скачать книгу бесплатно
“Do I have a choice?” She laughed to show she was joking, but it sounded thin.
“Not if you want to work with killer whales.”
Nothing was going to stop her from working with killer whales. Not even Spencer Valiella. Then she thought about why he’d said that, the reason he was there at all. Dr. Campbell had been the only-marine mammalogist in the department. “Won’t Dr. Campbell be coming back to work?”
“The doctors don’t know yet how permanent the damage is. Right now, he’s got some paralysis down his right side, but he’s recovering well. I only expect to be here until Christmas.”
“Oh.” Dear God. Did she feel hope or disappointment? Where Spencer was concerned she’d known too much of both.
“Meg, why are you doing your honors now? Seven years later?”
The answer was sitting there at the kitchen table,. licking milky droplets from the side of his mouth. She was going to have to tell him about Davis. But it wasn’t something she could blurt over the phone. After all this time of wishing he could know his son, and vice versa, she was suddenly terrified of them meeting.
“I guess we’d better make a time to discuss my thesis,” she said, evading his question. “I’ll be up at the university today to register.”
“I just got into town. I need some sleep before I can think coherently. How about this afternoon in Doc’s office? Say, three o’clock?”
“Two o’clock would be better. I’ve, uh, got something I have to pick up around three.”
“Fine. I’ll see you then.”
The phone slipped from her cold fingers into its cradle. She wiped a hand across her forehead and felt the perspiration. She was not disappointed he hadn’t declared his long-lost love.
Over at the sink, Patrick was rinsing his bowl. “What was that all about?” he said. “And don’t you tell me ‘nothing’ sweetcheeks, because I know it’s something. Something big.”
She frowned and tilted her head toward Davis. “Later.”
Patrick’s eyes widened. “Say no more. But I’ll be home early tonight and I’ll expect a full report.”
Meg rose shakily. “Time to wash up, Davis. We’re late.”
To her relief, her son complied without argument for once and went roaring down the hall doing his White Rabbit impression. “I’m late. I’m late. For a very important date. I’m late....”
CHAPTER TWO
SPENCER TURNED LEFT off the ring road that circled the campus and swung into the faculty parking lot tucked behind the biology building. He parked away from the handful of other cars that dotted the lot and sat there a moment, picturing himself as a permanent member of the department. If. Doc decided to take early retirement, Spencer’d have a good shot at the job.
But when he tried to imagine coming here every day, month after month, year after year, the thought sent a cold shiver down his spine. He had to fight the urge to restart the car and head down to the bay with his kayak. To be on the water, alone with the cormorants and the killer whales and the thing inside him that kept him moving.
Spencer pulled his keys out of the ignition. It was too late to run. He’d committed himself, if only temporarily. He threw on a black suit jacket over his T-shirt and jeans and grabbed his battered leather briefcase from the back seat. Kicking the door shut behind him, he strolled along the path to the biology building.
Spencer pushed through the heavy glass doors. Doc’s office was on his immediate right, but he continued down the wide empty corridor, his footsteps echoing as he walked past doors that led to classrooms or labs or offices. His eyes narrowed and the hall seemed to swarm with ghosts of students past, as distant and separate from him now as they were then.
At the end of the corridor he turned right and continued along the L-shaped passage. From somewhere came the sound of a radio. The classroom to his left jogged more memories. Thursday afternoons and Meg McKenzie.
He paused in the open doorway, his gaze seeking out the second table from the back. He saw her there, thick blond hair curving around an oval chin. Trying to keep her face straight and her perfect nose in the air while he told some outrageous story just to hear her laugh. He wondered if she’d realized how hard he’d tried to impress her.
Spencer pushed away from the doorjamb. She’d probably married a stockbroker and lived in Uplands, just down the road from Mommy and Daddy.
“May I help you, young man?” a pompous male voice said from behind him. “Classes don’t start for two weeks.”
Spencer recognized the department head’s plummy English tones from their phone conversations. He turned to the portly figure in the pristine white lab coat and full gray beard. “Dr. Randolph Ashton-Whyte, I presume.” He held out his hand. “Spencer Valiella.”
Ashton-Whyte’s bushy gray eyebrows climbed his forehead as he took in Spencer’s clothes and wayward hair. Slowly he extended his own hand. “A...pleasure to meet you, Dr. Valiella”
“Likewise. ‘Spencer’ will do.”
“I’ve heard a great deal about you from Angus. He spoke so highly of you I expected—” Ashton-Whyte. broke off and patted the row of pens in the breast pocket of his lab coat as if assuring himself they were still there and all was still right with the world.
Spencer grinned. He could just imagine what this tight-ass had expected. “Doc told me all about you, too.”
The department head rubbed his hands together, his manner brisk and important. “Now that you’re here, come along to my office. We have paperwork that needs to be completed.”
Spencer glanced at his watch. “My honors student will be along shortly. And I want to get my gear stowed away in the lab.”
Ashton-Whyte smiled coldly. “Ah, but for that you’ll need the keys to Dr. Campbell’s office and lab.”
“Got ’em right here.” Spencer pulled the key ring from his pocket and jangled it in front of Ashton-Whyte. “Never got around to returning them when I left.”
He grinned, just to let Ashton-Whyte know what kind of reprehensible character he’d hired. Spencer blamed his father for his habit of baiting what Ray still referred to as the establishment. He and Ray saw eye to eye on a lot of things.
Ashton-Whyte’s lips tightened, causing his mustache to meet his beard in a double row of raised bristles. “Well, do stop by and fill out the forms when it’s convenient, won’t you, old chap? We’ll need your details—” he paused significantly “—before we can put you on the payroll.” Then he spun on his heel and strode off, white coat flapping, confident, no doubt, he’d had the last word.
Spencer chuckled to himself and retraced his steps to Doc’s lab. As he put the key into the lock, again a weird feeling came over him, as though the last seven years had somehow been leading to this day—when he’d step into the shoes of his mentor. He shook his head. Crazy New Age stuff was his mother’s thing, not his.
He swung open the door. The familiar smell of a biology laboratory hit him. Its pungent bouquet of chemical reagents, marine organisms, cleaning fluids and old books felt like home. Especially to him, a man with no other home.
He’d expected to walk into the untidy disorganized lab of yesteryear. To his surprise, the workbenches and shelves were scrubbed, the glassware clean and put away, and plastic covers protected the microscopes. A new computer with a wide-screen monitor sat on a side table with a digital audio tape recorder next to it for analysis of killer whale vocalizations.
Spencer walked around the central workbench to open Doc’s office. A desk faced one wall with a table catercorner along the window and a floor-to-ceiling bookshelf on his immediate left. The window slanted outward at the base and overlooked the biology pond, where an endless succession of first-year students dipped their nets to study pond organisms.
He dropped his briefcase and went back to the car for the box containing the hydrophone equipment he used to collect and record killer whale calls. It was old and pretty basic, dating from his honors year when Doc had “retired” it from his own use. Catch 22: if Spencer wanted new equipment, he had to get a research grant and stay in one spot. He’d thought about that on more than one occasion and always decided it wasn’t worth it.
Another trip to the parking lot brought in his collection of killer whale teeth and bones. He was arranging these in a glass-fronted cabinet when he heard a knock at the door.
Meg. She was early.
His heart hammering, he turned.
Through the doorway came a young man of Asian extraction, not more than nineteen or twenty years old. He wore gray slacks and a crisp white shirt with a narrow tie, which he’d loosened. He moved quickly and his gaze darted from Spencer to the bone collection.
“Hi,” Spencer said. “Can I help you?” Some lost soul from the faculty of business, no doubt.
“I am Lee Cheung.” He strode forward and pumped Spencer’s hand. “Very pleased to meet you, Dr. Var...r..ierr...a.” He threw his head back and laughed. “Very hard name for Chinese to say.”
“You can call me Spencer. How do you know me?”
“I am Dr. Campbell’s research assistant. He did not tell you about me?” Lee grinned and shook his head. “Doc and I collected data over summer from stationary hydrophones. My job will continue, yes?”
“I guess. I don’t know what arrangements have been made for transferring Doc’s grant monies to me.” Another thing he’d have to take up with Ashton-Whyte. Spencer dropped the empty box he was holding to the floor and flattened it with the soles of his boots.
Lee flipped his briefcase up on the lab bench and popped open the lid. “If you would like to review transcript of my last year’s biology grades—”
“That won’t be necessary,” Spencer said, amazed anyone would carry that information around. Still, Angus Campbell surrounded himself only with people who had a consuming passion for killer whales. Besides that, there was something very engaging about Lee’s wide smile and enthusiasm.
“Tell you what, Lee. I’ll hire you out of my own pocket if necessary—as long as you’re not in a hurry for a paycheck—until I can see about Doc’s money situation.”
“Okeydokey, thank you very much.” Lee reached out and pumped Spencer’s hand again. “I appreciate your confidence.”
“Don’t thank me, thank Doc. Now, I’ve got a trunkful of equipment and books to bring in. Want to give me a hand?”
Together they brought in the rest of the boxes and equipment, and with astonishing speed and efficiency, Lee organized everything. Two o’clock approached and Spencer glanced at his watch with increasing frequency. To distract himself, he went down the hall and got a coffee from the vending machines located in the lounge area at the corner of the L. The staff room probably had better coffee, but he might encounter Ashton-Whyte and say something really rude.
He was walking slowly back to the lab, sipping his coffee, when he felt the change in air pressure and the gust of air that accompanied the opening of the heavy front door.
In slow motion he turned around—and there was Meg. Blue eyes startled. Textbooks clutched to her chest Looking as unprepared as he was to meet unexpectedly. Time became fluid and the present turned into the past. So many things they hadn’t said. She looked different. She looked good. Her hair had grown. But...jeans and a T-shirt? Where were her designer duds?
“Hi.” He couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Hi.” Self-conscious, Meg pushed her hair over her shoulder. She’d stopped ten feet away from Spencer and couldn’t seem to close the distance. She made herself keep her eyes on his face, keep the smile on hers. His youthful features had matured into sharp cheekbones and a strongly defined chin. Warm coloring, warm smile. His hair was shorter, but still wind-tossed.
He was real. Not a dream. Not a fantasy. Real as the flutter in her stomach. And she still wanted him.
“Come on to the lab,” he said.
She made her legs move, willing her heart to stop beating so furiously. She was on the verge of tears. Or hysterical laughter. Why did the moment have to be so fraught? Couldn’t they just say a big hello and give each other a hug for old time’s sake? Why did he look so serious? After all, he didn’t know about Davis. Oh, God He didn’t know about Davis.
And then they were at the door to the lab and he halted abruptly to let her go first. She ran into him, her cheek grazing the fine wool of his jacket. “Sorry.”
He put a hand out but stopped short of touching her. Meg shrank back. It was too awful. “I don’t think we can do this,” she blurted before she could stop herself.
“Yes, we can.” His dark eyes were the color of shadowed seawater reflecting fir trees. They sucked her into their depths. “You never did tell me why you’re finishing your degree only now.”
She wanted to tell him. The explanation was on the tip of her tongue. But seeing him made her even more confused than she’d been seven years ago. “Why didn’t you say goodbye?”
From inside the lab came a discreet cough.
Spencer pushed open the door. “Lee. This is Meg McKenzie, my...honors student. Meg, this is Lee. Research assistant.”
“Hi, Lee.”
Lee’s lidded glance flashed swiftly between them. “Okay if I leave now?” he said to Spencer. “I have to get to bookstore for my texts. I’ll be back tomorrow, bright and early.”
Spencer smiled. “Not too early. But yeah, I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“See you, Dr. Val..i—” He broke off, laughing at himself.
“Please, just call me Spencer.”
“Okay, Dr. Spencer.” Lee gave him a relieved grin. “See you later,” he added to Meg, and moved quickly past her.
“Bye.” Meg watched him go out the glass doors and run down the steps. Only when he’d disappeared from sight did she turn back to Spencer. Suddenly the hall seemed emptier, the two of them very much alone.
“You’ve grown your hair.” He reached out again and this time his fingertips touched a few strands of the thick ash-blond hair that hung almost to her waist. Static electricity raced from his fingers right to the roots, sending a shockwave tingling along her scalp.
“It’s easier than styling it,” she said lightly, backing away from his touch. In other words, cheaper. Her life had changed in so many ways. She had changed. Undoubtedly he had, too. She realized she’d been living with a fantasy image of him all these years. Maybe they had nothing left in common.
Except for Davis.
And the killer whales.
And the chemistry that still bubbled and fizzed between them like some apocalyptic experiment in a mad professor’s laboratory. Or was that all in her mind?
Spencer gestured for her to precede him into the lab. She stepped past him and found herself breathing deeply for the scent of the ocean that used to linger in his hair, on his skin. But she wasn’t close enough. And wouldn’t get close enough.
She moved farther into the lab, glancing around. She’d seen most of the equipment when she’d met with Dr. Campbell over the summer to talk about her honors thesis, but Spencer had added his possessions. Gravitating to the glass-fronted case where killer whale teeth and bones had been laid out on black felt, she said, “Are you staying out at the cottage?”
“Yes...” He paused as though about to say more. Then didn’t.
She bent to inspect the lower shelf, searching for the baby killer whale tooth she’d found while diving off Saltspring Island. It was no longer in his collection. Disappointment kept her gazing at the teeth longer than she wanted to.
“Would you like a coffee?” he asked, holding up his cup. “The taste hasn’t improved over the years, but it’s hot. Well, lukewarm, actually.”
Meg straightened, forced a smile. “No, thanks.”
He nodded and moved past her to his office, giving her a wide berth.
Why was he so wary? They’d been friends, after all. Like odd socks, but still a pair. Or had that night on Saltspring rendered null and void all that preceded it? They’d never had a chance to talk after that. They’d paddled back to Victoria the next morning ahead of a squall, locked in silence. If only she hadn’t said what she’d said, maybe his subsequent flight wouldn’t have been so swift. And maybe he wouldn’t now be acting as if nothing had ever happened between them.
“Have a seat.”
Meg sank into the safety of the padded vinyl visitor’s chair that nestled in front of the overflowing bookshelf. She just caught sight of one title, The Tao of Physics, when from the corner of her eye she saw Spencer’s lean denim-clad thigh glide by. And then he was sitting in his own chair, swirling around to face her. He leaned back, looking very casual. Or did that controlled stillness mean he was tense, not just intense, as he’d always been?
Under his dark suit jacket, which looked like Armani, but knowing Spencer was probably Salvation Army, he wore a white T-shirt and faded blue jeans. Then she noticed something new. A thin black leather cord around his sun-browned neck, the ends of which disappeared under the curve of white cotton. She remembered the smooth hard heat of the chest beneath...
“...killer whale communication,” he was saying. “I’ve been working with the transient population for the past five years, first in the Puget Sound area, then down around Monterey.”
Meg nodded, relaxing a little. “It’s interesting how few calls and whistles they make compared to resident killer whales.”
Spencer’s eyebrows rose. “You’re familiar with my research?”
“When I decided to finish my degree, I caught up on the literature.” She could see the unasked questions in his eyes and ignored them.
“Then you must also be aware of Deeke’s recent findings on intra-pod communication.”
She nodded. “They gave me an idea for my thesis...” She stopped. In spite of reading all the journal articles she could get her hands on, she still felt out of touch. What she’d been about to say might be completely off the wall.
“What is it?” He leaned back a little farther and crossed an ankle over the opposite knee.
