and his culture had far different moral codes and values. From what she had observed so far, Alec was very old-fashioned, and she liked that about him.

  As she sat there in the confines of the helicopter, Abby wondered abruptly how Washington, D.C. would react to their press conference. She knew her mother, Vera, would be thrilled with the notoriety given the whales. On the other hand, she knew without doubt that Dr. Monica Turner from the State Department would probably be livid.

  *

  “I CAN’T BELIEVE THIS!” Monica Turner whispered. She was at her desk, watching the small television that sat in one corner of her massive office. Her assistant secretary, Pat Monahan, had an unhappy look on her face as she stood near the set. “Every national news program has Abby Fielding’s face plastered all over it!”

  Pat shrugged delicately and switched off the set. “What worries me is the Soviet element. They sounded awfully pro whale and dolphin.”

  Angrily, Monica got up and moved to the venetian blinds behind her ornate maple desk. Out the window of her office, it was springtime. The cherry trees were blooming, and the lawns becoming green once more. “I think Fielding deliberately created that collision with the Japanese whaler just to get this kind of publicity. Damn those whale activists!” She clenched her fist behind her back. “They’re like a plague, Pat. No, correct that—a damned virus. Just as bad as the AIDs virus, in my opinion.”

  “Well,” Pat said with feeling, “don’t let the press hear you say that. The SOWF would love to get a hold of you saying that about them.”