Wild Shores

by Radclyffe

  “Your flight has been scheduled to leave Albany at six,” Eloise went on as if they’d been discussing a board meeting. “You’ll transfer to a regional plane at BWI that will take you to Rock Hill Island. The present point of operations is at the Hilton nearest there.”

  “Who’s the incident commander?”

  “Ray Tatum. He’s aware you’ll be arriving.”

  “How long do we have before we need to go public?”

  “We’ll make that assessment when you arrive.”

  “You have a marine meteorologist available?”

  “We will have. She’s flying in from Philadelphia at about the same time you are.”

  “All right. I’ll be in touch.”

  “There is one other thing,” Eloise said in the same cool, even tone.

  Austin tensed. Eloise was about to drop the hammer. “What would that be?”

  “There’s a large wildlife refuge on Rock Hill Island and surrounds. It’s a well-known stopover for migratory birds and this is apparently the beginning of their nesting season. The area is a popular tourist destination.”

  “Where is it relative to the rig?” Austin locked the cabin, tossed her bag in the back of the Jeep, and climbed in.

  “The island is almost directly in line with our rig and presently represents the outermost point of contact should the spill progress toward land.”

  “In other words, a PR nightmare.” And now she understood why she’d been called at such an early point. Eloise wouldn’t say it, but the company was counting on her to keep a lid on news of the breach. What she needed to do was plug the leak in terms of publicity, and if this wildlife refuge became threatened, to minimize the bad press.

  “I’m sure you’ll handle it.”

  “What do we know about this place and the people?” It was probably too much to hope they’d find someone sympathetic—environmentalists generally were opposed to any kind of drilling and, once an accident occurred, took full advantage of the situation to lobby against the whole industry.

  “I’m afraid not very much,” Eloise said. “I have people working on that now, but you’ll probably never need to interface with them.”

  Austin read between the lines. Make sure the environmentalists don’t get wind of the threat.

  “Right.” Austin backed down the drive. “By the time I get there, the problem might already be solved.”

  “Precisely.”

  “Right.” Austin disconnected and drove toward the river, a black ribbon under the moon, quiet and still and deadly. Right.

  ❖

  “We’ll be landing through a bit of a storm moving in from the south,” the pilot announced. “Might be a bit bumpy for a few minutes, so I’ll ask everyone to keep your seat belts on and close up your electronics at this time.”

  Gem flagged the page in the latest population report she’d received from the Carolina Coastal Observatory, closed her iPad, and slid it into her computer bag under the seat in front of her. She’d known the storm was coming and had caught the earliest flight out of Hartford she could before the anticipated fog rolling in with the front grounded planes along the East Coast. She’d been lucky to get one of the last coach seats still open. She didn’t mind stormy weather—in fact, she often stood on the shore waiting for a front to roll in just to watch the beauty of the clouds roiling in the sky, dark blues and purples swirling and dancing, as if an invisible artist mixed the colors on a wild palette in a frenzy of creation. She loved the way the wind buffeted her hair and plastered her clothes to her body, the stinging bite of the first needle-sharp raindrops bringing every sense and cell to life. The sea felt it too—cresting and crashing as to the call of the wind. While she was often the only human on the beach, life around her pushed on as if in a race with the storm to lay claim to the shore. Terns and gulls scurried along the edge of the frothing waves, plucking up the sea creatures that struggled valiantly against the battering push and pull of the tides.

  Even when the rain blew in solid sheets of icy water, she’d often stay, the scent of fresh pure air and the untamed sea filling her with wonder and peace. She loved those solitary moments when she knew in her bones her life was nothing but an inconsequential point in a vast continuum of time.

  As much as she loved those moments of abandon, she detested flying in airplanes. The unnaturalness of it, being contained in a metal canister, breathing recycled air and other things she’d rather not consider, reminded her of how land bound she was and how different from the creatures she envied.

  As the plane began to descend, she remembered the first time she’d told her mother she wanted to be a bird.

  “Why is that?” her mother had asked patiently, never laughing at any of her wild fantasies.

  “Because they can go anywhere they want, and they’re never really alone, even when they’re by themselves in the sky.”

  Her mother studied her and nodded gravely. “You know what we call that, honey?”

  She’d shaken her head.

  Her mother had patted her hair. “We call that freedom.”

  Freedom. Yes, but even the free flying creatures she loved were not really free, but bound by some innate instinct that directed their life cycle and bade them return to certain places every year, against all odds or adversity. They followed the call of some distant drummer, on a stage too ancient and too primal for her to ever understand. But she’d keep trying, and keep envying them.

  The plane bumped down, bumped again, and the deceleration pulled her forward in the seat until the plane came to a halt. She glanced out the window, but it might as well have been midnight rather than just after seven a.m. Thick fog blanketed the runway. The lights from the terminal barely penetrated the murk. They were lucky they’d been able to land at all. She could have been diverted to Philadelphia or worse, where she’d end up spending days trying to get to the coast.

  Still, her connection was undoubtedly going to be grounded.

  As soon as the flight attendants opened the doors, she grabbed her computer bag and carry-on and trooped out, breaking away from the crowd as quickly as she could and heading for the rental car area. The lines snaked away from every counter, two and three people deep, as the departure board flashed canceled after nearly every flight.

  She picked the shortest line and hoped for the best. She would have dearly loved a cup of coffee, but she wasn’t giving up her spot for anything. She flicked through email while she waited, answered a few, and as she drew closer to the counter, began to hear snippets of conversation between stranded passengers and harried service representatives. The news wasn’t encouraging.

  A middle-aged man in a rumpled white shirt, business pants, and a monogrammed briefcase slung over one shoulder by a hand-tooled leather strap announced angrily, “Look, I’ve got to have a car. I have an important meeting in two hours and I’m going to have to reschedule that as it is.”

  “I’m really sorry, sir, but our only remaining vehicles are reserved, and we can’t release them—”

  “Have you looked outside? Those people with reservations aren’t going to be arriving. I’m here now. I need to have a car.”

  “I’m very sorry, sir,” the woman said again, her tone unbelievably calm considering the morning she must be having, “but we are not authorized to release any of the reserved—”

  “I want to see a manager.”

  “I’m afraid he won’t be in—”

  “Never mind. I’m sure one of the other agencies can take care of me.” He spun around, knocking into the woman behind him. She stumbled back and collided with Gem.

  “Oh!” Gem’s phone slipped from her hand and, off balance, she made a clumsy grab for it.

  “Sorry,” a dark-haired woman said in a husky, rich alto. Somehow, Gem’s phone was miraculously scooped from the air by a long-fingered hand. “Got it.”

  Gem straightened and met bittersweet chocolate eyes shot through with gold. “Thanks.”

  “I think it was my fault you
dropped it. Sorry about that.”

  “Not your fault. It’s a bit of a mess, isn’t it?”

  The woman shrugged. “That’s what we get for trying to outsmart Mother Nature.”

  Gem grinned. “But we’ll keep trying.”

  “Undoubtedly.”

  The stranger was about Gem’s age, dressed in khakis, a pale-blue cotton shirt, and casual boots, and carrying a worn leather satchel in one hand and an equally travel-weary computer bag slung over the other shoulder. Her collar-length, layered dark brown hair verged on black. The angular slant to her arching cheekbones, deep-set eyes, and bronze skin tones hinted at the Mediterranean somewhere in her ancestry. Her lips parted in a full, confident smile, and Gem felt herself blush. She was staring. She never did that.

  “I think you’re up.” Gem nodded toward the counter. The woman looked over her shoulder and back at Gem as if reluctant to end the conversation. Gem was certain she was making that part up, but an unusual spark of interest shot through her nonetheless. “Good luck.”

  “Appreciate it.” Austin didn’t expect to have any better luck than the fellow who’d knocked into her. Dozens of other passengers milled about in the same fix and no one seemed to be getting any vehicles, but she’d waited this long and might as well try. She smiled at the petite redhead behind the counter. “Hi.”

  “Your name please?”

  “I don’t have a reservation.” Austin paused. Her flight had been short, but Eloise had called hours ago. Given the time it had taken her to drive to the airport and catch her plane, maybe Eloise had used her crystal ball. “I don’t think.”

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Check under Germaine.” She spelled it, glad she’d automatically lined up at the rental place the company always used.

  “Oh. I have it.” The redhead smiled for the first time in twenty minutes. “You’re lucky. It came in right before the rush hit.”

  “Better lucky than good,” Austin said.

  The agent laughed again and raised a brow. “Sometimes it’s nice to be both.”

  “You’re right.” Austin grinned. She enjoyed flirting with women. She enjoyed women, when she could. At the moment, she couldn’t, so she signed the necessary papers and stepped aside to file them away in her briefcase. The blonde she’d bumped into stepped up to the counter.

  “I’m afraid I don’t have a reservation. And I suspect that’s not a good thing.”

  The cute redhead sighed. “I’m so sorry. We simply don’t have any other vehicles.”

  “Do you think I’d have any better luck elsewhere?”

  The redhead looked down the counter at the long lines at every rental car agency. “Honestly, I don’t think anyone without a reservation is going to get a car today. You’d be better off using your time trying to find a hotel room. There won’t be many of those left either.”

  “Well, thanks anyways.”

  Austin collected her keys and caught up to the blonde as she wended her way through the mass of people milling about. She’d been stranded plenty of places in her travels around the world, and more than one stranger had helped her out with directions, impromptu rides, or in a few cases, even offered her a room when she would have been sleeping on a bench otherwise. Returning the favor only seemed right, and the fact that the blonde was beautiful had nothing to do with it.

  “Excuse me,” Austin said as she drew alongside the blonde. “I’m not sure we’re going in the same direction, but if we are, I’ve got one of the last vehicles leaving today. Maybe I can give you a ride somewhere.”

  The blonde stopped and regarded her contemplatively.

  Austin grinned. “I know you don’t know me, but I’ve got references if you need them.” She patted her briefcase. “ID provided on demand.”

  The blonde laughed and held out her hand. “I’m Gillian Martin. Most people call me Gem.”

  Austin took her hand. “Austin Germaine. Nice to meet you. Again.”

  “It is.”

  Gem’s tone was thoughtful, and Austin somehow knew she meant it. An unfamiliar pleasure stirred in her chest. She traveled constantly, met new people the world over, but rarely connected with anyone. She had gotten used to being alone and was rarely aware of being lonely. But right at this moment, she realized she had been. “So, about a ride?”

  She heard the hopeful note in her voice and didn’t care. Her breath caught as she waited for the answer.

  “I’d very much like a ride, but unfortunately, I doubt we’re going in the same direction. I’m headed to a little place off the coast no one except avid birdwatchers tends to visit this time of year.” She cocked her head, her gaze sweeping down Austin’s body. “I don’t suspect you’re one of those.”

  “I’m afraid not.” Austin never discussed her work for the company and had even less reason to talk about her other work. She often felt as if she led a secret life, and the person she was there, no one actually knew. “Where is this place?”

  “It’s called Rock Hill Island. It’s—”

  “About two hundred miles from here as the crow flies,” Austin said, “or it would be, if not for the fog. Would you believe me if I said I was headed there myself?”

  Gem laughed and shook her head. “As a matter of fact, no. Why ever for?”

  Austin grinned and chose a half-truth. “A working vacation. I’ve got a deadline, and I like to get away where I can concentrate and be waited on at the same time.”

  “Well then, it appears it’s fate. I’d love a ride.”

  “Perfect.” Austin didn’t believe in fate, but she did believe in luck, and at least for the moment, hers was looking up. That was likely to change when she reached Rock Hill Island and liaised with Ray Tatum, but until then, she’d enjoy a beautiful woman’s company while wearing the secret skin that fit her best.

  Chapter Two

  Gem kept pace with Austin’s slightly longer stride as they searched for their vehicle among the rows of numbered rental cars. They finally found the late-model Nissan Pathfinder and stowed their gear in the rear. She climbed into the passenger seat as Austin slid behind the wheel, started the vehicle, and switched on the navcom.

  Austin slid her phone out of her pants pocket, scrolled through with her thumb, and punched in an address on the console. “What do you know? The hotel address pops. Looks like we’ve got directions.”

  Gem scanned the readout alongside the route map. “Yes, and if we weren’t driving through soup, we’d probably be there in the three-plus hours predicted. Obviously, the electronic gods haven’t picked up the weather report yet.”

  “Double the time estimate, if we’re lucky.” Austin backed out of the space and joined the queue leaving the garage.

  “Road trip.” Gem sighed. She hadn’t planned on a day in the car, but at least she wasn’t sitting on a hard plastic seat in the airport or calling hotels looking for a room. “I used to love them when I was a kid. On occasion, I still do. But I’m really sorry you’re going to have to drive through this.”

  “I’m used to it. I live in the Catskills, and fog is a way of life starting in October.”

  “I can spell you whenever you need. I’m a New Englander too. Although give me snow over fog any day.”

  “Agreed.”

  “I hate to even ask, but if we can find a place with coffee—”

  “And breakfast,” Austin added.

  Gem groaned as her stomach grumbled. “Yes, please.”

  “Once we get off the interstate, we ought to run into some diners. That work for you?”

  “Diners always work for me.”

  Austin smiled. “Perfect.”

  Gem liked the way Austin’s quick grin softened the carved line of her jaw and caused a few crinkles to appear at the corner of her eye. Austin drove with an easy sense of confidence and casual focus, radiating the aura of a woman used to doing and being in charge of whatever the action was at the moment. She’d said she had a deadline—she must be some kind of writer. Funny, she looked
more suited for a fishing boat somewhere, or riding a four-wheeler up some mountainside, than sitting behind a desk.

  “If I didn’t know you were a writer, I would’ve pegged you as an outdoors-woman,” Gem said.

  “You wouldn’t be far off,” Austin said carefully. Generally when it came to personal disclosures, she didn’t have any problem blurring the edges of the truth with people she was likely never going to see again. Or even those she might. Confidentiality was built into her, professionally and personally, from an early age. Her father had been active-duty military when she was growing up, and some of his missions had been classified. He’d been closemouthed about what he did, even after he’d moved into more administrative sections. Her mother was a physician, and she didn’t talk about her work very much either. Austin had learned not to probe or to share her own secrets.

  When she went into consulting, confidentiality was a given, but working for GOP took that to new heights. She’d signed endless papers binding her to silence, at considerable legal and financial penalty should she break confidence, not that that was ever going to happen. Protecting the reputation of her client, any client, was a point of honor, and she’d learned that from her mother and father too.

  Still, maintaining professional barriers bled over into her personal life, where privacy exacted a price. Women found her secretive and aloof, and often translated that into unemotional and cold. She knew because she’d been told more than once by women on their way out of her life. Maybe they were right. No one had broken her heart when they’d left, and maybe that was because she wasn’t the type to invest emotionally. She’d simply rationalized she hadn’t wanted anything serious, but maybe she wasn’t actually capable of it. Not that any of that mattered now. Friendship, at least, she ought to be able to manage without compromising principles or comfort. “I live year-round in a three-room log cabin in the mountains between New York City and Albany. It’s rustic.”

  “Define rustic,” Gem said, intrigued. She knew plenty of environmentalists who lived off the grid, but this woman didn’t strike her as that either. She had a patina of sophistication about her, despite the plain khaki pants, unironed cotton shirt, and beat-up leather flight jacket. She could just as easily see her in a tuxedo cradling a champagne flute in her sure, strong hand as she could with her booted feet up on a rough pine railing.