MORE THAN THE MOON

by A Rosendale

  ‘And now I’ve lost the reason I declined in the first place,’ he thought.

  “Dirk?” Christian interrupted again.

  He raised at brow at him over the computer and clicked ‘send’ on the report.

  “What’s going on, man?”

  “I…” He shook his head and pinched the bridge of his nose. “I lost Alma.”

  The look of shock on Christian’s face would have been comical under difference circumstances. “What? How?”

  “Van Baron,” he answered simply.

  Christian nodded in vague understanding. There was no denying Congressman Johnson’s former arm candy had an alluring appeal. “Dude, that sucks, but she is pretty hot.”

  “I didn’t sleep with her!” Dirk insisted.

  He sighed in relief. “Oh, good! Cause despite her looks, she’s still been with Johnson, and…gross. So what happened?”

  “I was with her at a bar last night and Alma happened to walk in. She assumed the same thing you did.”

  “Whoa. That more than sucks. Have you talked to her?”

  “How? I can’t tell her the truth and there’s no legitimate lie for a situation like that.”

  Christian frowned. “There is one way you could tell her the truth.”

  Dirk laughed humorlessly. “That’s the ironic thing.” He pulled a small black box from his pocket and slid it across the desk. “I was going to take her to Europe and propose next week.”

  “Hell,” his friend muttered as he picked up the box and fell into a nearby chair.

  “Do it anyway,” a deep voice ordered from the doorway.

  There was no telling how long Vasquez had been standing there. The rented space was dark and he was a veteran of deception.

  “She won’t even answer my calls. How am I supposed to suggest a remote vacation with a man she now hates?”

  “Persistence and ingenuity,” Vasquez suggested.

  “’Ingenuity?’”

  “Use your resources.”

  Dirk frowned. Christian admired the jewelry in the box for a moment, then snapped it shut and tossed it back. Dirk caught it distractedly. The thin threads of an idea came to him.

  “You’re right. I think…” Without another word, he snapped his computer shut, stuffed it in a bag, and left the office.

  * * *

  Alma spent a miserable weekend in her apartment. She worked through as much of it as she could, but with the semester winding down and finals the next week, it was hard to find something to do. Dirk’s constant calls throughout Saturday and much of Sunday were so painful, she eventually turned her phone off completely. Monday couldn’t come fast enough and she returned to the university anxiously, embracing work as the distraction it had become.

  Grading finals Tuesday proved so much distraction that she didn’t even notice Steven’s entrance. He appeared mildly uncomfortable as he took the seat across from her.

  “Hey,” he greeted softly. Despite impeccably applied makeup, it was clear she was tired and sad.

  Alma peered over her glasses at him.

  “We missed you Friday night.”

  “Sorry.” She didn’t offer an explanation for her absence from the bar.

  “Are you okay?”

  “Fine,” came the curt answer.

  He examined her for a long moment. “Um, what are you summer plans? I mean, after the obvious trip to the Citizen.” His crooked smile displayed an array of crooked teeth.

  “I’m headed to Washington for my yearly expedition to Alaska.”

  “Oh? When?”

  “Two weeks.”

  “Then perhaps…” Aware that he was making an awkward proposition even more awkward, he plunged forward. “Perhaps you’d be interested in the Caribbean prior to your frigid explorations.”

  She raised a brow.

  “As a colleague, of course. There’re extra accommodations. You might be interested in the local biology while my studies are more directed to a sunken vessel in the area.”

  Her expression didn’t change.

  “Fine! I thought you could use a proper vacation. You seem a bit down and out. I don’t presume to know why, but I can guess.”

  His honest invitation brought a slow smile to her lips. “You know, maybe some equatorial sun is just the thing. I’d love to join you.”

  Steven sighed in relief. “Perfect! I’ll forward you the flight information.” He swept from the office with flushed cheeks.

  Alma stared after him suspiciously. Dr. Attenborough could be an awkward gentleman, but that exchange was far more flustered than usual.

  * * *

  “Are you going to Alaska this summer?” Ava asked over the phone.

  “Yeah. I’ll be flying into Seattle and boarding the ship immediately thereafter. I’ll come visit when I get back.”

  “Okay. Any other summer plans?”

  “Yes, actually. One of my colleagues invited me to the Caribbean next week.”

  “Wow! That will be quite the treat! Will Dirk be joining you?”

  “No,” she answered instantly.

  “Oh.” Ava seemed perturbed for an instant. “Will he be coming to Washington with you?”

  “No.”

  She could practically see her mother frown. It was a frown that mixed motherly concern with selfish regret. She and Dirk had formed quite the bond on their brief visits together. “I’m sorry, dear.”

  Alma couldn’t reply through a knot in her throat.

  “Are you alright?”

  “Fine. I’ve got to go finish up grades, Mom. I’ll talk to you later.”

  “Okay. Have fun in the sun!” Her effort at lightheartedness was a struggle.

  “Thanks. Love you. Bye.” She didn’t wait for the reply before hanging up and swallowing the tears that had gathered.

  * * *

  “To summer!” the professors cheered, clinking an array of beverage vessels together.

  Alma took a shot of tequila and chased it with a Corona. Her fellow professors cast curious glances, but didn’t comment on the uncharacteristic beverages.

  “What are everyone’s summer plans?” Brandon Miles asked.

  “I am finally diving on one of my dream ship wrecks,” Dr. Attenborough answered excitedly. “The HMS Astrea,” he added dreamily. “She went down in 1781 off the British Virgin Islands. It’s a rare dive!”

  “Your history dork is showing,” Amie teased.

  Steven rolled his eyes and took a swallow of oatmeal stout. The foam formed a momentary mustache on his upper lip, which he licked away quickly. “What are your plans, Dr. Oceanography?”

  “I, too, am spending my summer research in the sun, but in San Diego. The California Current is my topic of interest. What about you, Mike?”

  “I’m not going far. It’s difficult to get away with the baby at home. I will be visiting Woods Hole, though, to consult my partner on plans for the submersible prototype we’re designing.”

  “I didn’t know you were designing a prototype!” Cassie exclaimed.

  “The specs are quite interesting,” Miles complimented.

  They mulled over the exciting revelation for a few minutes.

  “What about you, Cassie?” Alma asked as the waiter delivered her second beer.

  “I’ll be visiting Amie in San Diego. But otherwise, it’ll be a quiet summer for me, too.”

  When Alma didn’t volunteer her plans, Miles prodded her.

  “Steven’s invited me to join him briefly in the Caribbean. Then I’m off to Alaska for the yearly cruise.” Her tone was uninterested. In her depressed state of mind, she didn’t notice the wince that crossed Attenborough’s face.

  “Those will be quite contrasting climates!” Mike laughed, oblivious to the concerned glance Amie and Cassie exchanged.

  Miles watched Alma curiously. He’d been so busy wrapping up the school year, that he hadn’t had a spare moment to talk to her in a few weeks. She was so efficient with grades and advising, that he rarely needed to check
in.

  “Is Dirk going?” Cassie asked nonchalantly, although she and her female colleague had already guessed at the cause of their friend’s mood.

  Alma shook her head without looking up from her beer.

  Amie touched her arm in comfort, realized Alma didn’t necessarily want consolation, and spurred the conversation onto a different topic.

  * * *

  “Are you okay to get home?” Cassie asked. She was the last of the professors to leave except for Alma and Miles.

  “Yeah. I’ll just get a cab,” Alma assured her.

  “You’re sure?”

  She nodded emphatically, hugged her friend, and watched her go.

  “Want to move to the bar?” Miles asked, motioning to two free seats.

  With a shrug, she moved over to join him and drained another beer. The bartender motioned at the bottle.

  She nodded and also touched the empty shot glass.

  “Make that two,” Miles ordered.

  They raised the shots in cheers and downed them together.

  “Did you ever hear the one about the bar that only serves dolphins?”

  Alma raised a brow at what promised to be an awful joke. But she appreciated his effort to raise her spirits.

  “They only have one customer, but at least it serves a porpoise!”

  She couldn’t help the chuckle that escaped her. “That’s terrible!”

  He shrugged, pleased the joke had served its purpose. “What’s the best way to communicate with a fish?”

  “I don’t know. What?”

  “Drop it a line!”

  Another chuckle. He could see her physically relaxing at the mix of laughs and booze.

  “Did you hear about the red ship that collided with a blue ship?” Alma asked. Tequila and beer had made her slightly lightheaded, but it was a welcome side effect. She hadn’t enjoyed Brandon Miles’s company in years, but tonight was proving better than expected.

  He shook his head, glasses glinting in the dim light.

  “All the sailors were ‘marooned’.”

  “Ha! That’s a good one! I’ve never heard it before.”

  They went on exchanging one-liners for a while and ordered another round of shots. It was almost midnight when Miles leaned an arm on the bar and peered at Alma. His eyes were hooded with alcohol and interest.

  “I don’t know what it is about you, Alma,” he said quietly.

  Although she anticipated what was coming, she didn’t stop him. ‘Maybe a little flattery was exactly what the doctor ordered,’ she thought blearily.

  “I can’t stop myself from thinking about you. I could talk to you for ages and every word you utter captivates me. I know you don’t feel the same-”

  A gentle hand on his knee startled him into silence. He dropped a hand instantly to take hers.

  “You’ve always been kind to me,” she replied gently. The fact that she was touching her boss slipped her tipsy mind.

  “I knew I wanted you at BU the instant I saw your application, but I never dreamed I’d become so infatuated. God, you’re…you’re gorgeous.” He brushed a tendril of hair from her cheek.

  She smiled modestly. For the first time all week, Dirk was the furthest thing from her mind.

  “And so brilliant!” He laughed lightly. “I mean, I’m talking to a Smithsonian scholar! That’s incredible! You can’t believe how elated I was when I heard you’d been asked to speak. I’m so proud!” His thumb rubbed across the back of her hand.

  They were facing each other on the barstools now.

  “’Nother round?” the bartender asked.

  They both nodded. When the drinks arrived, they downed them simultaneously and faced each other again.

  ‘What are you doing?’ a voice in Alma’s boggled brain demanded angrily. ‘If you hadn’t noticed, I’m single,’ she shot back. She stifled it with a swallow of beer and smiled at Miles. She was pleasantly buzzed and utterly distracted from heartbreak.

  “How long has it been?” Miles asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How long has it been since someone kissed you as if you were the most special person in the world?” His voice was wispy with lust.

  She couldn’t formulate a reply.

  He tsked. “I’m sure it’s been much too long for a woman as beautiful as you.” He touched her cheek again, then leaned across and brushed her lips with his.

  It was a tender, tentative kiss, one that expected to be pushed away. When he met Alma’s eyes and saw that, after a brief moment of self-doubt, she had no intention of shoving him back, he kissed her again, this time touching her lips with his tongue. She returned the gesture, hesitantly at first, then more energetically. The voice in her mind was shouting vehemently, but under the roar of alcohol, it fell on deaf ears.

  It was fortuitous that they’d been drinking; not even the taste of his lips could remind her of Dirk as they tasted of tequila and Mexican lager.

  “Mmm,” he muttered when they finally pulled apart. “You’re an incredible kisser.”

  ‘Flattery will get you everywhere,’ Alma mused as she blushed. She took a sip of beer before returning her fingertips to his knees.

  His eyes held hers as if committing every instant of the experience to memory.

  “You never said what your summer plans on are,” Alma said after a moment.

  “Oh. I’m headed home to Canada for a month or so to see my mom. She’s been struggling since my father died last summer.”

  “Oh, I’m so sorry! I never even realized… I feel horrible!”

  He waved away her apology with a reassuring palm on her thigh.

  “I also never realized you were from Canada. Where?”

  “Vancouver. Not far from your stomping grounds, if I recall.”

  “Wow. I feel like an awful friend for not knowing that!”

  “Don’t worry about it.” He stole a quick kiss as retribution.

  “Tell me about Vancouver.” She sipped her beer as he talked, nodding every so often in understanding. “It sounds a lot like Washington.” She laughed at her own comment. “As it should, I suppose, since the only thing separating them is a man-made boundary.”

  He laughed.

  They ordered and drank one more round before Alma realized she might have gone too far. Suddenly woozy and exhausted, she declared her plans to retire for the night.

  “I’ll see you home.” Without argument from his most likely oblivious company, he paid the tab and offered her his arm as they walked unsteadily to the sidewalk. Expecting intoxicated patrons to appear at this late hour, a number of cabs were already waiting outside the bar.

  Alma muttered her address to the driver as Miles climbed in beside her. When they stopped outside her apartment, he motioned to the cabby to wait and stepped onto the curb with her.

  “Are you alright?” His words were ironic, as he was feeling equally as unstable at this point.

  “Yeah. I’ll be fine. Thank you.”

  “Do you want me to stay?”

  The question was a poorly veiled attempt to sleep with her; even Alma’s addled brain recognized it.

  “I’m not sure that’s a good idea.”

  He accepted the claim as probably true.

  They shared a final kiss before she staggered into the building alone.

  * * *

  It was her own painful groan that woke Alma the next morning. It took several minutes to realize why her mouth was so dry and a bass drum boomed in her head. Then it was another minute before scattered snapshots of the night flashed by.

  She groaned again and rolled into a ball around her pillow. “You are so stupid,” she muttered to herself in the empty bedroom.

  Rallying herself, she stumbled to the bathroom for the longest, hottest shower she could ever recall. Wrapped in a bathrobe, she went to the kitchen to lean on the counter and chug glass after glass of water until a feeling of moderate humanity returned. With consciousness came reminders. She found herself scow
ling at Dirk’s coffee mug he’d left at her apartment a month ago. Refusing to spend the first day of summer skulking in her apartment, she dressed, donned thick sunglasses, and trekked to the Lighthouse with a paperback in hand.

  The line was surprisingly long for this late on a Saturday morning. She stood patiently, staring blindly at the floor with sunglasses still on. The bass beat in her head was starting to subside finally. But with increased awareness came the recognition of the voice in front of her.

  ‘This cannot be happening,’ she thought wearily. Painfully hung-over, with a ridiculously bad decision on her mind and sporting a healthy amount of heartbreak over Dirk’s treachery, she plastered a fake smile to her lips. The owner of the voice turned, then did a second take and grinned.

  “Alma!”

  “Zach,” she replied with less enthusiasm.

  “It is so good to see you!” He wrapped her in a familiar embrace that was returned halfheartedly.

  “What are you doing here?” she asked bluntly, finally sweeping the sunglasses to the top of her head.

  “It’s funny that you ask.” He held up a finger and turned to the barista to order. “Two lattes, please.” Beaming, he handed one of the drinks to her and guided her to a table on the opposite side of the room than her typical perch. When they were seated, he said, “I actually came to see you. How fortuitous that we ran into each other here!”

  She frowned skeptically.

  “How have you been?”

  A torrent of answers filled her head, but she simply replied, “Fine. You?”

  “Good, good. Still at BU?”

  “Yes.”

  “I thought that’s what I read. Me? I’m still in San Diego.”

  “You still surf?” Images of learning to surf in the cold Pacific waves flashed through her memory. More than one spring break had been idled away alternating between the surf and an intimate bungalow on the beach. She shoved the pictures away forcefully. It wouldn’t do to be drawn into another poor decision, especially on the heels of the epic disaster that would surely follow last night.

  “Absolutely!”

  “No great white has taken a bite yet, huh?”

  He waved away her icy humor. “I heard you presented at the Smithsonian last fall. I meant to congratulate you sooner, but I wanted to do it in person. So, here I am.”