I gestured over my shoulder toward the kitchen table. “Why don’t we sit down?”
He tossed the dishtowel on the countertop. “Not sure I like the sound of that.”
Stalling, I asked, “Um, could I have some coffee?”
He gestured toward the espresso maker on the stove. “Help yourself.”
The little cup of espresso gave my hands something to do while I tried to turn my near-drowning to something less dire. Angelo didn’t buy it for a second.
“So if I understand this correctly,” he said, “two criminals of interest to Operation Broken Glass tried to drown you.”
I opened my mouth to argue the point and gave that up. “I was only in the water for a few minutes, but basically, yes.”
“And you were in the water for only a few minutes because a lobsterman happened to see you from his boat.”
I tried to think of some kind of response, but there was nothing to say.
Angelo reached over and held one of my hands in both of his. As always, his touch was warm, soothing, safe.
“Mara, please understand that I’m not angry with you. How could I be? You went out to that island to help someone. What you learned is that these eel traffickers are more sophisticated than you imagined. It’s a mystery how they traced Jack to Little Moose Island, but they did.”
I squeezed his hand. “You know I hate to worry you, so thanks for that. When I called Lieutenant Dunn at Operation Broken Glass to tell him about Jack and what happened to me, he said pretty much what you did. Eel trafficking is big business, and traffickers know how to protect themselves.”
“Does this Lieutenant Dunn think you are in any danger?”
Sitting back in my chair: “He doesn’t. The only thing I know is where Jack is hiding out, and that’s no secret now. Dunn did suggest I lock my doors, though.”
“I don’t like the sound of that. Why don’t you stay here for a while?”
“Actually, Ted’s at my house. We’re going to try living together. See how it goes.”
For a moment I thought Angelo was going to tear up. Blinking, he said, “Best news of the day. Che bello, Mara.”
36
When I turn off Route One and onto the dirt road that ends at my house, I can usually leave whatever is bothering me behind. But things were very different this day. I couldn’t swing into my driveway, shut off the car, and let out that “finally some peace and quiet” sigh. Ted would be waiting for me there.
His truck was parked next to the deck. Expected, but still jarring.
“Get it together, Mara,” I whispered. “It’s just Ted.”
I opened the kitchen door and was greeted by the rich aroma of garlic, onions, and tomatoes. Ted stood at the stove, stirring the great-smelling sauce.
Turning, he said, “There you are. Hope it’s okay that I took over your kitchen.”
I walked over and kissed him on the cheek. “Are you kidding? That smells fantastic. I didn’t realize how hungry I was.”
Still stirring, he tilted his head toward the refrigerator. “If you open the bottle in there we can toast each other.”
I managed to pop the cork without blinding myself or spilling champagne on the floor. On tiptoe, I reached for two flutes in a cabinet, filled each, and took a moment to look around. The kitchen table was nicely set with real napkins, water glasses, and silverware correctly positioned. A green salad filled a wooden bowl, Italian bread beside it on a plate.
I carried the glasses to the stove, where we clicked and sipped bubbly.
“The table looks really nice, Ted.” I almost added, “Who knew guys could do that?” but caught myself in time.
Looking pleased, he said, “You can thank my mother.”
Because the accidental death of my parents was such a sensitive issue for me, Ted rarely mentioned his mom and dad. In fact, I couldn’t remember the last time he had, and I hadn’t asked. Not so considerate on my part, I suddenly realized.
Note to self: Once in a while ask Ted about his parents and offer to visit them with him.
I leaned over the pan. “So what smells so delicious?”
He picked up the spoon and stirred the sauce. “It won’t be as good as Angelo’s, but I’m making calamari with tomato sauce over pasta.”
“They sell calamari in Spruce Harbor?”
“Yes, Mara. You can buy calamari in the grocery store. Sometimes fresh, but mostly frozen.”
The rest of the evening was lovely. We did the dishes together, went for a walk along the beach under a starry sky, and had decaf coffee and almond cookies on the deck. Ted asked about my trip out to Little Moose, and not wanting to spoil the evening, I skipped the unpleasant part. We went to bed early-ish, snuggled for a while, and promptly fell asleep.
I woke to the “cheer, cheer, cheer” of chickadees at my feeder off the deck, turned toward the window, and saw that I wasn’t alone. The realization startled me.
“Get over yourself,” I mouthed. In the bathroom, I pulled on fleece pants, grabbed my slippers, and peeked into the bedroom on my way to the stairs. Ted hadn’t moved.
In the kitchen, I followed my morning ritual—boil water in the kettle, make a pot of strong black tea, wait for it to steep, add milk to a mug, and pour in the tea. It wasn’t even seven yet, but the sun looked inviting. I slipped on a jacket, carried the tea and a little blanket onto the deck, and settled into my favorite Adirondack chair to enjoy the morning.
I closed my eyes, soaked in the peacefulness of it all, and wondered. Happy that Ted was still asleep, I had this moment to myself. Did that mean this living together business wasn’t going to work out, or was it okay? I had no idea. My only experience sharing a house with a guy a few years earlier was a short-lived disaster.
I was pouring hot water over ground coffee in a filter when a sleepy-eyed Ted walked into the kitchen. “Coffee smells great. Pour-over, too. You’re spoiling me, Mara, and I love it.”
“This is nearly finished dripping,” I said. “Want me to fill up a mug for you?”
Yawning, he said, “Get yours first. I’ll take care of myself.”
Seated across from each other at the kitchen table, we sipped our coffee in silence.
Finally I said, “Did you sleep okay?”
Running his fingers through mussed-up hair, he said, “Think so. Don’t remember. Um, is that clock on the wall accurate?”
I looked over to check the time. “Seven. That seems right. Want me to run up and see if that’s the same as the clock on the bed stand?”
He gestured toward the door. “Your phone’s on the counter over there.”
“There’s no reliable service out here, remember?
“Oh, right. Too bad. Service is great at my house.”
Ted had an early morning conference call. So after a bowl of cereal, second cup of coffee, and quick shower, he was gone.
37
Still seated, I welcomed the silence, considered once more whether that was okay, and then slapped the kitchen table. “For god’s sake, stop it! Everything about last night was really nice, and this morning was just what you’d expect. Whatever is bugging you, get over it already,” I said aloud, forgetting the quiet I’d just welcomed.
Alone in her office, Harvey was staring at her computer screen when I knocked on the door and walked in. “Can I interrupt?” I asked.
She rolled her shoulders. “Please do. I’m reading ‘The Impact of Anthropogenic Ocean Acidification on Calcifying Marine Fauna at Higher Latitudes.’”
I rolled a chair closer to her desk. “Sounds riveting.”
“Right.” Harvey waved a hand at her desk. “Sorry about the mess.”
Her “mess” amounted to three neat stacks of papers, a couple of books, and a “Chemists Like to Get a Reaction” mug.
Not sure how to start, I ran my fingers through my hair and looked at the ceiling.
“Let me guess,” Harvey said. “What happened on Little Moose didn’t sit well with Angelo, or it’s something
about Ted.”
I shrugged. “Angelo wasn’t overjoyed about my little swim off the island, but he dealt with it pretty well. I assume Connor told you all about that.”
“Of course,” she said. “He said everything was okay so I didn’t call you. Then by elimination, it’s Ted.”
“He spent the night at my place.”
“Which he’s done numerous times before.”
“But this time we’re going to try it out for a week.”
“That’s great. You guys have been planning this for months. Given that you’re here talking about it, I’m guessing you’ve got the heebie-jeebies.”
I rolled my eyes. Harvey was the only person I knew whose vocabulary included words like “heebie-jeebies.”
“If loving a quiet cup of tea on the deck while he was still asleep and then feeling guilty means I’m overly anxious, I’d have to say yes.”
Harvey leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “Mara, you are one of the brightest people I know, and that’s saying a lot considering the oceanographers we work with. But head smart doesn’t necessarily translate into heart smart. In your case it seems to get in the way because you overanalyze yourself.”
“You’ve said that before, but it seems like I need a reboot on the lesson.”
“Okay, let’s get specific. You were enjoying a quiet cup of tea and then what?”
“Instead of feeling happy that Ted was in the house, I was grateful he was still asleep so I could be alone for a while.”
“That’s it?
“Well, then I wondered if it was all right. To think that, I mean.”
Sitting upright again, she grinned. “Sometimes, like when Connor listens to Irish fiddle music as he’s making dinner, I miss my quiet house and feel like he’s taken over. But that passes, and we sit down to a great meal and chat about everything.”
“What you’re saying is that it’s normal to relish being alone sometimes. So I should stop worrying about that.”
“Mara, the thing is that women like us are used to being on our own. We’ve worked hard to advance in a field that’s twenty-odd percent female. Some of the crew still think women on a ship bring bad luck, for goodness sake. We’re used to standing up for ourselves, taking care of ourselves. But that’s different from sharing your life with someone you love.”
“Because…?”
“Because,” she said, “you chose to live with Ted. Both of you are in this together. It’s what you want to do.”
“Guess I get that. So should I let Ted know about my, um, unease?”
She shook her head. “I don’t think so. He wouldn’t understand, not really, and you’d get in a jumble trying to explain. Knowing Ted, I imagine he sees this as pretty black and white. People either want to live together or they don’t, and you decided together to do it.”
“Is there anything I should say?”
“Mara, just tell him how nice it is to have him there. Make it simple.”
“I can do that.”
“So Ted cooked last night?”
“Yeah. Calamari, Italian style. It was terrific.”
“I take it you are cooking tonight?”
“Um, actually, he’s cooking again. Not sure what.”
“A smart, good-looking guy who shares your professional interests, likes to cook, and loves you. It all sounds pretty darn good to me, Mara. I’d say you are one lucky girl.”
I took the stairs up to the biology floor two at a time. Harvey was right. Instead of overthinking my relationship with Ted, I should enjoy my good fortune.
Since Ted’s office door was open, I stepped in to chat with him for a minute. Phone in hand, he was looking out the window. He turned, smiled, and mouthed, “Nearly done.” I scanned his bookshelf until he was finished.
“I hope your conference call didn’t last this long,” I said.
“It started late. Guy who organized the call is talking about a workshop at the next Oceanography Society meeting, titled something like ‘Scientists Get Political About Climate Change.” As you can imagine, things got complicated fast.”
“Whoa,” I said. “For starters, what does ‘get political’ mean?”
“As I understand it, the idea is to help scientists learn how to effectively interact with politicians on the hill or write op-eds, that type of thing.”
“Huh,” I said. “And are you interested in doing that?”
“A year ago I would’ve said no. But the rate of climate change is skyrocketing. Did you see that article by an international group of scientists about Greenland’s ice sheets melting at unprecedented rates? Some of Maine’s coastal cities, like Portland, already deal with regular flooding. I can’t imagine what it’ll be like in five or ten years.”
“I didn’t see the report, but the newspaper’s photos of flooding were pretty shocking,” I said. “Wow, Ted. I’m impressed you are considering this. It’s a big step.”
“Scary, too, frankly. I’ve always thought that scientists should stick to what they do best—science. But with what’s going on in D.C., some of us also need to jump into the politics. I have no experience with that, but you do. It’d be great to talk with you about it tonight.”
“I’d really like that. And how about I help with dinner?”
Understanding more clearly what couples as teams meant, I left Ted’s office happier than I could have imagined an hour earlier.
38
At the end of the day, when my Subaru rolled to a stop in the driveway, it seemed completely normal that Ted’s truck should be already there. Expecting him to be in the kitchen, I dropped the groceries he had asked me to get on the counter and called his name. The house was silent. Back outside, I stepped up onto a boulder at the cliff’s edge and scanned the beach. Beer in hand, Ted was directly below. Staring out across the water, he sat cross-legged on the pebbles.
I picked my way down the bank and knelt on the beach next to him.
He squeezed my hand. “It’s strange that I study the ocean but never sit quietly and just look at it. Remarkable, don’t you think, how big it is? The water goes on and on.”
“I’ve thought that more than once sitting right here,” I said. “And it does, you know. Get a map, put your finger on Maine, and draw a line due east. The nearest land is Morocco.”
“Huh,” he said. “Seeing all this water, you can understand why some people can’t imagine humans could make the ocean acidic or raise its level.”
“Another take is that it’s astounding that human activity is impacting the ocean. In some places, marine animals are literally dissolving in acidic seawater. Islands in the Pacific, some where people lived, are already underwater.”
Ted said, “Those examples, that’s just the kind of thing we were talking about on my conference call this morning. You’re so good speaking to the public, Mara. Maybe you should organize that Oceanography Society session.”
Standing, I said, “Nope. You’re a terrific teacher, Ted. The oceanography students love you. Some politicians will be denser than undergrads, but you like a challenge.”
Ted grilled salmon for our dinner, and I made a big salad. Afterward, we chatted over decaf.
“You didn’t tell me what happened on that island,” Ted said. “The one with the animal name.”
I studied my hand. “Little Moose. Um, Connor took me out in his new boat, and then I met his old buddy, Leonard. He’s a really great guy.” Looking up, I added, “Jack’s hiding out in Leonard’s little cottage in the woods. Lieutenant Dunn, the one I talked to in the airport, thinks Jack is in real danger and should be in witness protection. But Jack won’t have any part of it.”
Ted knit his brows. “So is Jack in danger like Dunn says?”
“Little Moose is a tiny island where everyone fishes, and it’s way out there. Kind of place where your dog dies and five minutes later everyone calls saying they are sorry. So you’d think it’d be a safe place for Jack.”
“I hear a ‘but’ coming, Mara.�
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“Actually, Jack didn’t run into trouble. I did.”
Ted’s eyes widened. “Good lord, Mara. What happened?”
“Well, one minute I was poking around the tide pools, and the next I was in the water.”
“So a wave got you?”
Once more I had to describe my encounter with two thugs and the icy Atlantic. I ended the account with a positive spin: “That’s what I mean about everyone knowing what’s going on. A Little Moose lobsterman fished me out of the water within minutes.”
Ted didn’t buy it for a second. “And if he hadn’t, you would’ve died from hypothermia five minutes later.”
I nodded. “You’re right, of course. I didn’t mean to make light of it.”
He took my hand and rubbed my thumb with his. “Mara, I know that. But these things happen to you, and it’s hard, you know, for the people who love you.”
I looked down. “Angelo says the same thing.”
“Um, this Lieutenant Dunn, what’s his take on the danger?”
“Well, he thinks that Jack…”
Ted interrupted me. “Sorry, I meant for you.”
“Um, according to Dunn, I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
“Maybe it’s more complicated than that, Mara. Maybe you and Jack are both targets.”
I dropped Ted’s hand and turned toward him. “Why? What could they possibly want with me?”
“I’m guessing they think you know something and they have an idea what that might be.”
I crossed my arms. “But I don’t know anything.”
“Just hear me out, Mara. When you and Gordy ran back to Nelson after he was shot, didn’t you say that Nelson was mumbling?”
“He was, but it was really hard to understand him. He kept saying something like, ‘Yam, Yam.’”
Glass Eels, Shattered Sea Page 14
