Authors: Sydell Voeller
“Better get on with it, man,” he murmured aloud. “This is what you’ve been wanting, isn’t it?
To finally break free?
To be on your way again, heading for that fishing lodge?”
Then why am I feeling so totally down?
he
wondered. As if a crucial part of him, from somewhere deep inside, had been ripped out and thrown away forever?
He kept driving, past towering evergreens, small beach towns, and idyllic scenes with old-fashioned farmhouses, the kind you sometimes saw on Christmas cards.
Yes, Christmas, he mused, chewing on his lower lip. Already it was less than two months away. Did he really want to spend another one back in San Francisco, hobnobbing with the big boys at parties and fund-raisers, toasting in the holidays and wearing a phony smile, then trudging back alone to his empty condo?
No. He
didn’t
.
The void inside of him expanded like a heavy weight pressing in all directions from inside his chest. At first when
he’d
opted for his three month leave, he figured all it would take to get his head on straight was a fishing trip in the wilds. But something had happened these past four weeks.
Something that left him restless and unfulfilled.
It was getting a little lighter now. To the west, a finger of land jutted out. At the end, he could make out the faint form of a lighthouse with its pulsating beacon. Back on the highway, the traffic was growing heavier.
More travelers.
Folks on their way to offices, schools, and medical facilities.
In his mind, he mapped out the trip ahead.
He’d
keep heading up the coast highway till he could pick up a major route that veered east. Then he would hook into the interstate and continue north into Washington.
Maybe
he’d
hole up for the night in Seattle.
Or somewhere this side of the Canadian border.
Maybe
he’d
even look up that old girlfriend in Bellingham... let’s see, wasn’t Audrey her name?
At any rate, the Jeep seemed to be driving a bit ragged. During his first stop to gas up,
he’d
have to check it out.
Gripping the steering wheel harder, he willed himself to smile. Yep, he was finally on his way again. But were his troubles really over?
Chapter Nine
Joanna arose after a fitful night’s sleep and peered outside the front room window at the driveway. Fresh sorrow filled her as she stared at the empty spot where Austin had always parked his Jeep.
There was no mistake. He was truly gone. An hour earlier, at the dawn’s first light, while she lay awake staring unseeingly at the shadows on the bedroom wall, she heard the rev of his motor, and then the crunch of gravel as
he’d
backed onto the road.
Heaving a sigh, she stared at the lawn and noticed a light dusting of frost. The sky, the color of pewter, was growing brighter. The early morning chill seemed to underscore the emptiness filling her.
How can I ever go on without him?
s
he
asked herself as she rummaged through her closet in search of something to wear.
She’d
have to--somehow.
She’d
survived sorrow before, she could do it again.
Yet the hurt slashed deeply, to her very core.
Duty.
Honor.
Such noble ideals.
What good were they in the absence of love?
Still,
isn’t
that just like Austin?
she
reasoned, remembering the story he had shared about Kyle and his youth. Austin had been the dependable son. The one
who’d
honored their parents’ wishes. Why should it be any different now?
Perhaps that was partly why
she’d
been attracted to Austin in the first place, and why now she cared for him deeply. He had appeared in her life—like a fortress, a rock—when
she’d
been frightened and vulnerable.
And though she couldn’t deny what he’d said about her pride, she needed him now—not because he was someone she could lean on, but because she’d grown to love and respect him. She yearned to share every part of her life with him for the rest of her days.
Would she ever hear from him again? Would it be the same as before? No, it could never be the same, she knew in an instant. Her love for him had changed everything.
Her hopes.
Her dreams.
The way she felt when she looked at him, touched him.
The rest of the day at the aquarium, she kept busy with unnecessary details, attempting to fill every spare moment to blot out any thoughts of Austin. Yes, life still could have meaning, she kept reassuring herself. She
mustn’t
allow herself to lose sight of that again. She simply must not.
Truth was she had a job she loved, a home near the beach, and Friday afternoons at Anchorhold. What more did she need?
Yet try as she did to forget about Austin, pictures of him kept floating up in her mind. Where was he right now? Was he still traveling the Interstate? Was he standing on the deck of some ferry, the wind whipping through his dark hair? Was his handsome, tanned face etched against a backdrop of blue?
“Joanna, what’s wrong?” Trudy asked after
they’d
locked the front doors at closing time and wandered inside Trudy’s office to talk.
“Nothing.
I’m... just a little preoccupied, that’s all,” she lied. She sank down into the large swivel chair that faced the massive desk, while Trudy seated herself across from her.
“Come on, fess up.” Trudy reached out and touched her hand. “I might be your boss, but I’m a friend now too.
Hopefully a good friend.”
“Oh, Trudy, of course, you’re a good friend. And I’m thankful for that...” Her voice trailed off. She shut her eyes momentarily, as if somehow doing so would blot out the pain.
“It’s Austin. Am I right?
she
heard Trudy murmur.
“I... I’m afraid so.” Joanna opened her eyes and stared down at her lap, twisting the strap of her handbag. “He’s gone, Trudy.”
“When did he leave?”
“This morning.
Early.” Haltingly, Joanna told her what Austin had said the night before. “I love him. I love him so much, but... but
it’s
obvious he’ll never feel the same way about me. I doubt if I’ll ever see him again.”
“You’re wrong,” Trudy insisted. “He’ll be back. You wait. I’m willing to bet my life on it.”
“What makes you so sure?”
Trudy sent her a knowing smile. “Don’t think I missed the way he was looking at you the other night at Ted and Helen’s.”
“At one time I might’ve agreed with you, but now I know better.” She shook her head. “Austin was just happy. Happy the roof was done. Happy he would finally be on his way.”
“I don’t think so. A man who is just happy wouldn’t have that certain look on his face, like any minute he was ready to take you into his arms and kiss the everlasting daylights out of you.”
Joanna shook her head, blinking back tears. “Thanks for the encouragement, Trudy, but when it comes to love, I don’t need false hope.”
“It’s not false hope. I’m never wrong.”
Joanna had to bite her lip to keep from pointing out that this time she just might be.
After all, there was always a first time for everything.
***
A telephone ringing threaded through Joanna’s dream, and in an
instant
she realized it wasn’t a dream. Fumbling, squinting against the early morning light, she finally managed to answer it. Who was calling so early? Was something wrong? She held a hand to her heart.
Please
don’t
let it be about Austin. Please not a car wreck...
“Joanna! It’s Ted.”
“Ted?” She gave an audible sigh of relief. “Oh, thank heavens!”
“Are you awake?”
The urgency in his voice cleared her last traces of drowsiness. “What’s the matter?”
“We got a problem! About an hour ago, the Fish and Wildlife Services phoned. There’s been a small oil spill off the shores of Southport.”
“What happened?
When?”
She sat bolt upright now, gripping the phone so tightly her hands throbbed. She peered over at her nightstand. The digital clock next to the lamp said five forty-five.
“I don’t have all the details yet, but they said a tanker struck a reef. Happened a couple hours ago, I think. There’s going to be an early-morning news alert on television in less than fifteen minutes, but I doubt if many folks are up yet to hear it.”
A slow, sickening sensation gripped her. How could this be? Was this some crazy nightmare?
A cruel twist of fate?
The beach cleanup had proved a hug success.
And now this...
“Too many seabirds have already perished, others have managed to reach land, but they’re struggling for survival,” the veterinarian continued, slicing through her spiraling thoughts.
“How bad is it, Ted?
How many birds?”
Her heart hammered with fresh fear.
“It’s too early to know for sure, of course.
I’ve
heard the count so far has just topped four thousand.
Puffins, murres, scoters, to name a few.
The seals, otters, fish, and bivalves are at risk also, but right now we must concentrate on the seabirds.”
“So where should we start? What should we do first?”
“I’m heading over to Anchorhold as soon as I can, but first I’m gonna have to drive into town to round up some supplies. Luckily, we have those empty portables out back, so we can set up a temporary treatment center there.”
“Will one center be enough?
Especially if the birds continue to pour in?”
“I doubt it.
I’ve
made arrangements for another center at the old grange hall off 101.
We’re
gonna need more vets, too. Hopefully my interns can hold down the fort at the grange while I do what I can at Anchorhold.”
For a painful instant, her thoughts skirted to Austin, but Ted’s voice reined her in again.
“Can you drive straightaway to Anchorhold, Joanna? Get things organized till I can get there too?”
“Of course!”
“Good.
I’ll
need you to round up as many volunteers as possible. Meanwhile, we’ll have to set up triage stations and feeding and bathing areas.”
“I’ll call Trudy right away. I’m sure she’ll give me as much time off as necessary.”
“Swell. I also plan to see whether we can use the Boy Scout camp, should it turn out we need a backup.”
After they exchanged hasty good-byes and Joanna phoned Trudy, she shrugged into a sweatshirt,
then
pulled on a pair of jeans.
Her head reeled with the necessary preparations.
Volunteers.
They’d
need a ton of them, not only to rescue the birds off the beaches, but for the critical follow-up care. Where had Austin placed the list of those
who’d
turned out for the beach cleanup?
she
wondered. Could they also round up enough heat lamps, syringes, stomach tubes, and washtubs, tables for drying, recovery pens, and flotation test tanks?
Though Joanna’s degree in environmental studies had prepared her for such a crisis—academically speaking—
she’d
never faced a real oil spill. Right
now
the task seemed daunting.
***
Austin grabbed a cup of espresso and a cinnamon roll at the hotel coffee shop,
then
checked out at the registration desk.
He’d
stopped for the night on the outskirts of Seattle and now, early morning again, he was eager to be on his way.
Outside, his Jeep windshield was covered with frost. He noted a nip in the air. Yep, Old Man Winter would soon be on his way, he reminded himself. And there were only four more weeks till his leave would run out. Better pack in all the fishing he could. Soon it would be time to drive back to California.
He turned the key in the ignition and let the engine idle, while he rummaged through his glove compartment for an ice scraper. A few minutes later, the windows cleared, he climbed back into the driver’s seat and rubbed his hands together, then shoved the heater on full blast.
“On the road again,” he crooned, admittedly a little off-key. Yet
somehow
it just didn’t feel right. Is this
really
what he wanted to do?
He shifted into drive. With a high-pitched whine, the Jeep barely crept across the parking lot. Then it stopped cold.
“Damn! What’s going on?” he exclaimed, his frustration mushrooming.
Later, after the tow truck had arrived, Austin sat in the customer waiting area of the nearest garage, his head in his hands. Several other customers waited also.
Obviously
it was going to take a while before he learned what was wrong.
A mechanic finally emerged through the door. “I’m afraid, sir, your transmission is shot.”
“But are you sure? The guy at the gas station said my fluid was low, so I had him—”