by Beth Orsoff
I was mere inches away from escape when he grabbed my hand. "Just look at me."
Stupidly, I did.
"I’m sorry. Really. I meant it as a compliment."
"I know," I said, as I unearthed my car keys from under my wallet, my Blackberry, and a packet of breath mints, and triumphantly held them up to him.
"Then why are you leaving?"
"Because if I don’t, this will all end badly." Again.
"You don’t know that," he said, and stroked my cheek with the back of his hand in a gesture so tender I actually sighed.
"Please Blake," I said, closing my eyes in an effort to break the spell again. "Don’t do this."
"I promise," he whispered in my ear before he ran the tip of his tongue along my lobe. "I won’t do anything you don’t want me to do." Then he began gently kissing the side of my neck. "Just tell me when you want me to stop and I’ll stop."
Odds of me telling Blake McKinley to stop kissing me: zero, zilch, nada. I might as well have been nineteen again.
Chapter 14
I hadn’t even realized I’d fallen asleep until I was suddenly jerked awake. The image of Blake disappeared, replaced by something black and yellow only inches from my face. I looked up and found Jake, still in his Batman footsy pajamas, looming over me.
"What time is it?" I croaked, feeling for my watch. I must’ve taken it off during the night, and now it was lost somewhere in the folds of my sleeping bag.
"Morning," he said and giggled, before scurrying down the loft’s ladder yelling, "Mommy, she’s up."
I closed my eyes and tried to pick up the dream where I’d left off—Blake and I sunbathing on a deserted beach, him in the board shorts he was wearing when I met him, and me in a skimpy bikini with all the cellulite magically removed from my thighs—but it was gone.
I staggered downstairs, unbrushed and unwashed, and plopped down into a chair at the dining table. "What time is it?" I asked, propping my head up on my elbows.
"A little after seven," Jill said. "I thought I’d let you sleep in since it’s your first day."
I squinted into the sunshine pouring through the dining room window. "How long have you been up?"
"Since five-thirty. Once the sun rises, I can’t sleep."
"Funny, that’s never been a problem for me," I said, shielding my eyes again.
"Coffee?" she asked, already pulling a second mug down from the cabinet.
I waited for the warm liquid to radiate inside me before I said, "So I assume you got me up at this hour for a reason?"
"Yes," Jill said, jumping up from the table to rinse her cup in the sink. "You should get dressed. Brie and the others are already out on the trail. They’ll find something for you to do."
Obviously Hillary Troy hadn’t called yet. And I knew no matter how much I explained to Jill that I had real work to do, she wouldn’t change her mind. "Breakfast?" I asked. I wasn’t just trying to delay the inevitable. I was hungry too.
"There’s cereal in the pantry, and eggs and bacon in the fridge. Breakfast is do it yourself here. All I ask is that you clean up your own mess."
There was no point in showering beforehand (not that I knew where the shower was), so I washed up at the sink, then changed into jeans and a sweatshirt, and stepped outside. The sunshine had fooled me. The air was frigid, and the wind bit right through my cotton layers. I returned to the cabin for my ski pants and jacket before I caught up with Brie and "the boys" at the north end of the trail.
"Planning on hitting the slopes?" Brie asked when she spotted me. They were all similarly dressed in hideous nylon pants and flannel button-downs.
"I thought I was supposed to wear something waterproof."
"You are," Brie said, "but you’re going to overheat in that outfit."
"Well, it was this or a garbage bag."
"Then I think you made the right choice," Tony said, handing me his hammer so he and Sean could grab another four-foot plank from the stack sinking into the wet ground. "We’ll lay out the boards, and you and Brie can hammer them in. Okay?"
"What about me?" Jake asked. "What should I do?"
"You can help us hold it steady," Sean replied, which seemed to pacify him.
I’d only pounded two nails—one went in crooked and the other bent at a right angle—before I too was relegated to holding the board steady while Brie, Sean, and Tony hammered it into place. I did, however, get to use the staple gun to tack the mesh wire on top, which is one more tool than they let Jake use.
After what felt like hours, but according to my watch was only forty-five minutes, Sean called for a bathroom break, and Jake and I raced each other back to the cabin. Jake won, but he had the advantage of shoes that fit. While the four of them took turns in the outhouse, I ransacked my suitcases looking for something to wear. Brie was right. Those ski pants were way too hot. The ground was so soggy though, I still needed something waterproof.
I peeled off my jeans and tried the ski pants au natural, but that was too sticky. Next I tried long underwear underneath, but they were even hotter than my jeans. I was pulling the ski pants back on when Jill climbed up to the loft and tossed me a pair of black nylon rain pants. "Try these," she said, before disappearing again.
They were long and baggy and hideously unstylish with their puckered bottoms and elastic waist, but I couldn’t deny that they were lightweight and comfortable. Jill must’ve warned the others because no one said a word to me when I descended from the loft in my new outfit.
While the rest of them finished their coffee and snacks in the dining room, I went to the office to talk to Jill.
"Has anyone from the foundation called?" I asked as nonchalantly as I could.
"No," she said, not looking up from her keyboard. "We only use the phone for emergencies. Why?"
"No e-mails?"
She stopped typing and turned around. "Sydney, what’s going on?"
"Nothing," I said, fingering my own lifeless sat phone resting on the opposite desk. "I just thought that now that I’m here Hillary might want to touch base with you."
"Nope," she said, turning back to her screen. "But if I hear from her I’ll let you know."
My second shift on the trail was more comfortable in Jill’s ugly pants, but after three hours sitting hunched over on my knees, my thighs and butt were aching. By the time Sean suggested we head back to the cabin for lunch, I was ready to volunteer to clean up walrus poop if it meant I could stand up straight again. Well, maybe not. But I was definitely ready to spend a few hours sitting at a desk.
"Where’s Duncan and Ethan?" I asked, as we all crowded around the dining table where Jill had laid out an array of cold cuts.
"On the boat," Brie replied as she piled slices of turkey breast onto wheat bread. "Why?"
"We have a boat?" This was the best news I’d heard since I’d arrived. Maybe I could hitch a ride somewhere with a cell tower and a broadband connection, or at least a pay phone and a land line.
"It’s just a rubber dinghy," Jill said, as if reading my mind. "Nothing you’d want to take out in the open sea."
"Oh, I don’t know about that." I was going on forty-eight hours without a high-speed internet connection. I’d be willing to brave eight-foot waves again if it meant I could check my e-mail without interruption and surf the net.
"Trust me, Sydney," Jill said, "you wouldn’t get far in this boat."
"Then where did they go?" Even if their destination didn’t include high-speed internet, it probably had electricity and dial-up, which meant it was better than this.
"To count the walruses on west beach," Jill said. "It’s only accessible by boat."
Okay, it wasn’t better than this. "Is that all they do here? Count walruses?" Even with the stench, that might still be better than building a trail. I could always breathe through my mouth.
"Ethan and Duncan head up the Walrus Tagging Program," Brie replied. "It’s a major undertaking involving several state and federal agencies in conjunction wi
th the Oceanographic Institute." Her tone told me I should be impressed.
"I believe it’s Ethan who heads up the program," Jill said.
Brie shrugged. "Yeah, but we all know it’s Duncan who does all the work."
After lunch, Sean and Tony offered to return to the trail, but Jill suggested they take the afternoon off since it was their turn to cook dinner. "I forgot to tell you," Jill said, turning to me. "We do group dinners here, and we all take turns cooking. You can partner with Brie."
When she heard her name mentioned, she rushed out of the kitchen, her sleeves rolled up and soap bubbles still clinging to her hands. "I’m already partnered with Duncan."
"Ethan can help Duncan," Jill said. "I need you to help Sydney."
"I don’t need help," I quickly replied as I spied the stricken expression on Brie’s face. "I don’t mind cooking alone."
"No," Jill said, "that wouldn’t be fair. We’ve all got a partner, and you should too."
"Ethan can be her partner," Brie said.
Geez! I knew she wanted time alone with Duncan, but that didn’t justify feeding me to the wolves. I renewed my offer to cook solo when Jill said, "No," in that tone moms the world over master to let their children know it’s not up for debate. "Sean and Tony are cooking tonight, you and Brie are cooking tomorrow night, and Duncan and Ethan the night after that."
Brie glared at me before returning to the kitchen, as if somehow this was my fault instead of Jill’s. I’d have to make sure whatever we cooked, I was the only one wielding a knife.
That afternoon Jill and Brie headed out to "collect nest productivity data," whatever that was. Jill instructed me to stay behind and monitor the radio. "Just listen and write down anything important," she said before she followed Brie outside.
I turned up the volume on the VHF radio, but all that emerged from the tinny speaker was louder static, broken by the occasional weather report (sixty-two degrees, ten-to-twelve-foot surf, and winds between fifteen and twenty knots), and someone going on about a whale. Since none of that sounded important, I took the opportunity to catch up on my own work.
I made a list of things I needed to order before Blake and Guy, our director/cameraman, arrived: sleeping bags, pillows, blankets, peanut M&Ms (Blake’s favorite candy), a case each of Snapple Peach Iced Tea (Blake’s favorite nonalcoholic beverage) and Sam Adam’s Lager (Blake’s favorite beer), half a dozen bags of parmesan pita chips (Blake’s favorite snack food), and probably some sort of generator for the lights, camera, and batteries (Jill would know). On second thought, I decided to make it two cases each of beer and Snapple and a dozen bags of pita chips. That way Blake could share with the group. I also made a list of questions for Jill when she returned, including where to find these items locally and how to get them to the island. I had a feeling we weren’t on anyone’s standard delivery route.
While I worked, I intermittently moved the sat phone along the window ledge and to my amazement, locked in on a signal on my fourth attempt.
"Megan, it’s me," I yelled to my assistant.
After a lag of several seconds, her voice, squeakier than usual, came through. "Sydney, where are you? I’ve been trying to reach you for days."
"What do you mean where am I?" She’s the one who started the office pool for how long I would last in Alaska before I begged to come home.
"I left you—" the phone squawked static for a few seconds before Megan’s voice returned "but you never called me back."
I checked the face plate on the sat phone, but the message symbol wasn’t lit up. "I don’t believe this. The goddamn voicemail doesn’t work."
No response from Megan. It took me a few seconds shouting "Can you hear me now?" before I realized that I’d stepped away from the window, thereby inadvertently severing our connection. I slammed the phone down on the desk. "Fuck, fuck, fuck!"
"That’s the best offer I’ve had all week."
Chapter 15
I spun around and found Ethan standing in the doorway. As usual, he hadn’t bothered to take off his wet boots, and a puddle was forming at his feet. I hoped whoever owned this place had sealed the wood floors, or I’d be down on my knees replacing those next.
"I lost my signal in the middle of the call," I said, then turned back to the window. I punched the redial button over and over, but the red signal indicator refused to turn green.
"I’m surprised you got one indoors," he said, joining me next to the window. "The satellite must’ve been in the exact right spot."
"Yeah, for about thirty seconds. Just long enough for me to find out the voicemail’s not working." I let out a loud sigh and shook my head. "I am so screwed."
"It’s not a cell phone," he said, pulling it from my hand to examine the face plate himself. "I know they tell you there’s a message indicator, but in reality you have to call and check."
"I’d have to have a signal to do that, now wouldn’t I?"
Ethan suppressed a smile. "Yes, that’s what we in academia call a prerequisite."
I was about to let out another string of expletives, when the cabin door banged open and Jake ran in screaming, "We’re home!" It didn’t take him long to find us in the office.
"Sydney, did you see the whales?" Jake asked, all wide eyed and pink cheeked.
"No, I was—"
"What whales?" Ethan said.
"Three humpbacks, half a mile offshore," Jill replied, joining us. "Sydney, didn’t anyone call it in on the radio?"
"Ummm." I picked up the empty log book. "It’s possible."
"And you didn’t write it down?" Ethan asked incredulously.
I don’t know when Sean and Tony returned, but they suddenly appeared in the small office too. When the room was empty it only contained a few square feet of open space. With the six of us in there, I couldn’t even move. It didn’t take long for my claustrophobia to kick in. I tried not to panic since I knew it was all in my head, but when I felt like I was about to suffocate, I elbowed past Sean and Tony and ran.
I knew I’d be okay if I could gulp down a few breaths of fresh air, but when I yanked open the cabin door, Brie and Duncan were standing on the other side blocking my way.
"What’s wrong?" Duncan asked, as I shoved him aside.
The second my foot hit the damp ground I realized my mistake. The frigid water instantly enveloped my feet, sending a chill up my body, an oddly schizophrenic experience since I was still sweating profusely above my waist.
"I don’t understand," Jill said, dunking my bare feet into a basin she’d filled with warm water.
I yanked them out as the stinging turned into shooting pains from the tips of my toes to my knees. "That hurts!"
Jill just pushed my feet back down and handed me a towel. "Soak them until the color returns, then dry off and put on warm socks."
I nodded. At least I’d managed to change the subject.
Then Duncan spoke. "Explain again why you ran outside barefoot?"
"I wasn’t barefoot. I had socks on. I just forgot I wasn’t wearing any shoes."
"Forgive me, love, but how does a person forget they’re not wearing any shoes?"
"Isn’t it obvious," Ethan said, joining us in the dining room. "She was having a panic attack."
"I was not!"
"Claustrophobic or agoraphobic?" he asked, as he held my sat phone out to me.
"Neither," I said, grabbing it from him. I left out the "asshole," since Jake was in the room. My claustrophobia was none of his business.
He folded his arms across his chest and stared at me. "I’m going to have to go with claustrophobia, since agoraphobics generally don’t sign up to work on islands thousands of miles from home."
"Go with anything you like, you’ll still be wrong. I got hot and I needed some air. End of story." That’s more or less what a panic attack feels like, except I left out the part about my heart almost bursting out of my chest and not being able to breathe.
Ethan pulled out the chair next to mine, even though
every other one at the dining table was empty, and sat down so close to me our shoulders were practically touching. "How old are you? Twenty-five? Twenty-six?"
"Twenty-nine," I said, staring straight ahead, keeping my eyes unfocused so I could concentrate on slowing my breathing, the only useful skill I’d ever learned from six years of archery. I was not about to allow Ethan’s purposeful invasion of my personal space to send me back into panic mode.
"Too young for hot flashes."
"What would you know about it?" I asked, as I spun around. Based on the sprinkle of gray in his hair and the web of lines around his eyes, I guessed his age as forty, plus or minus a year or two. Then I glanced down at his ring finger, which was bare, not that that meant anything. "Got a wife in menopause?"
The smug smile disappeared. "Beer anyone?" he asked, as he headed into the kitchen.
After my feet recovered from their brush with frostbite, Duncan offered to help me set up my tent. Once Duncan volunteered, Brie did too of course, but Jill reminded her she still needed to input the bird productivity data, so Jake joined us instead as our third pair of hands.
As the three of us trudged off to the storage shed, Jake out front, me and Duncan lagging behind, I asked Duncan if I’d guessed right about Ethan, but he shook his head.
"Divorced, years ago. I don’t think they even speak."
No surprise there. Although it was surprising Ethan hadn’t bothered to correct me. "Odd he didn’t just say that, don’t you think? Your boss strikes me as someone who enjoys proving to everyone he’s always right."
Duncan let out a laugh. "True enough. Although as much as he likes being right, he hates talking about his personal life even more."
"Why?"
"I don’t know. He won’t talk about it."
A bad joke, but I still laughed.
