Authors: Aubrie Dionne
Later
Flynn lay on his back. The moonlight shone through his window and Tom's snores resounded. The date had gone so well, and Gail had finally started to loosen up and share personal details of her life.
So why did he feel like such a jerk?
Because she shared everything with me, and all I gave her was a cop-out response about my mom's leek soup.
Flynn turned over and held the pillow to his ear, although he knew it wasn't Tom's snoring that kept him from sleeping. It was what he hadn't told Gail.
He'd have to tell her if they were going to have any sort of relationship. Flynn couldn't keep his family from her forever. She'd want to meet them, especially with them living so close. He functioned worlds better if he separated his family life from his work; and he didn't have time for a girlfriend, not with Tabitha and this Loch Ness monster business left unresolved.
Flynn swung his legs out of the sheets and stood. He had to be honest with himself. Sleep wasn't coming, and he didn't want to hear Tom snoring for the rest of the night.
He slipped on his loafers and snuck from his room. The chill of the night had seeped into the cabin from a window left ajar downstairs, and goose bumps prickled his skin. He froze as he reached the top of the stairs, giving Gail's door a considering look.
He could tell her now.
Flynn checked his watch. Three o'clock.
He'd have to wake her.
I'm not ready yet.
Instead, he tiptoed down the stairs and out the front door. A walk would clear his mind and force him to see what was truly important: finding Nessie for Tabitha. Right now, that was all that mattered.
Loch Ness spread behind the woods, with all its secrets and promises. Flynn kept to the forest path, not wanting to stumble on the banks in the dark and fall in. Although he could swim, the water was a bitingly bitter ice-fest that sunk into his bones on contact.
Flynn thought of Gail's father and how alike they were. Could she date someone who reminded her of him? Or would Flynn's overzealous passion for the unknown drive them apart? Could he date a skeptic, a scientist bent on proving him wrong? He didn't care who she was. He liked her all the same.
Besides, he'd glimpsed some sense of wonder and hope beneath her clinical façade when she spoke of her father. She was capable of keeping an open mind and an open heart when she wanted to. Plus, the way her body had pressed up against his when they'd danced told him the spark was there for her, too.
If only he could open up.
The woods thinned to a small beach where light waves licked upon jagged rocks and patches of sand. The glassy surface of the lake came into full view. He stepped into the clearing and stumbled on a rock, scraping his shin.
Cursing, Flynn sat on a boulder. He rubbed the scrape underneath his pants and watched the moon reflect off the dark depths.
Nessie, I know you're out there.
Ever since his parents had taken him on a tour when he'd been a boy, he'd felt a presence under the water, a profound meaningfulness to the lake. Watching the unchanging surface, he thought back to the day his life had changed forever.
****
1991
Loch Ness
On the decks of the
Starboard Bound
"Hold my hand, sweetheart. I don't want you falling overboard." Flynn's mother's hand squeezed his fingers as he tried to pull away.
"I want to see the water up close." Ever since they'd gotten on the boat, his mother had been watching him like he'd stolen a candy bar from the cupboard.
"There's nothing to see. Just black, murky peat moss." His father waved his hand dismissively and flipped the newspaper to the page of numbers Flynn couldn't understand.
Flynn digested his father's words, biting his lower lip.
Nothing to see?
That was impossible. The water called to him with its ghostly mist and vast depths. Surely something magical was down there waiting, but he'd never get to see it if his stupid parents didn't understand. His chin twitched and salty tears stung his eyes.
"Let the boy go, honey. He can't get past the rails."
Flynn kicked the leg of the chair with his sneaker impatiently as he waited for his mother's response.
"You'd be surprised what little boys can get their heads through."
"Or get into their heads." His father rolled his eyes. "Just what we need, more nonsense to distract him.
"He's just a boy." His mother smoothed Flynn's hair. She bent down and whispered in his ear, "Okay, we'll get up close to the rail, but don't stick your arms and legs through."
Flynn wanted to reach down and poke the water with a stick, but he knew not to say so in front of his mother. "Yes, Ma."
She stood and walked him over to the railing. Flynn wrapped his hands around the cold metal bars, pressing his face between them. His ears caught and he couldn't go any farther. Below him, the water ebbed around the boat's hull in silky darkness, each wave promising something mysterious.
Two grown-ups stood several feet away dressed in black suits â not the type of clothes for a cruise, which was why Flynn was interested in what they said. He inched his way closer until he could overhear.
"Yesterday the bureau submitted the sonar scan to the government. You'll see their report in the papers soon enough."
The other man scratched his beard. "What's it look like?"
"Clear. A better picture than anything that's been taken before. I'm telling ye, Phil. This time we got it, fins and all."
The man with the beard shook his head. "They'll never let something like that get out. They'll confiscate the evidence before it goes public."
"Ma, what's sonar?"
The men gazed at Flynn as if they'd only just noticed him standing there. Flynn smiled, but they frowned and walked away without waving good-bye.
"Sonar is underwater sound." She bent down next to him and put her arm around his shoulders. "You can take pictures of things deep down that you wouldn't be able to see with your eyes from the surface."
"Oh." Flynn squeezed the bars in his hands, wishing he could pull them apart like Superman. The men had talked about something in the water, he was sure of it. Something no one wanted them to see. Something with fins. Flynn peered down into the depths, trying to imagine what they caught with sound pictures. Bubbles floated up, and he watched them pop as the boat hurtled forward. Maybe he'd found the same fish they didn't want anyone to see. If Ma was going to believe him, she had to see the bubbles.
"Ma, look." He tugged on his mother's arm, but she was too busy watching the men across the deck with her eyes creased like they'd threatened to steal him away from her.
Flynn didn't understand. They weren't that bad, even though they hadn't said good-bye.
The water darkened underneath the boat, like a cloud had blocked the sunlight just above him. Flynn gazed up. The sky remained clear.
He flicked his eyes back down to the water. The dark mass moved to the side of the boat, swimming alongside it. The shape reminded him of one of those whales on the telly. The sheer size made him feel like an ant on a leaf.
For the first time, he grasped a sense of just how big the world was and his place in it. If there were still wonders like this, then he would find them. People needed a break from their newspapers full of numbers.
Flynn kept tugging at his mom's arm.
"Just a minute, sweetie."
The mass turned and, for a moment when the sun hit it just the right way, an oily sheen of green-gray scales, then a glossy membrane spreading between spiky fins, came into view.
"Ma! Maaaa!"
"What is it?" She turned him away from the water to face her.
"There's a big fish in the water. I saw it rightâ" He turned around, and the glassy surface was clear. "There?"
"I'm sure you did, honey." She took his hand and squeezed it. "Let's go find Pops. I saw some cookies in the cabin earlier, and I know he won't be able to turn that down."'
"Butâ" He had a sneaking suspicion those men had gone into the cabin as well and his mother had been interested in what they'd said. He'd never know. She'd never admit that to his father. Besides, cookies sounded good, and whatever had been there was now gone. "Okay."
She kissed his cheek. "We can come back to the water later."
****
Later, his mom had said, as if timing didn't matter â when in fact, timing was the most important factor in the equation.
1991. The year L-PIB had done the sonar scan. About twenty years ago.
This was Flynn's second chance. If the drops in fish population were due to Nessie, he'd be almost fifty before he had another chance to see her. He had work to do.
Flynn stood and brushed the sand off his pants. The sun would be rising soon, and he didn't want Gail to wake without him there and start to worry.
Twilight had breached the inky darkness of night, and the shapes of the rocks on the ground were more visible. Flynn carefully stepped over the jagged edge that had caught his shin. He lifted his foot to step on a patch of flat sand and froze.
An imprint as long as his leg lay in the sand. Had he made that when he'd fallen earlier?
The span was too long for his leg, and the ridge that cut into the ground was too narrow and deep for the sole of his loafer. Flynn touched the sand with his finger. The grains were sticky and wet. A pattern of webbing stretched between the top point and the ridge.
His heart kicked into high gear, and he stepped around the impression and bolted toward the cabin. This hadn't happened long ago, and the more time that passed the less of a chance to decipher what might have crossed the beach that night just before three o'clock.
Rings
Gail stared at her reflection in the mirror, trying to keep a straight face. "Good morning, Flynn. I trust you slept well."
There could be no sign of over- eagerness in her features. She kept her mouth turned down and her eyes cold and calculated. She was an expert at pulling off professional ambivalence.
I will not mention the date. I refuse for this to make things weird.
She threw her pair of hip-hugging flare jeans to the back of the closet and chose her khaki work pants and a plain sweatshirt instead. No sense in dressing sexy for the research team.
I keep telling myself that.
She gazed in the mirror and pinned her hair up into a severe bun. Boy, she looked more like an old nanny than a twenty-something.
Well, maybe I'll go for the flowery button-down. It's more feminine but still professional.
Slipping off the sweatshirt, she pulled her arms through the three-quarter-length sleeved dress shirt. She'd have to pair the thin fabric with a light sweater.
A knock sounded at the door while she played around with buttoning and unbuttoning the top two buttons. "Gail, wake up! I have to talk to you!"
Gail froze, then fastened one more button. She checked the clock. Six o'clock.What was Flynn doing? Checking her reflection one more time, she moved to the door and swung it open. So much for her practiced greeting.
Flynn stood panting, wearing a T-shirt and flannel pajama pants. His feet had tracked leaves and dirt all the way down the hall. The first thing she thought was something had happened to Tom or
about
Tom.
Why was she thinking about Tom, of all things? "What's wrong?"
"I found something on the beach." Flynn's eyes lit up. "Tracks."
"Tracks? Like deer tracks?"
He shook his head. "No. Like
fin
tracks."
"Impossible. You're kidding, right?" Since when did a fish climb out of water?
He held out his hand. "Come with me and see. I'm going to bring my plaster and make some molds."
He wasn't kidding. Gail froze. Did she want to follow Flynn on one of his lunatic adventures? It was too much like her father hunting Bigfoot.
Flynn turned around toward his room. "The longer we wait, the older the tracks will be. Come on."
Gail could stay at the cabin with Tom. Alone. "Okay, okay." She shoved her feet into her sneakers. No high heels for the woods. She grabbed a short-waisted white sweater.
When Flynn emerged from his room, he had stuffed his backpack full. "I've got to find my camera. I think it's downstairs with the other equipment. Are you ready?"
She thought about what she needed to bring. Nothing. Her sonar equipment worked best in the water, and they were just looking at tracks. "Yeah."
"Great. Go wake Tom." Flynn jogged down the stairs before she could protest.
As much as Tom gave her the creeps, Gail didn't want to keep Flynn waiting. The last time she'd seen him this excited was when they'd heard the return call on the lake. As much as she didn't believe the tracks were real, she wanted him to be happy.
Tom's snoring filled the hallway. The lug-head slept like he talked â loud, crude and blunt, with no thought behind it. She walked to his door and knocked three times.
The snoring stopped and muffled shuffling came from inside the room. The door opened with Tom standing half naked, wearing only a pair of boxers printed with fish and hooks. His oily toupee was slanted to the right as though he'd slept on a squirrel and squashed the rodent flat sometime during the night.
He pulled a piece of lint from his hairy belly button, just above where the swell protruded over the waistband of the boxers. He reeked of beer and sweat. "Hey, beautiful. Did ye wake me up for a good time?"
Gail resisted the urge to choke. She wasn't going to acknowledge that question. "Flynn has found something. He wants you to come and bring the video camera."
Tom's eyes narrowed. "Something?"
Gail shrugged, trying not to stare too long at his ugly tan lines or she might never want to touch a man again. "Tracks."
"Well, I'll be a Loch Ness monster's mother!" His excitement looked genuine.
"Just be ready in ten minutes." Gail turned away.
Tom slapped her on the back. "Tell him I'll be right down."